Celestial Bodies (11 page)

“I don’t think I’ll be home for dinner,” Felix told Diana as she closed the shop that evening.

“Why not?” She glanced up from the money she was counting and felt a touch of alarm. “What’s wrong?”

Felix looked uncharacteristically agitated and worried. “I’m not sure.” He wrung his hands and shrugged, pacing back and forth in front of her.

“Did something upset you?” she asked in concern. Despite his placid, withdrawn nature, Felix was capable of great emotional distress in the face of cruelty or violence.

“There’s something terribly wrong. My skills are being tested, and I’m failing.”

“What?” Diana said in astonishment. She took Felix’s arm and tried to make him sit down, but he was restless and resisted.

 
“The cards are making strange configurations I don’t understand. My peace of mind is crumbling.”

“Can you tell me what kind of configurations?” she asked, wondering if it was confidential—or perhaps too confusing for Felix to relate.

He shook his head. “No.” He frowned briefly and came to a sudden decision. “I’m going to see Jora.”

“Oh, Felix, it’s getting late,” Diana protested. Jora Lemon, a well-known psychic and close friend of Felix’s, lived in one of the most dangerous neighborhoods in New Orleans. “I don’t want you wandering around down there in the dark.”

“If I leave now and take a cab, I’ll be all right. It’s not late yet.”

“But how will you get home when it
is
late?”

“Jora will put me up for the night. She has a spare room.”

Diana didn’t feel much better about that idea, but Felix had clearly made up his mind. “All right. But be very careful, and don’t leave her house until it’s light out.”

“I’ll be back tomorrow morning,” Felix promised. He pushed the front door open to leave.

“Shouldn’t you call her first?”

“Jora will know I’m coming.”

“I guess so,” Diana said uneasily. Sometimes she still thought it would be nice to have a father who built chairs or fixed toilets for a living, a father whose friends and associates all hung out in
this
dimension.

Diana finished closing up the shop, wondering where Nick was while she went about her duties. Of course, he didn’t need to account to her for the time he spent off the premises. And she had to admit he had spent very little time away since she had hired him.

But his absence was as noticeable as his presence. She missed him when he wasn’t there.

Things had been decidedly uncomfortable between them all day. It was humiliating to tell a man you’d like to go out with him, only to be answered by a blank-faced stare. She supposed the men she had turned down in the past had suffered that same embarrassment, but that didn’t mean she had to like it. Nick had been so distracted and so eager to leave early, she wondered if he was considering quitting.

What was so infuriating about it was that
he
was the one who had initially come on to
her
. Not that she had exactly resisted him—but what gave him the right to turn off like a cold-water tap as soon as she admitted she was interested?

“Urgh,” she grunted. Having finished tidying up the shop, she climbed the stairs to her yoga studio to prepare it for class the following morning.

Well, whether or not Nick quit, she certainly wasn’t going to throw herself at him again, she decided, while she furiously ran the dust mop across the floor. She glanced down the well-lit hallway to where the door of his bedroom stood open.

He was clearly a man with secrets, anyhow. Hadn’t she known that from the first? Hadn’t she originally told herself it would be silly to get interested in an employee living right under her roof?

I want him, oh, I want him...

“Stop that,” she muttered aloud. She stuck her mop through an open window and banged it against the sill with resounding force.

“Take it easy,” Nick said from the doorway.

“Yah!” Diana whirled to face him, pointing the mop like a weapon. “Oh, my God!” she panted. “You scared me to death!”

“Sorry,” he said, looking confused.

“What are you doing, sneaking around in the dark?” she snapped.

Nick looked around at the bright hallway and cheerfully lighted studio. He had let the stairwell door swing shut behind him with its usual clatter and walked up the stairs without any particular stealth. “What’s the matter with you?” he demanded.

“Nothing.” She turned her back on him and recommenced mopping the floor with a vengeance. She wasn’t going to let him know that she’d been unaware of someone approaching because she was so wrapped up in thoughts of
him
.

Nick sauntered into the room and leaned against one mirrored wall. He folded his arms and tilted his head to one side as he watched Diana work as if possessed by a demon—or as if a demon were after her.

What now? he wondered. This was about the most unapproachable she had ever seemed. He stood there for a while, considering and then rejecting various ways of explaining his real identity. At one point she hit his foot with the dust mop and stared stonily at it until he moved out of her way.

Coherent explanations would apparently have to wait, he decided. This clearly wasn’t the time to admit to her that he had been lying all along.

“Where do you want to go for dinner?” he asked.

She stopped dead in her tracks. “What?” It was not an inviting monosyllable.

“You did ask me out to dinner, didn’t you?”

Diana slowly straightened all the way up. She met his gaze with vibrant green eyes. At that moment, they looked as unfriendly as Ishtar’s. “I said maybe we could give it a try.”

“Don’t play with words. You invited me out, and I’m not letting you off the hook.”

Her eyes widened with a sudden flash of temper. “Oh, really? Then why did you stare at me like I was speaking Swahili when I mentioned it this morning?”

“I’m not a morning person.”

“You just stood there blinking at me like I had suggested we spend the evening strangling baby rabbits,” she accused, warming to her subject.

“Ah,” he said. “Felix warned me about this.”

“About what?” she demanded.

“Leo has a quick temper, very little patience, and a lot of pride.”

“Don’t start quoting Felix at me.”

“It’s funny when things work out like that though, isn’t it?” Nick mused. “You’re fiery, I’m passionate. You’re imaginative, I’m a sensualist. You’re creative, I’m determined. Just think of the possibilities.”

When he saw that she was relaxing, that a tiny smile curved her soft full lips, that her hands had released their death grip on the mop, he pushed himself away from the wall and sauntered toward her. Her strawberry-blond hair tumbled around her face, looking soft and luxuriant. She wore an Indian-gauze dress that moved with a life of its own, clinging alluringly in some places, subtly hinting at the curvaceous mystery of others.

However, it was probably the softening of her expressive eyes that made him forget about everything else and think only of needing to be closer to her.

Diana sensed the moment Nick’s whole mood and intent changed. Between one step and the next, the situation had become serious. How could a man be so exasperatingly flirtatious in one moment, then melt her with sensuality in the next?

The rich blue of his eyes darkened, and his black lashes drooped low, partially hiding their expression. He moved with the predatory grace she had noticed before. When he was standing so close to her that she had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze, he whispered, “Where’s Felix?”

She licked her lips, knowing what the answer would mean to him. This was the moment to make her choices. Then one hand came up to stroke the moist softness of her lower lip. She saw his nostrils flare, saw the sudden tensing of his jaw, and her power to excite him thrilled her with a sudden rush of beat.

She had worked side by side with this man, laughed with him, appreciated his patience with her father, enjoyed his company, and tasted ecstasy on his lips. So what more did she want before she decided to make love with him? A written guarantee that he wouldn’t hurt her? A dossier on his life before they met? Reference letters from his past relationships, assuring her he was trustworthy?

Actually, she
would
like all that. But she was unlikely to get any of it; and he was standing here now in the flesh. Very
much
in the flesh, she realized, as his fingers traced an excruciatingly slow path over her chin and down her throat toward her breasts. He made a slight detour to capture a few strands of her hair in his hand, which he touched as though they were made of spun gold.

“Where’s Felix?” he repeated huskily.

She held his gaze. “He’s gone out. He won’t be back until morning.”

Nick’s lips curved into a smile and his breath touched her face in a soft puff of amusement. “It’s almost enough to make you believe in destiny.”

“He’s agitated,” Diana said. “So he’s gone to see a psychic.”

“Naturally.” Nick ran his knuckles under her chin, then slipped his fingertips under the neckline of her dress to stroke her collarbone. Diana could feel her insides begin to quiver with excitement. His gaze roved over her hair, face, and shoulders. “Alone at last,” he murmured wryly.

The sound of her own breath filled her ears, and her breasts rose and fell in a smooth, rapid rhythm. Had she ever really noticed before how beautifully dark his hair was, how taut and graceful his body? “No astrology lesson tonight, I guess.” Her voice was breathless, the words she’d just spoken rich with anticipation.

He smiled as he placed both hands on her shoulders and drew her closer. For a heart-speeding moment she thought he would kiss her; then he rested his forehead against hers and spoke. “Do you really want to go out for dinner?”

“What do you want to do?” she murmured, eyes closed.

“You know what I want.” One hand slid around her back to pull her closer. He pressed their hips together, and he didn’t need words to describe what he wanted.

Diana made a tiny sound, caught between desire and indecision. But despite her reservations, her hands were already on his chest, seeking and stimulating rather than warding him off. He waited for her answer, neither apologizing for his hunger nor trying to force her decision. And the fact that he treated her as an adult, rather than as a silly piece of fluff, who could be kissed into submission, tipped the scales in his favor.

She rubbed her forehead against his, remembering with a rush of affection all the times in the shop he had known what she needed from him before she asked for it, all the times he had sensed her weariness, impatience, or exasperation. Her hands slid over his shoulders and around his neck as she recalled all the times he had been bewildered, astounded, or amused by her yoga positions, her dietary habits, and her unorthodox background.

“Let’s stay home tonight,” she whispered.

“Mmm.” There was satisfaction and pleasure in the sound. He nuzzled her, touching and stroking before he wrapped his arms around her. His moist mouth teased her ear, her neck, her eyelids.

She sought his kiss with eager lips, and when their mouths met, she dived headfirst into the passion that flooded the room in a heady rush.

Oh, he knew how to kiss, wonderfully, deliciously, with probing playful lips and a silky agile tongue. She leaned against him and let the arm around his neck support her when the floor started to tilt and crumble. She couldn’t even remember closing her eyes, but now her lids were too heavy to lift. She sank deeper and deeper into the swirling blackness and the feel of his passion.

He brought his hands up to her face and held it between his palms. He kissed her long and leisurely, stroking the roof of her mouth with his tongue, teasing her, taking pleasure in her. Then he pulled back and met her eyes.

His were dark and sparking with need. Diana suddenly remembered her first impression of him—danger. He was dangerous again, she realized. Not to her person, but to her peace of mind.

Nick stepped back and took her hand into his. “Come on,” he whispered, nodding toward his bedroom.

She followed him with slow, measured steps as he led her down the hallway. There would be no room for secrets or inhibitions in Nick’s bed, she knew, and that was why he seemed dangerous.

But she followed him willingly into his room and watched with her heart in her eyes as he closed the door. Then something important occurred to her.

“Wait,” she said, reaching for the doorknob.

“What’s wrong?”

“I have to go upstairs for a minute.”

“No you don’t.”

“Nick, I—”

“I’ve taken care of it.” He patted the pocket of his jeans.

She looked at him incredulously. “Do you always carry around—”

“No, of course not.” He grinned at her. “Call it precognition. I had a feeling about tonight, so I stopped on my way back here.”

She smiled and let go of the knob. “Precognition? Or did you plan this every step of the way?”

He shrugged and nodded toward the bed. “Well, this can’t come as a total surprise after... everything else.”