Witches of Three_Seraphina (10 page)

Oh, Sera, you’re a hopeless fool, she told herself as she got out the frying pan. She knew what he liked, and she loved making food for him. Maybe it stoked that fantasy of—no, not that. She wasn’t going to go there, especially before she heard what he had to say and most importantly, who he was. Her problem was that she’d spent a sexless night missing him more than she’d thought possible.

He remained quiet while she made their breakfast, and when she set a full plate in front of him and slid into a seat with her own plate, he reached over to take her hand. The gesture made her feel safe and warm, as if nothing could ever take away the happiness she’d known the past few days. She let him take the lead, sipping from her coffee cup, picking at the fluffy eggs on her plate. Usually, he woofed down his food, but now he left it untouched.

“I’ve not been fair or honest with you,” he said. “It must have been obvious last night that I’m not a plumber, not even a part-time plumber.”

“Are you an instructor at the college?” she asked, suddenly feeling a chill pass over her.

“Yes, just not at this college,” he said.

“You’re not from around here,” she stated flatly.

“No, I’m not.” He took a deep breath and looked down at his plate.

“Is your name even Jack Trent?”

“Yes.” His head came up, and he regarded her. “My name is really Jack Trent.”

Sera relaxed a little bit, although she knew there was more to come and it could be bad. “Please, go on,” she said softly.

“I’m not sure I should be telling you this, but I don’t want— Sera, I’m with the FBI. My partner and I are here looking for someone you may know.”

“I?” She placed one hand flat on her chest and looked at him in bewilderment.

“Look, I’m not sure I should even tell you about this. If you are involved, I want you to know we’ll go easy on you if you cooperate and tell us where he is.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sera said. She fell silent, and each of them waited for the other to go on. She met his hard, suspicious gaze candidly, and she felt herself blush as if she really were someone the FBI should be investigating.

“I’m telling you the truth,” she said defensively.

“Mannie Somner?”

“I don’t know him? Why would you think I did?”

“Because calls to his sick mother have been made from this phone number.” His gaze hadn’t wavered from hers.

“From my phone?”

Silently, he nodded.

She sat thinking what this was all about, then shook her head slowly. “There must be some mistake. I’m the only one who has access to this phone, and I certainly don’t know this Mannie person or his mother. At least, I don’t think so.”

“The calls were made from here. If not you, then who?”

“I have no idea. Perhaps there was a mix-up at the phone company on either end. In spite of all the new technology today, there are bound to be snarls that no one anticipated. Surely, that’s it.”

“Sera.” He leaned forward and took her hand. He still hadn’t touched his food. “Don’t you think we would have checked for that? We know the calls came from your phone.”

She sat shaking her head. “That can’t be.” She looked at him with a sense of dawning horror. “Why do you want this guy? Did he murder a lot of people?”

“Almost as bad. He stole a lot of money from his investors.”

Sera sat considering this information. “Why would someone like that be using my phone? It just doesn’t make sense.”

“What about someone around you? Your yardman, a neighbor, a relative.”

She jerked her head around to glare at him. “You met my family. You can’t believe one of them is responsible.”

He shook his head. “I don’t, but someone connected to you is the man we’re looking for. I’m convinced of it.”

She studied him, thinking something about the man he was. She’d been distracted, she realized, by his information about the caller, but now she thought of the times they’d made love.

“Is this normally the way FBI treat their possible suspects?” she asked in a low voice, unable to look at him as the enormity of their relationship crashed down on her. “You made love to me in order to use me.”

“No, gods no,” he said, catching her hand.

She shook it away and stared at him with her lips clamped tight and tears in her eyes.

“Sera,” he said softly. “My behavior was inexcusable, I know that. You can make a complaint to my chief, if you want, but listen to me, first. From the first moment I met you, I wanted to make love to you. I didn’t, at least not until the next morning when you came on to me. I couldn’t resist. You were so warm and sweet, and this is a very lonely job.”

“Poor excuse,” she said and fought back the tears. “I thought the CIA were the bad guys.”

“Neither of us are,” he said firmly. “But we are human. We have needs that we deny in order to do our jobs, then that moment comes when we meet someone and everything else becomes unimportant. That’s what’s happened to me. I love you, Sera.”

Abruptly, he fell silent as if he’d said too much, as if he was as surprised as she by his admission. She raised her face to his, letting him see the hurt and confusion he’d caused her, letting him see her heart.

“I love you too,” she whispered through her tears.

“Sera,” he gasped and rose from his chair to drag her up into his arms. He cradled her, planting tiny kisses on her brow and cheeks.

“I’ve never said these words to anyone else before,” he murmured. “My job has been everything to me until I met you. I laid awake last night thinking about all this, how it had come down to this. I tried to tell myself this thing between us was nothing. That I could just walk away, that getting Somner was the most important element. Then I saw you this morning, and it all fell into place for me. I love you, I love you.”

His words were whispered with fervor and tiny kisses that turned more passionate when he reached her mouth. His tongue thrust deep, and she opened to him, tasting him, anticipating the passion his kiss promised.

He picked her up in his arms and carried her to the bedroom where he placed her on the bed. Straightening, he raked his gaze over her, and when he met her glance, he began to remove his clothes, slowly at first, then with increasing urgency. When he was completely, gloriously nude, with the shadowy light slanting over the angles of his muscles, with his engorged penis jutting, he bent over her and began removing her clothes. When she was naked, he smoothed his large, warm hands over her body, like a
bon vivant
caressing the perfection of an artist’s greatest work.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered and lowered himself beside her.

He smoothed his hands through her hair, then used a finger to outline her cheek, her jaw and her full, lower lip before lowering his mouth to hers. He stroked her until her body strummed, explored every secret part of her, awakened her body until she was panting with need. Her hands had been busy as well, stroking his long penis, kneading his balls, while he lay quivering and gasping. She loved making love to him, loved touching and being touched, loved the languorous mood that claimed her, shutting out all else except this, the scent and touch of the man she loved.

He stroked her clitoris until she came, uttering high-pitched sounds that made no sense to anyone except a lover. She sucked on his hard cock until he threw back his head in ecstasy and came in her mouth then he pushed her on her back and entered her, moving against her with a thoroughness that soon had them both alive with need and striving toward a final culmination. Her bedroom echoed with the sounds of their mutual climaxes and the desperate gasps for breath afterwards and finally their gentle breathing as they slept in each other’s arms.

* * * *

Life was good again, Sera thought contentedly, putting away the last of the breakfast dishes. It was her day off, and things were right again with Jack. She leaned against the sink, thinking of their night together and stared out the window at the sunlight layered across the yard. Owen was busy puttering, hanging a birdhouse, she thought, because he had the ladder out and was positioning it against a tree. For such a frail old man, he was surprisingly strong and always busy. Now, she smiled. Even his presence was perfect on this fine morning. She loved having him around and in knowing she’d helped him have a comfortable home in his later years. He reminded her of a father she’d never had. Hanging up the dishtowel, she opened the sliding door and stepped out on the back deck.

“Good morning,” she called.

Owen paused in his chore, balancing the ladder against the tree trunk.

“Good morning, Sera,” he answered. “I’m just going to put up this bird house. The wrens are looking for a place to nest.”

“That’s a perfect place. I’ll be able to watch them come and go.”

He nodded and went back to his task.

“Do you need some help?” she asked, walking across the lawn toward him. “That ladder looks pretty heavy.”

“I’ve got it,” he said, and to prove his point, he lifted it and set it where he wanted it against a thick branch from which he obviously intended to hang the birdhouse.

Though she hadn’t yet reached him, Sera could see one leg was resting on an uneven piece of ground, but Owen was already climbing the ladder.

“Be careful,” she called out. “It’s not steady.”

Her warning came too late. The ladder wobbled and slewed sideways. Owen was thrown off. It all happened so quickly, Sera barely had time to think. She blinked, and Owen’s fall was halted in thin air. He hung suspended and looked at her in surprise. Sera blinked again, and he floated to the ground. The ladder crashed downward, threatening to land directly on him. The old man cried out and put up his arm to protect his head. Sera nodded again, and the ladder fell to the side. Quickly, she ran to Owen and knelt down.

“Are you all right?” she cried. “Are you hurt?”

Slowly, he lowered his arm and stared at where the ladder had been and where it now lay, then glanced at her, something unreadable in his gaze.

“You were so lucky,” she said quickly. “I thought that ladder would fall right on you. Can you move?”

“I’m all right,” he said and sat up, brushing his hands together in a gesture of disgust.

“Looks like there’s a gopher hole or something,” she said, indicating the soft spot where one leg of the ladder had been.

“Yeah.” Owen nodded. “I’ll have to put out something to get rid of them.” He got to his feet and looked at her sharply. “I’ll take care of it.”

“You always do,” she answered. “I don’t always tell you how much I appreciate everything you do.”

“It shows up in my paycheck,” he said shortly.

“But that’s just money,” she answered. “I just want you to know how glad I am that you’re here. I mean I…” She hesitated. “I feel safer knowing you’re nearby. …I don’t remember my father, so…” She shrugged.

With a final smile, she turned back toward the house, and when she got to the deck and looked back, she saw that he was standing as she’d left him, staring at her. His tall frame was stooped, his shoulders bowed. A great sadness seemed to have settled over him. She wondered if he had family somewhere and was missing them. He wouldn’t appreciate her asking, she thought. He’d remained a somewhat aloof man in spite of living in her guesthouse.

She remembered Jack’s suspicions and felt a chill pass over her. Surely, the man he sought wasn’t Owen Cutter. But what did she really know about him? Hadn’t she had those thoughts about Jack just a few days ago? Suddenly, she felt very alone and uncertain. Maybe her mother was right? She shouldn’t trust people so easily. She saw that Owen had resumed his attempt to hang the birdhouse and went inside. The day didn’t seem as bright and beautiful as it had.

Chapter Ten

She spent the rest of the day doing chores and planning dinner. Later in the afternoon, she went to the market to pick up fresh produce for a salad and a fruit dessert. She stowed her purchases in the car and was about to leave when a splash of color caught her eye. Large pots of geraniums were for sale outside the market, and she thought they’d look perfect by the back patio. She hurried to buy a few pots. Back home, she put away her groceries and carried the plants around to the back where she got a shovel and rake from the shed. Owen was nowhere around, and for the first time since he’d come to live near her, she was glad. Pushing her thoughts away from such troubling speculations as to his real identity, she set to planting her flowers.

“Yoohoo!”

The sound almost sent a shiver down Sera’s spine, but she plastered a grin on her face and turned to greet her next-door neighbor, who was again watering her plants. It was a wonder they didn’t drown.

“What’ya doing?” Janet asked, peering at the pots of flowers waiting to be planted. “Oh, you have geraniums. I love geraniums. Francis says they’re just weeds, you know. When we were in California, they grew everywhere.”

“That must have been very pretty,” Sera said, continuing with her digging.

“Francis doesn’t much like flowers. He can’t understand why I spend all my time out here watering and weeding them, but I always say, it helps make your home look like it’s cared for, not like someone who’s just renting.”

“I thought you guys bought your house,” Sera said, half listening to the woman’s words.

“Oh, no! We’re renting with an option to buy if we want, but Francis says he wouldn’t want a permanent place out here in a small town. He’s used to a bigger city. Say, did you hear about Gwen Shepherd’s brother?”

Sera stopped her work and looked at Janet, not because she enjoyed gossip, but Jack’s search for a wanted man was uppermost in her mind. “What about him?”

“They say he has a criminal record.” Janet’s face flushed with triumph at being able to pass along such a gem.

“Who says?”

“The girls at our morning card game. They said that for all her high and mighty airs and her nosy gossiping, she has a lot of skeletons in her own closet. I’ve never seen her brother, have you?”