Flirting With Fire: A Witch's Night Out (1Night Stand)

by Tara Quan

  She sighed. “You’re like a dog with a bone.”

  “Since you’d be the bone, I won’t take offense.” In a move so quick, she saw only a blur, he grabbed her hand. The moment he made skin contact, the candle’s white flame rose by a few inches again. He didn’t seem to notice he’d used magic twice in less than two seconds. He brought her fingers to his lips. “So, how’s my case, so far?”

  Her resolve wavered. She couldn’t give him the fairy tale, but what was the harm in sex? Once the idea presented itself, the delicious possibilities took hold and spread to obliterate all caution. This was All Hallows’ Eve, her single night off. After the six months she’d been through and the eighteen to come, she deserved to throw caution to the wind and act as she pleased. “No dice on the phone number, but….”

  “But?” A half-grin belied his confidence.

  “But you were wrong about me not seeing this one-night stand through.”

  Chapter Four

  “You brought an overnight bag?” Leo asked as they walked away from the reception desk. He’d always thought he had a gift for reading people, but Cat kept him off-balance. They’d met before, he’d bet his life on it. But the when, where, and how continued to elude him.

  She stuffed her gloves into the mid-sized duffel they’d retrieved from the front desk. Dimples formed in her cheeks when she faced him and smiled. “I came prepared to stay the night.” When he stared at her, she nodded. “Doing the walk of shame in an all-leather Catwoman costume would be a new low, not to mention uncomfortable.”

  He glanced at the pink satchel, his brain working overtime to tease apart the anomaly. Then he matched its length with the height of her boots. “You changed into the costume here, didn’t you? It’s why you have spare clothes.”

  She tripped on her own feet, but he’d been prepared to catch her. Very few things pleased him more than being right. Closing his hands around her waist, he pulled her in to his chest and filled his lungs with her scent. She smelled fresh and minty.

  “I’ll take that as a yes. Any chance you’ll let me carry the bag for you?”

  She softened in his arms for a moment before her spine snapped straight. “I don’t need a man to lift my stuff. You think you’re very smart, don’t you?”

  “It’s a proven fact.” His parents had his IQ tested at the age of five, after sending him to an expensive kindergarten for future geniuses. His scoring a few points shy of the categorization had been a huge disappointment, or so he’d been told.

  Reaching the small bank of elevators, she pressed the up button. “But you didn’t expect me to sleep with you tonight.”

  He leaned his shoulder against the cold marble. She had such a superior expression, he couldn’t resist commenting. “I’m pretty sure you didn’t plan on coming up until about fifteen minutes ago.”

  She shrugged. “I’ll admit it. This was a spur-of-the-moment decision. But once I set my mind to something, I see it through—despite the possibility of dire consequences.”

  Why had it taken him this long to realize he appreciated honesty in women? “If you end up backpedaling, I like to think I’d be cool with it.”

  “You’re not sure?” She slung the thick strap over one shoulder. Contrasting black and shocking pink made for a comical combination.

  “Let’s just say, I’d use every trick in the book to get you to change your mind.” And thanks to Jack and their colorful past, he had a number of ideas at his disposal.

  Thick metal doors slid open. They marched into the empty elevator. An older model, it had a bronze front, mirrors on the three walls, and beige marble floors. He sniffed the air and smiled at the scent of disinfectant and polish.

  As the exit sealed shut, she pivoted to face him. “So, what do you plan on doing to me in the No Dreams Required suite?”

  The old-school dial edged along the semicircle of numbers to indicate their ascent. He caught her chin and circled her waist with his other arm. “Naughty things.”

  Her eyes widened. She lifted one hand to rest on his chest. In her high heels, she stood an inch taller than him, so he tipped her head back for better access. Her mouth opened in an invitation to kiss, but he chose first to nibble the luscious lower lip that had taunted him for the past hour and half. Drawing the soft, plump flesh into his mouth, he teased it not too gently with his teeth.

  Delicate fingers laced through his hair. Blunt nails dug into his scalp. With a moan, she mirrored his caress and slid her other hand up to rest against his neck. The trembling tips of her fingers, the sinuous arch of her back—each subtle sign of surrender sent his pulse racing and spread liquid heat over his skin. Consumed by the possessive instinct to devour, he pushed his tongue into her mouth, tangling it with hers.

  Her duffel’s strap slid down to hang over the crook of her elbow. Making a frustrated sound in her throat, she unfolded her arm and let the bag drop to the floor. Wobbling, she clutched his lapel and stepped back, pulling him with her.

  He plastered her against the side of the elevator. She whimpered, and his hazed brain interpreted the muted sound as both permission and a demand for more. He wedged his knee between her legs, closed his hand over her breast. When he relinquished her mouth to kiss a path down her neck, she tilted her head to the side, her soft cries fueling his fiery hunger as her hair tickled his cheek. Her hips shifting forward and back, she rode his thigh as he sucked red marks over her golden skin.

  The elevator chimed, announcing their imminent arrival at the designated floor. Straightening, he struggled to fill his lungs, satisfied to see her in no better condition. Her chest heaving, she rested the back of her head against the mirrored wall. Needing to see more than her kiss-swollen lips, he yanked off her mask. Her flushed, rounded cheeks were the color of coral, her half-closed lids rimmed with long, dark lashes. The vulnerability reflected on her exquisite face sent his arousal into overdrive. A primitive male instinct told him he could have her here and now.

  A loud crack accompanied the elevator’s lurch to a complete stop. The incandescent lights above their heads flashed before blowing out in a burst of sparks. He launched forward, tucking her body into his chest. A breath later, they were in complete darkness.

  “Hijo de puta.” She sounded more annoyed than scared. “I had a feeling something like this might happen.”

  He’d expected a strong reaction, but this one didn’t quite fit. She wriggled in his hold. “I need to see. Where’s your phone?”

  Impressed and a little suspicious of her calm, he reached into his breast pocket and pulled out his BlackBerry. Pressing a key at random, he turned the screen on. Before he could say a word, she grabbed it, shoved him off her, and held the phone against the elevator’s keypad. A moment later, she jammed her finger onto the emergency call button.

  Nothing happened.

  Muttering a stream of incomprehensible, angry-sounding words, she slapped the BlackBerry into his palm. “Unlock it.”

  She seemed to speak in shorter sentences when angry. “I’m sure someone will—”

  “Call the front desk. Now,” she growled.

  Thanking his lucky stars for CDMA networks, which gave him the single but life-saving bar of reception in the elevator, he pulled up his call history and redialed the number he’d used to confirm his dinner reservation. After several rings, Gomez’s voice crackled over the earpiece. “The Cigar Lounge.”

  “Hi. This is Leo Difuoco. I’m stuck in the elevator. Can you put me in touch with someone in charge?”

  The man complied with commendable swiftness. Not long after, he was speaking with a woman who identified herself as the client relations manager. Massaging the bridge of his nose, he fought the urge to cut off her slew of equivocations and excuses, the length of which boded ill. “I regret to inform you, Mr. Difuoco, but the elevator car is stuck between two floors and the doors face a concrete wall. It’s an older model, so there’s no escape hatch on the ceiling.”

  He cast a furtive glance in the direction of t
he dark shadow he could barely make out as his date. He heard a rhythmic tapping sound he guessed came from fingers drumming on the wall. “So, what’s the good news?”

  “The good news is you’re secure where you are. We’ve called in an engineering team to address the problem. The process might take a few hours, but since this elevator model isn’t airtight, there’s no risk of suffocation.”

  Aside from a woman who seemed on the verge of strangling him. “I see. Is there any way you can activate the emergency lights?”

  “Again, I apologize. We aren’t certain what caused the surge of electricity that shorted the circuits, and we don’t want to risk doing more damage. Please hang tight; help is on its why. I also suggest you get off the phone to conserve battery life in case we need to contact you later.”

  Murmuring a thank you, he hung up. “So….”

  “I heard. There’s nothing they can do, so we’re stuck here for a few hours.”

  He added cat-like hearing to her list of odd quirks. “I can keep the screen lit—”

  “Shh…. I’m thinking.”

  There were times when a man needed to keep his mouth shut. He couldn’t fathom why, but he had a sneaking suspicion she blamed him for what had transpired, which was rather unfair. He waited. And waited. And waited some more. “Umm…. So, are you—?”

  She snapped her fingers. An instant later, four floating globes of light appeared above them, bathing the elevator in a soft yellow glow. Dropping the phone, he lurched back, the momentum sending his head crashing into the opposite wall. “What the fuck?”

  She placed her hands on her hips. “I wasn’t about to stay here in the dark when a little spell would solve the problem.”

  Magic, yeah, right. “Very funny. You’ve had your laugh. So, where are the cameras?”

  Her jaw dropped. “You must be shitting me. After all this, you’re still in denial?”

  He pivoted to his right and banged at the elevator door. “Okay, guys. I don’t care what Jack Frost told you, but I didn’t sign up for a reality TV show. I’m a lawyer, and I will sue your ass into bankruptcy if you don’t let me out right this instant.”

  “Urghh….” Her heels crashed on the floor, broadcasting her stomping advance. Small but surprisingly strong hands grabbed his shoulder, swung him around, and shoved him against the door. “Listen to me.” Her fingers and thumb dug into his cheeks. “This might not be the best way to break this to you, but I’ve had it. I’m hot, sweaty, and stuck in an elevator on my damn night off.” Her other hand lifted to rest on her hips. “You’re a warlock. You come from a bloodline with uber-powerful fire mages, and your inability to control your power broke this elevator.”

  He raised an eyebrow and nodded. “Uh-huh. Sure. Has anyone told you you’re a great actress? Whoa, there—” Her stiletto hovered an inch away from the top of his Italian leather shoes. “Those are expensive.”

  Her jaw muscles ticked. Then she narrowed her green eyes and disappeared with a soft popping sound. Okay, he had to admit—the stunt she’d pulled off impressed him.

  He scrutinized the ceiling, searching for wires and a hatch.

  “Meow.”

  He froze. A moment later, a black cat, his cat, stared up at him with Catalina’s emerald eyes.

  White flames appeared out of nowhere, heading straight for the feline. With a loud hiss, the cat jumped into his arms. Catching her, he spun, blocking the danger with his back. Squeezing her tight, he braced for impact. He didn’t care what was going on, but no way was he letting her get hurt.

  When none of his clothing went up in smoke, he twisted his neck to glance over his shoulder. The balls of blazing fire hovered in place, forming an arc around his body.

  With another popping sound, something soft and warm pushed his arms apart. Before his disbelieving eyes, the furry creature morphed into a curvy feminine frame. Once again, he stared into deep-green eyes, but this time, they were housed in a human face.

  Stress lines bracketing her mouth, Cat rested one hand against his cheek. “Leo. You need to calm down. Your flames are real. They can burn me.”

  Either he’d sustained some sort of head trauma when the elevator stalled, resulting in vivid hallucinations, or there might be some truth to her Twilight Zone supposition. How could she think he’d ever attack her with fireballs? “They’re not mine, I swear. I’d never hurt you.”

  She nodded. “I believe you. It’s why I took a chance. Your subconscious created them—it’s been burning away every attempt I’ve made to show you the truth. Please, listen. Concentrate on the flames and pull the power back inside you.”

  She sounded so certain. If she was telling the truth, he was officially an asshole of epic proportions. “I’m not sure….”

  “Look into my eyes, focus on what you want, and visualize the energy seeping away. Those fires are your creation, so fixing this should be a piece of cake.”

  Certain he’d gone insane, he maintained eye contact with her and imagined the flames shrinking. He couldn’t see the result, but the interior’s brightness decreased by several orders of magnitude. “Okay, this is one fucked-up dream.”

  She responded with an impatient snort, but the corners of her lips curved up as she peeked over his shoulder. “Did I say weaken the fires? No, I said take them out. Connect with them. They’re part of you. They’ll do whatever you want. You can handle this.”

  Her encouraging smile and hopeful expression made it impossible not to embrace the madness. He twisted his neck around so he could glare at the offensive white targets. He could almost see clear blurring waves forming a direct link between him and the flames. Following her earlier direction, he drew a breath and tried to visualize the molecules of energy flowing into his body. As the fires dimmed and went out, he experienced a surge of power. His fingertips tingled, and it felt as if he were floating in thin air.

  Which made sense, since he’d somehow lifted them both a foot off the floor. “Gah….”

  She laughed, pulled off the mask he’d forgotten he was wearing, and smacked a closed-mouthed kiss on his cheek.

  “Focus, young grasshopper. We’ll explore levitation when you get over your control issues.” She pointed at the floor. “Put me down.”

  Easier said than done. “Mind talking me through this trick?”

  Tossing the mask aside, she shook her head. “It needs to come naturally. You’re a powerful warlock. If you don’t want to float, you won’t. Take charge.”

  He cleared his throat. “If you haven’t noticed, I’m not a take-charge kind of guy.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Of course, you are. You ordered dinner for me.”

  “I made a suggestion, and I did it after you spent fifteen minutes contemplating the meaning of food as we know it.”

  Resting her arms on his shoulders, she canted her head. “You bamboozled me into coming up to your hotel room with you.”

  He frowned. “I remember a very different sequence of events.”

  “Leo.” He loved the emerald twinkle in her eye.

  “Yes.” He rubbed the tip of his nose over hers.

  “You can let me go.”

  Only now did he realize they once again stood on solid ground. “Do I have to?”

  “Sorry, but yes.”

  “Why?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “I’m overheating. I get cranky when I overheat. Your fire stunt raised the temperature in here by several degrees. All I want to do right now is get naked.”

  The idea sent blood pooling straight to his penis. With much reluctance, he unlaced his fingers. It boggled the mind how he could be aroused again after all this excitement. Then a horrible thought occurred to him. “Did you create an illusion to appear as my cat, or are you my cat?”

  Sitting on the marble floor, she unzipped her left boot and yanked it off. “I’m your familiar.” She repeated the process on her right leg.

  “If you wouldn’t mind defining the term…?”

  Cat wore the cutest pink boo
ty socks. She pulled them off, balled them up, and tossed them in the general direction of her footwear. Neatness didn’t seem to be one of her virtues, but he could learn to live with it.

  “I’m a non-elemental human witch who signed an apprenticeship contract with your great-aunt. When she died, the remainder of my contract term passed on to you.”

  He scratched his head. “I hate to tell you this, but you made a crap employment deal. You never want to be stuck with a boss you haven’t met. Why did you stay a cat all this time?”

  Cheeks puffed and nose scrunched, she sprang into a standing position. Getting rid of her boots wouldn’t have cooled her down much since the leather suit reached all the way to her ankles. “There’s a clause preventing me from showing my human form in your vicinity or leaving your house without your express permission. Aren’t you hot?”

  Come to think of it, he was sweating buckets. He took off his tie clip and cufflinks and placed them in the breast pocket not already holding his wallet. Then he shrugged off his suit jacket and laid it on top of her duffel. “Sounds like one fucked-up arrangement. Why would anyone sign such a thing?”

  She helped him undo his tie, which felt like a noose around his neck in the heat. “Those terms are almost never enforced. The language in the boilerplate Familiar Employment Agreement has been passed down over the centuries, so it’s a bit outdated. Almost every witch or warlock waives those two clauses straight away. Nonna did it when she hired me, but you needed to repeat the ritual after the rights transferred. You didn’t.”

  He yanked the silk free, folded it, and dropped it on top of his jacket. “I’m new at this whole warlock thing, but someone should consider rewriting the document. This explains a lot, though. So, when I came home to find my cat soaking wet a few months back….”

  Unbuttoning his top three buttons, she nodded. “I was taking a shower. You came within ten feet of me, and I shifted into a cat. I can’t control it.”