by Ellen Dugan
I focused on the middle aged woman. “Thanks Olivia, I’m so pleased that you enjoyed them. It’s an old family recipe. One I hadn’t tried before—”
“I had three,” she interrupted and blushed. “I meant I had one—no three.” Her face went red and her hand fluttered to her throat. She opened her mouth, shut it and shook her head. “I’m glad we did the potluck lunch today, it gave me a chance to get away from my boss.”
“Oh?” Oh, I supposed was the safest thing to say. Then I wondered. “Who’s your boss?”
“Jordan Maxwell. He’s such a fussy, pompous ass.”
I had to agree, the director of the historical society was a pain in the ass, but I was taken aback to hear her say that out loud. Before I could respond, Olivia stood suddenly and marched out of the lunch room.
I noticed that people were leaving the lunchroom in droves. Within moments I was sitting there alone. “How weird,” I said, and ate my lunch alone.
I wandered back to my office and found Dr. Meyer sitting at his desk and speaking on the phone. He spotted me, and said a hasty goodbye to the caller. “Did you manage to get some lunch?” he asked.
“I did.” I sat back at my desk and smiled over at him. “The lemon bars I made were all gone. I was looking forward to trying them. Did you eat one?”
“I’m not one for desserts.” He tugged at his tie. “But since you made them, I gave it a whirl.”
“Don’t leave me in suspense!” I chuckled. “Tell me the truth, did you—”
“I’m falling in love with your Great Aunt Faye,” he blurted out, and flushed to his hairline.
“You’re what?”
“I can’t believe I said that.” Dr. Meyer jumped up and began to pace.
Faye and Dr. Meyer—Hal, had been casually seeing each other since last year, when Ivy had tangled with that entity that had been haunting her dorm. I thought their friendship was good for the both of them, as they were both widowed. Plus Hal was fascinated by psychic phenomena and the paranormal, so the legacy of magick didn’t faze him. But this tidbit of information had totally caught me off guard.
“I didn’t know things had become so serious between you two,” I said.
“Yes it’s serious. We’ve been sleeping together for months.” He stopped pacing and stared at me.
“You’re sleeping together?” I managed to say, wondering who was more horrified at his confession—him or me.
“Yes, as in sex.” Dr. Meyer rolled his eyes as if I was a little slow. “We have quite a lot of sex, actually.”
“Oh my god,” I squeaked. Now my face was turning red.
“Excuse me.” Dr. Meyer escaped into his office, shutting the door firmly behind him.
I braced my elbows on my desk, dropped my head into my hands, and tried not to laugh. It wasn’t funny, I told myself. Not at all. “Aw hell.” I gave up. “Yes it is.”
***
I came home that evening as Duncan was carting tools and supplies out of the bathroom.
“Guess what?” he said with a grin.
“What?”
“Your bathroom is done.”
“Don’t tease me,” I said.
“Never,” he replied, straight-faced.
“Really?” I dumped everything on the kitchen table.
“Yes, it’s done.”
I raced to see for myself and skidded to a stop in the doorway. “It’s perfect,” I breathed.
Duncan moved beside me as I admired the space. “I have to admit the pale pink on the walls above the white painted wainscoting actually looks good,” he said. “At first, I thought the color would be too fussy.”
I smirked at him. “What’s the matter Quinn? Did the pink paint threaten your masculinity?”
“I’m trying to give you a compliment,” he said dryly.
“Ooh, I’m all aflutter.” I snarked, and wondered what he’d say if he ever saw the old cabinet that I’d repainted for bathroom storage.
“Anyway, the color works,” he said.
“I can’t wait to get the finishing touches in here.” I opened the glass shower door and admired the white subway tile and dark grout.
“I wiped it down,” he said, “but you’ll want to give it a good cleaning before you use it,” Duncan advised.
I knelt down and trailed my fingertips over the floor. “The basket weave tile has exactly the vintage kind of vibe that I wanted.” I jumped up and went to try the sink.
“Where did you find the chrome legged pedestal sink?” Duncan asked while I turned on the water at the new faucets.
“Aunt Faye helped me track one down online. It came from a salvage company that restores old pieces.”
“Would you mind passing that company’s information along to me?” Duncan asked. “It would come in handy for other rehabs in the future.”
“Sure.” I beamed over at him. “Duncan, this is wonderful. Thank you so much for taking on the project.”
“You’re welcome,” he said. “I’ll go haul out the last of my things and give you the final invoice.”
“Okay,” I answered, opening the medicine cabinet, and sighing over the bathroom. All I had to do was clean it, bring in the linen cabinet, hang up my art and put out the towels. Then it would be ready to go!
I forced myself to stop mooning over the bathroom and went into the kitchen. I could see Duncan through the back door, loading up his truck and decided that such a momentous occasion as having completed renovations called for a celebration. I took the lemonade out of the fridge, added some ice cubes to two tumblers and poured us each a glass.
He let himself in the back door, and I handed him the pink lemonade. “Here you go.”
“Same color as your bathroom,” he said and took a sip.
I sampled it. “The lemonade is a family recipe, I thought I’d try it out. It originally called for raspberry liqueur, but I think it’s okay as is.”
“Yeah, it’s really good,” Duncan agreed.
I tapped my glass to his. “I’m really glad that we’re friends again, Duncan.”
“Friends?” he said, as if trying out the word.
“Well, yeah,” I said. “Why can’t we be friends?”
Duncan drained his glass and set the empty tumbler on the counter. Silently, he held out the invoice.
I automatically reached for the paper, and our fingers brushed. Only the barest of touches, and I felt a jolt of power go all the way to my toes. My gaze snapped to his, and those bright blue eyes locked on mine.
“That’s why we can’t just be friends,” he said softly.
We stood perfectly still, staring at each other. Since Irene had shoved him through the door a few weeks before, we hadn’t physically touched each other again. In fact we’d both been vigilant to avoid any sort of physical contact at all.
The blood pounded in my ears and I forced myself to exhale. I hadn’t felt that jolt of power in years, almost three to be exact. Now that our personal magicks had gotten a sampling of each other again, I felt my stomach tighten. With effort, I pulled back on my energy that had started to reach out for his. It wasn’t easy, and I trembled.
“You’re stronger than you used to be.” Duncan’s voice was soft and considering.
I placed the invoice on the counter. Deliberately, I unclenched my fingers from around the glass I held and set it on the kitchen table before I broke it. “I had to learn personal restraint the hard way.”
“Meaning what?” He wanted to know.
I could have kicked myself for admitting that to him. “Never mind.” I cleared my throat. “I was going to offer to cook you a friendly dinner to say thanks for all the hard work you put in. But if you don’t think we can be friends...”
“I didn’t mean it like that.” Duncan stepped slightly closer.
It took everything I had to stay where I was. “What did you mean?”
He blew out a breath. “Dinner would be great.”
“Tomorrow night work for you?” I heard myself ask
.
“Sure.” Duncan smiled down into my eyes. “Want me to bring some wine?”
I stepped back. “This isn’t a date, Quinn.”
“I meant that in a friendly way,” he said. “I bet Violet brought wine when she came over and brought you that house plant.”
“How’d you know that?” I frowned.
He tipped his head towards the cyclamen on the counter. “Her magickal energies are all over that blooming plant. Also the house had a ‘Girls Night’ vibe on it the first time I came over.”
“Girls night?” I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, we were wild women.”
“Like pillow fights in your underwear, wild?”
“Absolutely,” I shot back. “All in movie style slow motion too.”
Duncan tossed back his head and laughed. It hit me like a ton of bricks how much I’d missed that sound. I tried to yank the conversation back on track. “Six o’clock, Quinn. If you want a friendly dinner, be here.”
“Sounds good,” he said cheerfully.
I opened the back door. “Fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Good night.” He nodded and went out the door, down the porch and across the back yard.
As he walked away, I was so busy admiring the way his jeans fit him that it took me a moment to realize that I was staring at him. Again. I caught myself, flushed a little and closed the door, wondering what I had gotten myself into.
That night I busted out Irene’s cookbook and got to work. The Chocolate Sin Cake recipe had come out beautifully. I tucked the two decadent layers of chocolate cake and tart cherry filling topped with dark chocolate frosting in the fridge. The recipe had called for pitting the cherries by hand, and actually included a little poem to the goddess Venus. I’d been so happy and excited about the reno being complete that I’d gone all in. I’d cranked up some music, sipped a glass of wine and had a blast making Irene’s campy cake recipe under the light of the full moon.
Saturday morning I got up early, snipped some oregano and parsley from the garden and diced up the last of the Roma tomatoes that I’d grown. I gave the No Strings Spaghetti Sauce a try, and put the sauce on low in the crock pot and left it to simmer. That way all I would have to do later was boil the pasta, add the sauce, and toss a bagged salad.
I scrubbed the kitchen down, then tackled removing the construction dust out of the bathroom and hung up my framed antique prints. I dragooned Bran into helping me haul the small cabinet in from the garage that I’d painted in a pink color a few shades deeper than the walls. I placed a trio of glass apothecary jars inside, stacked bath towels in white and pink, added toilet paper, hair products and a hair dryer, too.
“Renovations complete!” I said, flipping a fuzzy pink rug down in front of the shower. I draped the hand towels over the rack by the sink and indulged in a celebratory booty shake.
By five forty-five, I’d changed into a simple maxi dress in mossy green. I tied an apron over my outfit to protect it and put the pasta on to boil. The salad was in a bowl, and I set the kitchen table while Luna perched on Morgan’s stepstool and kept a watchful eye on my dinner preparations.
Duncan showed up a few minutes before six. He looked wonderful in dark jeans and a soft khaki button down shirt. He smiled at me and my heart gave one hard thud in reaction.
I took a bracing breath and opened the door. “Hello Duncan.”
CHAPTER FOUR
I served the salad and pasta, and we settled into an easy conversation about his work and my job at the museum. Luna played chaperone, sitting in an empty chair at the table and watching us. It was casual, relaxed, and as far as I could tell, without a hint of romance.
Duncan helped me load up the dishwasher after dinner, and then I took the cake out of the fridge. I gingerly set the glass cake plate on the table and lifted the dome that covered it. I let out a quiet sigh of relief that I’d managed to get it to the table without a disaster.
“Wow.” Duncan whistled between his teeth. “You made that?”
“I did,” I said, picking up the cake knife. “It’s called Chocolate Sin.”
I cut a few slices and laid them on the plates as carefully as if they were dynamite. Somehow I managed to serve the dessert with no mishaps.
Duncan tried a bite, and closed his eyes. “Mmmm.” His voice was low and throaty, and it hit me as sort of sexual.
I restrained myself from pumping my fist in the air, and instead took a bite of the cake. The dark chocolate seemed to explode in my mouth. The cherry filling was the right balance of tart to the sweet frosting. I let out a happy sigh. “That’s a winner, Aunt Irene.”
The sun set and filled the kitchen with a rosy sort of light. The air went heavy and it was like we were the only two people on earth. Part of me was aware of the shift in the atmosphere and another part of me settled into it and enjoyed the relaxed and indulgent vibe.
Duncan took another bite. “This was a recipe of Irene’s?”
I pointed at the red book that I had displayed on a stand on the counter. “I found an old cookbook of Irene’s when I moved in. The recipes so far have all come out really well. I made lemon bars for work, and folks devoured them.”
Duncan cleaned his plate, and gazed longingly at the cake. Without a word, I cut another, larger slice. “Thanks,” he said and dove right in.
I talked myself out of a second serving and watched, fixated as Duncan swiped his fork through the cherry filling of his slice. He lifted the fork to his mouth and slowly sucked the cherries off the tines.
The gesture hit me in the gut, and I swallowed past a lump in my throat. He wasn’t even paying attention to me. He was totally absorbed in the taste and textures of the dessert. And somehow that was sexy as hell. Get a grip, Autumn, I thought even as I fumbled my plate.
Duncan glanced down at my hands. “You have frosting on your fingers,” he said, lifting my hand. To my shock, he began to sample the smeared frosting.
My heart slammed into my ribs. “So, you like the cake?” My voice sound all breathy to my own ears, and I wondered what was happening.
“Yes, I like it,” he said in a low voice.
A thought flashed crazily through my mind: I’d like to smear that chocolate icing all over him and lick it off. Slowly. I remembered a moment too late that we were sitting close to each other, and if my thoughts were strong or loud enough, he would ‘hear’ them.
His eyes snapped to mine. “Honey, I’d be happy to return the favor.” His voice was husky, and had me struggling not to squirm in my chair.
Oh shit.
He was sitting very still, and watching me. Not unlike a predator waiting for its prey to make one wrong move—before it pounced.
I couldn’t seem to help myself. I moved.
With a primal sort of growl, Duncan was out of his chair and hauling me into his arms quicker than I could blink.
“I—” was the only thing I managed to vocalize before his mouth swooped down. All I could taste was the cherries and the dark chocolate as his tongue swept over mine. The magick that we’d once shared with no thought of the consequences burst free and wound around the two of us.
I reached up and grabbed ahold of his hair and pulled him closer. He began to trail kisses down my throat, and my head fell back as his hands passed over me...
Then everything changed.
I flinched as something foreign shoved me aside. I struggled against the invasion, even as I felt my lips curl up. “That recipe never disappoints,” I heard a different female voice say.
Duncan froze.
I felt my head tip down to meet his eyes. Like I was no longer driving the bus, but only along for the ride. Release me! I thought furiously at the unfamiliar energy that had swept in and claimed my body for its own.
Soon... The voice whispered through my mind.
My heart beat loudly in my chest, while I gazed at Duncan through a new set of eyes.
“Autumn?” Duncan whispered.
“No,” I heard the other say. “No,
not Autumn. Irene.”
Get out, Irene! I thought. I’ll be damned if you’re going to use me like a puppet! I began to shake from the effort of fighting her possession. Get out! I screamed silently.
Duncan tightened his grip on my arms. “Release her. Right the fuck now!” he growled. Luna agreed with the sentiments. She let out a loud wail in the background.
“You have to help me,” I heard Irene say. “Help me bring back what was secreted away.”
“I won’t help you do anything!” Duncan gave my/her shoulders a brisk shake.
I laughed in a voice that wasn’t mine. “I’d never hurt her, I only wanted to get your attention.”
“You have it,” Duncan said through his teeth. “Now go, or I’ll banish you from here and make sure that your spirit never finds any peace—not ever.”
“Temper, temper,” she said.
I’d been listening and waiting for my chance, simultaneously raising as much personal power as I could, until I vibrated with it. When Duncan had threatened her, Irene’s grip on me had lessened. Now. Now was my chance, I realized, and tapped into Duncan’s magickal energy, using it to bolster my own.
“Get out!” I shouted, pushing against her with everything I had. Mine and Duncan’s combined magick blasted out, and I felt that foreign presence slide away.
My knees buckled, and she was gone.
I found myself half-sitting on the kitchen floor a bit later, while Duncan rocked me in his arms.
“Autumn?” he called my name softly.
“Yeah?” I struggled to sit up.
“Look at me.” Duncan framed my face with his hands. He searched my eyes and I watched his shoulders drop in relief. “It’s you. You’re back.”
I wrapped my hands around his wrists and held on. “I’m okay.”
Duncan dropped his forehead against mine. “I don’t think I like this relative of yours.”
“I’m liking her less and less myself.”
We stayed sitting together on the floor that way for a while, taking comfort from each other. Luna strolled over and climbed up Duncan’s legs and walked over to paw at my chest.
“Hi kitty,” I said as the cat leaned her head in and began to purr.
