Mystic Hearts Page 4

“They’ll kill you.”

  Her stomach tightened.

  The rate at which the light spun grew wild. From the corner of her eye, she glimpsed long, furry ears curled down, as if to wave. She faced it. The rabbit from Alice in Wonderland smiled from beside the woodstove. “You’re late, you’re late, you’re late for a very important date,” it said and jumped out the closed window.

  Shaking her head, she turned toward him. “Nothing is as it seems.” She met his serious eyes and bit her lip.

  “During this time,” he said, “I’m mortal, which happens once a year. A group wants me not to exist between the two worlds. If they kill me during All-Hallow’s Eve, I’ll disappear forever.”

  Her heart dropped, fell flat to her feet. She should pick it up, but his gaze bored into hers, fixing her in the spot. She’d get it later. “Wh-what?”

  The light spun like an angry tiger. She closed her eyes before one chased her and she peed her pants.

  “The light signals the intruders’ arrival. I cooked chicken soup to cover up my scent. In years past, I hid in the hay, around cows…goats. I hoped they wouldn’t find me.”

  Cows? Goats? She twisted to look out the window to find one. Maybe they could go cow-tipping.

  On the horizon, lights came forth, indicating the imminent battle he referred to. Fear rushed through her. “Look!”

  “They’re on their way. We have some time before they reach us.”

  The light spun faster, flew off the pedestal.

  She ducked.

  The ball shattered against the wall, killing the lamp’s glow. The moon’s beam seeped in, giving her enough light to see his face.

  Someone wanting to fight him terrified her. She didn’t want to lose him to some stupid Hallow’s Eve nonsense. “Let’s hide.” She tore through a few boxes and found two paint cans and tossed him one. “Spray paint the window. They won’t be able to see us.”

  “That works.”

  With each pass of the can, the hissing expelled a pungent odor. The spray passed over the window. The light flittering inside disappeared.

  “Now what?” she asked.

  He turned on a small lamp. “The last moment of immortality lends me strength to make it another year. I’m savoring each second. I refuse to let this time end without touching the woman of my dreams.”

  A hand fisted her heart and squeezed. The fireworks at the end of her vision vanished. His face grew clearer: the sweet smile, the gentleness of his eyes. Her insides stirred.

  In the corner, flowers from the rose bush filled a vase. He chose one and approached. “I have an idea.”

  She eyed it, wondering what he had planned. The sexual glint in his eyes stimulated her nether regions.

  He guided her to lie down on the chaise. The scent of the flower flowed through the air much like the white patch had. The pedals glided down her forehead, down her nose. When he reached her mouth, she kissed the petals.

  “I want to feel the silkiness…on my skin,” she breathed.

  “Your wish is my command.”

  Their clothes disappeared.

  Standing beside her, the deliciousness of his glorious toned body urged her to run her fingers along the ridges of his pectoral muscles and lower. She shivered at his sensuality.

  “Not yet.” He grasped her hand and placed it back on the chaise. “Let me spoil you.”

  The flower, floating on its own, slid along her neck.

  He trailed the flower, nibbling on the delicate area beneath her ear before pulling it into his mouth. The sensation felt so good, she craved more and arched her back.

  He rose and observed the petals sweep the area where she longed to feel him, her breasts. She moaned. The intensity in his gaze, pleasing and wanting, made her wiggle. “I like you watching.”

  “You’re gorgeous.”

  The flower caressed her stomach, inched toward the spot she ached to be touched.

  “I want you.” He covered her body with his, his warmth stroking her from chest to legs.

  “I have to keep reminding myself you’re not real, you’re a ghost.”

  “Hmm.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Nothing is as it seems.”

  The door crashed in.

  Chapter Four

  Charlene bolted upright, panting. Sweat covered her body and her head ached. A white dresser lined the wall on the left, her favorite piece of furniture, an upholstered bench, on the right.

  Her bedroom.

  She pulled her legs inward, keeping the sheet over her waist and legs, and rested her arms on her knees. Last night’s memories came in bits and pieces: locking her keys in the car, a white patch…a rose…a man.

  Larry.

  Memories rushed forward. The way he caressed her body with the flower’s soft petals, sending sexual tingles to the areas that hadn’t reacted to a man’s touch in a long time.

  Charlene froze.

  The silky, coral nightgown she bought, but never wore, covered her.

  Her mind reeled with ‘oh, no she didn’t.’ The erotic encounter of soft petals stroking her skin slammed into her memory, which meant…she and Larry…“No-o-o-o!” They couldn’t have slept together. She would have remembered.

  Sex on the first date? Who does that?

  Technically, it wasn’t even a date…

  Charlene scoffed, dropped her head on her knees and closed her eyes. “What have I done?” Many nights flew by on fantasies of sleeping with Larry. Not once had she dreamt she’d act the slut, nor be intoxicated.

  A wooden spoon oddly moving in circles seeped into her mind. No hand grasped the handle to force the movements. She shook her head as a hand waving in the window flashed in her mind’s eye. Nothing that happened last night was factual.

  She lifted her head and set her chin on her knee. If that was true, then the petals that brought her body to life didn’t exist.

  Was Larry real?

  She touched her lips, reliving their electrifying kiss. No illusion tasted or felt that good, nor could it bring her home, put her nightgown on, and help her to bed.

  The delusions she experienced last night, ones she’d hoped would dissipate by this morning, came back two-fold. For certain, her mother would take her for a psych evaluation.

  Not only did she have to contend with wondering if she lost her mind, now she fretted with whether or not she slept with a man.

  Gorgeous, compassionate Larry…what would she say the next time she saw him? “Um, thanks for the memories? Catch ya on my next drunken stupor? Ugh.” She flopped back against the headboard and hit her head. “Ouch.”

  “Careful!” a low masculine voice warned.

  The surprise of his voice pounded anxiety through her system. Her day went from out of balance to humiliating. “Not possible,” she muttered under her breath.

  The bedroom door creaked open. “What’s not?”

  The care in Larry’s voice sent tingles down her body. To rub her arms and legs to warm them before the goose bumps covered her skin meant she’d have to raise her head and open her eyes. If she did, she’d see him. Right now, with humiliation ruling her life, she couldn’t. She covered her face with her hands and prayed he didn’t hear her say, “She’d catch him on her next drunken stupor.”

  “You’re up,” he said when she remained silent.

  Not looking at him wouldn’t make the problem go away. If he heard what she’d said, then he did. She slid her fingers aside and peeked at him. “Hi!”

  Larry chuckled.

  The husky tenor that sent warmth through her body last night shot straight to her core.

  “No need to be embarrassed.” He moved to the side of the bed, touched her arm, and nudged it down.

  She dropped her hands to her lap. Unlike last night, she could see every nuance of his face, the shadow of whiskers on his cheeks and jaw, the laugh lines at the corners of his eyes. His auburn hair shined and his honey colored eyes zoomed in on her. He had one hell of a sexy grin. But they weren’t his only features
holding her attention. His shirt was off and the hard plains and muscle ridges of his chest and abdomen begged her to touch.

  “I’m not.”

  A smile stretched across his face, displaying straight, white teeth.

  The passion she fought back into its hiding place last night clawed at her soul to escape.

  “Are you hungry?” He pointed to the nightstand. “I worked hard, making toast and brewing coffee.”

  She hadn’t noticed the tray or the aroma of coffee. A scent she usually savored in the mornings fell short in comparison to the man.

  He settled on the mattress, and his knee brushed against her thigh. His nearness made her skin tingle. She studied his chest and lowered her gaze, following his happy trail.

  He rubbed the sprinkle of hair between his muscular pecs, his face flushed pink. “I should put my shirt back on. I took it off before I went to sleep.”

  “No need.” She smiled. “Do you usually sleep in jeans?”

  His masculine groan declared he battled over that decision and made her insides clench. “I usually don’t, but thought, best not.”

  She grinned, enjoying his reaction. “Why are you here?” She hated to sound ungrateful with the caffeine and food he put on the nightstand. “I mean, how’d you get in my house…my bedroom?”

  Moments passed as he studied her. A flutter of excitement flipped her stomach. She wanted to touch him, taste him.

  His eyes narrowed, a puzzled expression crossed his features. “Do you remember any details from last night?”

  “Not really. No.”

  “At Paul’s request, you went to Greenwood Manor to distract vandals.”

  Did she tell Larry?

  “When you didn’t answer your cell this morning, Paul called the other BOFs, and then called me.”

  As far as she knew he hadn’t joined the BOFs. Now that he had, she’d see him every week at Cocktail Hour. Keeping a handle on her growing feelings toward him would be next to impossible. “I hadn’t realized you joined the group.”

  He shook his head. “I haven’t. I’m an honorary member.”

  “Oh.”

  “So you don’t remember anything?”

  “I recalled the reason I went to the manor. The areas between drinking a glass of wine on the porch until now are somewhat fuzzy.”

  “The rest will come back to you in time.”

  “You sound so confident. I feel like I’ve been hit in the head.”

  He lifted her hand and drew circles on the back of her hand with his thumb.

  Each soothing caress ratcheted up her desire.

  “In the past, I’ve experienced memory loss. It’ll come back in fragments, eventually, the whole picture falls into place.”

  Accepting his explanation, she nodded.

  Questions whirled around in her mind. Before she could ask one, he said, “I heard you fall.”

  “Heard me? Where?” She raised her eyebrows and searched her memory banks: the walk to the small building, a rose bush. “I fell outside the building that looks like an old one-room schoolhouse.”

  “You did, and it is a schoolhouse. I found lots of old textbooks inside, though I don’t believe anyone’s taught in there for years.”

  “I heard you and saw the light. I was coming to find you.”

  Larry stopped watching his thumb rubbing her skin and locked gazes with her. “You heard me?”

  “Yes, and some other guy.”

  A serious expression crossed his face, one that made her nervous. “I need to ask you a few questions.”

  To get the monkey off her back, so to speak, and allow her time to get her bearings before she answered a battery of questions, she said, “Okay, but me first.”

  He arched a brow and hesitated briefly before saying, “Shoot.”

  “Why were you at Greenwood Manor?”

  “Checking on mysterious lights Paul told me about.”

  The lights that looked like lightening bugs. “I saw them, fireflies.” She paused. “If Paul asked you to check on the lights, then why did he need someone else to ward off vandals?”

  Larry lifted their join hands. “I think we were victims to a matchmaking scheme.”

  “Paul? A matchmaker?” She had never known any of the BOFs to meddle in each other’s lives; then again, she hadn’t been around them long.

  “Surprises me, too. It’s the only explanation.” He studied her. “Remember anything else?”

  She released his hand, braced her hands on either side of her, and straightened, rising higher against the headboard. The next question she dreaded, but she needed an answer. “Did you put my nightgown on me?”

  He glanced behind him at the door, then turned back around, and cocked his head. “That explains what you muttered earlier.”

  She scooted back down and pulled the sheet over her head. “You heard me.”

  He gripped the edge of the sheet and lowered it. “Yep, ’fraid so. So you’re clear, I would never take advantage of someone inebriated.” His gaze turned intense. “No matter how much I want her.”

  Despite her reservations on pursuing a relationship, relief washed over her and little feet danced happily over her heart.

  “Here’s the deal. I came to check out the mysterious lights, ran into someone, and had words. Then he. A few minutes later, I heard you fall. I immediately scooped you up and drove you home. Since no one else was here, I put ice on your head, gave you some aspirin, and stayed.” He pointed to the chair in the corner of her room. “I slept there.”

  She had hoped he spooned her during the night, but his caring for her was wonderful. “Thank you.”

  He slanted his head to the other side, reminding her of a cuddly puppy, and reached for something on the tray. “Do you remember this?”

  A variety of reactions flitted over her: shock, excitement, apprehension, passion. None of them was she willing to latch onto and claim.

  The rose.

  “I thought you said—” Her words broke off. She touched a hand to her chest. With the other hand, she grasped the stem. “It looks so fresh.”

  “Ah-h, you do remember.” He slightly raised and kissed her forehead. “You had me worried.” He placed a hand on her knee when he settled back on the bed.

  The ease at which he touched her, the flower…she knew more had happened, which brought her back to the confusion she had earlier. “What about my nightgown?”

  He made a throaty noise. “I can’t explain it. We stayed downstairs for a while until you drifted to sleep on the couch. You thrashed around, so I brought you up here to bed. Here’s the part that might bother you.”

  She tensed.

  “I laid you on the bed while you were still sleeping. I turned to figure out where I might snooze. When I turned around,” he ran a hand down his face, “your clothes were gone.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Huh?”

  “A-ah, I don-n…I don’t know,” he mumbled and shook his head. “Charlene, I can’t explain why you stripped.” He pressed his lips together, the corners of his mouth twitched. “I will say I managed to find the willpower of a lion. I looked through your dresser, grabbed the first thing I found, and helped you put it on.”

  She eyed him. “That’s it?”

  His lower teeth slid across his lower lip and he gave a slight nod. “Yeah.”

  Emotions pinged back and forth through her mind between gratitude that he remained a gentleman in such a circumstance and being insulted that he hadn’t wanted her enough. She decided on the high road…grateful. “You’re a gentleman.”

  He gathered her hands. “Please, don’t ever test me like that again.”

  She liked the sound of that. “Okay.”

  He looked like he wanted to say something more. Instead he watched her, the pulse in his neck ticking.

  She smelled the rose. On the chaise…the flower. “If we didn’t sleep together, then what I’m remembering with the flower, did it happen?”

  “I don’t know what you recal
l, but the rose did play a part in what we did last night.” He leaned forward. Very gently, he touched the back of her head.

  The area smarted.

  “The knot is a lot smaller. Does it hurt?”

  She must have hit something when she fell. “Not much.” Her mind had played lots of tricks on her, leaving her unable to determine what was real or fiction. “Did we go inside the schoolhouse?”

  He glided the back of his finger from her temple down to her jawline. “No.”

  If they didn’t, then the romantic scene between them didn’t happen? An ache of emptiness swelled in her chest. An occurrence she couldn’t explain or understand.

  The fear that jolted her awake in a sweat rushed forward. Men on horseback raced through the field toward them while they hid in the schoolhouse.

  She eyed Larry.

  He smiled. He didn’t look like someone who had anyone chasing him.

  Curiosity over what they actually did with the rose nagged her. Were they naked? Charlene’s stomach flip-flopped, telling her to leave that question unasked. Another thing that bothered her was when she first saw Larry, she’d called him Ben. The name had slipped out without thought. Had she dreamed him up? “Who’s Ben?”

  He chuckled.

  The sexy, masculine sound tightened her stomach like endorphins.

  “Your mind is playing tricks on you?”

  She nodded.

  For several seconds, he watched her as if trying to gather his thoughts.

  Any minute, he would realize she was crazy and leave. Not able to recall kissing someone or anything that might have passed between them was unforgiveable in her book. She hoped it wasn’t in his.

  His pupils grew darker. The gold flecks in his irises shined brighter. Shockingly, he cupped her face. Testosterone oozed from him. Her intelligible thoughts fled.

  “Let me remind you.” His heated eyes closed with the tilt of his head. Tender lips connected with hers.

  Desire, hot, intense, and needy, throbbed through her body. The scrape of his teeth over her bottom lip renewed her memory of the sizzling, passionate kisses they shared.

  Location and time were overrated. The details might come back to her later. If not, who cares? She parted her lips, inviting him in.