Face the Fire (4 page)

He was grateful he’d had so much on his plate through the day: It had helped keep thoughts of her at bay.

But he thought of her now, and remembered how he had felt the shimmer of her power flutter around the edges of his mind the day before. He’d pressed back at it, poked through it momentarily. And had seen her, clearly, kneeling in her tower room, her body washed by pale gold light, her hair a fiery fall to her shoulders.

Her birthmark, the tiny pentagram high on her thigh, had shimmered.

He had no doubt it had been that momentary jolt of desire that had allowed her to snap the link between them so quickly, so easily.

No matter. It had been wrong of him to intrude on her the way he had. Rude and wrong, and he’d been sorry for it almost as soon as he’d done it.

He would have to apologize for it, of course. There were rules of conduct that neither intimacy nor animosity could excuse breaking.

No time like the present, he decided. He culled the most pressing paperwork and tucked it in his briefcase. He’d speak to Mia, then grab some takeout and finish his work at home over a meal.

Unless he could convince her to have dinner with him, as a peace offering. Then work could wait.

He walked out of the hotel just as Mia stepped out of the bookstore across the street. They stood where they were a moment, each obviously caught off guard. Then she swiveled on her heel and walked toward a spiffy little convertible.

He had to dash across the street to catch her before she slipped into it.

“Mia. A minute.”

“Go to hell.”

“You can send me there after I apologize.” He snagged the car door she’d swung open and closed it again. “I was completely in the wrong. I have no excuse for that kind of discourtesy.”

Being surprised didn’t mean being mollified. “I don’t recall you ever being so quick with an apology before.” She gave a little shrug. “Fine. Accepted. Go away.”

“Give me five minutes.”

“No.”

“Five minutes, Mia. I’ve been cooped up all day, and I could use a walk and some fresh air.”

She wouldn’t struggle with him for the car door. It would be—and look to the people who were trying to pretend they weren’t watching—undignified. “No one’s stopping you. There’s a great deal of air around here.”

“Give me a chance to explain. A casual walk on the beach,” he said quietly. “If you blow me off, you’re just
going to give them more to talk about. And me more to wonder about. A friendly conversation, in public, doesn’t hurt either of us.”

“All right.” She dropped her car keys in the pocket of her long gray dress. “Five minutes.”

She took a deliberate step away from him, slid her hands into her pockets, and jingled her keys as they walked along High Street toward the beach.

“Was your first day productive?”

“It was a good start. Do you remember Stella Farley?”

“Of course. I see her quite often. She belongs to the book club at the store.”

“Mmm.” Another reminder that she’d been here while changes had taken place and he hadn’t. “She has some ideas for getting back some of our lunch business that you’ve been stealing away.”

“Really?” Mia asked, amused. “Good luck.” She felt people watching them as they turned toward the seawall. She stopped there, sliding out of her shoes before stepping onto the sand.

“I’ll carry them.”

“No, thanks.”

The sea was a warm blue, deeper toward the horizon. Shells heaved up by the last high tide scattered the shore. Gulls circled, wheeled, cried.

“I felt you,” he began. “Yesterday. I felt you and I reacted. That’s not an excuse, it’s a reason.”

“I’ve already said accepted.”

“Mia.” He reached out, but his fingers only brushed her sleeve as she moved away.

“I don’t want you to touch me. That’s basic.”

“We were friends once.”

She stopped to stare at him out of cold gray eyes. “Were we?”

“You know we were. We were more than lovers, more
than . . .” Mates, he’d nearly said. “It wasn’t just passion. We cared about each other. We shared thoughts.”

“Now my thoughts are my own, and I don’t need any more friends.”

“Lovers? You never married.”

She turned that staggering face on him, and her expression was all female and smug. “If I wanted a lover or a husband, I’d have one.”

“No question about it,” he murmured. “You’re the most extraordinary creature. I thought of you.”

“Stop,” she warned. “Stop now.”

“Damn it, I’ll say what I have to say. I thought of you.” He dropped his briefcase, grabbed her arms, as some of the frustration broke through. “I thought of us. What’s happened in between doesn’t erase what we were to each other.”

“You erased it. Now you have to live with it, as I did.”

“It’s not just about us.” He tightened his grip. He could feel her vibrating and knew she could strike out, woman or witch, at any moment. “You know that as well as I do.”

“There
is
no us. Do you think after all this time, after all I’ve done, all I’ve learned, I’d let fate toy with me again? I won’t be used. Not by you, not by a centuries-old curse.”

A single bolt of white lightning speared out of the clear sky and blasted into the sand between his feet. He didn’t jerk back, but it was a near thing.

His throat was dry, but he nodded. “You always did have exquisite control.”

“Remember that. And remember this: I am done with you.”

“Not by a long shot. You need me to break the spell. Are you really willing to risk everything, everyone, for pride?”

“Pride?” Her color drained, and her body went still. “You arrogant jackass, do you think this is pride? You broke my heart.”

The words, the way her voice trembled, had him dropping his hands.

“More than broke it. You crushed it into dust. I
loved
you. I would have gone anywhere, done anything for you. I mourned for you, until I thought I would die from it.”

“Mia.” Shaken, he reached up to touch her hair, only to have his hand slapped aside.

“But I didn’t die, Sam. I got over you, and got on with my life. I like who I am now, and there’s no going back for me. If you came here thinking differently, you’re wasting your time. You won’t have me again, and what you won’t have—what you tossed aside—would have been the best thing in your life.”

She walked away from him in long, unhurried strides and left him alone to stare out at the sea, knowing she was right.

“
Y
ou did what?”

Zack stuck his head in the refrigerator and rummaged for a beer. He knew that tone. His wife didn’t use it often, which was why it was so effective.

He took a long time pulling out the beer and made sure his face was relaxed and composed when he looked back at her.

She stood in front of the stove, where something wonderful was cooking. She had a wooden spoon in her fist and her fists on her hips. He thought she looked like an outraged, and very sexy, Betty Crocker.

But he figured it wouldn’t be healthy to say so just at the moment.

“I invited Sam to dinner.” He smiled when he said it, and twisted the top off the beer. “You know how I like to show off my beautiful wife’s incredible cooking.”

When she only slitted her eyes, he took a deep gulp from the bottle. “Problem? You never mind company for dinner.”

“I don’t mind company. But I do mind sleazeballs.”

“Nell, Sam might have been a little reckless as a kid, but he was never sleazy. And he’s one of my oldest friends.”

“And he broke the heart of one of
my
friends—and yours. He left her flat and went off to New York to do God-knows-what for more than ten years. Then—then,” she continued, working up a fine rage, “he slithers back on-island and expects everybody to greet him with open arms.”

She slapped the spoon on the counter. “I for one am not interested in tuning up the brass band for Sam Logan.”

“How about just one trumpet player?”

“You think this is a joke?” She swiveled on her heel and strode to the back door.

He managed to get there in time to brace a hand on the door. “No. Sorry. Nell.” He ran his hand over her cap of hair. “Look, I’m sorry about what happened between Sam and Mia. I was sorry then, and I’m sorry now. The fact is, I grew up with Sam, and we were friends. Good friends.”

“Isn’t ‘were’ the operative word?”

“Not for me.” And for Zack it was just that simple. “Mia matters to me, and so does he. I don’t want to be put in the position of taking sides, not in my own home. More than that, more than anything, I don’t want you and me at odds over it. But I shouldn’t have asked him to dinner without talking to you first. I’ll go head him off.”

She bit back a sigh, but couldn’t quite master the pout. “You’re doing that to make me feel small and low.”

He waited a beat. “Did it work?”

“Yes, damn it.” She gave him a little shove. “Get out of my way. If we’re having company for dinner, there’s no point in burning it.”

But he didn’t move aside. Instead he took her hands and squeezed. “Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me until I’ve gotten through the evening without giving him hives or warts.”

“Gotcha. How about I set the table?”

“How about you do?”

“You want candles?”

“Yeah, black ones.” She smirked as she walked over to check her wild rice. “To ward off negative energy.”

Zack heaved out a breath. “Should be some evening.”

Sam brought a good wine and sunny yellow
daffodils. But she wasn’t mollified. She was polite, brutally so, and served the wine on the comfortable front porch, with canapés that she’d tossed together at the last minute.

Sam wasn’t sure if she meant that to be friendly or to illustrate that he would be admitted to her home in stages.

“I hope you didn’t go to any trouble,” Sam told her. “Nothing more tedious than unexpected guests.”

“No, there isn’t, is there?” she replied sweetly. “But then again, I’m sure you’re not used to potluck, so we’ll all make do.”

She swung back into the house, and Sam hissed out a breath. He was sure now. He was getting in, but in painful stages. “This is going well.”

“Mia means a lot to her. For a lot of reasons.”

Sam merely nodded, wandered to the rail of the front porch. Lucy, Zack’s black Lab, rolled over to expose her belly for a rub, batting her tail for a bit of charm. Crouching, Sam obliged her.

He knew the reasons for Nell’s fierce loyalty to Mia. He’d made it his business to know what happened on the island over the years. He knew Nell had been on the run when she’d arrived on Three Sisters, escaping an abusive husband. She had faked her own death—and he had to admire her guts for it—and had changed her name and her appearance as she zigzagged across the country, picking up jobs waitressing, cooking.

He’d seen the news reports on Evan Remington, who was now serving time in a prison mental facility.

And he knew that Mia had given Nell a job running the bookstore café, had given her a home. And he suspected, had taught her how to refine the gift.

He’d recognized Nell as one of the three the minute he saw her.

“She’s had a rough time, your Nell.”

“Very rough. She risked her life to save her life. When she got here, Mia gave her a chance to dig in, put down roots. I’ve got to be grateful to Mia for that, too. And more,” he added, waiting until Sam turned back. “You’ve heard about Remington.”

“Hollywood power broker, wife beater, psychopath.” He straightened. “And I know he took a slice out of you trying to get to Nell.”

“Yeah.” Absently, Zack rubbed a hand over his shoulder where Remington had stabbed him. “He tracked her here, knocked her around before I got to her, then he took me out. Temporarily. She’d run into the woods, knowing he’d come after her and probably not take the time to finish me off.” His face went grim at the memory. “When I took off after them, Ripley and Mia were here. They knew Nell was in trouble.”

“Yes, Mia would know.”

“The son of a bitch had a knife to her throat.” Even now, the memory had rage swimming into him. “He’d have killed her. Maybe I could’ve gotten a shot off, maybe not, but he’d have killed her either way. She’s the one who took him out. She gathered what was inside her, what she is, and with Mia and Ripley, turned what he was back on him.

“I watched it happen,” Zack murmured. “There in the little wood by the cottage where you’re staying now. A circle of light, out of nowhere. Then Remington was on the ground screaming.”

“She has courage and faith.”

“She does,” Zack agreed. “She’s everything.”

“You’re a lucky man.” Though his own mind took a smart side step at the thought of a woman, any woman, who could be everything to a man. “Her love for you is a tangible thing. Even when she’s pissed,” Sam said with a weak smile, “the way she’s pissed now that you’ve invited Judas to her table.”

“Why did you do it? Why did you leave?”

Sam shook his head. “A lot of reasons, some I’m still figuring out. When I have them, all of them, I’ll tell Mia.”

“You’re expecting an awful lot of her.”

Sam studied the wine in his glass. “Maybe I always did.”

Zack worked hard to keep the conversation light
and friendly at dinner. By his calculations, he talked more during that hour at the table than he normally did in a week. But every time he sent Nell an imploring look, she ignored it.

“I can see why the café’s taken a bite out of our lunch trade,” Sam said. “You’re an artist in the kitchen, Mrs. Todd. My biggest regret is that you didn’t walk into the hotel instead of Café Book when you came on-island.”

“I went where I was meant to go.”

“Do you believe in that? In destiny?”

“Absolutely.” She got to her feet to clear the table.

“So do I. Absolutely.” He rose as well, picked up his plate. When Nell’s back was turned he gave Zack a little head signal.

Make yourself scarce.

Weighing his wife’s ire against the sheer exhaustion of playing buffer, Zack pushed away from the table. “I need
to round up Lucy,” he said, and using his dog as an excuse, he hurried out.

Nell sent a fulminating look at his retreating back. “Why don’t you go on with Zack? I’ll make a pot of fresh coffee in a minute.”

Absently, Sam reached down to pet the gray cat that had uncurled from under the table to stretch. It hissed at him.

“I’ll just give you a hand,” he said after barely saving his hand from a nasty swipe. He saw Nell give the cat he’d heard her call Diego a small, approving nod.

“I don’t want a hand.”

“You don’t want my hand,” Sam corrected. “Zack’s the best friend I ever had.”

Rather than spare him a look, Nell opened the dishwasher and began loading. “You have an odd way of defining friendship.”

“However I define it, it’s a fact. He matters to both of us. So, for his sake, I hope we can call a truce.”

“I’m not at war with you.”

He glanced at the cat again. It had plopped down beside its mistress to wash and watch Sam narrowly. “You’d like to be.”

“Fine.” She slammed the dishwasher door, turned. “I’d like to hang you by your toes for what you did to Mia. And while you’re hanging by your toes, I’d like to start a nice, steady fire under you, so you’d roast slowly and in great pain. And while you were roasting slowly and in great pain, I’d like to—”

“I get the picture.”

“If you do, you know just how useless it is for you to try to charm me.”

“Did you make all the right choices, the best choices, the wisest choices, when you were twenty?”

She slapped on the hot water, squirted soap under the stream. “I never deliberately hurt someone.”

“And if you had, deliberately or otherwise, how long would you expect to be punished for it? Damn it!” He swore as she ignored him, then switched the water off himself.

She cursed right back, lifted a hand to turn it on again. Infuriated, he closed his hand over hers.

Light, shimmering blue, sparked between their meshed fingers.

Nell went very still as her anger slid under shock. She left her hand in his as she shifted her body, angling it until they were face-to-face and she could look directly into his eyes.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me?” she demanded.

“I don’t know.” He smiled as the light mellowed to a glow. “Sister.”

Baffled now, she shook her head. “There are only three who form the circle.”

“Three who came from three. But four elements. Yours is air, and she who was, lacked your courage. Mine is water. You believe in destiny, in the Craft. We’re connected, and you can’t change that.”

“No.” But she would have to think about it, hard and long. Slowly, she slid her hand from under his. “I don’t have to like it, or you.”

“You believe in fate, in the Craft, but not in forgiveness.”

“I believe in forgiveness. When it’s earned.”

He stepped away, jammed his hands in his pockets. “I came here tonight planning on charming you. To scrape away a few layers of your resentment and dislike. Part of that was pride. It’s tough having your oldest friend’s wife detest you.”

He picked up the wine bottle, poured some into the glass she’d yet to clear. “Part of that was strategy.” He
drank. “I know very well that you and Ripley stand in front of Mia.”

“I won’t see her hurt again.”

“And you’re sure that’s what I’ll do.” He brought his glass to the counter. “Then I came into your home, and felt what you and Zack have together. What you’ve made between you. I sat at your table, and you fed me, though you’d rather have hung me by my toes. So instead of charming, I’m charmed.”

He glanced around the kitchen. It had always been a warm and friendly room. Once, he’d been welcome there. “I admire you, for what you made out of your life. And I envy you your clear vision and your happy home. Zack’s important to me.”

He looked back at her as she said nothing. “It’s hard, I imagine, for you to buy that, but it’s fact. I don’t intend to do anything that complicates his relationship with you. I’ll go out the back while he’s busy with his Lucy.”

Nell dried her hands. “I haven’t made coffee yet.”

He turned at the door, just looked at her.

And she saw why Mia had fallen for him. Not just the dangerous good looks. But in his eyes she saw so much power, so much pain.

“I’m not forgiving you,” she said briskly. “But if Zack considers you a friend, you must have some redeeming qualities. Somewhere. Sit down. We’re having trifle for dessert.”