By the time David got out of the shower, Adam was hunkered down on the couch with the dog parked at its usual spot by his side. Adam scratched the dog’s ears with one hand while speed-flipping channels with the other, watching each station for a fraction of a second before moving on to the next. His posture was relaxed, but the haunted look on his face told a much different story.
Not that he blamed the kid. It wasn’t every day you witnessed the darker side of industrial power tools.
“Pizza should be here in thirty,” Adam said, his eyes never leaving the TV while he continued to surf channels.
“Sounds good.” David got a bottle of beer from the fridge and moved over to the window, just in time to see Sarah cross the parking lot, heading in the direction of the clubhouse. An instinctual pull had him walking toward the front door. “I’m going to see how Sarah’s doing.”
Adam glanced up from the TV, brows raised. “I thought you said she was fine this morning.”
“I did.” Christ, can’t a guy check on a neighbor without having his motives called into question? David shot his apprentice a look of warning, making it clear he wasn’t in the mood to play Twenty Questions, especially after the grilling he got over kissing Sarah the night before. “But she probably had a rough day with that asshole boss of hers.”
For the first time that day, Adam smiled. “Whatever you say, boss.”
A few minutes later David found her behind the clubhouse. She was leaning against the wood railing by the far end of the pool, feeding bread to the ducks in the nearby pond. She wore loose-fitting shorts and a plain white V-neck that dipped low enough to show a hint of cleavage. Open-toed sandals gave a glimpse of pink toenails. She had a faraway look in her eyes, as if swept away in an ocean of thoughts.
“Hey there,” he said, bending down to brace his forearms on the railing beside her. He took a quick swallow of beer and set the bottle on the rail.
She blinked and glanced over, acknowledging his presence. “Hello, David.”
The sound of his name on her lips brought an unexpected rush of pleasure. Part of him worked hard to ignore it, while the other part wanted to hear her say it again. “Feeling any better?”
“As well as can be expected.” She flashed him a smile, but the sadness in her eyes betrayed her true emotions. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one having a shitty day.
“Good.” David paused, taking a long pull from his beer while he tried to figure out what to say next. Years of solitude had taken a toll on his conversation skills. “So how’d work go?”
“Super,” Sarah replied without any real hint of emotion. “I puked on Angelo this morning.”
David almost choked on his beer. “Want to run that by me again?”
“Threw up. Barfed. Blew chunks. All over my boss’s shoes. Guess I shouldn’t have eaten that second doughnut.” One side of her mouth tipped up a fraction as she tossed the remaining chunks of bread to the ducks. “I think I ruined a perfectly good pair of leather Ferragamos. On the bright side, I got to come home early.”
He thought about congratulating her for a job well done, but something in her expression warned him to proceed with caution. “Something else happened?”
“You could say so.” She told him about her confrontation with Angelo, about his thinly veiled threats, and her subsequent demotion to what she labeled “Assistant Flunkie.”
“I’m sorry,” David said as soon as she finished. He kept his tone even, but inside his temper heated to a boil. Protective urges bubbled to the surface, triggering emotions he hadn’t experienced in so long they felt totally alien.
“You sure do apologize an awful lot.” Sarah tipped her head back and stared up at the sky. She craned her neck into the wind, exposing the elegant line of her throat. “You should save those apologies for when they really count.”
“I’ll keep it in mind.” He took another drink from his beer. “Would it make you feel better if I offered to rip Angelo’s lungs out? I can make that happen, you know.”
She didn’t laugh, but the ghost of a smile warmed the corners of her mouth. “Well, it certainly inspires a lovely mental image, but I’m afraid I’ll have to respectfully decline. Thanks anyway.”
“My pleasure.”
They stood together in relative silence while the sun slowly descended over the horizon, painting the sky with a magnificent display of pinks and blues. The pinks faded to purples, and the purples gradually darkened until tiny pin pricks of light dotted the night sky.
“Look, a shooting star,” David said, pointing to the flash of light streaking over the tree line.
Sarah’s gaze tracked east, catching the final streaks of light before they faded into the darkness.
“Did you make a wish?”
She looked at him as if he’d just sprouted a third eyeball. “What for?”
The question surprised him. “Well … because.” He shrugged. “You’re supposed to make a wish when you see a shooting star.”
“Why? There’s nothing magical about it. It’s just the trail of a meteoroid as it burns up in the earth’s atmosphere.”
“That’s a pretty clinical way of looking at things.”
Sarah’s posture stiffened, a defensive tone creeping into her voice. “It’s realistic. Through careful examination, almost everything labeled magical or extraordinary can be explained within the boundaries of science.”
Except for her. Never in a million years could he explain the way she drew him into her orbit and captivated his imagination. She was a walking contradiction. Emotional and analytical. Fiery yet reserved. And for reasons unknown he just couldn’t keep away. “That doesn’t mean you can’t wish on it.”
Sarah eyed him with open speculation. “What did you wish for?”
Truth be told, he wished he could feel something, anything, outside the jaded pit of apathy that dominated his daily existence. Keeping his emotions tightly wrapped had served him well over the years, but it also left him with an emptiness that gnawed at his psyche. He’d experienced a brief reprieve the night before, when she’d kissed him with such passion it made his knees buckle and left him yearning for things beyond his grasp.
Glancing over, his gaze met hers, and desire heated his blood. God, how he wanted to kiss her again, to hold her in his arms, to drag her upstairs and make love to her until they were both too tired to move. He nearly gave in to the crushing need, if not for the bitter realization that he couldn’t bask in her glory without opening himself to the darker emotions that plagued his daily existence.
“It’s a secret,” he finally said, once he wrangled his hormones back under control. “If I told you, it wouldn’t come true.”
Sarah’s head cocked to one side as if she was contemplating some great mystery. “Is there something going on between us?”
David didn’t answer right away. Instead, he studied her over the space of a few heartbeats, taking in the full impact of her features. He’d seen his fair share of beautiful women over the years, but something about Sarah sucked the air right out of his lungs. There was no point denying the attraction. Too bad he had no intention of acting on it. “Yes—I mean no.” Ah, shit. “Maybe.”
“That’s good,” she said, humor lighting her smile. “I’m a sucker for a man who’s quick with a snap decision.”
“It’s … complicated.”
Her smile slipped a few notches. “Story of my life.”
“You have no idea.” He drained the last of his beer and tossed the empty bottle in the nearby trashcan. “I like you, Sarah.”
“What a coincidence. I like you, too.”
“I’m glad to hear that. But I can’t get into a relationship right now.” Not ever. Reapers weren’t exactly prime boyfriend material. The job always came first, leaving little room for outside interests. Besides, relationships with mortals never worked out in the long run. Too many questions to dodge and secrets to conceal. And affairs built on lies and deceptions were doomed from the get-go.
“Oh. I see,” she said, disappointment plain on her face.
Great. Now he felt like an asshole. “I’d still like to spend some time together,” he said, needing to say something—anything—to make her smile again. “If that’s okay with you.”
“Just friends?” Her lips curved up in a sly smile, and he had to shove his hands in his pockets so he wouldn’t reach out to touch her.
“Yeah. Just friends.”
She watched him for what seemed like forever, her eyes moving over him with a surprising intimacy. “I suppose,” she finally said, the words coming out on the tail end of a sigh. She took a few steps toward him, moving deep into his personal space. “On one condition.”
“Name it.”
“Honesty. I don’t have time to play games.”
David nodded. “Fair enough.”
“Okay then, tell me this.” Her chin tipped up so their eyes met. “I vaguely remember something happening between us last night. Did something happen, or was I hallucinating?”
The lie was perched on the tip of his tongue. Nothing happened, Sarah. Adam and I just changed your tires and drove you home. It would be so easy to say, if he hadn’t just promised to be honest. Talk about shitty timing.
“I kissed you. In the garage,” he confessed, feeling a fresh round of guilt over mauling her like a horny teenager on prom night. He waited for her reaction, wondering if she would slap him across the face or knee him in the nuts.
Instead, her shoulders slumped as she blew out a heavy breath.
“Oh thank God,” she said, sounding far more relieved than the situation warranted. She ran her fingers through her hair and muttered something that sounded an awful lot like, “Not crazy yet.”
“What did you say?”
“Nothing,” she replied quickly with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I’m just happy to know my mind wasn’t playing tricks on me.”
He sensed there was more to it than what she was saying, but decided not to push his luck.
She was quiet for a few minutes before her gaze slanted back in his direction, bright and assessing. Then a sensual smile warmed her features and jump-started his libido. “It was good, wasn’t it?”
Oh, yeah. The memory of her body pressed against his, of her fingers in his hair and her tongue in his mouth, had him going from zero to aroused in a little under two seconds. “Phenomenal.”
“Too bad we’re just friends. Otherwise, we could try it again.”
“Yeah. Damn shame.” The desire to kiss her fired his blood like a kettle set to boil. She stood close now, so close he picked up the subtle fragrance of her perfume. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, taking the scent into his lungs, knowing from this moment on he’d always associate citrus with Sarah.
When his eyes opened, he found her watching him with unmistakable heat. “You know,” she said, her voice uncharacteristically husky, “It’s really not fair.”
“What’s not fair?”
“The kiss,” she said, her eyes focused squarely on his mouth. “It’s not fair, you declaring a kiss embargo and I can’t even remember the first one.”
“Oh.”
“We could do it again,” she suggested, a hint of hope in her words. “You know, so I’ll know what I’m missing.”
“Isn’t it better not to know?”
“Maybe. Guess I’m masochistic that way.” Her dark eyes glittered with unspoken promise. “Just one.”
“Not a good idea.” He took a step back, and she shadowed his movement.
“Chicken?”
He nodded. “Terrified.”
A flicker of surprise crossed her face. Obviously, that wasn’t the answer she’d expected. “Why?”
“Because,” he said, coughing to clear the lump in his throat. “If I start, I don’t know if I can stop.”
She grinned at that. “Encouraging.” She stepped closer, and the scent of her perfume swamped his senses.
What was one little kiss, in the grand scheme of things? He’d been alone for so damn long, with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company. The isolation was beginning to wear on his soul, making him feel less human with each passing day. He needed this kiss, he told himself, a taste of passion before he returned to the detachment that had served him so well for so many years.
“Close your eyes.” The words escaped his lips before he had the chance to talk himself out of it.
“Why?”
“Because you still haven’t made your wish.” When she gave him a skeptical look, he smiled and added, “Come on, what’s it going to hurt? Take a walk on the wild side.”
Sarah eyed him for a long moment before murmuring, “Well, okay.” With obvious reluctance, she closed her eyes.
“No peeking.”
“I’m not,” she replied, lifting her chin toward the sound of his voice.
“Now,” he said, “Make your wish.”
And with that, David cupped her face in his hands and touched his lips to hers. He took his time, kissing her long and slow, taking in every shade of taste and texture, savoring a moment that would end all too soon.
Lord, she tasted even better than he remembered. He deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping against hers, and she let out a throaty little purr that made him harder than granite. Eyes still closed, she reached up and dragged her fingers through his hair. Her nails scraped lightly against his scalp and he couldn’t help but wonder how they’d feel against his bare shoulders, scratching down his back, digging into his ass.
Lust tangled with emotions he refused to acknowledge. If he didn’t stop soon, he’d end up doing something he’d later regret. So he pulled back on a sigh, not wanting the moment to end but realizing it was for the best. Gently, he stroked her cheek with his thumb. “Looks like we both got what we wanted.”
“Wow.” Sarah’s eyes fluttered open. Her face was flushed, her eyes heavy-lidded with pleasure. “There’s something to be said about this whole wishing business.”
David was up before sunrise the next morning. Not out of necessity, but because insomnia robbed him of the peaceful respite sleep offered. In spite of his best efforts, he couldn’t force Sarah from his thoughts, his dreams, his innermost fantasies. The taste of her lips still lingered in his memory, revving his libido and leaving him far too aroused for his body to drift off to sleep.
He’d finally given up a little after four, choosing to put pencil to paper and work out his frustrations artistically. His fingers moved of their own volition, scratching out picture after picture, enshrining the object of his affection through contrast and shadow.
He started with a basic silhouette of Sarah’s profile against the light of the moon, her soft brown hair trailing over her shoulders in loose waves. From there he branched out, sketching increasingly intricate designs, allowing his imagination to run wild as he exorcised his lust through artistic endeavor. His final creation had Sarah stretched out on a bed, looking tousled and wanton, the sheets strategically placed to maintain some semblance of modesty.
He might be a deviant, but he was still a gentleman.
“Pretty,” a dour voice drawled from behind.
David spun around, nearly falling off the chair in his rush to face Samuel while concealing his creations. He really hated it when Samuel got the drop on him. It gave the asshole too much of a rise. “What the hell are you doing here?” He kept his voice low to avoid waking Adam. “Run out of small children to frighten?”
“Touchy,” Samuel said, a trace of humor marking the word. “Actually, I came to check the status of your apprentice.” He cast a backward glance toward the couch, where Adam was passed out and snoring softly. The dog lay on the floor beside him, his legs twitching in his sleep.
David stared at him, incredulous. “You popped in for a status report at—” He glanced down at his watch. “Five-thirty? Have you lost your fucking mind?”
“This, from the degenerate who spent the past ninety minutes performing mental masturbation with a sketch pad?” Sa
muel reached over to David’s desk, snatching the top drawing before David could stop him. His eyes roamed the page with brazen curiosity. “Although I must admit, you did a rather … satisfactory job.” He smirked. “So tell me, is she real, or the product of wishful thinking?”
David jerked the sketch from Samuel’s grasp, tearing one of the corners in the process. He slapped it facedown on the desk and glared at his superior. “None of your damn business.”
Samuel’s smirk broadened to a ghoulish smile. “Ah, so she is real. Who is she? It’s not like you to get your knickers twisted over a woman.”
“What, are you writing a book?”
“Just curious. I have a vested interest in the well-being of my subordinates.”
David snorted. “Yeah, right.” Like Samuel gave a rat’s ass about anybody or anything. Knowledge was used for advantage and manipulation, a tool to maintain the pecking order of dominance and submission. Damned if he was going to give the asshole ammunition.
“To answer your question,” David said, his tone clipped, “the kid’s doing fine. He’ll have a solid base under him by the time I leave.”
Samuel arched an inquisitive brow. “Leave? What on earth gives you the impression you’re going anywhere?”
The words hit David like a shot to the gut, knocking the air from his lungs and leaving him momentarily speechless. When he could finally breathe again, he said, “But Fate said—”
“Fate said nothing of the sort.” Samuel shook his head, irritation lining the sharp planes of his face. “After all this time, you disappoint me, boy. You heard the words, but failed to comprehend their meaning.”
Hope evaporated, leaving a twisted knot of fury in its place. His first instinct was to throttle the asshole for jerking his chain, but instead David asked through gritted teeth, “Then why did you have such a hard-on about getting Adam trained so damn fast?”
“That’s none of your concern.”
An invisible force wrapped around David’s neck, applying just enough pressure to make its presence known. It was meant as a subtle reminder of their last encounter, of his place in the hierarchy, of his insignificance in the grand scheme of things. He swallowed, making sure he still could, relieved when he was able to draw breath. “Point taken.”
Grave Intentions Page 12
