Magic of Three (5 page)

Tim lifted an eyebrow. That wasn’t the way he would’ve thought they’d meet her the first time. “We?”

Julian nodded, turning from his sauce to the boiling pot of rolling noodles. He grabbed the pot by its heat-resistant handles, carried it to the sink and poured the steaming contents in a waiting colander. He didn’t reply until the large pot sat empty and cool on the counter. “We need to approach her together, not separately. She’s already met you. If I start showing interest in her alone then bring you into the picture, she’ll have every reason to mistrust the situation.”

Yeah, I’d love to date you. By the way, have you met my gay lover? Tim almost laughed at her imagined response to that. “I guess we don’t want to start there.”

“No,” Julian answered with a grimace.

Tim gave a supportive smile and tried to break the tension. He leaned forward, giving his best come-hither smile. “As long as you’ve got a reason. Here I thought you wanted me to hold your hand.”

Julian let a bit of the devil Tim fell in love with shine out of his dark, savage eyes. He stepped away from the sink and between Tim’s legs. He put a hand on the counter at either side of Tim’s hips and leaned forward, pushing their pelvises together, letting him feel the wood he already sported. “If you’re holding anything of mine, it’s not gonna be my hand,” he whispered against Tim’s lips.

Tim wrapped his arms around his lover, enjoying the feel of the other man’s hard, warm body against his own. “Hey now, can’t a guy have a few minutes after work to rest and recoup before being jumped?”

A wet tongue swiped at Tim’s neck before Julian’s deep voice rumbled in his ear. “A few minutes, I guess. Just be ready for the jumping as soon as dinner’s over. I’m needing some support.”

“Support, my ass.” Tim stopped at his own words, grinning. He cocked his head, glancing coyly from under lowered lids. “But I guess that’s right. It is my ass you’re wanting for support.”

Julian shrugged as he stepped back, a half-smile curling his wicked lips. “Well, it’s such a nice, curvaceous ass. What do you expect?”

The two men continued their sexual banter, never noticing the smoky scent filling the air or the strange shadow crouching nearby, watching their every move.

The Three are not joined
.
The two males doubt the Third
’
s commitment
.
Lord Mograith will be pleased
.

Chapter Five

One hundred and nine degrees in the shade and rising. Hazy waves danced out of the concrete and asphalt. A furnace-dry breeze whipped through her hair. Swarms of people milled about, pointing at every little distraction, mobile driving hazards. A never-ending cacophony of chatter, screaming, pyrotechnics, splashing water, music and traffic blared around her. Las Vegas was a madhouse, pure sin-filled bedlam. And Lisa couldn’t imagine living anywhere else in the world, even when stuck dealing with big-city, petty nastiness.

She slipped into her personal parking space, her hands trembling on the wheel. She sat for a moment, jaws clenched and eyes narrowed, staring into space. She finally closed her eyes and took several long, deep breaths, taking in the comforting smell of warm leather. Normally that would be enough to ease her tension, even after the worst traffic snafu. But not today. When she finally stepped out she slammed the door of her precious violated baby. The sound of the metallic crash echoed from building to building, a testament to her frustration.

She couldn’t believe someone could defile her cherry red ROUSH Mustang, her one extravagance.

She’d left her baby in the parking lot of the strip club. After her all-too-memorable lap dance from the fallen angel, she’d gotten into a shots competition with Janice. Lisa managed to drink enough citrus fruit-laced vodka to kill a hefty Russian, leaving Janice owing her a cool forty bucks. The rest of the evening blurred into a haze of alcohol, secondhand smoke and bare skin. Her friends poured her into a cab with orders not to even think about her car until she could keep a substantial amount of food in her stomach the next morning.

Even plastered, it never occurred to her that leaving her car overnight would be a problem, not parked so close to the well-lit valet area. At least, not until the cab dropped her off that morning. A police car, blue lights flashing, sat parked out front. She’d thought she might be about to witness a raid. She found out differently when she reached her poor baby.

The word “pervert” had been scratched across the hood, the rough line carved deep in her paint. Other invectives graced the doors and trunk, half of which were misspelled. Over three-fourths of the cars in the parking lot had been vandalized, with red-faced, irate owners milling around them. She’d had to stay and make a report before the police allowed her to leave, teary-eyed, with her pitiful ride.

So here she was, two hours late to work, driving an insult-covered car. Assholes ruled the world.

There were days she hated this fucking town.

Lisa stomped into her already opened restaurant, the scent of exotic spices and mouthwatering meats flowing over her. Soft classical music ebbed and flowed around her. The chatty Saturday lunch crowd filled every table, a large swarm already waiting in the lobby and filling every chair at the bar.

Damn
,
I hate being late
,
letting someone else do the prep work and open the doors without at least having a chance to check everything myself
.
Makes me feel redundant
.

Culinary Magic, or CM, was her other baby. She’d served her time working as a slave—er, chef—in other people’s restaurants for years. After her divorce she worked double shifts, triple when possible, scrimped and saved until she had enough for a down payment, needing the independence of her own place, a feeling of control after her divorce put her life emotionally adrift. Then she poured every single penny she earned back into her restaurant until all debts were paid. She spent every extra moment for five solid years working to make certain she made a profit. Only within the last six months had CM become self-sufficient enough for her feel like she could take a step back and trust her manager. Finally she could leave him alone and take some time off.

But it still made her bones itch to let someone else have that kind of power over her CM. She missed the hands-on command, those lean, mean years, so the days she did work felt all the more precious. Wasting no time, Lisa dropped her purse in her spartan, if paper-cluttered, office and went straight back out front.

While Saturday was always one of their busiest days, her hostess Renee looked positively harried. Her perfectly coiffed auburn hair was mussed, sticking out at strange angles, and her black bowtie sat slightly askew.

“How’s everything?” Lisa asked, glancing at the marker-covered seating chart.

Renee rolled her eyes, puffing an escaped curl out of her way. “It’s been a madhouse,” she grumbled before handing menus to a waiter taking a young couple to their table. “Trina didn’t show at all and both Ryan and Kate called in sick. We’re short-handed everywhere. We’re up to an hour-plus wait and people are still piling in.”

Lisa winced. More good news. Looked like she’d be hiring another waiter. Not that it would be hard to replace Trina. She’d been a ditz, if a cute ditz who made good tips. Still, this was the last flake-out Lisa would put up with. “Any customer complaints?”

Renee waited to reply, tapping her pen against the podium in a manic rhythm, until another set of customers stepped out of earshot. “Simon’s having trouble. He’s been picking up the slack Trina left. He got stuck with a high roller from one of the conventions in town, a real sleaze if you ask me. The guy hasn’t been happy from the moment he walked in and found out he had to wait like all the other peons. Glared at me the entire time he sat at the bar. First thing out of his mouth was a demand for free drinks.”

“Did you give him any?”

“I told him the first round was on the house. I know it’s not policy but he reeked of trouble. Figured I’d take it out of my pay if I had to. Didn’t want to deal with him on top of everything else.”

Lisa eyed her hostess. She’d never seen the stoic young woman look so flustered, not even in the depths of finals week at her university. “Don’t worry about it, Renee. The house will cover it. Sounds like you made the right call. I’ll see what I can do to help Simon.”

Renee nodded, straightening her tie and turning back to her post.

Lisa walked to Simon’s station, smiling and making small talk with other customers as she passed through. Normally just walking the floor calmed her nerves. She’d planned out every gleaming inch of the space. The plantation shutters, the bright ocean-view mural covering one wall. The meandering tables and private romantic nooks down to the fresh flowers on each table were personally chosen. She garnered a great sense of pride from the smooth, friendly atmosphere she achieved. Approaching the center of the main dining area, she didn’t have to ask which patron Renee meant.

The large, ruddy man created a black hole of anger around him, sucking all the pleasure and enjoyment out of the tables nearby.

Simon bent above him, obviously trying to placate the man. As she walked closer she began hearing his loud, belligerent rant.

“What kind of an establishment is this?” the man blustered, looking at other tables around him for support, uncaring that the other people avoided making eye contact. “I’ve had better service at a drive-thru window. First I’m forced to wait for forty-five minutes to be allowed to sit. Then it takes forever for anyone to acknowledge my presence. Now you tell me that you’re out of the wine I ordered? A very expensive, exclusive wine too, I might add. I demand to speak with the manager immediately. This whole situation is utterly ridiculous.”

Lisa stood straighter and flipped on her most pleasant, benign face. “Would the owner be sufficient?” she asked, waving a relieved Simon out of the line of fire.

The patron’s beady little black eyes narrowed. He managed to look up at Lisa while still looking down his sharp beak nose. “You’re the owner of this half-rate establishment?”

“Yes,” she answered, steady wide smile firmly in place. Cool demeanor.
Keep a cool demeanor
.
You can be pissed as hell
,
but ya gotta stay calm and cool
.
Dealt with enough jerks over the years to know that
.
He
’
s not worth the effort or energy for trading insults with
,
not this puny
,
puffed
-
up little weasel
.
Keep calm and defuse
.

“You need to fire some people,” he blustered, not backing down an inch in the face of Lisa’s calm, professional façade. “If I owned a place as poorly run as this I’d be ashamed to show my face in public. How you achieved your reputation as a fine eating establishment I’ll never know.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way, sir,” Lisa said, still smiling though her teeth and cheeks ached. She forced down the rolling waves of anger, stuffing it in a little mental box and slamming it shut before offering the slimy little worm her first bone. “Is there anything specific we could do to make up for your inconvenience and displeasure?”

A crafty gleam glittered in the man’s eyes. Lisa tried not to snort or roll her own eyes.
Now we get to the truth of the matter
.
Penny
-
pinching ass doesn
’
t want to pay for his meal
.
Probably came in here planning to be unhappy and milking it for all it was worth
.

“I don’t believe I should be forced to pay for a meal when the service was so substandard,” he said, flicking a breadcrumb away from his plate.

I just bet you don
’
t
.

“I’m sorry but I can’t sit by and watch this any longer,” a deep, authoritative voice spoke behind her.

Lisa’s heart gave a little leap and she struggled not to gasp. She hadn’t heard anyone coming up behind her, hadn’t sensed any foreboding or supportive presence. She glanced over her shoulder, ready to thank the man but shut him down. All she needed was to escalate the situation into a full-out confrontation. But the moment she made eye contact every feminine nerve she had went on red alert, her blood coursing with healthy attraction. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t noticed him as she walked through the room.

The man stood over six feet tall, pure masculine muscle in a designer suit which fit him perfectly. His jet black hair was clipped short on the sides but long and silky on top. Just looking at it made her palms itch to slide through it. His dark, piercing eyes stared impassively down at the other man and his lips formed a harsh line, one that begged to be chewed into submission.