Read Do You Believe in Magic? Online
Authors: Ann Macela
Tags: #General, #Fiction, #Magic, #Fantasy, #Paranormal, #Romance, #Contemporary
Do You Believe in Magic? (19 page)
The thought of dancing with him, being in his arms again, brought her back to reality. She had to resist this man’s charms or risk losing herself again. But she didn’t want to get into an argument, so she answered nonchalantly, “No, not really, I’m not much for clubs. And you never told me in detail how it went with Kevin. I do want a complete account of the meeting.”
“Okay. Let’s go back to your place.”
As they were walking up the stairs toward Francie’s apartment, Tamara and Kevin came out of the door across the courtyard. The two pairs exchanged hellos and a wave, but did not stop to speak.
Francie watched them leave the courtyard and shuddered. “That man just gives me the creeps. I didn’t like him before this mess, and now, I don’t want to be in his presence.” She unlocked her door and let them into the apartment. “Would you like something to drink?” she asked as they both took off their jackets. She hung hers in the closet by the door, and he laid his over the back of a chair.
“No, nothing for me, thanks.” He looked at her as she wandered around the room, straightening the items on a table, fluffing a pillow. It was time to take control, or she’d sit down in that overstuffed chair and be out of reach. Even though she’d said “no kisses, no touching,” that didn’t mean they had to act like adversaries and speak across the coffee table. He sat on the left end of the couch and patted the cushion to his right. “Come sit down here, and I’ll tell you all about the meeting.”
She actually did as requested, and he waited until she made herself comfortable. Good, just where he wanted her. Hiking his knee up on the seat, he turned so that he faced her. Her position mirrored his, except she kept her legs together.
Stretching his arm along the back of the couch but controlling the urge to touch her, he began talking. He told her everything from the beginning, about being wired for sound, impatiently waiting with Bill Childress for Kevin to show, dropping sledgehammer hints to the hacker, making the deal, setting the appointment for Wednesday.
“So?” he asked when he had finished. She hadn’t interrupted him at all. “What do you think?”
She made a face. “I think he’s a disgusting slimeball. And you’re certain he’s not in collusion with anybody else?”
“It doesn’t look like it. I think he was telling the truth about that. Unless the managers over at NatChem are crazy, and they’d have to be to assume Brenner could pull off a hacking job, I can’t see them authorizing criminal activity.”
Francie looked at her hands clasped in her lap, then up at him. The worry in her eyes was almost palpable. “What about Tamara? Could he have been using her all along as a ploy to get to me?”
“No. Don’t start thinking any of this is your fault. How could he have known beforehand you two were friends? From what you said, they went out for a couple of months before he started using your computer to hack. If Brenner’s goal all along had been you or your machine, he’d have been pushing it long before. This was probably a crime of opportunity precipitated by his troubles at work. He saw the chance and took it. Did you ever dial into Brazos while he was present?”
She frowned in remembrance. “Yes, there was once when they came over to use my computer to surf the Web, and I was online with Brazos.”
“See.” He nodded; her comment clinched his hypothesis. “Brenner lucked out. His girlfriend had a friend who worked for the competition. He had a lagging sales team and wanted inside information about her company. He could use a machine that already had access, he knew when you wouldn’t be home, and he thought it would be easy. I’ll bet he tried at least once to get in using your password, and when he couldn’t figure it out, he took the hacker’s route. You and Tamara are innocent bystanders.”
Francie sighed and slumped against the sofa back. “Tamara. She’s going to be so angry at Kevin when she finds out what he’s done. I only hope she won’t be too upset with me for not telling her. I still feel like I’m deceiving her. At least it looks like they’re breaking up.”
“If she gives you too hard a time, let me talk to her.” Clay reached out his arm on the couch and put his hand on her shoulder, partly to show support and partly because he couldn’t resist the need to touch her any longer.
She shook her head and smiled sadly. “Thanks, but I couldn’t ask you to do that. We’ll work it out. We’ve been friends too long not to.”
“Atta girl.” He gave her shoulder a little shake of encouragement before moving his hand back to the sofa. It was time to change the subject. He knew
he
didn’t want to talk about Tamara or deception, and Francie was looking pretty dejected. He smiled and tapped her clasped fists with his free hand. “In the meantime, I’ve got an idea.”
he
didn’t want to talk about Tamara or deception, and Francie was looking pretty dejected. He smiled and tapped her clasped fists with his free hand. “In the meantime, I’ve got an idea.”
“What?” she asked in a listless voice, but she raised her eyes to his.
“Tomorrow afternoon, why don’t you come over to my house and I’ll show you how I foiled Brenner’s hacking attempts.”
The idea seemed to perk her up. She gave herself a little shake, as if she were casting off her worrisome thoughts, and she smiled again, this time in delight. “How you detoured him when he was heading straight for the customer files?”
“Yep.”
“How the application on my machine works to track him?”
“Sure. We wouldn’t exactly be getting away from our problem, but it would give us something to do. I have a couple of other programs you might like to see, as well.”
A skeptical look crossed her face, but she was still smiling. “Is this the computer version of luring me over to ‘see your etchings’, as the lotharios say in the old stories?”
“Of course not,” he replied in fake indignation and went on with a lecherous leer. “Or would you like to see my etchings?” He waggled his eyebrows at her.
“Just the programs will be fine,” she answered primly, and they laughed together.
“No, seriously,” he continued, pleased that she seemed relaxed enough to joke. Maybe he was making progress. “You’re one of the few people I know to whom I can show off and who will understand what I’m doing. Afterward we can broil some steaks on the grill. Suppose I pick you up about two o’clock.”
She shook her head. “No, I have a hair appointment at one. I’ll come to you.”
“Please don’t tell me you’re going to get a haircut.” He couldn’t resist; he had to touch her. Raising his hand and fingering the blond curls, he wrapped a silky strand around his fingers. He could feel the connection between them, energy flowing as if his touching her hair had completed a circuit. He bent toward her. She was so close. Maybe just one little kiss wouldn’t hurt or cause her to reject him again.
The energy flow became stronger. He looked into those smoky brown eyes and leaned closer, close enough to see himself reflected in them.
She went still for a second, and when she shivered, he knew she also felt the current.
“N-no. Not much of one. J-just a little trim,” she stuttered, her gaze moving from his down to his lips. Her own lips parted.
“Good,” he whispered as he completed that circuit, too.
Somebody groaned as their lips met. Somebody took in a deep breath. He could have sworn a hum floated in the air. Multicolored lights seemed to sparkle on the back of his eyelids.
Clay moved his hand from her hair to her head, threading through the thick blond waves, cradling her skull. He slid his other hand from her hands up her arm and around to her back, coming to rest at her waist. He sipped at her lips, his tongue asked entrance, and when she gave it, he swept inside.
Francie stiffened for the barest part of a second, then softened and reached for him, both arms going around him, one at his neck, the other his chest. Her tongue played with his and caressed his lower lip.
He could feel her full breasts against his chest, her nipples already tight. He could have howled at the pleasure the sensation created.
It wasn’t enough. He had to feel her along his whole body. Not breaking contact anywhere, he lifted her closer and leaned back toward the sofa’s arm. She held tight and followed until he was almost flat on his back and she was on top of him, her legs between his.
His hands roamed over her, from her head to her thighs, kneading, massaging, holding her tight against the granite hard erection straining against his jeans. He deepened the kiss, thrusting his tongue as he rocked their hips together. She responded by fisting one hand in his hair and purring, a vibration he felt resonating down his body to lodge in his now throbbing cock.
When he brought a hand up to her breast, she tensed again, then pressed herself into his palm and took over his mouth with her own tongue. He felt her heartbeat accelerate, beat to the same rhythm as his. He kissed her forever, until both of them were laboring for breath as though they’d run a marathon.
He finally ended it with a series of small kisses, then tucked her head under his chin and held her tight. She lay over him like a blanket, utterly relaxed, while she regained her breath.
Holy hell
, the words somehow ran through his bloodless brain. No woman had ever affected him like this. He had practically climaxed in his jeans—how he’d avoided it, he’d never know. And Francie had been right there with him.
, the words somehow ran through his bloodless brain. No woman had ever affected him like this. He had practically climaxed in his jeans—how he’d avoided it, he’d never know. And Francie had been right there with him.
If this was what happened with a single kiss between soul mates, what would actual lovemaking be like? It would kill him, for sure.
Eventually—he had no idea how long it took—their breathing returned to normal, and Francie began to stir. He sat up—carefully—and pulled her legs around so she was sitting again, but still between his legs, one of which was braced by the couch back, the other with his foot on the floor.
Her hands on his chest, she raised dazed eyes to his and licked her lips absently. She had been affected as strongly as he. Good. He wasn’t in this by himself. They were, had to be, soul mates. His doubts had been foolish.
Right now, he had to get out of here before he gave in to the compulsion to carry this activity to its natural conclusion. He didn’t want to give her the opportunity to tell him that this was all “business,” or that she was too worried about Tamara to think about any remotely possible relationship with him. He absolutely did not want her to regret their actions or to refuse to come over tomorrow.
One thing this episode had taught him: he had to tell her everything,
yes, even about soul mates
, and he had to do it tomorrow. He didn’t think he could take another of these sessions without rupturing something.
yes, even about soul mates
, and he had to do it tomorrow. He didn’t think he could take another of these sessions without rupturing something.
Her eyebrows drew together in a slight frown, and the smoke began to clear from her eyes. He had to be extra careful as her wits returned to her.
“Clay?” she whispered, “what happened?”
“Shhhh.” He leaned in to kiss her forehead. “It’s all right. We just got a little carried away, that’s all.”
“Oh.” She must have realized her hands were stroking his chest because she snatched them away, back to her lap. “I didn’t mean for that to happen. I’m sorry.”
He chuckled at her apology. “Don’t be. I’m not.” He scooted back on the couch and levered himself to a standing position.
Francie rose, pushed her thoroughly mussed hair back from her forehead, and took a deep breath—oh, what that did to her glorious breasts and his now painful cock. She straightened her clothing and looked up at him again. She frowned, but was obviously still disoriented. “Clay, I don’t . . . we can’t . . . this won’t . . .” she began.
He placed a finger on her lips to shush her, then tucked another unruly lock of her hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering on her cheek. “We have a great deal to talk about tomorrow, Francie.” He couldn’t stop himself from kissing her again lightly. “I’ll see you between two and three, okay?”
“Okay.” She sighed, then frowned again.
Taking advantage of her still-confused state of mind, he kissed her again for luck, grabbed his jacket, and walked out the door.
He grinned all the way home. The soul-mate imperative was definitely working. He could feel his magic center grinning.
He was totally certain.
Tomorrow she’d be his.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The next morning, Francie opened her eyes before her alarm clock buzzed. Instead of her usual grogginess, she was completely awake, she realized as she stretched. She couldn’t remember the last time that had happened. It didn’t mean that she had to get up, though. Today was Saturday, after all. She turned the pillow over, rearranged the covers, and wallowed in the luxury of being able to remain in bed.
She closed her eyes and tried going back to sleep, but the evening before persisted in replaying itself in her memory. She had thoroughly enjoyed dinner and conversation with Clay. It had been almost like a real date, not something to keep the fiction of their relationship alive for Tamara and Kevin. She was glad this deception was almost over. She hated Kevin for what he was doing to Tamara and, by extension, to herself. If it hadn’t been for Clay and his computer wizardry, she might have been blamed for Kevin’s chicanery. As for Clay . . .
She pulled her mind away from him and toward the problem of the hacker. Setting up the trap the way he did, Clay was certainly handling Kevin well. Now if everything went as planned, the police would catch Kevin on tape and arrest him and this farce would be finished. He’d be out of Tamara’s life for good.
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