The Curse Keepers Collection (5 page)

My eyes flew open. “Wait. Don’t you want to come up?”

Dwight glanced at his watch. “Well . . . I have work in the morning.”

It was barely nine o’clock. He sounded like an old geezer. I cocked my head and gave him a tiny smile. “Just for a little bit? Please?”

An inner battle waged on Dwight’s face, and I wondered how he found the fortitude to deal with really difficult decisions. I stood on my tiptoes and wrapped my arms around his neck. “Just for a little while?” I kissed him long and slow, and I felt his arms encircle my waist before he pulled away.

“Ellie, not out in public. Anyone can see us here.”

We were surrounded by buildings, and it was getting dark. Sighing, I let my arms drop and took a step back. “We were only kissing.”

Dwight licked his lower lip. “I have a professional image to maintain.”

He was an insurance adjuster from Michigan. A northerner. He was pretty much at the bottom of the Manteo professional image ladder, but my desire to get him in my apartment kept that fact from leaving the tip of my tongue.

I took his hand and tugged. “Then come upstairs.”

He sighed before a shy smile lifted his mouth. “Okay, but just for a few minutes.”

I stuffed down my excitement as I practically dragged him up the two flights of stairs. Unlocking the door, I caught movement on the porch out of the corner of my eye, in the shadows cast by the street lights.

Standing upright, I whirled around. “Did you see that?”

“What?”

“Something moved over there!” I pointed to the dark shadows behind my flowerpot.

Dwight danced in place, his feet skipping like he was jumping rope. “What was it? A rat?”

Irritation bubbled in my chest, and I put a hand on my hip. “No, it wasn’t a rat. We don’t have any rats here.”

“Are you sure?”

I counted to three, reconsidering inviting him in. He wasn’t very bright, and more than a little boring, and apparently not very courageous. But he had a steady, good-paying job and was a mostly attractive man. Sure, he wasn’t anything like
that man
in the New Moon, but Dwight had his own quiet version of attractive. So his light brown hair was thinning and he had a slight paunch. There was more to a man than muscles, and dark, brooding eyes, and rough-looking three-day-old stubble. I hoped that buried deep inside all that mundaneness was a man who was capable of great love. Love like my parents shared. My daddy hadn’t been an exciting man, and he’d loved my mother almost more than life itself.

In the end, there was no question. Right or wrong, I was desperate for some physical attention.

Once I closed the door, I kicked off my shoes, tossed my purse on the kitchen counter, and went to the refrigerator. “Would you like a glass of wine?” I sure needed one.

“Um . . . yeah.” Dwight wandered around the living room, investigating my family photos.

I would have preferred a little more enthusiasm since I was going for a full-blown seduction here. Apparently, it was going to take more effort than I was used to. Far be it from me to back down from a challenge. I pulled a bottle out and set it on the counter, then found a corkscrew in the drawer.

Dwight picked up a picture frame. A nervous twitch made his hand shake. “Is this you when you were little?”

I craned my neck to see which photo he was looking at. “Yeah, that was taken when I was seven.”

“Who’s the woman?”

“My mother.”

“She looks a lot like you.”

I smiled, but it was forced. “So I’ve heard.” We both shared dark red hair, fair skin that burned instead of tanned, and bluish-green eyes. And an aversion to believing in the curse.

I’d spent the last fifteen years standing by my assertion that four hundred years of tradition and folklore was a lie. For the first time since I was a kid, I was reconsidering.

Dwight set the frame down and moved to the other side of the counter, watching me open the wine. “So you’ve lived here your entire life.”

“Yep.” I jerked the cork out of the bottle, then poured wine into the glasses. “My family’s always lived here. I’ve never left.”

“What about when you went to college?”

I handed him a glass. “I didn’t go.”

His hand froze in midair. “You didn’t go to college?”

I shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. “I could never figure out what I wanted to be when I grew up; no sense wasting money on all those expensive college hours.” Not to mention I couldn’t afford it, even if I could live with my phobia of being too far from Manteo.

“So have you figured out what you want to do with your life now?”

I walked around the counter, carrying my glass along with the bottle. “I’m only twenty-three. I’ve got time to figure it out.” I sat down on the sofa and took a sip of wine. This really wasn’t going well.

Dwight followed me, frowning as he sank into the cushions next to me. “In theory, by this time you should have some kind of inkling. Do you?”

I fought to keep from scowling. “If you’re asking if I’ve found my purpose in life, the answer is no. But Myra says I’ll figure it out when I’m ready.” The truth was that my situation bothered me more than I liked to let on. It wasn’t so much that I hadn’t found my purpose, it was more that everything I tried felt so
wrong
. As though I were forcing my feet into shoes that were too small and tight.

“Myra? Your stepmother?”

“Yes.”

“Forgive me for pointing out the obvious, but isn’t she enabling you?”

I leaned back as my eyebrows rose. Leave it to Dwight to show some backbone when it came to insulting me. “Excuse me?”

“It’s just that—”

“I live in my own apartment. I own my own car. I’m completely self-sufficient. How is she enabling me?”

Dwight set his glass on the coffee table. “But you work as a waitress. And that’s only part of the year. Your parents must subsidize a portion of your income.”

I wanted to laugh, but I was too irritated and insulted. He couldn’t be further from the truth. “I support myself.” I paused and took another sip of my wine. “The restaurant is open all year round. Tips may not be as good in the winter, but I still have a job.”

He held up a hand and gave me an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. I’ve obviously jumped to conclusions. I guess I just don’t understand how you can be happy working as a waitress without any discernible life goals.”

I took a gulp of my wine, trying to remember why I invited him up.

Dwight placed his hand on my arm and slid it up and down in an attempt to offer comfort, but the gesture felt stiff. “That didn’t come out right.”

I lowered my glass in surprise. That was the most physical affection he’d voluntarily shown me in the time I’d known him.

“I’m sorry. Really. I have this tendency to be judgmental sometimes.”

You think
? “Did you want to be an insurance adjuster since you were a kid?” My snarky question fell out before I could stop it, but Dwight seemed to miss the sarcasm.

“Yeah. My dad and his dad are in insurance. It’s in my blood. Maybe inn keeping is in yours.”

Hardly. It was more likely the curse was in my blood. I scrunched my eyes closed, muttering an obscenity under my breath. Damn that curse for sneaking back into my life. I’d shut the door on all of that nonsense years ago. There was a curse on Roanoke Island all right, but it turned out that the curse was my bad luck with men. “Tell me more about Michigan.”

Dwight broke into tales about his family and growing up with snow in Grand Rapids while I consumed two glasses of wine. Since I’d skipped dinner, the wine was going straight to my head. Too bad Dwight had only drunk half of his.

I watched him as he talked. He really was an attractive man. If I squinted just right. But he was educated, even if he seemed a little slow in social situations. So maybe he wasn’t perfect, but he had potential. I wanted the magical love my parents had had, but I was beginning to think I couldn’t afford to hold out for perfect. Maybe their love was so rare that most mere mortals couldn’t hope to find it.

I was partway into my third glass when I decided it was now or never. I set my wine on the table, then leaned over and grabbed Dwight’s face. His eyes widened with surprise as my mouth touched his, and his body stiffened slightly. I worried he was about to shove me away, but as my lips and tongue coaxed his, he relaxed and put an arm around my back.

We kissed for several minutes, and I tried really hard not to grade his technique. Dwight might be an overachiever in the insurance world, but he could have spent a little less time studying actuary tables and more learning the art of French kissing. But the wine helped ignite my fire, and I reached for the knot of his tie, trying to loosen it.

His hand pushed mine aside, and he leaned his head back. “Let me do it. This tie was a gift from my mother, and I don’t want to wrinkle it.” He expertly unknotted his tie, folded it neatly, and laid it on the arm of the sofa.

My mouth dropped open in disbelief, and I was about to cut my losses when he turned back to me, pulled me against him, and took charge.

Maybe this could be salvaged yet.

I reached for the buttons of his shirt, wondering if they had been laid by golden geese. But he not only allowed me to unbutton his shirt, he let me pull it loose from his pants. Encouraged, I straddled his lap, hiking the skirt of my dress to my upper thighs. I slid my hands across his chest while he kissed me, but something was off, and it wasn’t his scrawny upper frame or his tiny potbelly. I just couldn’t figure out what it was. Perhaps there was a slight lack of enthusiasm on his part?

I sat back and lowered the straps of my sundress, dropping the top half to my waist.

Dwight studied my light-pink, lacy bra with interest. His hands skimmed my back, and his face lowered to my cleavage.

As he pushed down the cup of my bra, I leaned my head back and tried to remember what time I was supposed to be at the New Moon the next day.
No! Don’t think about that right now
. But there was no denying that Dwight’s lack of skills weren’t limited to the neck up.

Maybe he just needed a little incentive. I unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his pants while he turned his attention to my other breast. Slipping my hand into his pants, I searched for his erection.

And found nothing.

Well, that’s not entirely right. I found
something
, but I had to search. A lot.

I sat up and cocked my head. “Um . . . I need to go to the bathroom for a second.” I climbed off his lap and pulled up my bra, then I held up a finger. “I’ll be back in a second.” As I moved toward the bathroom, trying not to run, I snatched my cell phone off the counter and closed myself in the lavatory. Then I dialed my best friend, Claire.

She answered on the first ring. “So how did it go?”

I sat on the toilet and ran a hand over my hair. “Um . . . it’s still going,” I whispered.

“It’s still going? Then what are you doing calling me?”

“Well . . . it’s just that . . . ”

“What?”

How could I put this? “I can’t find his penis.”

Claire paused for half a second. “How drunk are you?”

I hunched over my knees, trying to gauge my level of intoxication. “I’ve had a couple of drinks, but not enough to stop me from finding an important part of male anatomy. I mean, how hard can it be?”

“Obviously, not hard enough.”

Giggles erupted, and I clapped a hand over my mouth. After a couple of seconds, I settled down. “This is serious, Claire.”

Claire burst into laughter. “Are you sure he’s not a tranny?”

“I thought trannies were guys dressing as girls, not the other way around.” I took a deep breath to settle my giggles. “And no, he’s got a part, just not an interested one.” Great, I couldn’t even get a boring guy excited about me. “What am I going to do?”

“What do you
want
to do?”

Covering my eyes with my hand, I sighed. “I don’t know.”

I heard Claire’s exasperated exhale. “Ellie, why are you with this guy? Why are you doing this to yourself?”

Outraged, I sat up straight and hissed, “How was I supposed to know he couldn’t get it up?”

“Anyone could have—no, that’s too easy,” Claire muttered. “That’s not what I meant and you know it. Why are you wasting your time with this guy when you can barely stand him?”

“That’s not true.”

“
Please
.”

I had to concede that she might have a point. “I can’t just send him away.”

“Why not?”

“It will be too obvious.”

“Well, then I suggest you stock up on Viagra.”

I groaned. “You’re no help.”

“Yes, I am. You just don’t like what I have to say.”

“Ugh! I have to go.”

“You might as well go since you won’t be coming—“

I hung up on her before she could finish. And she was wrong. There was a reason I kept a vibrator in my bedside drawer.

When I returned to the living room, Dwight had removed his pants and shoes. He leaned back, wearing his white Fruit of the Looms and his unbuttoned shirt.

Maybe
I
needed to make more of an effort. Maybe he needed more foreplay. One part of me said to send him home and call it a night, but another part of me screamed
Ellie Lancaster is not a quitter. Well, maybe with piano, yoga, and knitting, but I’m not a quitter in this.

I dropped my dress to the floor and sat on the sofa with renewed determination. This man was going to have sex with me whether he liked it or not. But as soon as Dwight leaned over to kiss me, I realized I couldn’t go through with it. Call me a quitter, but I was done.

Rolling away, I stood, reaching for his pants and shoes. “You need to go.”

His eyes widened. “What? Why?”

I glanced down to his crotch and then back to his face. “This just isn’t going to work out.”

He climbed to his feet, and I shoved his pants at him. He stepped into the pants and looked up at me. “Ellie, if you would just be reasonable.”

I grabbed my dress off the floor. “Reasonable? If I were reasonable, I wouldn’t have gone out with you after our second date, when you suggested that I should reconsider ordering dessert.” I wiggled the dress to my waist, struggling to get the straps up my arms.