He pulled back and smiled.

  Like the worldly woman I was, I murmured, “Oh, sweet Lord.” And safely, with a hundred percent conviction of my heart, I was able to say that if something didn’t happen between us soon, all those people who had stopped working to gawk at us were going to get a much more graphic show. Something likely to make one of the hottest kisses of my life look like the most innocent of child’s play.

  “Tonight.” The word was as delicious as I imagined the dinner would be.

  So far, my day was aces. One assassination in the books, plans for dinner on the schedule, and I’d wrapped the mission up before lunch. But I really wanted to talk to Artie because seeing my mother during a mission was one thing. Her clear recognition of me was something else. And she’d made a point of looking at her watch. At precisely eleven a.m. And I didn’t know if it was the time that was specifically significant or if it was just a mention of time itself. A pickle, really, since every part of my plan to save her was relative to some sort of mention of time in one manner or another.

  But I had class now and a dinner date later. Talking to Artie was going to have to wait until Cheesecake kissed me goodnight. The thought sent a shiver of a warm thrill to my belly. And I basked for a second because not much felt better than basking in the few thrills life gave these days.

  Then, because I’d made a commitment to furthering my education, I headed off to class. Portal Mechanics, here I come.

  Chapter Five

  “Fred!” Between the cable bill and the cell phone, opening the mail these days was treacherous for my winged friend and today wasn’t going to be a good one for him. “Debbie Does Dragons. Grinding Nemo. The Devil Wears Nada. Game of Hoes? You’ve got like ninety dollars’ worth of porn on my bill, you little freak.”

  And we were off. I chased. He evaded. I zigged left. He zagged right. “Oh, where’s your sense of humor, Ro?”

  “Give me ninety dollars, and I’ll show it to you.”

  He stopped and I stopped. “I’m not going to pay to see your knockers, Ro.” He pointed his gaze at my chest and waggled his eyebrows. “Sometimes when you think I’ve disappeared, I’ve only gone invisible.”

  “Fred!” We resumed the chase until he put the couch between us. “I have to kill you.”

  “Wait!” He held up a wing. “They’re nice boobs. I couldn’t help but look. I have a fetish.” When I lunged, he fluttered back. “No, wait!” The wing went up again, this time with a cartoon stop sign on the end facing me. “I won’t look ever again. Not when you’re sleeping or in the shower or changing into that little lace bra you wear when you think you’re going to run into Craig.”

  “Come here, fire-breather.” After a few more minutes of chasing him, knocking over what-nots and books on shelves, cursing at him like a sailor, I plopped onto the couch. “You suck, Fred. And if you don’t stop ordering pay-per-view, I’m not only going to ban you from the TV, but I’m also going to change the parental code and hide the remote.” Threat-level red.

  Ooh. Now there was a catchphrase.

  In my head, Fred tutted. “Worst catchphrase I’ve ever heard.”

  I shot him a glare. “Jerk.”

  “Don’t you have a date to get ready for?”

  I glanced at the clock hanging in the kitchen. Six-thirty. I took off for the bedroom and Fred flew in behind me. “Out!” I shoved the door shut. “And stay out.”

  “Wood has never stopped a Fae of my caliber,” he called from the hallway.

  “You come through that door, and I’ll make sure you never get wood again, you little deviant.” I threw off my shirt and ran into my bathroom.

  After the quickest shower in Guinness World Record Book history, a quick shave and a blow dry, I ran out of the house like my ass was on fire. I considered a portal, but there’d been a recent crackdown. I battled traffic like a commoner. The pencil-pushers were supposedly searching harder and more often for unsanctioned portals.

  Once I found a parking spot on an unusually congested block, I ran down the sidewalk to the restaurant, then walked in like I was chill. Cool. A woman whose heart wasn’t about to pound out of her chest and put her in the cardiac intensive care unit at Memorial West.

  “I’m meeting someone.” I told the maître de between barely concealed panting breaths.

  He eyed me with an arched brow. “Does your someone have a name, or shall I guess?”

  “A name.” Right. The lack of oxygen to my brain had obviously affected me. “A name.” Yes. I was getting to it. On my very next breath.

  “Unless you’d like to sit with someone random?” He gestured to the room. “See anyone you like?” Oh, the sarcasm. Lucky for him he wasn’t a tipped employee.

  “Craig Ferguson.” My tone was sharp, and he moved his head from one side to the other, then looked down at his little book. I resisted the urge to craft a spell that would make all the handwriting on his schedule illegible, but I refrained.

  He snapped his fingers in the air, summoning a woman in a gray tuxedo shirt with a silver tie hanging slightly askew and a green apron tied around her waist. Her eyes were wide, and she had the shoulder curl of a woman who’d been terrorized by this buffoon. “Table seven.”

  “Yes, sir,” she whispered

  Like she wasn’t already complying, he smacked his hand on the table. “Move! Move!”

  I wasn’t generally petty, but I gave a finger wiggle that confused all the information on the pages in front of him. His night was about to take a much-deserved turn.

  I followed her to the table and smiled when she got a load of Craig. Not that I was in much better shape. Holy cow. This man was a vision. Black jacket over black shirt over black slacks, then he stood and came around the table to help me with my chair.

  Holy cow. We’d been on a few other dates. Kissed a few times. Flirted at every opportunity. Even had a hot and heavy make out session in the file room. But something shifted between us today, and my awareness of him sharpened to a honed point.

  I smiled when he let his hand linger on my arm as I sat, and he scooted my chair in. Damn. This man was potent. And maybe tonight was the night. I hoped.

  “You look beautiful.” Sentences like that one were the reason I still hadn’t caught my breath.

  I looked down because I didn’t even remember which dress I’d chosen. “Thanks.” It was the blue one that fit like a second skin and matched the blue pumps on my feet. “You look nice, too.”

  His cheeks flushed with color, and I smiled. I could really like a guy who was humble and modest. “How was class?”

  We could’ve been any two people in the world having a nice dinner in a restaurant with candlelight on the table, a silver champagne bucket with a bottle waiting to be opened and poured into the crystal flutes at our place settings which were laid out with sparkling silverware, linen napkins, and tablecloths. We weren’t at a fast-food joint, that was for sure.

  “It was…interesting.” I’d thought I was almost a pro at opening portals. I’d been practicing. Artie had built me up like I was making progress, but it turned out, not so much. “Portal mechanics is complicated.” I launched into my story while he smiled at me. “So, Professor Dixon”—all the professors were named Dixon— “called me to the front of the class. He said it was because I had the most portal experience.” I rolled my eyes. “I walked to the front wishing I had his confidence to stand in front of a class and talk every day.”

  Craig nodded. “Professor Dixon is a hard ass.”

  I shook my head. “Not that one. The one who came up with Artie, retired last year.” Artie had been about to retire when I burst onto the scene. Now he’d put it off. Or been forced to put it off. I wasn’t entirely sure. “Anyway, I was thinking how I would have to picture everyone naked to be able to stand up in front of the class. So, then my mind started picturing, and when I opened the portal, my thoughts created a black hole effect.”

  Craig pulled his lips tight between his teeth, probably to keep from busting out laughing at my expense, but I appreciated his restraint. “Mm-mm.” He shook his head. “You’re making it up.”

  “Nope. Whole class, underwear. Clothes sucked through the portal.”

  He gaped at me. “To where?”

  I shrugged. “I have no idea.” We both laughed. “Dixon made a spell to bring them back and I executed it, but it was so embarrassing.”

  “Yeah. You have to be focused when you make a portal. That’s for sure.” He grinned. “Your mom taught me that.”

  And there it was. Not that I didn’t enjoy hearing about her since my memories were skewed because I hadn’t known her as more than a family friend until after she died, and her secrets came tumbling into my lap. But if I could’ve just had one night with Craig where we didn’t talk about the perfection that was Lucy Hembree, it would’ve been a refreshing experience.

  I adjusted my fork and spoon, making it perfectly perpendicular to the knife on the opposite side of my place setting because I needed to do something with my hands.

  “What did Dixon say?”

  I turned my mouth down. “Well, if I remember correctly, but I was distracted because his eyes were so big, it was something like, ‘ooh, oh, my goodness, aww, nobody needs to see that.’” I mimicked the professor’s excitement, his slide down to disbelief, then his whine of mild revulsion. “There was more but that was what stuck out for me.”

  And then it happened. He took our flirting to another level, lowered his voice, stroked his fingertip over my knuckles and aimed a slow, sexy smile my way. “I’ll bet they didn’t mind the view of you up there in your undies.”

  My entire body warmed. I wasn’t the sexiest woman in a room. Not ever. I wasn’t the smallest. Not the most memorable except for maybe because of my fire-engine red hair. But he always made me feel beautiful and sexy, safe and protected. It was intoxicating and a purr settled in my belly.

  We ordered and chatted, ate and flirted. And just when I could see the light that led straight to the seduction scene I was building in my mind—it involved a negligee, candles, and my bedroom—he pulled a stone marked by runes from the inside pocket of his jacket. If I hadn’t seen it before, didn’t know it’s specific use, I might’ve thought it was a gift for me. But it wasn’t. It was a shield rock. It would shroud us so no one in the vicinity could hear what we were saying and spy on our conversation. They would see us speaking, but they would hear us talking about television or the latest Jumanji movie. It wasn’t like we could just disappear and it not be noticed.

  He set the stone on the table and smiled at me, then shot all my romantic notions straight out the window. Even serious on this guy is better than gorgeous on anyone else. “During the mission today, did you happen to see anything odd? Notice anyone out of place?”

  Nope. Just my mother portaling in, trying to communicate a message I was too obtuse to fully understand then portaling back out. Just another day at the office. “Not that I saw.” I hated lying. It made me sweat, and I held out the front of my dress to blow a stream of cool air onto my sweltering boobs. When he cocked a brow, I chuckled with nerves. “Hot in here.”

  He nodded. “There was some suspicious portal activity right around eleven today when we were finishing up the mission.” I didn’t object to his use of we because I was busy trying not to hyperventilate and pass out. Keeping my breaths slow and even was an exercise in control.

  I failed.

  Instead, I took a drink of champagne that had long since warmed, and I choked. Coughed. Sputtered like I was hacking up a lung. Craig jumped up and came around the table to pat my back. He even held my arm over my head and did all the things a mom with a choking child would’ve.

  When I was under control, he went back to his seat, still eying me with caution.

  “I’m fine. Wrong pipe. Just…go on.” I huffed out one last stifled cough and smiled. When he didn’t continue, I rolled my hand in the universal sign for get on with it. “Strange portal activity.”

  “Right.” He smiled again. “You know how everyone has their own portal signature?” It was the way we constructed the spell that created the portal. Everyone’s signature is unique. Some could be close to the same as others, but like a fingerprint, they’re distinct, and monitored.

  I nodded, wary.

  “Well, the signature on the one you didn’t make today was your mother’s.” He shook his head, and I pulled my lips between my teeth to keep my face as neutral as I could. But if he looked at me, my guilt would probably flash like a neon sign. “But we have no record of her operating in that area at that time.” I still didn’t speak, and he still didn’t look. “Malcolm told me as soon as I got back.”

  I put my best Meryl Streep on and acted like an Oscar nominee. Even added a shrug and a slight head tilt. “I didn’t see anything odd.”

  “Maybe it’s the rogues. Maybe they’ve figured out how to replicate her signature.” I wasn’t even sure he was still talking to me. “It would be a valuable skill.” Like he was arguing with himself, he continued as if I’d left the table. “But it hasn’t happened in the last year that I’m aware of. And they sure as hell made me aware as soon as I returned today, so if it had been noted, they would’ve told me.” He pursed his lips. “Maybe there’s a glitch in the records, but it would have to be a consistent glitch.” Now, he turned to me and half-smiled. “Luckily, you didn’t see her. If you had… the consequences could be dire…” He didn’t finish with more than a head shake.

  “Yeah. Good thing,” I said weakly.

  “Promise me you’ll be vigilant from here on out. If it’s the rogues replicating her signature, we need to know. Immediately. And you to be careful.” His voice was fierce, a little loud.

  “Absolutely.” And it was killing me. I might as well have had a neon arrow flashing above my head that said LIAR in all-caps. I wanted to tell him but involving him in the plans for my mom was dangerous. To me, to him, to her. I couldn’t risk it. If all went well, he would never need to know. But if it turned sideways or, God forbid, went south, the more he knew the more it would hurt him.

  And guilt, thanks to my wayward genetics, wasn’t an emotion with which I was acquainted. I didn’t like the feeling either. It withered my excitement about hauling him back to my place and peeling those clothes off of his body.

  Besides, I needed to talk to Artie. Sooner rather than later.

  It wasn’t until Craig put the rock back into his pocket that the waitress delivered the check. He handed over his card, and we waited in silence until she came back with it, then he stood and came around to offer me his hand. Like a big old liar, I took it and watched my feet as we walked out.

  Just past the maître ’d’s podium, where customers waited in a line, complaining, Craig held open the door for me to walk out past him. When I was about to break into a sprint to get to my car, he took my wrist in his hand and propelled me into his arms.

  “Hey, you.” His voice was that delicious, soft purr that almost shot my guilt to hell. Almost.

  “Hey,” I whispered.

  He tilted my face up again, and I really loved the feel of that finger curled against my chin. It meant something good—where good was the biggest understatement ever spoken—was about to happen.

  “I had a great time.” And then his lips brushed mine and his fingers tangled in my hair, holding me. I leaned into his body, laid one hand over his chest. The racing thump a consolation under my hand. At least I wasn’t the only one affected.

  When he released me, we smiled at one another. “I’ll see you at work,” we said at the same time. Then we both chuckled before he gave a little wave, and the date ended much the same way it started. Separately.

  I watched him walk a few steps in the opposite direction of my car, then turned and went my own way.

  “Yo, Ro. Way to not get lucky with Hunky McHunkerson.”

  Aside from the fact he wasn’t supposed to have been here spying, his voice in my head was disorienting and startling. So much so I jumped and might have peed myself if not for my excellent bladder control.

  “Zip it, Fred.”

  “Just curious, Rowena.” Rowwww-EEEEEN-Uh. Like a song. “You ever going to get around to bringing Cheesecake home and serving yourself a nice juicy slice?”

  Not that I hadn’t had similar thoughts, but hearing it put so crudely from a dragon in desperate need of training made me wonder what the hell Fred had been doing there at all. “Cheesecake isn’t juicy. If it is, it’s undercooked or under chilled. Or whatever.”

  “Yeah, well, you should be under him.” He flapped a wing in my face. “Might put you in a better disposition.” I rolled my eyes, and he chortled. “In some kind of position anyway. And as seen in Forest Hump, there are several fun ones you could try.”

  “Probably gonna smother you in your sleep, you little jerk.” And now, the woman who’d parked in the car directly behind mine stared like she’d caught me talking to myself. And because Fred was invisible to virtually everyone but me, she had.

  Didn’t matter. I had to get to Artie and a stranger’s opinion didn’t mean much under that kind of urgency.

  Chapter Six

  As soon as I was home, changed into jammies and sitting cross-legged on the bed, I dialed Artie. Being without him daily was wearing on me, and since he answered on the first ring, I assumed he hadn’t managed to find anything quite as fulfilling as work to keep him occupied. Coming in a few times a week to check in on my training hadn’t been enough for him either.

  Honestly, for all his complaining, Artie loved working and hated his semi-retirement and now his forced relaxation and recuperation.

  “Rowena.”

  “Artlandish.” His name was a constant source of my amusement. I was trying to make it so, anyway.

  He chuckled. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this call so late in the evening?”

  “Are you busy?” There were things we could talk about on the phone and things better said in person. I wanted this one in person.

 

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