by Mary Hughes
Sophia smiled inside. He’d seen her worry and hadn’t hesitated to comfort her. He must be a very good alpha.
“I’m relieved to hear it. What about that boy my aunt called you in for? Was he still in the store at that point?”
“Marlowe? He’s my responsibility. But I can assure you he will be punished and your aunt reimbursed. In fact, if you want to get repairs going, I’ll personally vouch for the funds.”
“Thank you.” All that muscle, and responsible too. Some little she-wolf was going to be very lucky someday. “But that’s not what I meant. I’d like to talk with him. Do you know where he lives?”
Noah’s gaze shuttered. “The boy knows nothing.” The reply had “back off” stamped all over it.
As if that would stop her. She gave a mental shrug. She’d simply have to get Marlowe’s address another way. “Okay. Well, I’d better get back to the bookstore. If you think of anything, come see me, okay? The sign will be Closed, but I’ll be there.”
“You and me. Alone.” His molten gaze ran over her, chasing a shiver from her head to her toes and back again. His gleaming eyes lingered on her mouth so long her lips swelled and started throbbing and she had to work not to lick them. Finally he said, “Let me get this straight. You want me, a stranger, to come into the bookstore, where we’ll be alone, together—after what just happened between us?”
“Uh…yes?” Although, put like that, reinforced by his hot all-over gaze, it sounded like an invitation to ravish her.
He shook his head, more disbelief than a no. “You’re temptation on a stick. I’m not quite that masochistic.”
“Me?” Holding out her arms, she looked down at herself, at her banker chic of navy-blue pants suit, pumps, and pearls. “Have you been chewing Viagra? I’m no cover model.”
“I’ve never cared for eau de airbrush. Believe me, your real beauty is far more seductive.”
Her gaze snapped up as his eyes fired white-hot on her, a beastly hunger that was pure wolf.
That look promised instant ravaging. Hot, hard, animal sex.
She swallowed, long and hard, all the way to where she was wet. She wasn’t completely certain she’d stop him.
He took a single step toward her. Her heart thundered in her ears as his gaze blazed so hot it threatened to consume her.
Then he clenched his eyes shut. His hands fisted, and he inhaled so deep his nostrils flared. A second breath.
Then he relaxed, his eyes opened, and the man was fully in control. “Good luck finding your aunt. I’ll see you out.”
Sophia’s heart hammered for a new reason now. Wow. An alpha with that much fire, harnessed by that strong a self-control? It almost made her long for ears and a tail.
He gestured toward the door.
Turning, she saw only a dark blob, and hesitated. She’d stared at the bright shop light too long.
He put a hand on her spine to steer her out.
His big, hot hand seared her back. Her lungs seized up.
Urging her into motion, he said, “Look, I understand you’re worried about Linda. I do have resources that might help. I’ll give you a call later.”
“Thanks.” Sophia tried not to jump on that. Noah Blackwood was far too tempting. Never mind not encouraging him. She didn’t want to encourage herself. “A call…a phone call…would be perfect.”
* * *
Outside, Noah disappeared into the night. Sophia shivered on the sidewalk, wishing just a bit that he’d stayed with her.
Right. And if he’d stayed, would he have let me track down the boy Marlowe? No, it was better for both her search and her libido that Noah had gone.
She considered using her phone for an Internet address search. But wolves were secretive. Without the boy’s last name, she wasn’t sure of netting him. Fortunately the town’s premier news source, the Misses Jamies, was on her return route to the bookstore.
She struck off south.
Matinsfield had changed since she’d been here last, a new Green W drugstore on the corner and a SuperDuperPriceCutter past the ballpark, but the sisters still lived in their brownstone in the center of town.
If there was any truth to the zombie rumor, they always would.
Which reminded Sophia of the creepy hooded man. Every shadow seemed to stir as she dashed from streetlamp to streetlamp, trying not to look victimish. By the time she hit the Jamies’ front walk, her heart pounded and her breath rasped.
So relief flooded her when Miss Almira, tall and thin with long front teeth and shoe-polish black hair, threw open the door.
“You’re finally here. Have you gotten the Uncommon’s door fixed?” Almira latched onto Sophia’s arm and dragged her inside like a snake taking a frog.
Sophia’s relief evaporated. “I was going to call—”
“Gladys Louise will do that.” Almira raised her voice. “Gladys Louise! Get Frank Fixit on the line.”
Heavyset Miss Gladys Louise, short wavy blonde hair going gray, eyes small and bright, bustled in with a tray of cookies and lemonade. Almira and Gladys Louise were a set of fifties’ sitcom spinsters in twinsets and pleated skirts whose noses twitched at the slightest hint of gossip.
“Sophia! Sit, dear, sit,” Miss Gladys Louise piped. She always piped. “Wonderful that you came. Now Noah doesn’t have to handle this problem all on his own.”
Noah. Sophia’s lips vibrated in memory. She pressed her fingers to them to still them—and found them soft and swollen from the wolf’s kiss. Her cheeks filled with heat.
Almira gave her a narrow-eyed, arched-eyebrow stare.
Sophia grinned and pointed. “Oh look. Is that lemonade? I’m awfully thirsty.”
Almira relented with a little hmph. “Gladys Louise?”
“Make sure she tries the chocolate chip cookies, Almira.” Gladys Louise set the tray on the table and poured. “I whipped them up fresh. I’ll go call Mr. Fixit now.” She bustled out.
Sophia picked up a tall sweating glass, her throat suddenly parched. Her broken-down car had made the trip long and dusty. Nothing to do with alpha-buzzing lips at all.
She took a big gulp.
And promptly sucked her uvula into her nose. Gladys Louise had flavored the drink with a dash of lemon zest—and a quart of brandy.
Coughing, Sophia set the glass down. She managed, “Do you know where Aunt Linda is?”
“No, we only knew she’d disappeared when Mason called us, trying to find Noah.” As Almira spoke she filled a small plate with cookies and set it in front of Sophia. “Did you ask him?”
“Noah? Yes, I just talked with him. But he hasn’t seen her since the boy broke into her store—a local named Marlowe. I thought he might have more information. Do you know where I can find him?”
“Marlowe? He lives with his older brother, east, past the gas station.” Almira’s mouth pinched as she pointed. “You don’t want to go there, though.”
“Why not?”
“Sophia?” Gladys Louise stuck her head out the kitchen door, an old-fashioned handset complete with curly black cord at her ear. “Is tomorrow good? Eight a.m. is Mr. Fixit’s first opening.”
Sophia grimaced. “Could he come tonight? I’d pay extra.” Auntie didn’t believe in indoor locks, and while her wards were good at shrieking alarm, they didn’t actually stop anyone. Sophia couldn’t sleep in an unsecured house, not with that hooded guy lurking.
Mr. Kibbles wasn’t much of a watch cat.
“I’ll try, dear.” Gladys Louise disappeared back into the kitchen.
Sophia set down her glass and picked up a cookie. Her fingers sank in. “Why shouldn’t I visit Marlowe?” She tried a bite. Sugar and flour melted in her mouth.
“You know I’d never gossip or say an unkind word about anyone.” Almira nibbled her own cookie.
“Of course not.” Unless it was followed by an I’m kidding or a bless his soul. Then unkind was somehow okay.
She stuffed a second cookie in her mouth to stop herself from saying that.
“Marlowe is the exception. He has wandering fingers. Cash, jewelry—women. His brother, Killer, is even worse.”
Sophia swallowed hard. “Ah.”
Almira tsked. “You’re going anyway, aren’t you? You Blues always were stubborn women.”
“We prefer focused.” That made Sophia smile. She brushed her hands on her slacks and rose. “Thanks, Miss Almira. I appreciate your help. I’d better get back to the bookstore and batten down as best I can.”
“Good news.” Gladys Louise bustled out of the kitchen. “Mr. Fixit fit you in—a personal favor to me.” She blushed.
“Thanks.” Sophia blinked. From that deep red blush on Miss Gladys Louise’s face, the favor was very personal. “I don’t need to know the details, but I owe you.”
“Do get home as quickly as possible.” Almira walked Sophia to the door. “Things aren’t what they used to be in Matinsfield.”
“Dangerous,” Gladys Louise agreed. “Especially with that hooded man lurking about.”
Sophia spun on the stoop, heart suddenly pounding. “W-who?”
Almira raised a critical brow. “You sound like an owl.”
“Shush,” Gladys Louise said. “We call him X.”
Sophia swallowed a lump of ice. For the Misses not to know something was unheard of.
“Otherwise we’d have said ‘George’ is lurking about, or ‘Heathcliff’ is lurking about, or—”
“Right. My mistake. I’ll be off now.” Sophia stuffed her heart back in her chest and headed to the bookstore.
* * *
Mr. Fixit was already at the Uncommon Night Owl, replacing the glass. Gladys Louise must’ve made one helluva promise. Sophia said, “I don’t suppose you could update the lock too?” The door still had the old-fashioned rod-style key it had come with in the 1800s.
“I’ll order ’er up tomorrow.” He finished the inside glazing. “Don’t touch this or bump the door for a few days. I’ll send your aunt the bill.”
“Actually, you can send it to Noah Blackwood.” She flipped on the lights. The sign was set to Closed and she’d lock the door after Mr. Fixit left. Hopefully there wouldn’t be too many disappointed customers. Aunt Linda often kept irregular hours.
“I like Blackwood—he pays promptly.” Mr. Fixit clicked the door shut behind him.
Through the window, Sophia watched him go. Her gaze drifted to the dark shadows across the street. She was alone in the store, and though the door was fixed now, a boy breaking in the first time had shown how easily it could be done. Her heart thumped faster.
Brrring.
She jumped. Nearly zapped the wall phone with a short-out spell but managed to stifle herself in time. That call might be Auntie. She ran to answer.
Grabbing the old-fashioned ear trumpet, she panted, “Hello?”
“Doing marathons now?” Gabriel’s deep voice held a hint of amusement.
“Hello to you too, brother dear.” She tried to control her breath. A witch, scared of a little dark? She’d never hear the end of it. She managed to wheeze, “I was out searching for Aunt Linda. I just got back.”
“You need to work on your stamina.”
“Sure, as soon as you work on your manners. Are you calling for a reason?”
“I was worried. You texted that the door was broken—and then nothing. I tried your cell, but you didn’t answer. It’s been almost an hour. Why were you so late getting there in the first place?”
She checked her phone. Two missed calls. She took it off vibrate. “I had car trouble.”
“I thought I fixed that.”
“Yes, but…” Normally, technology mixed with magic like lemonade and potato chips. Theory had it that a witch’s magical aura—or neural fields or whatever—fritzed the technology.
Sophia’s technology was fine, with a little help.
Gabriel was a wizard prince—but more, he was a Choice Buy Techie Titan. He dealt with bit-challenged mundane users all day, so it was easy for him to make recalcitrant technology sit up and rumba, even for witches. Something to do with aligning rare earth elements in the logic-gated components. Sophia tried to listen but her eyes glazed over.
“You couldn’t have done anything about this. It was a mundane failure. A carbegumerator injector thingy.”
“Gotta love injector thingies. Update me.”
She told him about the boy-wolf Marlowe tripping Auntie’s store alarm, and Auntie calling in the pack alpha to handle it, without mentioning Noah by name. “Now Auntie’s gone, but nobody knows where.”
“Cap’n Crunch me. That’s not good.”
“I have a lead on the boy. I’ll try him tomorrow. Oh, and Auntie got a dog.”
“What kind?”
“A little poofy one.”
“Now I’m scared. Those fuckers are like stealth sharks. No ankles are safe. About Aunt Linda.” Gabriel paused, and Sophia knew she wouldn’t like what was coming next. “If you would do a simple reveal spell—”
“Not happening.”
Gabriel blew out a sigh. “Okay. I’m not going to backseat drive. But anytime you want to talk about it, I’m here.”
“Thanks.” When it counted, Gabriel was the best brother in the universe. “So anyway, I’ll be talking to Marlowe tomorrow. Oh, and Noah said he’d call if he got more information. I mean phone, not call here—”
“Noah? Who’s Noah?” Gabriel’s tone was brightly inquisitive.
“Nobody. Nothing. Gotta go.” She hung up. Whew. Dodged that bullet. She turned away from the phone.
A man’s shadowed face loomed in the door’s crosshatch.
Her heart skipped. “Who…?” Her voice cracked, her mouth suddenly dry. She tried to swallow, but it was hard. “Who’s there?”
“Me. Sophia, open up.”
Noah. Any trouble she’d had swallowing disappeared in a sudden influx of saliva. She ran to open the door to him.
He stood there, filling the doorway, as still as the night. More, night’s apex predator, dark and deep and born of enormous strength.
It both scared and excited her. She swallowed again.
Against the doorjamb’s height tapes, she saw he was actually several inches above six feet. Miles of shoulders, acres of chest, light-years long legs, dark flannel shirt and jeans worn white—framed by the doorway, the man looked like a hard-hewn Paul Bunyan.
She fell back a step, fanning her face. In the race between fear and excitement, excitement took the lead by a nose, then by a big long lick. If she got any hotter she was going to fling the door wide to jump his bones. Not a good ending for the new window panes. “Um…c’mon in? Watch your feet. There’s broken glass.”
The garage’s half light had softened his details. Now as he surged into the store, his hard features cut like the prow of an icebreaker. Carved, determined jaw. No-nonsense mouth. Silver eyes so narrow they sliced. Sophia automatically backed up a few more steps.
He stopped and stood, fists on hips. Dominating her aunt’s store, he wasn’t just regular-guy handsome. He was breath-sucking, eye-watering, gut-punching, great gods above can-I-have-him-please stunning.
And taboo, damn it.
One black brow rose. “What’s that rattling?”
Demon…? She glanced down. She was futzing with her pearls. She deliberately released them and lowered her arm. “Nothing. Close the door, please. Softly—that glass is new.”
He shut the door with a gentleness that, given his alpha power, made him even sexier.
Her stomach flipped happily, and things below began to purr.
What is it about this man that, every time I see him, I suddenly think about nothing but sex?
“So why’d you come?” She winced. Come. Talk about sex on the brain. “I thought you were going to call.”
“I knew the lock was broken. I wanted to make sure you were okay.” He glided toward her.
The surging force of all that was Big, Dark, and Yowsa pushed her to flee. She spun and trotted toward the sanctuary of the reading n
ook. “I’m fine. As you can see. I can take care of myself.”
“I’m sure you can. But I think I can help.” Two long-legged strides brought him beside her.
Her own gait hitched.
His muscular legs worked easily, his hips rolling like well-oiled pistons. An intense desire seared her to fuse herself to those powerful thighs.
She clenched both pearls and teeth. What was wrong with her? She was a staid banker, not a wolf with an estrogen problem.
But maybe that was part of the issue. She was surrounded all day by civilized banker-men in suits and ties, and Noah was a breath of fresh air compared to them. Wild, howling at the moon, biting the nape of her neck and making her his…
Yikes. No wonder the Witches’ Council forbade witch/shifter sex. It had nothing to do with their fear of insane werewitch duals born with innate power and the ability to wield it.
It was because when a witch met the right sexy shifter, she lost her damned mind.
This intense attraction…now she understood why, to make absolutely certain witches and weres never got naughty parts within unclothed miles of each other, the Council had made the penalty as harsh as possible.
Death.
“Um, why don’t you take a seat on the couch?” She waved vaguely at the cozy seating, scattered couches, chairs, and throw pillows. “I have to…um, I have to…” Spinning around for an excuse to get miles away from insanely attractive male wolves and death penalties, her gaze lit on the door. Closed—but not locked. “I have to make sure customers don’t wander in.”
It was only as she clicked the lock home that she realized she’d trotted back to the door and locked it with all the subtleness of a dog sniffing butt.
A low growl thrummed through the store. Slowly, she turned.
Noah stared at her, silver eyes blazing. Her gaze locked helplessly with his…until he moved to adjust his jeans.
Then her eyes dropped to the biggest Jiffy Pop she’d ever seen. Too late she remembered what he’d said at Mason’s.
He was thinking what they could do, locked together alone in a closed store.
The worst part was, she was wondering too.
