Entranced (16 page)

She couldn’t quite mask the quick shudder that passed through her. “No, thanks. I like my head just the way it is.” Experimentally she put a hand to it while watching Sebastian. “I don’t like the idea of anybody being able to read my mind. If we’re going to go through with this temporary partnership, that’s the number one rule.”

“Agreed. I won’t look inside your mind unless you ask me to.” Noting the doubt in her eyes, he smiled. “I don’t lie, Mel.”

“Witch’s creed?”

“If you like.”

She didn’t, but she would take him at his word. “Okay, next—we share all information. No holding back.”

His smile was both charming and dangerous. “I’m more than willing to agree we’ve held back long enough.”

“We’re professional. We keep it professional.”

“When appropriate.” He touched the rim of his glass to hers. “Is sharing a meal considered professional?”

“We don’t have to be ridiculous. What I mean is, if we’re going to go under posing as a married couple wanting a child, we don’t let the act—”

“Blur those lines of yours,” he finished for her. “I understand. Do you have a plan?”

“Well, it would help if we had the cooperation of the FBI.”

“Leave that to me.”

She grinned. It was exactly what she’d hoped for. “With them backing us up, we can establish a solid identity. Papers, backgrounds, IRS files, the works. We need to come to the attention of the organization, so we’ll have to be affluent, but not so high-profile as to scare them off. We should be new in the community we choose. No ties, no family. We’ll have to be put on the waiting list of several reputable adoption agencies. Have records from fertility clinics and doctors. Once they’ve gotten to Parkland or one of the others, we’ll have a
better idea where to set up, and how.”

“There might be an easier way.”

“What?”

He waved her aside. “I’ll get to it. This could take quite a lot of time.”

“It could. It would be worth it.”

“We compromise. I work out where we begin, when and how, you handle the procedure from there.”

She hesitated, aware she’d never be any good at compromise. “If you pick the when, where and how, it has to be for solid reasons, and I have to accept them.”

“All right.”

“All right.” It seemed simple enough. If there was a frisson of excitement working through her, it was the anticipation of an interesting and rewarding job. “I guess I could help you deal with all these dishes.”

She rose, started to stack the delicate china with the competence her waitress mother had taught her. Sebastian put a hand on her arm. The frisson erupted into a flare.

“Leave them.”

“You cooked,” she said, and strode quickly to the sink. A little room, she thought. A little room and some busywork was all she needed to stay on an even keel. “And from the looks of this kitchen, you’re not the type who leaves dirty dishes hanging around.”

He was behind her when she turned, and his hands came to her shoulders to prevent her from dodging away. “So, I’ll be unpredictable.”

“Or you could hire some elves to scrub up,” she muttered.

“I don’t employ any elves—in California.” When her look sharpened, he began to knead her shoulders. “You’re tensing up on me, Mel. During dinner you were quite relaxed. You even smiled at me several times, which I found a very pleasant change.”

“I don’t like people touching me.” But she didn’t move away. After all, there was nowhere to go.

“Why not? It’s merely another form of communication. There are many. Voices, eyes, hands.” His slid over
her shoulders, turning the muscles there to water. “Minds. A touch doesn’t have to be dangerous.”

“It can be.”

His lips curved as his fingers skimmed down her back. “But you’re no coward. A woman like you meets a dangerous situation head-on.”

Her chin came up, as he’d known it would. “I came here to talk to you.”

“And we’ve talked.” He nudged her closer so that he had only to bend his head to press his lips to the faint cleft in the center of that strong chin. “I enjoyed it.”

She would not be seduced. She was a grown woman with a mind of her own, and seduction was, always had been, out of the question. She lifted a hand to his chest, where it lay, fingers spread, neither resisting nor inviting.

“I didn’t come to play games.”

“Pity.” His lips hovered a breath from hers before he tilted his head and brushed them under her jaw. “I also enjoy games. But we can save them for another time.”

It was becoming very difficult to breathe. “Look, maybe I’m attracted to you, but that doesn’t mean … anything.”

“Of course not. Your skin’s unbelievably delicate just here, Mary Ellen. It’s as if your pulse would bruise the flesh if it continued to beat so hard.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

But when he tugged her shirt free of her waistband to let his hands roam up her back, she felt as delicate as a dandelion puff. With a sound that was somewhere between a moan and a sigh, she arched back against him.

“I’d nearly lost my patience,” he murmured against her throat. “Waiting for you to come to me.”

“I didn’t. I haven’t.” But her arms had wound around him, and her fingers were tangled in his hair. “This isn’t why I’m here.”

But hadn’t she known? Somewhere inside, hadn’t she known?

“I have to think. This could be a mistake.” But even as she said it, her mouth was moving hungrily over his.
“I hate to make mistakes.”

“Mmm … Who doesn’t?” He cupped his hands under her hips. With a murmur of acceptance, she scooted up, wrapping her legs around his waist. “This isn’t one.”

“I’ll figure it out later,” she said as he carried her out of the kitchen. “I really don’t want this to mess up the other business. It’s too important. I want that to work, I really want that to work, and I’d hate myself if I messed it up just because …”

On a groan, she pressed her mouth to his throat. “I want you. I want you so much.”

Her words started a drumbeat in his head, slow, rhythmic, seductive. He dragged her head back with one hand so that he could plunder her mouth. “One has nothing to do with the other.”

“It could.” She rocked against him as he started up the steps. Her breath was already coming in pants as her eyes met his. “It should.”

“Then so be it.” He kicked open the door to the bedroom. “Let’s break some rules.”

She had never been one to throw caution to the winds. To take risks, certainly, but always knowing the consequences. There was no way to figure the odds now, not with him. Again, it was up to instinct. Although her head told her to cut her losses and run, something else, something closer to the bone, urged her to stay.

To trust.

She was still wrapped around him, throbbing at every point a pulse could beat. It wasn’t shyness that had her hesitating. She had never considered herself overly sexual or more than average in looks, so she felt she had nothing to be shy about. It was a sudden certainty that this was vital that had her taking one last long look at him.

And what she saw was exactly what she wanted.

Her lips curved slowly. When she started to slide down him, he braced her back against the bedpost so that when her feet touched the floor she was trapped between the smooth, carved wood and his body.

His eyes stayed on hers as his hands moved slowly upward, fingertips sliding over thighs, hips, the sides of her breasts, her throat, temples. She shuddered once before his fists closed, viselike, in her hair and his mouth crushed down on hers.

His body was pressed against her so truly that she felt every line and curve. She sensed that the power inside it was that of a wolf on a leash, ready to tear free. But it was his mouth that drove her mind to the edge of reason. Insatiable and possessive, it drew from hers every nuance of emotion. Desires and doubts, fears and longings. She felt her will being passed to him like a gift.

He felt that instant of surrender, when her body was both limp and firm against his, when her lips trembled, then sought more of what he wanted to give. The hunger sliced through him like a silver blade, cleaving the
civilized from the desperate and leaving him quivering like a stallion that scents his mate.

He reared his head back, and she saw that his eyes were dark as midnight, full of reckless needs and heedless wants. And power. She trembled, first in fear, then again, in glorious delight.

It was that answer he saw. And it was that answer he took.

With one violent swipe, he tore her shirt to tatters. Her gasp was muffled against his mouth. Even as they tumbled onto the bed, his hands were everywhere, bruising and stroking, taking and tormenting.

In answer she dragged at his shirt, popping buttons, rending seams, as they rolled over the sheets. When she felt his flesh against hers, she let out a long, breathless sigh of approval.

He gave her little time to think, and none to question. He was riding her into a storm filled with thunderclaps and flashing lights and howling winds. She knew it was physical. There was nothing magical about the skill of his hands, the drugging taste of his mouth. But oh, it seemed like magic to be whisked away, beyond the ordinary, beyond even the simple beauty of a rosy dusk and the stirrings of night birds just waking.

Where he took her was all dazzling speed and unspeakable pleasure. A whisper of some language she couldn’t understand. An incantation? Some lover’s promise? The sound alone was enough to seduce her. A touch, rough or gentle, was accepted with delight. The taste of him, hot and salty on her lips, cool and soothing on her tongue, was enough to make her ravenous for more.

So generous, his hazy mind thought. So strong, so giving. In the lowering light her skin was gilded like a warrior goddess’s prepared for battle. She was slim and straight, agile as a fantasy, responsive as a wish. He felt her strangled gasp against his ear, the sudden convulsive dig of her nails into his back as her body shuddered from the climax he gave her.

Even as her limp hand slid from his damp shoulder he was racing over her again. Wild to taste, crazed to make her blood pump hot again until he could hear her breath rasping out his name.

He braced over her, shaking his head until his vision cleared, until he could see her face, her eyes half-closed and drugged with pleasure, her lips swollen from his and trembling on each breath.

“Come with me,” he told her.

As her arms encircled, he drove himself inside her. And he knew, as they raced together, that some spells require nothing more than a willing heart.

*  *  *

She thought she heard music. Lovely, soothing. Heart music. Mel didn’t know where the phrase had come from, but she smiled at the thought of it and turned.

There was no one to turn to.

Instantly awake, she sat up in the dark. Though the night was ink-black, she knew she was alone in the room. Sebastian’s room. Being with him had been no dream. Nor was being alone now a dream.

She groped for the light beside the bed and shielded her eyes until they had adjusted.

She didn’t call out his name. It would have made her feel foolish to speak it in an empty bed in a shadowy room. Instead she scrambled up, found his shirt crumpled on the floor. Tugging her arms through the sleeves, she followed the music.

It came from no real direction. Though soft as a whisper, it seemed to surround her. Odd, no matter how she strained to hear, she couldn’t be sure if she was hearing voices raised in song, or strings, flutes, horns. It was simply sound, a lovely vibration on the air that was both eerie and beautiful.

She flowed with it, following instinct. The sound grew no louder, no softer, but it did seem to become more fluid, washing over her skin, sliding into her mind as she followed a corridor that snaked left, then climbed a short flight of stairs.

She saw the glow of candlelight, an ethereal flicker that built to a golden flood as she approached a room at the end of the hallway. There was a scent of warm wax, of sandalwood, of pungent smoke.

She wasn’t aware she was holding her breath when she stopped in the doorway and looked.

The room wasn’t large. She thought the word
chamber
would be more appropriate, but she wasn’t sure why such a quaint term came to mind. The walls were a pale, warm-toned wood, burnished now with the mystical
lights of dozens of slim white candles.

There were windows, three in the shape of crescent moons. She remembered seeing them from the outside and realized that the room was at the topmost part of the house, facing the cliffs and the sea.

Above, a twinkling of stars could be seen through the skylights he’d opened to the night and the air. There were chairs and tables and stands, all of them looking as if they belonged in some medieval castle, rather than a modern home in Big Sur. On them she saw orbs of crystal, colorful bowls, scribed silver mirrors, slender wands of clear glass, and goblets encrusted with glittering stones.

She didn’t believe in magic. Mel knew there was always a false drawer in the magician’s chest and an ace of hearts up his sleeve. But standing there, in the doorway of that room, she felt the air pulse and throb as if it were alive with a thousand hearts.

And she knew that there was more, here in this world she thought she knew, than she had ever dreamed of.

Sebastian sat in the center of the room, in the center of a silver pentagram inlaid in the wooden floor. His back was to her, and he was very still. Her curiosity had always been strong, but she discovered something stronger—her need to give him his privacy.

But, even as she stepped back from the doorway, he spoke to her.

“I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t.” She toyed with one of the few buttons left on his shirt. “The music did. Or I woke up and heard it, and wondered …” She looked around, baffled. She could see no recording device, no stereo. “I wondered where it was coming from.”

“The night.” He rose. Though she’d never considered herself a prude, she found herself flushing when he stood naked in the candlelight, holding a hand out for her.

“I’m naturally nosy, but I didn’t mean to intrude.”