Devilishly Sexy (12 page)

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Authors: Kathy Love

BOOK: Devilishly Sexy
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“I’m not trying to pressure you,” Michael said calmly, holding up his hands in a sign of surrender. “I just wanted to be sure you were okay. And to find out what happened last night.”
“Nothing happened,” she told him, desperate for this conversation to end, before she said something stupid. “I just—just realized I’m not the type to have a fling. I thought I could, but—”
“Who said I was looking for a fling?”
Liza gaped at him, her mouth still open, even though she was now speechless. Was he saying what she thought he was saying?
Oh for Satan’s sake, is he as provincial as you? Never mind, I don’t want to see him. He’s probably wearing a golf shirt and khakis, isn’t he?
Liza didn’t acknowledge Boris’s comment. Nor did she care to go into what the man was wearing, but suffice it to say Michael could even make a royal-blue mailroom smock look sexy.
Besides, she was too amazed at what he seemed to be implying.
“What—what exactly are you looking for?”
Chapter Twelve
“I
’m looking for a woman like you,” Michael said, vaguely surprised that he was speaking the truth. “And I wanted to see where this thing between us could go.”
Liza stared at him, her eyes wide, filled with that combination of uncertainty and longing he’d seen before.
But that uncertainty only made Michael more sure that he’d been right thinking she had decided to pull away because of her situation with Finola White and her soul contract. She didn’t know how to get close to someone, because there was the risk that she could be damned for all time.
But he knew otherwise. He knew the DIA was working on freeing those with soul contracts and even getting back the souls that had already been lost. He still had his doubts about the DIA’s work, but he wanted to believe they could save the soulless.
He wanted to believe they could save Liza.
But while they worked on that, he could protect her himself. He would slay any demon for her. Real or imagined.
That realization stunned him, just for a moment. But then he shrugged it off. He’d always been a man who knew what he wanted and went for it. At least he had been before.
Hell, if anything, this conviction, this confidence, was a good sign that he was back. And he knew he wanted this woman.
The longing in her aquamarine eyes told him that she felt the same way about him. But he knew it was going to take some convincing to get her to trust him. To let go of her fears.
“I just moved here,” Michael said suddenly, hoping that if he revealed something he was unsure about, she might feel better. Might realize she wasn’t alone in her uncertainty. “Just moved back actually.”
She frowned, her previous emotions replaced by confusion. She clearly didn’t understand the sudden shift in conversation.
“I was gone a long time, and I’m finding everything so different. Really different. It’s like starting my whole life all over, honestly. And I would love to have someone show me around. Reintroduce me to this place.”
Her brow furrowed, some of her misgivings returning.
“Liza, I’m not asking you to make some huge commitment to me. I’m just talking about dating each other.”
She looked down at her hands, still gripping the back of her office chair like it was the only thing keeping her safe. The only thing stopping her.
When she met his gaze again, he could see that longing outweighed her doubts.
“I—I would like that too,” she admitted, but he didn’t get the feeling from her tone that she was conceding.
But at least he knew he wasn’t completely off the mark about how things had been last night. She had been into him.
Ha, Elton!
“So let’s just date,” he said. “Go out. Dinner. A movie. That would be okay, wouldn’t it?”
He took a step closer.
She didn’t move away, which he took as a good sign, although the chair was still there. Her not-so-metaphorical wall.
“I would like that,” she repeated, but her tone still didn’t say she was agreeing. Her eyes met his, the yearning there undeniable.
But then she winced, closing her eyes for a moment, almost as if a sharp pain had shot through her head.
Michael reached for her hand. “Are you okay?”
Just as his fingers were about to touch the back of hers, her eyes snapped open and she jerked backward, this time nearly falling with her desperation to get away from him. Only the chair saved her from landing hard on her perfect little rear end.
But why? Why the hell was she telling him in one breath she wanted to date him, and then in the next she was practically injuring herself to get away from him? Her reaction seemed too extreme, even for someone hiding a secret like hers.
“What are you so afraid of?” he asked, realizing his tone sounded harsh. But damn it, having her jumping like a scared rabbit wasn’t doing much for his ego. It sure as hell didn’t jive with his memory of the woman who had made love to him on her kitchen counter, demanding more of his touches with her writhing body and wanton whimpers.
“It—it’s not you,” she said, her expression pleading.
He stared at her. Well, that was something that hadn’t changed in the years since he’d been gone. The classic rejection.
It’s not you. It’s me.
Oh yeah, his ego was really stinging now. Maybe he’d jumped the gun feeling smug that Elton’s theory was wrong. But he tried to keep his voice even, unaffected, as he said, “I know something is holding you back, and you probably think it’s something I couldn’t possibly understand or accept, but you’d be surprised. Whatever is making you so scared probably wouldn’t shock me in the least.”
She stared at him, the desire to believe him burning in her glittering eyes. But then she shook her head, her doubts too much for her.
“I’m sorry,” she said, her gaze dropping back to her hands again. Her fingers squeezed the chair back until her knuckles turned pure white.
Michael studied her for a moment, then shook his head in defeat. He wanted this woman, but he couldn’t railroad her into a relationship.
“You can trust me,” he said, feeling the need to say something before he walked away. Then he simply turned and left her office.
What else could he do? Damn it, wasn’t that what he’d been saying about every part of his “new” life? What could he do but resign himself to each change, each outcome?
At least his frustration with his changed role in the DIA and within The Brethren made sense. He was having to change his whole belief system there. But what difference did it really make if he couldn’t have a relationship with a woman he barely knew?
Yet for some strange reason, it didn’t feel like he barely knew her. As strange as that was, it was true.
 
“So,” Elton said when Michael returned to the mailroom. “Did you find it?”
Michael knew they both realized they weren’t talking about his damned cell phone.
“Yeah. I did.”
Elton’s gaze roamed his face, those damned seer eyes of his reading far too much.
But all he did was nod and return to his work.
 
Watching Michael leave was one of the hardest things Liza had ever done.
So why did you? We could share him. Even though he does seem a little—intense. Then again, intense can be fun. Maybe.
And there was the reason she’d made the right choice. She couldn’t get involved with someone when she was living like this. How would that ever work?
It wouldn’t.
It would work fine. We’d be like swingers.
Liza closed her eyes, wishing she had the energy to block her thoughts. She couldn’t block Boris totally, but when she was rested and feeling emotionally stronger, she could at least cancel out some of his running commentary on
her
every thought. As well as keep a few things private. But she was too stressed to have that kind of focus now.
So she’d been right to let Michael walk away. He might be the most understanding man in the world, but there was still no way he was going to be fine with having a girlfriend who was possessed.
Who knows, maybe he’d like it. Maybe he’s freaky that way.
Her head was silent.
Yeah, probably not.
For once, Liza agreed.
She had no other choice. And really, she barely knew Michael anyway.
So why did she feel like crying again?
Because it’s always a sad, sad thing to lose good sex.
Liza sighed, not even bothering to react to Boris’s comment. Instead she pushed her chair back to her desk and sat down.
She began sorting through her work. What was she supposed to be doing? That’s right, new articles. New articles for the July issue.
She turned to her computer, willing herself to think about something other than Michael Archer.
Michael Archer? Michael Archer. Now I swear I’ve heard that name before.
Articles for the summer, Liza thought, refusing to listen to Boris. Swimsuit reviews were always a hit, but July was too late for that idea. Secret and sexy vacation spots. That might be a good one, and Liza didn’t think they’d done anything like that since doing hot holiday rendezvous in the November 2010 edition.
She made a note to have one of the assistant editors work on that.
Now what else?
I suppose Michael Archer is a common name, though.
What about something to do with beating the summer heat? Liza considered. Cocktails to beat the holiday heat maybe?
I could use a cocktail.
Liza didn’t know quite what to make of this. She never agreed with Boris.
Bartoris.
She ignored him.
I could also use some cock. But I guess I missed that. And Satan knows, it will be another six years before you see any action.
“Probably,” she said, wishing that idea didn’t make her feel like crying again.
I want to cry too.
Liza closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, both to keep from crying and from screaming. She’d let an amazing man go, and she might very well have Boris stuck inside her for another six years. She couldn’t do this. She just couldn’t.
Believe me, sugar, this ain’t no picnic for me either.
Liza rubbed her eyes. Then refocused on her work. The only thing that would make this day suck worse was pissing off Finola and ending up in Hell.
Oh wait, she was already there.
Chapter Thirteen
“T
hese are your best ideas?”
Liza watched as Finola riffled through the dozens of article suggestions Liza had struggled to assemble, giving them nothing more than a quick once-over.
“Cocktails? The best fashions to beat the heat? Exercises that can be done at the beach?” Finola pushed the pages away from her as if they were a particularly unappetizing plate of food.
“I expect more,” Finola said, arching a pale eyebrow at her.
As if Liza didn’t know that. Finola White always expected more. And more. And more.
“I think several of those ideas are perfect for the July issue. Our readers have always loved articles like these,” Liza stated, as unconcerned about Finola’s wrath as she’d been before. She was tired, she was harried, and she just didn’t care.
Dangerous attitude there, missy.
Liza didn’t react to the ever-present voice in her head. Instead she held Finola’s gaze, another thing Liza knew would irritate the great Finola. She liked submission.
But Liza had submitted enough for one day. And it was late.
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Tristan, who shifted slightly beside Finola’s desk. Liza noticed that even Finola’s yippy little dog picked up its head as if watching what was going on, like they both knew this was going to be ugly.
“I just told you that I am not pleased,” Finola said, clearly stunned that Liza would be so audacious, although she still sounded melodic, unaffected.
“And these are the best ideas I have.”
What the hell are you doing? You are so playing with fire.
Liza rolled her eyes. She sure as hell didn’t need Boris to tell her that.
Bartoris.
Finola regarded Liza silently, her calm expression not wavering, which surprised Liza. She’d expected something more. Again, Tristan shifted, moving closer to Finola, as if he expected something to happen too.
The little dog jumped up from its bed, moving closer to Finola as well.
This is going to be bad.
Okay, so everyone agreed that Liza was making a colossal mistake talking back, but again, she felt as if she had nothing to lose. She’d lost everything already. And letting go of Michael today had been the last straw.
Liza didn’t want to lose her immortal soul, but she just couldn’t go on like this. She had to make Finola understand that something had to change.
“I cannot believe you are standing here before me, telling me these are the best ideas you have, when you once ran this magazine yourself,” Finola stated, that usually melodic quality of her voice changing, taking on almost a sibilance. Still the only sign the great demon was angry.
Liza frowned, having never heard her speak like that before. The sound was eerie, almost inhuman. The hairs on the back of Liza’s neck stood up and a chill prickled her skin.
Then again, Finola was inhuman.
Tristan moved again, and the dog followed suit. Liza almost got the impression that they were moving closer to have a better view of the carnage that might follow. They appeared almost eager for a full-fledged confrontation.
Why are you doing this? You are courting big trouble with this behavior. The bitch is going to blow.
“You are right,” Liza said in response to Finola’s comment. “I did run it.”
She still did, but she wasn’t going to say that.
Finally. A wise choice.
“Not only did I run this magazine myself, but I ran it by myself.”
Finola regarded her for a moment, her expression now totally unreadable.
“Explain yourself,” Finola said after a moment.
“I ran this magazine without a demon in my head,” Liza said simply. “And now when I try to work I have constant yammering. Constant complaining. It makes it hard to create a brilliant, best-selling magazine. That’s for sure.”
Traitor.
Liza wasn’t sure how she was a traitor, when she’d never once pretended to be on his side.
Fine. Bitch.
“I could do far superior work for you if you would just cast this demon out of me and back to Hell.”
She will not agree to this. I’m the very thing that keeps you chained to her. Her slave. She knows you won’t sign a soul contract.
Liza knew it was a long shot, but she thought it was worth a try. And she could tell by Boris’s voice he wasn’t as positive as he’d like to be. Finola had already voiced her displeasure with him.
“I would be so much more productive for you if I simply had silence,” Liza said.
Finola regarded her for a moment, then shook her head, her loose, white-blond locks appearing even more perfect with the motion.
“You know I can’t allow you to go without supervision,” she said, her tone regretful, even though Liza was pretty sure that Finola had never had a regret in her life. Regret implied sympathy, and Liza was sure Finola didn’t even know the meaning of that word.
Liza was disappointed, but not surprised, by Finola’s response. She hadn’t believed Finola would actually cast Boris out, but she had nothing to lose by trying.
“You are needed,” Finola added, and this time Liza could tell she struggled to say those words. Ha, that had to be a bitter pill to swallow.
“Bring me the mirror,” Finola said suddenly to Tristan, who seemed to have been startled away from sharing what appeared to be a significant look with—Finola’s dog.
Liza glanced between the demon and dog, telling herself she had to have imagined the look. See what stress did to a person?
It doesn’t do good things to a demon either. And if I end up being cast out of you, I will be back. And then you will know what it feels like to be truly possessed.
Would Finola be pleased by such threats, Liza wondered, feeling almost smug even though nothing had really changed for her. It felt good to speak her mind for a change. And it felt great to hear Boris worrying.
Before Liza had a chance to speak out some more, Finola changed her mind. “Forget the mirror. I don’t need to deal with yet another annoyance today.”
The head demon turned her attention back to Liza, although this time she spoke to Boris.
“This is truly my last warning. To both of you. This magazine and the success of it is all that should concern either of you.
HOT!
’s success is what is keeping both of you safe. So Bartoris, you’d better make sure Liza succeeds. Period.”
A low, frustrated growl echoed through Liza’s head.
“He says he understands,” Liza said, repressing a smile. It wasn’t a win, but anything that could irritate or upset the demon inside her made Liza feel better. Just a little anyway.
“Now leave,” Finola said with a sigh. “This meeting has been disappointing and exhausting.”
Liza wondered if Finola really thought any of them cared about her displeasure or fatigue. She glanced at Tristan, who Liza could swear again was sharing a look with the dog.
But before she could ponder that, Finola lifted a hand and waved toward her door. “I said leave. I need some time to think.”
Liza didn’t know what Finola had to think about. She didn’t actually run the magazine. Nor did she seem the type to second-guess her decisions, but Liza supposed it didn’t really matter.
And she didn’t want to be here any longer anyway.
So without further comment or even a look, Liza turned and exited the office. Winding her way through the glass maze, she considered what other ways she might free herself of this demonic noose.
Demonic noose. I kinda like that.
“Be quiet,” Liza hissed, only to receive a confused look from Finola’s assistant as Liza walked past.
Are you working? Hmm, no, I don’t believe you are, so I don’t need to be quiet. In fact, I can be a whole hell of a lot more annoying than I have been. I do not appreciate your trying to get me in trouble.
Liza didn’t respond, not surprised by Boris’s reaction. She’d known he was going to be furious, but she didn’t care. She was finding it exceedingly difficult to care about anything.
I can make your life much worse than I have. You have seen
The Exorcist,
haven’t you? Do you need a few spewing-pea-soup moments to recognize who is really in control here?
But instead of feeling threatened or intimidated, Liza laughed. She stepped inside her office and closed the door before she spoke.
“You won’t do that, because you can’t. You aren’t that powerful. You are just an annoying little mosquito of a demon, buzzing in my ear but not effectual enough to do much else. You can tattle to Finola and irritate me. That’s it, but you aren’t going to get to annoy me much longer.”
What do you mean?
But before he could even get the question out, Liza was reaching for her purse and pulling out exactly what she needed to silence him.
Damn you. I will tell Finola about this.
“Feel free. I’ll just tell her I was working, and you wouldn’t be silent,” she said calmly as she poured a handful of Benadryl into the palm of her hand. She set down the bottle and reached for her cold coffee on her desk.
She won’t believe you.
“It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”
Without further comment, she scooped the pills into her mouth, willing her throat to relax as she swallowed them. The cold coffee and the pills were bitter on her tongue.
I hope you choke.
Liza did struggle for a moment with some of the pills, but managed to work them down.
Yep, she thought, swigging down the rest of her coffee. This was a bitter pill for them both, but she wasn’t living this way any longer.
She would do whatever she had to do to gain some freedom, some happiness.
 
Within twenty minutes of taking the pills, soft, even breathing echoed quietly through her head, but Liza didn’t find that annoying. She actually found it comforting. Listening to Boris’s sleeping breaths must be like the sounds of a baby sleeping, finally, after a long, sleepless night.
Liza yawned too. Tired, very tired. But despite the sleepiness she felt, her mind soon returned to the biggest distraction of her day.
Michael.
She hadn’t been able to get rid of her demons. Neither her literal one, nor the haunting demon of Michael’s words and frustrated departure.
Suddenly she stood, her body seeming to know the plan before her brain did.
She couldn’t have her freedom, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to give up her one chance at happiness. Even if it had to be stolen.
She grabbed her purse, only to realize she didn’t know where she was planning to go. She didn’t know where Michael lived—or really anything about the man. Was it possible to be this interested in someone she barely knew? Her heart told her yes—even if her head told her what she was doing was pretty much totally nuts. But her heart was winning this argument. After all, what had using her head done for her over the past few years? A whole lot of nada.
He worked in the mailroom. She could look for him there, but it was after-hours now. She doubted he would still be at work. But maybe someone else would be. Someone who might know how to contact him.
A long shot at best, but she didn’t want to wait until tomorrow, and actually tomorrow was Saturday. He might not even be back in until Monday. She wanted to see him now. She wanted to tell him that she wanted to date too, desperately. It would be tricky, but she was going to make it work. Not that she was going to reveal any of that to him. But she needed something to keep her going. Someone to believe in.
Grabbing her purse, she stood. She only swayed slightly as she did, the effects of the massive dose of allergy medicine mostly gone.
Her heart raced in her chest, skipping and fluttering in a faint erratic way that made her feel breathless, but she wasn’t going to worry about the sensation.
You are just nervous, she told herself. She’d rejected Michael, and now she was changing her mind. That was nerve-wracking. What if she’d missed her chance with him? She wouldn’t know unless she tried.
So she ignored the strange beating of her heart and told herself to buck up. She could do this. If she wasn’t going to let a demon stop her, she sure wasn’t going to let her own nerves.
She headed into the main hallway of the
HOT!
offices. Many employees still sat at their cubicles, heads down, diligently working, and would do so until late. The magazine ran on deadlines, of course, which often required long hours, but since Finola White had taken over, long hours took on a different meaning. She expected every one of her employees to be available to her at any time. Liza knew she wasn’t the only one exhausted, burnt out, and dangerously close to a breakdown.

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