Making Magic (29 page)

Thea raised her hand to her mouth. Pops. And poor Daniel. Poor dear Daniel. As much as she loathed her gift, his must be devastating.

“Sorry. I guess you didn’t know about that,” he said, stroking his hand down her arm.

“W-we haven’t had much time to talk.” Too much. It was all too much to absorb. Too much to believe. “What else did Pops say?”

“He always said that Grace was a natural-born healer.” He frowned at her then circled his finger. “Turn around and take a good long drink of that.”

Grace stared at the bottle. “Why?”

“You’re so tensed up you’re making
me
nervous. Turn. Around,” he said patiently.

She made a face, but took a long swig of the cider and shifted around until her back was to him.

“And little Jamie was always going on about how Dr. Grace healed this frog or mended that baby rabbit or whatever critter she happened to tend to.”

Thea jumped when his hands touched her shoulders.

“Speaking of rabbits, what’re you scared of, Matchstick?”

“Nothing.” Everything.
You
. “It’s…it’s been a long day. A long week.” A long decade. She almost moaned when his thumbs dug into her back, right next to her shoulder blades.

Jake chuckled. “I used to think it was the herbal remedies Grace handed out, but then I noticed that anyone who hangs around up there for any length of time seems to come out healthier than the rest of us.” He massaged her shoulders. “And all kinds of cuts and scrapes and sprains that should have been breaks—like that ankle of yours—seem to heal damn fast up there. Maybe she doesn’t know she’s doing it, or maybe she doesn’t think anyone will notice. Then there was Nick, who didn’t do a good job of hiding the hole in his vest after that whole Taggart fiasco. It was a gut shot that should’ve killed him.”

“Really?” Thea said. “They never—” She stopped, understanding what she was giving away.

“I imagine they don’t talk about it much,” he said. “But don’t worry. No one else noticed.”

His thumbs moved down her spine and she did moan aloud this time, forgetting for a moment what she had been worried about.

Jake made an odd noise then cleared his throat. “And she’s gotten damn good at it. I suspect she healed old Eddie’s arthritis. The man’s been acting like a spring chicken lately,” he went on. “Claims it’s Dr. Grace’s new remedy.”

His fingers paused for a moment. “Then there was my bullet wound.”

Thea tensed. Surely Grace wasn’t careless enough to—

“She didn’t march into the hospital and heal me or anything, but every time I saw her she made a point of hugging me or touching me or wanting to see the scar.” He sighed. “The doctors were kind of shocked at how fast I healed, but the whole thing had them in a tizzy anyway, given how little it had penetrated.”

She turned around. Surely not. He couldn’t have. “Did you…” His expression changed from something like guilt to a confused sort of pride. “You stopped that bullet, didn’t you?”

Jake looked down at his stomach. “Slowed it down, more like. They explained it away by saying the bullet was a light load, not enough powder in it.”

Thea gazed at his stomach. “You could’ve died.”

“It was instinct…I guess.”

“What, stepping in front of the bullet or stopping it?”

He seemed to consider that. “Both.”

She set down her cider to reach for where the scar would be.

Jake hesitated, then pulled at the edge of his shirt and sat up to push down the top of his jeans.

It was barely noticeable—a shiny, pale discoloration.

“Not in a good—” he gasped and his muscles quivered as her fingers brushed the smooth skin, “—spot.”

The sight of those gorgeous abs and the shakiness of his voice sent a stab of desire through Thea. She was suddenly hot and very bothered. She grabbed for the bottle of cider, but it slipped out of her hand and went flying.

It stopped in midair tilted right over Jake.

The liquid inside, however, continued to obey the laws of physics and splashed out onto Jake’s face and throat, dripping onto his chest.

“Oh!” Thea squeaked.

Jake looked surprised. The bottle dropped and landed in his lap precisely in the wrong place.

“
Ow
.”

She snorted with totally inappropriate laughter and slapped both hands over her mouth.

Jake’s surprised expression shifted from perplexed to annoyed. His eyes narrowed. “Matchstick.” He grasped her arms and pulled her forward until she was inches away from his dripping face. “I oughta make you lick off every drop.”

His husky tone made her tingle. His eyes had gone all smoky, like barely banked golden fires. For a moment she couldn’t remember how to breathe.

But this was Jake. Jake, who she had known since she was six. So she leaned in and licked a drop of cider off the tip of his nose.

She waited for him to smile or laugh, but he didn’t. He held her there, pinned by his whiskey-colored gaze. Then he moved in slowly and licked her lips in return, tasting her once and then again. He pulled her closer to kiss her. To devour her.

He tasted of cider that had been warmed on the stove and spiced with cinnamon and nutmeg and wood smoke. Hot cider heated slowly over flame. His fingers slid through her hair as he slanted his mouth across hers, seeking some sustenance—something he seemed to need desperately.

Thea was overwhelmed with sensation. She shivered at his touch and slid her arms around him. Jake. Her Jake. Her crush since she was old enough to know what a crush was but could never admit to. Jake was kissing her. Jake wanted
her.

“Thea,” he whispered against her.

Tears slid down her cheeks at the way he said her name.

“Jake, I…”
I love you. I think I have since forever.

He pulled back, searching her face. “Hey, what’s this?” His thumbs swiped gently under her eyes.

“Nothing,” she said. “I always cry when I waste a good drink.”

His mouth quirked at that. “Uh-huh.”

Damn, just when she was going to leave so she didn’t risk using this gift of hers on anyone else. Just when she needed to anticipate what her father might do next. Just when she was planning her escape, Jake Moser decides to hold her like he means it—to say her name that way.

To melt her resolve with a single devastating kiss.

“You’re thinking too much.” He tapped the tip of her nose. “And when you do that, what usually follows is a prank or something equally painful.”

Her heart twisted as he gave her that gorgeous smile of his. He didn’t know the joke was on her, and it was too late to take it back. When she left the mountain, she was going to leave behind an even bigger chunk of her heart than before. No matter what she said or what she did, that wouldn’t change. Not for her.

And she needed to be honest now, tonight. If she wasn’t, she would be betraying that long-ago teenager who had adored him for so long and never let on.

“I was trying to figure out how to lick all the cider off without removing your shirt.” She leaned forward to lick his neck, right under his ear. “But I can’t.” She slid her hands down his ribs.

Jake heard a strange repetitive buzzing sound. For a moment, he thought the sensations sizzling through him from Thea’s touch had become audible somehow, then realized it was Thea’s cell phone, buried somewhere in that tote of hers.

“Ignore it,” Thea said from somewhere below his chin. Her words were muffled against his skin as she moved another inch and licked.

“You really think you should?” He stifled a groan as she applied herself to finding every drop of the cider on his neck. “Could be—”

She dipped her tongue into the hollow of his throat. “It’ll roll to voice mail.”

Damn, she had always been a firebrand, but he really hadn’t thought about what that would mean.

“And now
you’re
thinking too much.” She slid her fingers under the edge of his shirt.

He had been right about those lips of hers. All those years of playing the flute had given the woman an amazing mouth.

Thea pushed his T-shirt up his chest, then with both hands pulled it up until he had to raise his arms. When she had it over his face, she suddenly stopped.

There he was, hands dangling over his head, wrapped up in his T-shirt like some kid who got pranked in a high school locker room. He tried to get a grip on the fabric, but Thea pushed him back onto the couch. “Dammit, Thea.”

He bounced on the armrest, but when Thea straddled him, everything else became secondary to the feeling of her warm, soft body resting on his hot, not-so-soft parts.

He must’ve made some noise of objection, or maybe encouragement, because she quit squirming on top of him.

“What? You want me to stop?” She rose up a bit then slowly reseated herself.

The sound he made could not be misinterpreted by anyone. Her slightly wicked laugh had him driving his hips upward in wordless response.

“Oh!” Her laugh turned into a throaty sigh. “Now that is exactly what I want you to be thinking about.”

Jake had a premonition of what the rest of his life would be like with this feisty woman and could find no fault with it.

“I don’t like this,” she said. “I love looking at these hunky abs of yours,
Beefcake
.” She ran her fingertips down his chest, making his muscles quiver. “But I want to see the pained look on—”

He pushed up and out of the shirt in one fluid move and crushed her to him with one arm as he tossed the shirt across the room.

“—your handsome face.” She smiled and wrapped her arms around him, her fingers hot against the bare skin of his back. “Better. But that took longer than I—”

He shut her up with a kiss and tasted hard cider as she gripped his hair and slid her tongue into his mouth.

A long time ago, Thea had showed him the double and triple tonguing drills she did on her flute for practice. He had been amazed to discover how hard she worked to keep that particular organ agile and strong. His jeans got even more uncomfortable at the thought of what she could do with it now.

Knowing her, she would probably try to tie something in a knot. His fingers slid up under her gauzy top and found the clasp for her bra.

The Woodsman’s granddaughter’s bra
. He froze for a moment.

“Thinking again.” Her lips were only a breath away. “You always were the ‘think first and act slowly’ type. Good for a cop, but you are going to have to speed up or get left behind,
Hotcake
.”

He nearly laughed. Classic Thea. Pedal to the metal, like that car of hers. Easy to fall in love with, but addictive and…

Fall in love.
In love
.

“Still thinking,” she said. Her gray eyes shone silver as she reached behind herself and unhooked her bra then did that weird contortionist move that had it dangling from her fingers in a matter of moments. She waved it in his face. “You in shock?”

He was. He was in love with her. Probably always had been.

“Nah. Just lazy.” He reached to slide his fingers up her ribcage under the filmy top. “I’m gonna let you do all the work.”

She tsked. “Figures.”

But the silky skin trembling at his touch told him she wasn’t quite as detached as she seemed. And when she put out one finger to push him back into the cushions, he let her.

“So nice and toned, even after your injury.” She ran her hands down his stomach, right above the scar. “You must’ve done a lot of physical therapy.”

“Hurt like the dickens, trust me.” He was glad his voice didn’t shake too much, but damn, she had to feel what she was doing to him. She was sitting on the evidence, which was probably the source of that smug little smile.

“Awww,” she drawled. “I can kiss it and make it better.”

Holy
… His head whacked into the armrest again as she slid down his legs and reached for the top button on his jeans. He desperately wanted to put his hands somewhere, but only managed to grab the back of the couch and the edge of the cushion.

“I love it!” she cried out. “Button-fly jeans!”

He could feel her breathing on his skin.

“You should leave a button or two undone when you’re on stage and lift up your…” Her fingers stopped moving.

“Huh?” He lifted his head again.

“No, on second thought, I don’t want anyone else looking at
these
muscles.” She undid another button. “And there it is.”

“Thea,” he warned, but he didn’t know if he was trying to stop her or speed her up.

“Can’t even see it,” she squinted.

“Thea.” It was almost a laugh.

“Such a little, tiny—” she bent closer, “—scar.” She kissed it.

Some inarticulate sound came out of him as her knuckles brushed his hard length through the denim.