High Intensity (18 page)

"What logistics? A rope around your waist, tied to the railing of the circular stairs?"

"Hmmm. That would work. Thanks, baby." He smiled brightly at her.

Zanita exhaled sharply. She was not going to let the rogue do it! It was too dangerous. Besides, it bore too much of a resemblance to a pirate throwing a grappling hook and… on second thought, he was the right man for the job. "Well talk about it later."

"Yes, ma'am," he drawled out the words. "I love when you decide to get on top… of a discussion."

She ignored that. "By the way, didn't Sasenfras say something about not going in there again because he had seen something horrible, et cetera, et cetera?"

Tyber rubbed his jaw. "Yeah, he did say that." He grinned wickedly. "But I take that as an invitation. What about you?"

Her chin went up. "I'm going in. Although I'm not sure I'll love it. Something about a scream he'll never forget rings in my head. Was that supposed to be back then or now?"

"Ah, both, I think. It's safe to say that Sasenfras is a true believer."

"So the ghost is his wife?"

Tyber shrugged. "Let's not forget that there's a motive here for provoking Sasenfras to see a ghost. For one, he'd be more apt to unload his percentage if he was scared enough. And something scared him. Whether it was human or otherworldly, I'll leave it up to you to decide in the end."

She did a double take. "What end?"

"This end." He pinched her behind.

"Tyber!" She jumped and slapped his hand away. He chuckled low. Zanita was a teaseable woman, and he adored taking advantage of every opportunity.

"Sasenfras seemed pretty stubborn about not wanting to sell." Zanita stopped short as something occurred to her. "You know, he never actually said that it was Todd who wanted to buy him out."

Tyber's blue eyes flashed in appreciation. "You're right. I hadn't thought of that. Maybe Todd isn't the only one trying to buy him out. Good work, Curls."

"One things for certain, Todd's grandfather doesn't seem like a very nice guy. I wonder if I can get some information on him in the library—"

Tyber stopped her short. "There is something we've both overlooked here."

"What's that?"

"Kitchen gadgets. In some way, cooking implements are tied into all this." He whacked the side of his head with the heel of his hand. "I can't believe I actually had to say that. Can we go back home now?"

Zanita ignored the request. This was a perfectly good case, in her opinion. "Maybe whoever wants Sasenfras out also wants Todd out. What better way to get to a chef than with his own arsenal?"

Tyber gazed across the field as they emerged from the forest path, trying not to think too deeply about her last comment. It suddenly occurred to him to wonder what he was doing here. He should be working on a Unified Field Theory. Compared to chefs being under attack from denizens of the underworld traipsing around an inn, it should be a breeze.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. He never should have turned down that chair at the Institute for Advanced Studies. Somehow, this was his cosmic payback. He just knew it.

The house was bathed in moonlight. A ground fog swirled around the foundation. Several windows had lights shining in them, but the overall effect was gothic. And from this angle, eerie.

"Instead of the Florencia Inn, Todd should have renamed it Collinwood II," he remarked dryly.

"Very funny."

"Maybe Barnabus has a coffin hidden in that wing over there." He pointed to the west wing. The sealed wing.

Zanita grinned. "Nahhh, the closed wing is always a sure sign of another dimension coexisting and overlapping with this one."

Tyber chuckled. "And will certainly produce a story that trails off to yet another story." They both watched the Dark Shadows reruns late at night, curled up in bed. In the supposedly scariest parts, the acting and effects were so bad that they laughed their heads off.

"By the way, Tyber, what was all that to-do at dinner about the free-range chickens?"

He viewed her through half-lowered lids. "You know, you look damn sexy under this moonshine."

"Of course I do. Don't change the subject, Doc. Talk."

He sighed. "It had to do with that blood on the wall."

"So it was blood?" She shivered.

"Yes."

"Yech!"

"Chicken blood, to be exact. And again, all chicken feet are pointing to Todd. He had access to the fowl while he was preparing them."

Zanita shook her head. "I don't think it's Todd, Tyber. It's too easy. Someone wants us to believe it's him."

"Maybe. At least now we know what Hambone was doing in the passage. He followed the raw chicken, like any good cat."

Zanita chewed her lip. "You know, several voodoo ceremonies use chicken blood—"

"Don't even start with that. I'm having a hard enough time with the ghost and the gadgets."

Zanita watched a shooting star streak across the sky. "There is a true mystery going on here, Tyber. Don't be surprised if it turns out to be supernaturally based. There are several things you haven't been able to explain."

"Yet."

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "Perhaps."

He bent down and brushed her lips with his. "We'll see, Mrs. Evans," he whispered enticingly.

"Mmmm. Yes, we will, Doc."

"I think I'll take a shower and change these dusty clothes before we go downstairs for the night vigil. Do you mind, Tyber?"

"Of course not."

They had just entered their room after watching a brief meteor shower. Tyber had joked that the meteors were a material symbol that physics would blaze the trail to solving what was happening at the Florencia Inn.

Zanita had laughed and snapped back, "Or the meteor shower is a metaphysical sign that we are about to uncover a wondrous paranormal discovery that will streak across the planet!"

"Ah, that would be an article straight to
The Patriot Sun
?" he teased her.
The Patriot Sun
was the small-town newspaper she worked for.

Zanita grinned. "You got it."

She went to the closet and grabbed one of the terry robes that the inn provided for guests. One thing she had to say for Todd, he was an excellent innkeeper. During their absence he had even lit a fire in the stone hearth. She started to unbutton her shirt.

"Do you want to clean up, too?" She viewed him from under her dark lashes, violet eyes sparking with suggestion. "We haven't tried out that whirlpool tub yet, have we?"

Tyber strolled up behind her, placing his hand over hers. "No, we haven't." He took over the task of unbuttoning her shirt. Only when he did it, the job took on a whole new dimension. His warm, capable hands ministered to her with tender care.

And intent purpose.

"Aren't you concerned this will give me a slight advantage in our challenge?" He stroked the backs of his fingers along the sensitive area he exposed, massaging her in a line from her chest to her stomach in the lightest of caresses. The soft skin quivered delicately under his expert touch.

Zanita gave him a look of pure feminine desire.

Tybers eyes dilated with hunger as he watched her silently.

"No," she purred.

His slow, sensuous motions heated the surface of her skin. Every spot he touched radiated with his body warmth—a blazing heat that he had always been able to transfer to her instantly.

"Why not?" His voice was hoarse.

Zanita closed her eyes and stretched slightly into him. "Because I surprised you."

His gaze fastened on her full lower lip, and she knew he was remembering the feel of that lip on certain parts of his anatomy. The icy blue eyes hazed and flamed. "Yes, you did."

Masculine fingers lazily worked their way up to her exposed collarbone, sliding back and forth. Light and torturous prickles followed his path as he occasionally scraped the edges of his nails on her. The tips of his fingers feathered along her neck, sending tingles all the way down her spine. He was inciting her with these simple touches alone. She wanted to moan aloud.

She did.

He observed her, knowing exactly what he was doing to her.

"Be careful," he warned her with a sensual growl in his voice. "You might get more than you think." He continued to indolently play at the back of her neck, letting his fingers tangle loosely in her hair.

Imitating what he had done to her the last time, he gently tugged at the curly strands. A breath of excitement passed her lips as his determined action evoked that incredible memory. "That's not fair," she whispered indignantly.

"Where did you ever get the idea I play fair?" he drawled back. He blew on her neck—a hot, sustained stream of moist air that sizzled her senses.

No, he didn't play fair.

He was a renegade.

A marauder who seized and then had the audacity to tease. As far as Zanita was concerned, the compelling combination was the most dangerous one to be found in a male.

Impossible to resist.

And lethally sexy, to boot.

But how could one be "married" to a modern-day buccaneer? Like everything else concerning Tyber, the problem was empirical.

His palm cradled the back of her head and he dragged her back at an angle. The perfect angle. Slanting over her, his lips swept across her mouth in a raw, damp laving. Rich yet erotically subtle.

"That feels so good." Zanita closed her eyes so she could concentrate fully on the sensation, the inspiring textures of this incredible man.

"It's going to be better than good," he promised her, his smooth, low voice husky now.

She shivered at his words.

His other hand came around her waist to settle low in the curve of her back, his splayed fingers cupping her derriere. He pressed her to him, arching her again at the precise angle. Precision, that was Tyber. She could feel him, strong, hard, throbbing.

He watched her from under veiled lids. Eyes bright like burning crystal. Those eyes always captivated her. The way they changed… His keen intelligence was ever present in them, but when his passion rose high, they blazed. It always made her think that somewhere inside him there was a special internal energy reactor, and it was exclusive to Tyberius Augustus Evans. Such incredible eyes, with their spiky, thick lashes, were the window for her to see but a small portion of the fire and intensity that was within him.

Every time they made love, she watched those eyes flame out of control.

When he ignited, he took her with him on the wildest of journeys. And yet, he always maintained his command. A true mentor, his teaching skills were not relegated to the classroom.

Already she knew quite a bit of physics.

Unfortunately, she could only relate her knowledge to certain very private activities. She smiled to herself.
I
hope I am never called upon to explain
Newton
's Laws. She would die of embarrassment.

Doc Evans's passion always ran high. For learning. For life. For love.

His fingers undid the top button on her jeans. The rasp of the zipper followed. "Take them off," His smooth, low voice was raw with desire.

Never taking her gaze off his, she lowered her jeans to the floor and stepped out of them. He studied her actions, marine eyes sparking with combustible intensity. "Now… the… panties." The tone was three-quarters order, one-quarter request.

Giving him a secret smile, she slid the new pink lace panties down her silken legs and brazenly kicked them aside. Her buccaneer groaned deep in his throat. The depth of sultry sound was in direct proportion to the slide of the silky undergarment.

Zanita briefly wondered if there was a hidden mathematical "principle" involved with the motion of lace panties. She quickly squelched the idea, lest Tyber somehow intuit it and explain the physics of it to her.

He watched her through half-veiled eyes, his long lashes almost concealing their bold gleam. "Actually, baby, there's a physics term that—"

Her bare foot stepped on his.

He cocked an eyebrow. "Not now?" he drawled.

"Not now," she agreed.

His sensual lips curved ever so slightly. It was one of those enigmatic Tyber smiles that always made her tingle right to her toes.

He caught her gaze with his and slowly lowered his own zipper.

Inch by inch.

When Auntie had barged in on them and he had dragged his jeans on earlier, he had not bothered with briefs. At the sight of the crisp, golden-chestnut curls and velvety-hard skin, Zanita parted her lips with a trembly sigh. Seeing him this way always excited her.

And the rogue knew it.

Lowering his eyes, he unbuttoned the top button at his waistband and purposely left the jeans to gap open so as to partially conceal him from view. Then he gradually lifted his eyes, giving her a smoky, "hot syrup" look.

In fact, his maple syrup look.

Once experienced at the Marble Manor Inn, the maple syrup look was never to be forgotten. Her hand fluttered to her throat. There was sheer power in that look.