The Reluctant Goddess (The Montgomery Chronicles Book 2) (19 page)

After his examination and a run around the yard, he finally concentrated on the task at hand. I was surprised to find a supply of bags in a dispenser by the door. I did my thing after he did his thing and disposed of it in the green in-ground container. Arthur’s Folly had everything, even a septic tank for dog poop.
 

We managed to find our way back to my room after only one false turn. Dinner was waiting for me on a tray, along with a small bag of doggy treats and a chrome water bowl.
 

No five star hotel could have been better prepared or more solicitous of me. I should increase my rent check, but since I doubted it was ever going to be cashed, it was probably a moot point.
 

Would Dan visit me tonight? Did he regret what had happened at the gun range? Should I come out and ask him? I would, if I could be guaranteed of a negative answer. I didn’t know what I’d say or do if he was having second thoughts about what had happened.
 

All right, I might be a vampire, but I still had feelings. In fact, I felt a lot more emotional about Dan Travis than was safe.
 

I knew he had a thing about vampires. Okay, he had a thing about Maddock. Maybe about every vampire. He’d never come out and said as much, but it seemed reasonable, especially if you factor in his sister disappearing.
 

Maybe he really did regret having sex with a vampire. Hey, I hadn’t bitten him, though. You don’t bite the man who has given you the most awesome orgasm you’d ever had. Or ever thought to have. Frankly, I didn’t know I could feel like a harp that had been strummed by a giant hand. Every string was still vibrating.
 

Maddock had essentially raped me. I’d enjoyed every second of it, but that had been because my mind and my will had been chemically altered. I hadn’t had a chance to say yes or no, to agree or refuse. I wasn’t even seduced. He’d given me a drug and when I’d responded, he’d had sex with me. I was a blow up doll.
 

Dan was different.
 

My response to him had been my own, something that originated deep within me. His eyes made me want to stare into them. I needed to see his smile. Slow, almost a drawl at times, his voice brushed over my skin like a caress.
 

I wanted to talk to Dan and that was new. I wanted to sit beside him and discuss things I was interested in like archeology and the stars. I wanted to ask his opinion on a dozen subjects, listen to him expound or justify. Or even argue for the heck of it.
 

Yes, I wanted, in a thoroughly feminine and girly way, to depend on his strength. I wanted to be protected. I’d probably set feminism back fifty years but I didn’t care at the moment.
 

Charlie settled on my feet with a sound like a purr. He sniffed a few times as if appreciating my perfume, then promptly closed his eyes for a nap.
 

How could I possibly call his owner?
 

Maybe I wouldn’t. Unless the vet had already called him.
Hey, great news! I found your dog
. I’d left all my contact information on the form they’d made me fill out. Great, now even if I didn’t call the guy he’d know where Charlie was.
 

What kind of person names a dog Stupid?
 

A douche-bag, that’s who.
 

I think, sometimes, you need to put the world on hold. You need to simply pretend that everything is all right, even though you know it isn't. People call that being in denial. I'm beginning to think it's self survival.

I pulled my feet out from beneath Charlie’s warm chin and stretched them out on the chaise. I clasped my hands in front of me, leaned my head back and closed my eyes. I wanted to be myself again and that thought popped my eyes open.
 

When had I stopped being me? When fear had come in and taken over. When I was running from everything, including Niccolo Maddock and my own nature.
 

Maybe the problem was that I had too much time on my hands. I hadn’t come up with a substitute for working fifty to sixty hours a week. My schedule wasn’t the same. I didn't get up at five, exercise, surf the net, and then get dressed in order to get to the office by seven. I hadn't replaced my schedule as a human being with anything at all, let alone something that mattered.

When I solved a riddle, or closed a file, and made sure my company wasn't getting gouged or cheated and that the payment we made was justifiable and right, I got a glow of satisfaction. When I sent the file, sometimes five inches thick or more, to the archives to be digitized, I felt good. I could point to it and say: this is what took six months. Or: I worked on that one for three years along with other cases.
 

I hadn’t had that feeling lately.
 

I got up, once again dislodging Charlie who’d jumped up to the end of the chaise. He sent me a long-suffering look, accompanied by a sigh.
 

“Sorry,” I said as I went into the dressing room.
 

The clothes I’d worn to the bookstore had been laundered. None of them, including the top, looked the worse for wear. Did talented laundry elves work at Arthur’s Folly? Nothing remained in the pockets.
 

I went to the basket located on the counter. This was the repository of all the stuff I left in my pockets: a stick of gum, a plastic doohickey from the rental car - not that it mattered now. There on top of the pile was the business card for Madame X.
 

Bless all the little laundry elves.
 

I dialed the number before thinking about it. When it rang for a long time, I glanced at the clock, surprised to find that it was after nine. A lot of people go to bed early. Just when I was pulling the phone away from my ear, it was answered by a breathless voice.
 

“Is this Madame X?” I asked.

“Who is calling?”
 

“Mr. Brown gave me your card.”
 

“Mr. Brown?” she asked.

“Hermonious Brown of the Ye Olde Bookshoppe.”
 

“Why would he refer you to me?”
 

The voice was still breathless, which made me wonder if this was a line she had tucked away in the back and didn’t answer much.
 

Okay, I guess I needed to tell her something.
 

“He thought you might have some books on the paranormal. I’m looking for information on the Dirugu.”
 

There wasn’t any sound for a good minute. Had she keeled over in a dead faint from rushing to the phone?
 

“Madame X?” When she didn’t answer, I repeated her name, then said, “Hello?”
 

“Ten o’clock,” she said, her voice faint. “Tomorrow, ten o’clock.”
 

She hung up.
 

Had she sounded afraid or was that my imagination kicking in? I wondered what the meeting tomorrow morning would be like. Only time, as they say, would tell.
 

Charlie had maneuvered to occupy most of the chaise. I pushed him aside and sat down. He gave me a sleepy, irritated look.
 

“Weird people out there, Charlie.”
 

He only snuffled a little in his sleep as if he agreed.

C
HAPTER
N
INETEEN

Don’t shoot me, I’m just the messenger

There were three things I had to do. I had to meet with the fortune teller, call Charlie’s owner, and go to see my doctor. The doctor was more important than the fortune teller, but I was desperate for information, so she came first. I’d call Charlie’s owner, Mr. Douche Bag, when I was ready.

I dressed as well as I was able, which was a little clumsily given that my leg was surprisingly stiff. I didn’t know how much of that was the residual pain from my broken and healed quickly leg or the acrobatics on the gun range floor.
 

Today I chose a dark blue pantsuit I’d always worn to work along with a pale pink scoop necked top. I found my pink pearl earrings in my bag of jewelry and opted for tennis shoes rather than flats. My hair needed to be cut and definitely shampooed, but I could go one more day.

Just as I expected, the minute I left my room to take Charlie to the fenced in area and see about his food, Dan intercepted me.
 

“You can’t leave the castle,” he said. “It's too dangerous. Maddock’s still out there and he'll jump at the chance to get you alone."

I nodded, not disputing that fact. “I can’t exactly leave the castle unless you lend me a car.”

We got to the end of the hall and I let Charlie outside. There weren’t any playmates around, so he didn’t stay long and I didn’t need to pick up anything.
 

“I can’t stay inside for the rest of my life and allow you to take care of me,” I said when I got back inside.
 

Granted, we’d had sex, but I wasn’t going to be a kept woman.
 

I cared about him. I was coming to trust him more than any other person I've ever known. But we both had pockets of ignorance about the other. I don't know what Dan’s secret was and I wasn't all that eager to find out. There, a little Queen of the Nile.
 

Was he going to loan me a car? He didn’t look like he wanted to. Well, that was one way to keep me here, but I could always try renting another one.
 

"Do you ride a motorcycle?" I asked.
 

He leaned back against the wall and folded his arms, regarding me with that green eyed stare of his.

"I do," he said. "I have both a Harley and a Ducati."

I nodded, not at all surprised. Although I knew aficionados of both, each of which would say that Dan was a traitor to own the other kind. You were either a Harley guy or you were a Ducati guy, but never the twain shall meet.

“Why, do you want to borrow a motorcycle?” he asked.
 

I bit back my smile. "No. I prefer something with a little more metal around me."

“Why don’t you just let me take you where you want to go?”
 

There was that cosseting thing again.
 

I was annoyed because the idea held more appeal than me driving myself. I knew all about getting back on the horse after you’re thrown, but I didn’t want to have to concentrate on driving while worrying about someone out to get me at the same time.
 

“I’d feel better if I came with you,” he said, smiling down at me.
 

My heart went pitty-pat. He had to stop doing things like that.
 

At least he hadn’t apologized for yesterday. I’d been waiting for that and dreading it. I didn’t want him to have regrets about what happened.
 

He walked slowly toward me, a panther of deliberation. I once again had the feeling that Dan Travis was not who he was supposed to be. He was not simply a former Ranger with a wealthy grandfather. Something else about him called to me. Maybe a sense that he was as lonely as I. Maybe a certainty that we were both alien to our environment.
 

He stopped in front of me, so close I could feel the heat of his body. Today his polo shirt was green, a shade that perfectly matched his eyes.
 

“Who buys your shirts?” I asked, reaching out and placing my hand in the air between us. Wisely, I withdrew it before I touched him.
 

“What?”
 

“I doubt you do it,” I said, curling my fingers into a fist.
 

I wanted to touch him, God help me. How foolish was that?
 

“Do you have a wardrobe service? A personal shopper?”
 

“I pick out my own clothes,” he said, sounding miffed.
 

I bit back my smile. “Are you sure?”
 

He nodded. “It’s no big deal. I go to a site, I grab two of each color I like.”
 

Who said that women shop while men buy? I hate to shop, so I could appreciate a slice and dice mentality when it came to ordering clothes. Of course, it helped when you had all the money in the world.
 

“Why don’t you run the Cluckey’s Fried Chicken empire?”
 

He frowned at me. Good, the more annoyed he was, the safer I was. I couldn’t afford for him to be charming.
 

“I’m on the board,” he said. “Do you want me to go in every day and fry chicken? And why all the questions?”
 

“No reason,” I said.
 

I was interested in everything about him, just one clue to my insanity. Or maybe I thought the more I picked the pieces of his life apart, the closer I would come to the core of Dan Travis.
 

“Do you want to take Charlie?” he asked.
 

“No. In light of what happened last time, I’d feel better if he stayed here.”