Dreams of Seduction (4 page)

There was no trouble finding a parking spot downtown in front of A Touch of Magick. Even from his vehicle, he could see the graffiti sprayed across the storefront. “Damn,” he muttered as he climbed out.

Deputy Ryland Stone was already there and came to meet him. “Morning, Jed.”

“Morning, Ry. What have you got for me this morning?”

“Graffiti.” He motioned to the paint splattered over the wall in front of them. Jed wondered what made folks do such a thing. If you wanted to paint, then paint. There was no need to deface other people’s property. That was vandalism, pure and simple.

“Break and entry?”

Ryland shook his head. “No.”

“Good enough.” Jed went straight to work, leaving Ryland to deal with Rhiannon Sparks, the owner.

He knew her by name and by reputation. His mother loved her shop and had tried to encourage Jed to ask her out. He’d told his mother he could find his own dates if and when he wanted them. She’d given in gracefully, resigned to the fact that her son was as hardheaded as his father.

Not that Rhiannon wasn’t a good-looking woman. She was. It was simply that there wasn’t any spark between them. He chuckled at his own pun, shook his head and went to work.

He checked the perimeter of the building and the garbage cans searching for possible evidence. So far their graffiti artist had hit abandoned buildings on the outskirts. This was his first foray into town. He was escalating. That was never good.

And it was the same artist. They all had a signature style and this one even signed his work.

It was too much to hope that he’d find an empty spray can with fingerprints. It wouldn’t help them unless the culprit had been arrested before, but if they managed to come up with a suspect, it would link him, or her, to the crime.

It was slow going, but when Jed was satisfied he’d found all the evidence there was to find, which wasn’t a heck of a lot, he went to the front door of the business and knocked. It took a few moments, but Ryland finally answered.

“You done yet?” Jed asked.

Ryland hesitated and all Jed’s senses went on alert. He studied his friend and colleague, but said nothing.

“No. I haven’t had a chance to question her yet. She’s in the bathroom.”

Jed nodded. “I’m done outside. Just copy me your report when you’re done with it. I’ll send you what I’ve got.”

A woman approached them, offering her hand. “I’m Rhiannon Sparks.”

“Jed Bearson.” He stepped forward and took her proffered hand. “Nice place you’ve got here.” And that was nothing less than the truth. He’d shopped here a few times himself, buying things for his mother for her birthday and last Christmas. Rhiannon carried a wide variety of books, giftware and jewelry.

Pride filled her gaze as she glanced around the shop. “Thanks.”

Jed nodded and then turned back to Ryland, noting how his friend was watching the pretty Ms.

Sparks. Seemed to Jed that Ry might have more than a professional interest in her. Well, well. That could prove interesting.

“I’ll start talking with the neighbors to see if anyone heard or saw anything.” He glanced back at Rhiannon and nodded. “Ms. Sparks.” Turning on his heel, he headed back outside and closed the door behind him.

There wasn’t much he could do until the other businesses opened for the day. He climbed in his vehicle and headed to Clancy’s Bakery. They would be open for business by now and he could grab a fresh cup of coffee and a warm blueberry muffin before he took statements.

Maggie rolled out of bed ready to put the night before completely out of her mind. “Candle magick and erotic fantasies. What a combination,” she muttered as she finished loading her cereal bowl into the dishwasher. The cottage might be old, but her grandmother had kept her kitchen updated.

Bride O’Neill had loved to cook and bake.

Maggie wished she were better at it.

“No time like the present.” One thing about living alone was that she’d gotten into the habit of talking to herself. “Maybe I need to get a cat like Rhiannon. Or maybe a dog.” That way she could at least pretend she was talking to them.

She rubbed the back of her neck. The movement caused her sweater to rise, brushing over her breasts.

She sucked in a breath and ignored how sensitive they were this morning. Last night’s erotic fantasies had left her feeling…horny was the only word for it. All that talk over at Rhiannon’s place last night about needing to get laid had sent her libido into overdrive.

“Bake,” she reminded herself. Going over to the hutch in the dining room, she opened the bottom drawer and rummaged around. She wasn’t looking for a cookbook, but her grandmother’s notebook.

“Where is it, Gran?”

She shoved aside several files filled with recipes torn from long-gone magazines, two mismatched placemats and a yellowed tablecloth before she found what she was searching for. The green-covered notebook was tattered and worn, but to Maggie it was gold. This was where her grandmother kept all the family recipes.

“Yes.” Maggie pumped the fist of her free hand and shoved the drawer closed. There was a recipe in here for scones that melted in your mouth.

Dropping into one of the kitchen chairs, she carefully opened to the first page. Her grandmother’s perfect writing covered the page. “Oh, Gran,” she whispered.

Closing her eyes, Maggie took a deep breath. She wouldn’t cry. There was no point and she’d already shed a million of them. Her family was gone and she was the last. She was luckier than most. She had a home and many, many wonderful memories.

She opened her eyes and stared at the kitchen counter. The wall color was different now, but the kitchen hadn’t changed much since Maggie was a child. She had many fond memories of standing on a chair next to her grandmother, thrilled at being allowed to stir and measure and help make all sorts of delectable treats.

All that had stopped when she was eleven and her mother and new stepfather had whisked her off to California. She hadn’t cooked since.

“I can do this.” She was thirty years old. Certainly she could follow a recipe. How hard could it be?

Rising from the table, she set to work. It took her a while to find all the utensils she needed. “I really need to go through everything in this house.” Short of removing her grandmother’s clothing and donating it to charity, Maggie hadn’t sorted through any of the papers, books and years of accumulated stuff that filled all the drawers and closets.

She turned on the radio, tuning it to a local station as she worked. She hummed along even though she didn’t know the words to the song and sifted and stirred. Flour, butter, sugar, milk and one or two other ingredients were all mixed together. Maggie enjoyed the entire process of taking the raw ingredients and turning them into something ready to bake.

With the scones safely in the oven, Maggie decided it was time to start going through some of her grandmother’s things. The hutch in the dining room was as good a place to start as any.

Opening the top doors, she stared at all the dishes crammed inside. Her grandmother had loved to yard sale, but she’d had a great eye. Time passed swiftly as Maggie unloaded the hutch, piling all the dishes and serving pieces, everything from Fiestaware to fine china, onto the dining room table. She’d need to get some boxes and pack up what she didn’t want. She could store them in the spare room for now. Maybe she’d list some of the better pieces on eBay or maybe have her own yard sale in the spring.

She was admiring a green Depression glass bowl when the smell of smoke tickled her nostrils. “Shit!”

She practically tossed the bowl aside and raced into the kitchen. Smoke was seeping from around the oven door.

Grabbing oven mitts, she opened it. A billow of smoke surged outward, stinging her eyes and nose.

She waved at it for a few seconds and then reached in, yanked the pan out and set it on the stovetop.

She stared at the blacken lumps.

Maggie jumped when the smoke detector began to blare. Swearing under her breath, she opened the back door to let in some fresh air and waved a dishtowel under the smoke detector. It blasted for a few more moments before going silent.

She stared around the kitchen. The place was a mess. She had spilt flour, bowls and measuring cups on the counter. The dining table was piled high with dishes. And her blackened scones reigned supreme from their perch on the stove.

Maggie stared at it all and her lips began to twitch. Then she began to chuckle. Seconds later it turned to laughter. She hugged her stomach as she laughed so hard tears rolled down her cheeks. She swiped them away. “Oh, Gran. If you could only see me now.”

When her laughter eventually subsided, Maggie took the ruined scones and dumped them in the garbage. At the last moment, she rescued two of them and cut away the blackened bits. “Maybe the gulls will eat them.” She walked outside and to the edge of the garden before tossing them away. She’d check later to see if they were gone.

In the meantime, she had a mess to clean up.

It felt good to laugh, to try something new, to feel as though she was starting to move forward in life.

Maybe that love spell they’d cast in Rhiannon’s yard last night was a good thing. It had certainly spiced up bedtime activities last night.

Maggie fanned her face with her hand as she went back inside and shut the door behind her. The room still smelled smoky, so she opened a window, letting in more of the cool, salty air.

She didn’t have any more time to spend thinking about last night. She had too much to do. It was time to make this house her home. Up until now, she’d been reluctant to change much, keeping it as a shrine to the family she’d lost.

But they were gone and she was very much still alive. Plus, she knew her grandmother would want her to turn the cottage into a sanctuary for herself.

Clean first. Maybe when that huge chore was done she’d think about painting some of the other rooms. She’d claimed the bedroom as hers. It was past time to do the same thing to the rest of the place.

Chapter Four

Maggie could hear ringing in the distance. She frowned and tried to ignore it. She wanted to sleep.

She’d spent yesterday cleaning and sorting all sorts of stuff and most of last night dreaming. She was exhausted. But the ringing persisted.

Shoving the pillow off her head, she stuck out her hand and groped at the bedside table for her cell phone. She thumbed the right button. “’Lo.”

“Maggie, wake up. It’s Esther.”

“Whaaa?” She squinted at the clock and almost groaned aloud. It was early.

“Maggie,” Esther said more sharply.

“What?” There was something in Esther’s tone that made her sit up and listen. She shoved the mass of her red hair over her shoulder and yawned, trying to concentrate.

“Get up and get dressed. We’re meeting Rhiannon at A Touch of Magick.”

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” she demanded.

“Unfortunately, I do. But Rhiannon called in a tizzy and it has to do with a man.”

“What?” Maggie was definitely wide awake now. “What happened?”

Esther relayed some details. Maggie wasn’t quite sure on all of them as she was still half asleep.

Something about chocolate and phone sex. “Holy smokes.”

Esther laughed. “That about says it all. She needs us and, I don’t know about you, but I need details.”

“Do you think that candle spell actually worked?” Maggie had been wondering about that for the past two nights. Not that she believed Rhiannon was really a witch. She was just different, and that was okay by Maggie. Rhiannon was her friend no matter what she believed about herself.

“I don’t know.” Esther was silent for a minute. “Listen, I’ll pick you up in about fifteen minutes.”

She hung up before Maggie could protest she’d need more time. Pressing the button to disconnect, she tossed her cell phone back on the table.

God, she needed some sleep. She was exhausted. Last night had been a sex-filled marathon. Even if it was only a dream, it had been amazing. Wonderful. Incredible. And more than a little disturbing.

Groaning, Maggie forced herself out of bed. “You’re losing it,” she muttered as she stumbled toward the bathroom. Whether it was all the talk of sex at Rhiannon’s house the other night or simply the fact it had been months and months and months since she’d had any, her dreams had been filled with sexual fantasies. All featuring Jed Bearson in the role of leading man.

The night before, he’d starred in her private fantasies as she’d pleasured herself.

Maggie grabbed her brush and quickly ran it through her hair. There was no time to wash it now.

Gathering it, she twisted it into a bun and anchored it on top of her head. She blinked at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were half-closed and dark circles rimmed beneath them. “Great. You look like you haven’t slept.”

Turning away, she fumbled with the taps and turned on the shower. When it was hot enough, she stepped beneath the spray, being careful to keep back far enough so her hair didn’t take a direct hit.

As she quickly washed, she pondered her dreams. Technically, she’d slept otherwise she wouldn’t be able to dream. But she certainly didn’t feel rested. She felt hot and edgy and unfulfilled.

Her soapy hands slowed, skimming over her body. She accidentally brushed her nipples and moaned.

God, her dreams had been amazing. She’d had several. They were all pretty much the same in that she and Jed ended up in bed together. It was there the similarities ended. They’d made love in a variety of positions and places. Jed was very inventive.

She smiled as one particular memory of the two of them in the shower came back to her full force.

Her smile quickly became a groan of pleasure, her core pulsing in remembrance of her incredible orgasm.

She’d come more times in the past two nights than she had in the last six months she and her ex had been together. Problem was, last night she’d been alone and asleep.

Maggie turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, swearing as she dripped on the floor. She reached out and snagged a clean towel from the open shelving to the right of the vanity and quickly dried off. No time to think about that now. Esther would be here any moment and Rhiannon needed her.