One Handsome Devil (17 page)

"My minor was in history,” Bob admitted. “Perhaps we should change the teams so we wouldn't have an unfair advantage."

Katra looked at Jack's face. Bob might have studied History and she'd read a lot of books, but Jack had been there. If anyone needed handicapping, it was her.

"I think Jack and Sara would rather sit together,” she told Bob. “If they fall too far behind, you can always give them a hint."

Bob nodded. “I'll take the pad."

Katra handed it over reluctantly. He'd better be fast.

Sara looked up at their score and shook her head. It was impossible. In three years of play she'd topped the list at O'Hara's only once before. Katra and Sara's grandmother had managed that feat half a dozen times despite the large number of competitive players. What she'd never done, what nobody she'd ever heard of had done, was to top the list all night. The idea that they could manage this not only locally, but across all of the bars served by the SkyQuest Satellite network, seemed bizarre. Yet, with a string of dozens of questions correctly answered instantly, they had succeeded. Now, in the last series of the night, the Devil Dogs, the name Katra had come up with for them, led the national totals with only one question left.

The last question popped up.
Name a television show about a college drop-in filmed in the 1960s
.

"No clue,” Jack admitted. He looked a little chagrined but he needn't have been. He'd answered the last thirty straight, leaving little for Sara to do but punch in the letters.

Sara punched the ‘A’ button for the short-lived T.V. series “Hank,” which her grandmother had once described to her in considerable detail.

A small sigh went out from the crowd of onlookers which now surrounded their table. “Never heard of it,” and “Oh, boy, I think they finally missed one,” were the two murmurs Sara picked from the jumble.

"Uh, any ideas?” Bob asked his partner.

Katra giggled. “Are you still trying to compete? Let's just join the cheering section."

"We didn't come here to cheerlead. But how the heck am I supposed to know about some TV show that came on before we were born?"

The monitor flashed up hints, gradually eliminating the other possibilities including whichever one Bob had selected. He scrambled to change his answer while the rest of the bar's clientele gradually quieted in anticipation of the results.

Finally, the monitor revealed that “Hank” was the correct answer. The bar broke out into a sustained cheer. “It's a miracle,” was one comment Sara heard.

Could that be right? Jack had offered more than his share of the answers, but she had contributed as well, filling in the gaps in Jack's knowledge, punching answers quickly before any points were subtracted. She'd been riding a sense of teamwork, but perhaps she'd fooled herself again. Perhaps it was only Jack's magic making things happen.

"No tricks,” Jack whispered in her ear.

She shivered. Having a boyfriend who could read your mind had to be one of the stranger things in the world.

Sara allowed herself a sip of the red wine she'd bought and tried to relax. She believed in Jack, didn't she? So why not celebrate? This was the most fun she'd had on a date since—well, she couldn't ever remember having more fun in public.

She shouldn't have been surprised that Jack would be good at this game. He'd shown a great grasp of trivia before they'd sat down although, now that she thought about it, a demon knowing a lot about the Rolling Stones wasn't exactly a stretch. More importantly, Jack had actually existed through history, spoken the languages, and seemed to have an uncanny understanding of science.

Best of all, he'd relied on her when Sara thought she knew the answer and hadn't tried to grab the control from her.

Katra and Bob, on the other hand, had stumbled early when Bob had second-guessed Katra's answers. When Katra had come up right, Bob had gotten flustered and apologetic. Sara had to give him some credit—at least he'd admitted he was the one who'd messed up. A lot of guys would lie and bluff rather than admit they'd been outsmarted by a mere female.

Not that it mattered. Sara and Jack couldn't be stopped.

When the bar's noise finally dropped to a more comfortable roar, the bar phone could be heard ringing plaintively. The bartender went into a huddle. A few moments later he came out with a round of drinks for their table.

"I didn't order those,” Sara told him.

"On the house. Or actually, the guy on the phone is paying."

"I'm driving."

"I'll make sure you get home safely,” Jack volunteered.

Sara glared at him. He might be good at trivia but how much driving do they do in Hell? “You've been drinking too."

"I, uh, metabolize alcohol quickly."

"Hey, I'm just serving. You four can figure out what to do with the drinks.” The bartender set the drinks on the table, vanished, then hurried back holding out the phone.

"He says he wants to talk to you."

"Who is it?"

"Am I your secretary? Ask him."

Sara picked the phone up gingerly. “Yeah?"

"Am I speaking to the captain of the Devil Dogs?"

"Yeah, this is Sara Slocum."

"Listen, this is Lou Mertz from SkyQuest Trivia. Would you mind answering a few questions?"

"That's what I've been doing all night."

"Yes, we know. And we've never seen anything like it. Could you tell me how large a team you're playing?"

"There are two of us. Me and, uh, my boyfriend."

Jack gave her a look she couldn't read. Where was her that mindreading talent when she needed it?

"Just two. Wow."

He must have put his hand over the telephone receiver because his speech was too muffled to understand for the next minute. “Have either of you ever played on television?"

"He wants to know if you've ever been on TV,” she asked Jack.

Jack shook his head. “It hadn't been invented last time I visited."

That got a strange look from Bob, then the minister smiled. “I try not to watch television either,” Bob volunteered. “It doesn't seem to send a very positive message about our country."

"Perhaps that's it,” Jack conceded.

Sara tried to tune them out. “No,” she told Lou.

"I'll tell you what, if you can answer three questions over the phone now, I'll give you a television spot."

"Oh, great,” Sara told her friends. “This guy tells me he's going to put us on television. Like I'm so sure."

"No, listen.” Lou was practically begging. “Nobody has ever gone through eight sets in a row with a perfect score. Besides, the bartender tells me you are an attractive couple. You'd be a natural."

"Let me guess, you just happen to have your television crew here in Oak Lawn,” Sara said. This whole story sounded fishy to her.

"No, of course not. We'll pay for you to come to our studio in Manhattan,” Lou told her.

"I have a job and so does Jack. We don't have time to fly around the country just to tell some daytime TV semi-celebrity what it feels like to answer a couple of questions right."

"You don't understand.” Lou pleaded. “We are about to launch a new trivia show on television. We've been planning a tie-in to our satellite program and when you popped up, it seemed that our prayers were answered."

Sara gave Jack a quick look. Apparently Mertz wasn't talking loudly enough for Jack to hear the word
prayer
, or maybe that was one that didn't set him off. At any rate, he seemed relaxed and too sexy for words as he chatted up Bob.

"Listen, Mr. Mertz, I already told you that we work for a living. I just can't take time off and fly to Manhattan to appear in some TV show nobody has ever heard of."

More murmurs in the background as Lou went into a huddle. “I can make it worth your while."

Sara hadn't spent the past decade in oil and gas without learning to negotiate. “Bottom-line it for me."

"Free airfare, hotel reservations, dinner Saturday night after the filming, and whatever you win on the show."

He'd answered too quickly. “Not good enough. We want an appearance fee. Say five thousand."

"Five hundred."

"Each."

A little hesitation. “All right, agreed."

"And First Class Airfare."

"Of course."

Sara looked at the glass of red wine she'd been sipping. If she'd been in a bargaining mode, she could have done a lot better. It was obvious that Lou Mertz was desperate. “Let me talk to my partner."

"Not so fast."

"What?"

"I told you I needed you to answer a couple of questions. Not for me, of course. Just so I can assure my programming team that you didn't accidentally come across a list of our questions and have all of the answers prepared."

Although Jack had assured her he wasn't using magic to get the answers, Sara still felt like an imposter. “Go ahead."

The questions he asked were simple enough that she only needed Jack's input on one of them. She reluctantly provided her pager number when Lou demanded a way to contact her and hung up the phone.

"That was the game show,” she told her friends. “They want us to go to New York and compete on television."

Katra slapped Jack on the shoulder. “You go, guy."

"We're not going to do it, of course."

"Why not?"

"If you think about it, you'll know."

Sara wasn't drunk, but Jack could see she was slightly impaired by the wine she'd drunk.

"Maybe you'd better drive,” Sara told him as they left O'Hara's.

Jack smiled. He supposed he could figure out how to navigate her vehicle, but driving around Dallas at midnight didn't seem like the perfect time to learn.

"I was thinking we would take an alternate route."

"Oh, taxi, huh? Good idea."

It was a good idea. He signaled a taxi and bundled Bob and Katra into it. “We'll meet you at Sara's place,” he promised.

"Shouldn't we ride with them?"

Of course they should. Jack was being irrational and that surprised him. There are too many risks in a demon's life to take chances. It didn't matter, he was going with the flow. He felt that he and Sara had achieved something special tonight, although he wasn't sure what. The way they'd been able to work together, almost fuse their knowledge, making everything either knew accessible to the recall of the other went beyond anything he'd experienced or even heard of in the most severe cases of demonic possession. In a mere friendship, it was impossible. Of course the concept of a demon having, or being, a friend was impossible anyway.

Jack took Sara's hand, then tugged her to him, wrapping his arms around her.

"I don't do public displays of affection,” she scolded.

He stripped off his jacket and pumped his wings, enjoying the caress of wind against his skin. “Look down."

"Oh.” Startled, Sara pulled herself closer to him.

"I won't drop you."

"I know. But what if someone sees us again?"

"They won't.” He stroked higher in the sky, much higher than they'd gone before, but Sara didn't seem afraid. The hot and humid air of Dallas in the early summer had cooled just slightly for the evening and he sought a higher altitude where the earth-warmed air rose and mingled with the cooler atmosphere above. The sensation of warm air, his own heat-drenched body, and Sara's softness as he held her against his chest combined into a sensory overload.

"I thought since Katra was going to be spending the night with us, we might enjoy some time alone,” he told her.

"Hum. Sara's hand traced down his chest and she purred as his pectoral muscles rippled with the surge of his wings against the thinner air a thousand feet above the surface of the earth. “You do know how to show a girl a good time, don't you."

"Maybe.” His lips sought out hers. It was still hard to restrain himself as desire roared through him like magma through a volcanic eruption. He was learning, though. Learning to control the desire and channel it. Had he learned enough, though, now that Sara had removed the last of her wards?

She met his lips, kissed him hard, then pulled her head away and began exploring with it, raining kisses down his cheeks, his neck, and the straining muscles of his chest.

"You're sexy when you're pumped like this,” she told him.

One of his hands was fully engaged in holding her against him. Time to put the other to use.

He traced his hand down her face and she shivered against his touch although he knew that, even dampened as it was, its heat must burn rather than chill.

Sara's hands reached lower tracing the muscles of his stomach, then fumbling with his belt. For the first time, he realized intellectually that both of her hands were free. That spoke volumes of the level of trust she had invested in him.

Almost as if reading his mind, she removed both hands from his body. She gave a little wiggle, then giggled. “There now, that should make things easier."

"What?"

"Uh, let's put it this way, tomorrow somebody is going to find a pair of panties and wonder where they came from."

"Oh."

"So what are we waiting for?” Sara tugged up her skirt and wrapped her legs around him. “The whole time we were in that bar, I was wondering when we could, uh, do it next. Wondering if we couldn't just sneak off somewhere for a few minutes between games even."

He nibbled on her neck then pressed one of her sweet, small, beautiful breasts to his mouth. “Umm."

"When we made—” she caught herself, then started again. “When we had sex in Oklahoma, I didn't have a chance to look around. This is beautiful."

It was beautiful. The Dallas skyline was outlined in green and blue neon and the restored Pegasus atop the downtown Magnolia Building glowed in red splendor. Even the Trinity River, normally a stinking trickle of decaying biomass, glistened like a fairy tale.

"It's the altitude,” Jack told her. “Everything looks—"

"That's ridiculous. It's you. It's us."

He wanted to argue but couldn't find the energy. It was easier to go with the flow, experience his body's pure pleasure at Sara's touch.

She fumbled with his zipper, then gave him an evil grin. “Feels like you're ready."