The Cursed (League of the Black Swan) (18 page)

Luke was out of his chair so fast he knocked it over. “What did you just say? And don’t even think about taking it back.”

Before she could answer, or think, or breathe, he was on her, his hands on her waist, his big, hard body way too close. She glanced up at him, desperate for balance—for caution—but lost any hope of either when she fell into the heat in his ocean-blue eyes.

“You said you didn’t want me in your bed,” she whispered.

He shouted out a laugh. “I would never lie to you like that. I said the only thing I wanted to
hire
you for was to help me with my business. Trust me, angel, this part of our relationship is strictly personal.”

“But—”

His mouth came down on hers, silencing whatever she’d been about to say, and the world went up in flames around her. Blue flames, the color of his eyes and his magical fire, seared through her nerve endings until she trembled from pure, crystallized sensation. She forgot how to talk, or think, or breathe, and simply surrendered to the feeling, kissing him back until she grew light-headed from lack of oxygen and pulled back, gasping.

“What was
that
?” She managed to get the words out between deep breaths, but he didn’t answer.

Instead, he touched her hair, then pushed a strand behind her ear and traced the edge of her ear with his finger, and she inhaled brokenly at the jagged edge of desire that dug into her. Heat pooled between her legs, and her nipples tightened and ached for his touch.

“I have to slow down now,” he finally said, his voice rough, just when she was about to throw caution—and her clothes—to the wind. “I have to back away from you right now, or I’ll lift your sexy little ass up onto my kitchen counter and take you right here.”

Part of her thought that was a really wonderful idea. The other part of her, drummed into her brain for years, pictured the nuns’ horrified reaction to her wanton behavior.

Rio liked the first part better.

“Maybe you can give me a PI lesson now?” She was proud of her steady voice.

“I can do one better than that,” he said, flashing a wicked grin. “Let’s go solve your first case. I know I have a few new ones that have come in over the past couple of days. We can worry about someone else’s problems, which I’ve found always takes my mind off my own.”

“That’s the best idea I’ve heard in days,” Rio said fervently, which was a flat-out lie, because the image of him making love to her right there in the kitchen was burning a hole in her brain. “I just need a shower first.

“A cold shower,” she added, muttering the words. “Very cold.”

Luke stared at her as if his mind had shorted out at the word
shower
, and she wondered if he was picturing her wet and naked because suddenly she was on the verge of inviting him to join her.

“Your clothes,” he began hoarsely, but then he cleared his throat and took a deep breath before continuing. “Someone delivered a box of your things from Mrs. Giamatto while you were out. There might be clothes in it.”

“Already? She didn’t lose any time,” Rio said bitterly, her good mood immediately starting to dissipate. “She also assumed a lot, sending them here.”

She scowled, but Luke was having none of that, apparently, because he kissed her again, fast and hard and dizzying, and then he pointed to the hallway.

“First door on your right past my room. You have a private bathroom.”

Rio blinked, again struck by how ridiculously large his home was, when from the exterior it looked like it occupied the same space as the Tea Room’s storage space. “How many guest rooms do you have?”

Luke shrugged. “It varies depending on how many I need, as far as I can figure it out.”

“Of course it does.” Rio checked on her now-sleeping fox, curled up in her new bed by the fireplace, and then headed off to find her magical guest room so she could shower and dress for her first case as a private investigator.

She hoped it didn’t involve the giant duck.

Luke looked up when the door from his home to his office opened and promptly almost swallowed his tongue when Rio sauntered toward him, wearing a snug little skirt and a sweater that hugged her curves in all the right places. Leather boots completed the outfit, and they even had a sensible low heel, so he didn’t know why S&M fantasies were suddenly playing in his head.

“Is this okay? I wanted to look professional, but this is the only skirt I own. Skirts aren’t really useful at my job. Well, my old job.”

She bit her lip, and he wanted to stand up and kiss her nerves away. Or throw her on the couch in his office and kiss everything away. He forced himself to look away from temptation and focus back on the three slightly bedraggled pieces of paper he’d been studying.

“You look great, but skirts aren’t necessary. I hardly ever wear them,” he said, deadpan.

She laughed and relaxed.

“Pull up a chair next to me, and let’s sort this out. We’ve got a man who claims aliens are sending him messages through the fillings in his teeth, another man who claims Dr. Black’s office stole his chihuahua and fed it to the office cat, and a woman who says she thinks her ex-boyfriend kidnapped her puppy.”

Rio’s eyes widened. “I can see why they want you to be sheriff, when you regularly handle big, important cases like that.”

He nodded solemnly. “The problem is, this is Bordertown. Any of these allegations could actually be true, except for the veterinarian thing. If Dr. Black had stolen this man’s chihuahua, she’d never allow any harm to come to it. Besides, I know for a fact that her office cat only eats caviar and swamp rats. It’s a Cheshire.”

He pushed the three intake forms toward her and watched as she studied them. The curve of her neck as she bent over the task fascinated him; its delicate line and pale skin more beautiful than any work of art he’d seen in any museum in Florence. As he stared at her, he realized again that something was happening to him, and he didn’t know how to cope with it. She was having far more effect on him than any woman had ever had—on his attention, his emotions, and even his balance.

The worst part was, he liked every bit of it.

“The puppy, I think,” she said, pushing away two of the forms and selecting one. “Her story sounds the most reasonable, although it’s hard for them to tell us very much in this little box you allow for Explanation.”

She’d said
us
.
Us
was suddenly Luke’s favorite word.

“Yeah, that form was just something I dashed off when I started the agency, and I’ve never updated it. I’d be glad if you take on that project. I’m sure we can make it more useful.”

He grinned.
We
was a good word, too.

He picked up the silver letter opener on his desk and turned it over and over in his hands the way a businessman might squeeze a stress ball. Although a stress ball wouldn’t burn the average businessman’s hand clear off his body if he had evil thoughts.

She leaned back, which did absolutely spectacular things for the sweater she was wearing, but Luke’s appreciation was dimmed by the pensive expression on her face. She clutched the form, and the piece of paper crumpled a little in her hand.

“Do you really think I could do this? And why would you even want to let me try? I don’t mean to be suspicious, but why are you helping me out like this?”

“That’s what I do, little lady,” he drawled in his best John Wayne impression.

She looked at him blankly.

“That’s the problem with this new generation. You don’t recognize the classics. Nobody knows John Wayne, Clark Gable, or Gerardus Mercator.”

“I was having a similar conversation with Clarice about Hannibal Lecter,” she said dryly. “Also, Gerardus who?”

“He was a famous cartographer in the sixteenth century.”

She rolled her eyes. “There I go, forgetting my obscure historical facts again. Sorry, boss.”

Luke flinched a little. “Don’t call me that.”

He didn’t want to be her boss. He wanted to be her friend, and so much more. But not her boss—it brought a degree of unfair leverage into the relationship that was unpleasant, unwanted, and wrong.

“Don’t call you boss? But—”

“I’ll make you a partner,” he blurted out. Anything to get rid of the boss idea. “Fifty percent of that ugly couch is all yours.”

She started laughing. “Well, I am fond of that couch. But partner is a little extreme. How about we start with associate or consultant, and go from there?”

“If you help me get this place organized, I’ll make
you
the boss,” he said fervently.

The door to the street, which he’d unlocked and unwarded before he sat down, burst open.

A short, balding man wearing a dark blue jumpsuit with
BORDERTOWN ROAD CREW
and
YOUNG
embroidered in white over his left front pocket ran into the room, skidded to a stop, put his hands on his knees, and started sucking in deep breaths.

“You’ve got to find it. They’ll kill us. Not to mention the paperwork. Oliver, I know you’re not officially the sheriff yet, but you’ve got to help me.” The man’s words tumbled over each other, coming faster and more frantically as he caught his breath.

Rio jumped up and poured a cup of water from the dispenser in the corner and handed it to the red-faced man.

“It’s okay, Mr. Young. Please calm down and tell us what happened. We’ll try our best to help you.” She glanced at Luke, as if to ask if she were doing okay, and he gave her two thumbs up.

Hell, he couldn’t remember the last time he himself had been so professional. He usually opened with a surly
What do you want?

Young was staring at Rio, his eyes so wide that Luke could see white all the way around the pupils.

“Are you a wizard, too? How did you know my name?”

Rio tapped her chest in the approximate vicinity of where Young’s name was embroidered on his own, and the man stared at her breasts for just a little too long. Either he didn’t get what she was trying to tell him, or he, like most normal, healthy, heterosexual men, appreciated the way Rio filled out a sweater.

Luke didn’t care which it was, but it was pissing him off.

“Your name is embroidered on your chest, Young. Can we move on from show-and-tell, and you tell me what you’re talking about?” He put enough growl in his voice that the man immediately snapped his attention away from the beautiful woman and to the dangerous wizard in the room.

“That duck. That overgrown, sorry-ass excuse for poultry. First it ran away from the Golden Palace, although why a duck wouldn’t be perfectly happy in the Summerlands I have no idea.”

He paused to gulp down more water, and Rio shot a look at Luke. He could almost see the invisible finger she was twirling next to her temple. Or maybe that was just Luke.

“I always thought the Golden Palace would be a good name for a Chinese restaurant,” she said, while Young was noisily drinking.

“Or a really great Bruce Lee movie,” Luke offered.

“Bruce Lee I’ve heard of. Although I like Jet Li better. Cooler moves and less weird yelling.”

“Bruce Lee is a classic,” he protested.

Rio yawned. “Are you getting ready to pull any more sixteenth-century cartographers out on me?”

Meanwhile, Young was staring at both of them as if they were inmates in the insane asylum. “They told me you would be the best person to help. Do you even understand? Somebody stole that duck egg. If I can’t find it real quick, the Summer Court is going to wipe me and my team off the face of the planet.”

Rio’s smile disappeared. “I’m sorry. Please have a seat and tell us everything.”

Young nodded, but he looked skeptical and remained standing. “That duck was a ceremonial gift from the European Fae to the Summer Palace to say thanks for participation in the treaty talks. You may have heard we had a little problem.”

“You mean the problem where the duck laid an egg in the middle of the street?” Luke asked dryly.

Rio nodded. “Actually, we saw the whole thing. Well, when I say ‘whole thing,’ I don’t mean the whole egg—anyway, just tell us the rest,” she said, getting a little flustered.

The blush rising from the hint of cleavage revealed by her sweater distracted Luke, and so he missed the first part of what the man said next.