Cursed by Chemistry (17 page)

The Oracle jerked back from the mental image. Could O’s fantasy have interceded, ruining his concentration?

Never happened before…

It had to be—both the Oracle and the man shared this temptation. Some dark, unspoken knowledge forged a link between the two of them. The man knew O could give him what he needed.

This man with the angelic exterior, he didn’t know the Oracle could detect it. But the angel was prepared to make a most alluring request.

O swallowed the moisture that flooded his mouth.

The angel had privilege and power beyond anything O could hope to gain. A perfect confection of political influence and scandal. This guy enjoyed this domineering, military shadow. A little too much.

The urge to pursue the man’s dark secret couldn’t be ignored. Not in the form of this tender, polished angel all grown-up and eager to please. “But something more than eager,” O murmured. “You can offer me something more, can’t you? Lots more.”

“I…I don’t know what you mean.”

The Oracle started again, willing to let the denial slide.

For now.

“You’re military. Intelligence. Something like that. Something…rather unusual.”

A frightful darkness passed over the man’s crystal-blue eyes, as though caught in a lie and begging forgiveness.

And the charm runs deeper.

The Oracle narrowed his vision. “You’re FBI.”

The angel’s gaze shifted to the door.

“What’s your name?”

His attention jerked back. He shook his head.

O grinned. “But you must.”

“If my family finds out I’m here, they’ll—”

“Don’t worry.” O chided as he stroked the angel’s head. “Don’t you worry. This will be our little secret. Because it’s ours now. You and I.”

Again,
how
could he let this man suddenly appear at his side? Because it was meant to be. “What fates impose, that men must needs abide,” O murmured. This man belonged here.

The man’s brows furrowed with confusion.

O sighed. If Adrian were here, he’d understand. There weren’t many things in life more delightful than watching Adrian get all broody over Shakespearian quotation.

The Curlicue Prince here made for a pretty mediocre substitute. A helpful distraction. For now. He’d settle for that, but he wasn’t through with Adrian.

“Your name,” O persisted.

“I’m not FBI.”

Changing the subject. That’s cute.

“They contacted me years ago,” the man continued. “When I first met Shauna.”

“Shauna. That’s her name?” O let his arm fall to his side and he turned away. “How neighborly.” The farm-fresh, school-girl type. She managed to snag Adrian’s attention in only a few days’ time. And form that kind of bond? Like an amateur porn plot. A little too convenient. Even for O.

“They started tracking her after college. She has this,” the man searched for the word, “ability of some kind. It only comes out when she gets excited.” His attention flashed to the Oracle and away again. “Turned on, you know? Only I…”

“You couldn’t get her there.”

The naughty angel didn’t respond.

O sighed. It was a pathetic attempt to hide his own delight. “You couldn’t get her there because you, my boy, don’t swing that way.” O pulled his brows together in a look that
bled
sympathy. Tetchy subject. A tender young thing, in his prime, afraid to admit to the world that he’d rather feel the rigid power and stamina of another man.

“You thought I didn’t notice you stroking yourself earlier tonight.” O leaned over the man’s shoulder. He glanced pointedly to the impressive display of cylindrical flesh that lay between the man’s thighs. “It’s difficult. Keeping it up under such duress.”

The man crossed his legs.

There goes that fearful look again
. O fought to suppress the giggle that danced in his chest.

“I thought that if she went too far here, on her own, her secret would come out. If I didn’t…wasn’t here, I’d lose my cut.”

“So what you’re saying is you were hired as the fed’s whore?”

The man raised both brows. “No, not at all.”

Damn.
O eclipsed his disappointment with what he hoped was a kind smile.

“They said to get a reaction by whatever means necessary. In a controlled environment. I wasn’t planning to do it this way. I had the perfect plan—”

“Perfect?” The desperation in that word hit O at an odd angle.

“—but things changed. She left me no choice.” The man looked to the floor. “We were set for marriage. I was doing it right, I swear. But the feds…” He shook his head. Crystal blues wide and pleading. “I hit my deadline. I had no choice. They promised if I made it happen, they’d take care of the rest. Shauna’d disappear—I don’t mean killed—”

“‘Course not.”

“They’d fix her. Give her a perfect life somewhere else. Then I—” He swallowed.

“You could be a respectable widower.” The Oracle rocked back and forth on his heels. “I see. An easy out.” O wrinkled his nose. “All that pesky heterosexual peer pressure.”

“I can get her back for you. I can bring both of them back,” the man insisted.

“What assurance do I have?”

He shrugged. Gaze pinned back to the floor. “I’ll offer you anything. Money, political influence…”

“We’ll explore that.” O nodded his assurance. “We will.” The Oracle had time, plenty of it to seek the full extent of the angel’s generosity, his willingness to comply and abide by the rules.

Because Adrian would be coming back.

This time, he’d never leave.

Chapter Fifteen

Toss the straw hat, the vacation from sanity is over.

Shauna steered her attention away from the mall’s network of sleepy stores, where lights had flickered on and gates lifted half-open in preparation for a new day.

Heartley, the queen of coworkers, sashayed past the rainbow hues of pressed powders and lipstick tubes. “Team meeting time,” she cooed.

“Right.” Shauna squared her shoulders amid the deluge of heel clicks on the glossy tile floor. Time to drag herself, and her giant suitcase of dirty exploits, back to reality.

Too bad no amount of bleach would rid her eyes of what she’d seen last night.

Or how she’d behaved.

Better throw in some holy water and set her mental state for an extra rinse.

She rounded the makeup counter and fell in step with Heartley, and the other day-shifters.

“Late night?” Heartley called over her shoulder.

“Yep.” Her gaze veered to the GNC store at the far end of the building. She could almost catch the faint smell of toasted spice.

Shauna yanked her attention back. She gritted her teeth.
Air Nutcase is now boarding aisle A.
Get-the-freak onboard.

She snatched a test vial of the monthly special and spritzed it between her breasts. She ignored the raised brow look Heartley shot her and spritzed again for good measure.

If Adrian had kept his usual MO, he’d never approach that store again. Or her.

He wouldn’t promise to see her again. He said he would do his best.

Sounded like the gentlest letdown in the history of ever.

Shauna stood in rank among the semi-circle of lab coats and mini-skirts. She shook her head despite the incessant tug on her heart. Fairies, unicorns, and Adrian Sands. They all belonged on the same irrational island. Time for Shauna’s deportation. Whether she liked it or not.

She didn’t. Not one little bit.

“Good morning, team.” Her store manager’s voice boomed over the jazzy tune trickling over the speaker system.

“Morning.” The team droned.

“You sound tired,” the boss baited with a lift of his palms.

Heartley lifted a limp strand of Shauna’s hair. “We need more coffee…
Mike
,” she replied absently.

“Is that all I’m good for?” he scoffed over the polite trail of laughter.

In Heartley’s world? Yes.

The manager’s speech continued, but the words couldn’t penetrate Heartley’s bubble of all-important girl talk. Her syrupy tone lowered “Not a haircut, but something’s different about you.”

Shauna glanced to her hopelessly frayed ends and smoothed them back into place. “I’ve—uh…given up heat styling.”

“In favor of what?” Heartley leaned forward and whispered. Her lips pulled into a shrewd grin. “That freshly-fucked look?”

Shauna’s eyes widened, and her mouth dropped open in offense despite Heartley’s breathy giggle and the protective arm that wrapped around Shauna’s shoulder. “Welcome to the club, hun. It looks great on you.”

Heartley straightened her posture and her arm vanished when the boss paused and shot both girls a harsh frown.

The speech continued, and Heartley murmured quickly under her breath, “Seriously, you should bottle that stuff.”

“Thanks.” Shauna frowned. “But I’m afraid this one’s not for sale.”

She could never do that.

Adrian had fixed her. In a matter of seconds. Oddly disappointing that it took so little time. A fair amount trial and error could have been fun, but still.

To watch him manipulate the universe with so little effort… The hands that seemed too large for magic wielded it with a delicacy she’d never imagined. The calculation, the watchful gaze that seemed to measure every flick of emotion, it went beyond a simple gift. She couldn’t deny the world his attention for her own selfish purpose.

Shauna tried to ignore the hollow ache in her gut.

She had gotten what she wanted, why the regret?

Adrian had gotten a little too. Win-win, right?

And about that more intimate
gift
her hulking intellect had offered—might as well drop the offered part. His prominent shaft, thickened with need had strained toward her, and she took it. Took it like a true cowgirl and raced to the finish. It left her muscles aching, her mind numb, and her body aching for more.

A pulsing warmth grew between her thighs. Even now, she craved a second helping.

Shauna sighed. That chocolate had turned her into a sex-raving idiot. She could have done so much better on her own terms, in her environment. She could have taken control of the situation before her body went on a hormone-induced rampage through Adrian’s bedroom.

What if she had dragged it out a week, maybe two? They could have gotten to know each other. Before they crossed that final line and Adrian had to move on.

No. Adrian wouldn’t have waited that long.

Neither would she.

He’d welcomed her to finish it last night, when he pulled her on top of him and urged her to take what she wanted. In that moment they were both ready to give everything and to accept their fate.

No longer the frat house gentleman. Adrian liked it once and done. After seeing his lifestyle and the kingdom he’d built at O’Nightingale’s, she knew that’s how he operated. Somewhere inside she had to have known.

Last night she didn’t care. She needed a cure, and a cure she got. Why would spending one bonus night with him change him in the least?

Perhaps he had already forgotten her. Her heart squeezed. But how could
she
forget?

“Hey. Pinkie. Wake up.”

She blinked at the manicured, snapping fingers in her face.

The downturned corners of her store manager’s mouth matched the receding crop of hair atop his head. “Did. You. Have a positive experience with a customer yesterday?” He turned to the other members standing in rank and paced away with his hands behind his back and his chest puffed out
à la
Napoleon.

“Not that I recall…”

“No? Well, let’s see if we can’t make that happen
today
. Okay?” Mike clapped his hands. “Let’s get to work.”

Heels clicked in rapid fire over the glossy floor, as her coworkers moved to their stations.

Except for Shauna.

And the queen.

Heartley took a none-shall-pass stance. “Details!” Her voice tail-ended with a whine.

Shauna shrugged. “It’s private.”

Heartley frowned. “Well, something’s brought the pink back in your cheeks, and I want some.”

Shauna didn’t respond. She edged to one side toward her counter.

“Don’t you dare deny it.” Heartley marched at her heels.

Shauna could feel the warmth in her cheeks growing. Her beacon of guilt glowing brighter.

She rounded the corner to where an overweight squid-in-a-suit had made an early-morning stake-out of her makeup chair. She stopped short.

Squid-dididly sent her a sideways grin, and all at once, the plug had been pulled on her beacon. Warmth vacated her face.

“Come on. Does he have a brother, a cousin, something? I’m desperate!” Heartley insisted. “Fork it over.”

Shauna clenched her teeth. At this point, she’d do anything to get rid of her. “I’ll give you a card, how’s that?”

Heartley turned to one side. Her mascara-lined eyes narrowed, and she studied Shauna’s face for a moment, then nodded. “Good enough.”

Shauna swept by while she still had the room. “Be sure to ask for Onyx.”

She pulled in a tight breath on her way to the counter and flung the squid a curt smile. “Something I can help you with?” She swept the scattered sponges and Q-tips he had clearly been playing with into the trash.

“I need to be done.” He grinned.

She rolled her eyes. “You need your
makeup done
?”

“Make
-out
, maybe.” His grin widened. He plucked a tube of After Party Pink from its rightful place on the display.

“Leave.” Shauna planted her hands on her hips and flicked her attention to her approaching manager. “Before he makes you leave.” The manager looked to be headed out of the accessories department, and into a very bad mood. He hated personal visits on the clock. Especially from family.

Perfect. Then Squidster was about to become her long-lost, freeloading Uncle Vic, who just finished five-and-three in the state pen. For shoplifting.

The clear, plastic chair squeaked in protest as the Squid leaned back. “What do you think I’ll get? A slap on the wrist?”

Shauna skirted to the safe side of the counter and knelt down, pretending to busy herself with the inventory markdowns. “I don’t care. So long as you leave—”

“Hey, Mike. How’s it going?”