Again the Magic

by Lee Damon

  "Don't, love. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have... I didn't intend to scare you. Kitt? Are you crying?"

  His voice was strained and low, close to her ear. She could feel his warm breath on her temple, and his hands seemed to be almost trembling as they gently smoothed back her hair. There were little tugs at her nape, and she realized that he was pulling the pins from her chignon. Keeping her head down, she spread her fingers just enough to see that he was kneeling in front of her.

  "Kitt?" He was finger-combing her thick hair out of the twisted knot and spreading it over her shoulders.

  "I'm all right," she whispered, brushing her fingers across her eyes and then straightening up partway but still leaning forward with her elbows on her knees. She lifted her head and discovered the worried blue eyes only inches away. Lifting her hands to his face, she trailed her fingers lightly across his hard cheekbones and down to the corners of his mouth. With intent concentration, she watched her finger graze back and forth across his lower lip until he finally caught the end of it between his lips. She felt his tongue licking around the fingertip and raised her eyes to meet his.

  Drawing back a bit, he brought his hands down to capture hers and then leaned forward again until his mouth was a bare inch away from her suddenly dry lips. Nervously, she ran her tongue over them, watching his head tilt slightly and come closer.

  "Do that again," he whispered. "Now." And his mouth was shaping itself to hers. Her breath caught painfully in her throat as she hesitated, and then with a sigh she parted her lips against his and slowly traced the inner curve of his bottom lip with the tip of her tongue. There was a sense of familiarity in the flood of pleasure washing through her, and she had a flashing memory of sitting in the front seat of his car, his arms around her, excitement coursing through her as he taught her how to kiss him.

  Strange. I never kissed Leon like this. Never even wanted to. Oh! His tongue touched hers, teasing, coaxing, until he caught the tip gently between his teeth. At the first hint of her withdrawal, he moved his head back just enough so he could look at her. The smoky eyes were clouded with the beginning of passion, and her mouth was soft, half-parted, asking for more.

  Still holding her hands, he leaned forward to brush his mouth slowly across hers and then brought them both up to their feet.

  "You have some decaffeinated coffee, don't you?"

  "Hmmm?"

  "Come along, love. We could both do with a cup of coffee, but neither one of us needs any more stimulation. You've had enough for now, and I've had..." His voice caught in his throat and he cleared it before finishing, "almost more than I can take."

  Kitt was only half-hearing his words. Still in a state of emotional confusion, not quite sure exactly what had happened between them, she fixed unfocused eyes on his mouth and watched the words forming without understanding what they were.

  "Kitt!"

  "Hmmm?"

  "Coffee."

  "Oh."

  "Oh what?" he asked patiently, trying not to laugh.

  "Would you like some coffee?" she asked dreamily.

  "That would be very nice. Thank you." His shoulders shook as he watched her weave an erratic course toward the kitchen.

  "Welcome." She drifted across the kitchen, not bothering to put on a light, and started filling the kettle.

  "Oh, love," he moaned, "at least see if you can get the kettle onto the same burner that you turn on. I'll dole out the coffee." He entered the kitchen, flipping on the light over the sink, and reached for the mugs. "At the rate you're going, we'd probably end up with dog-food mush."

  "Hmmm? Did you want something to eat?"

  "No, love." He leaned back against the counter, smiling indulgently, and watched her wander over to open the refrigerator. "What are you looking for, Kitt?"

  "Dog food?" She frowned, puzzled. "Why do you want dog food?"

  "I don't. Ah... do you keep it in the refrigerator?"

  "I don't think so. Maybe I'm looking for something else?"

  "Oh, Kitt!" he gasped, "I can't stand it!" He reached past her shoulder and plucked a jar of potent whole-seed mustard out of the door-shelf, thumbed off the cap and waved the open jar under her nose.

  Two breaths later, she jerked her head back, blinked, gasped and doubled over in a hard sneeze. Straightening up, she gave him an irate glare, opened her mouth, and sneezed again.

  "Damn. What do you think you're doing? And why mustard? I thought we were having coffee."

  "We are. I had to do something to bring you out of your fog. Settle down now, I want to talk with you. No, not in there. We'll sit at the counter. At the moment, the combination of you and a sofa is more than I can handle."

  "Okay," she sighed. "If you insist." She swung around on the stool to face him. "So what are we going to talk about? Your harem?"

  "No, you witch, and it had nothing to do with harems. I knew four of them, and the others were simply friends of theirs. You going to listen?"

  "Yes." She gave him a wry smile and shrugged. "But you're not really going to be telling me something I don't already know. You're well known around here as Michael Talbot, a celebrity, a famous author. That alone would draw a lot of women. Add the fact that you're tall, dark and handsome and have those wicked blue eyes, and really, O'Mara, one wonders why you're not perpetually leading a parade of panting popsies!"

  His head went back and he shouted with laughter. Moments later, gasping for breath, wicked eyes glittering, he managed to moan, "Oh, you wretched woman. What an appalling picture. It's never in the world as bad as that! 'A parade of panting popsies'!? I think maybe we should get you your own typewriter and turn you loose. You just might end up making more money than I do and collecting your own coterie of crooning Casanovas!"

  Kitt broke up in a fit of giggles, finally gurgling, "Never!"

  "You're right. I wouldn't put up with it for a minute. However," he continued, sighing gustily, "there's not much I can do about the attention I sometimes receive in public. For several reasons, I am well known in the area, and not just because I'm Michael Talbot. There's also Gus, and I've become involved in sports and school activities with him, which means I've met half the parents in town. Then there's the fact that I've been a bachelor ever since I've moved here, and get invited to a lot of parties, to say nothing of the handful of genuine friends I've made. So, incidents like that in the lounge are bound to occur sometimes when we're out."

  "O'Mara," she said in exasperation, "do you really believe that I'm going to get all warped out of shape because a bunch of poor, misguided, overeager women drape themselves all over you? Oh, stop laughing. And I'm not jealous. It was just... well, I guess it was a kind of envy because... because I couldn't be that relaxed and uninhibited with you, and I want to be."

  "And that little performance you and Midge put on? What was that all about, then?"

  "Ahhh, well, it was partly pique," she explained, intently examining her fingernails, "and partly to prove something to Midge. She was having... temporary insecurity problems, and I decided to demonstrate her... high appeal as bear bait."

  "Bless us one and all," O'Mara groaned. "You twit, you just about sent Ez around the bend."

  "Hmmm," Kitt murmured noncommittally, an enigmatic look making her eyes seem even more slanted than usual.

  "Yeah. Well, all right, I was none too pleased myself. You have no idea, my love, of your effect on the male population. You could have sealed every envelope in town with the tongues hanging out in that room. If you've reached the point where you want to try out your wiles," he said, his voice dropping to a seductive purr, "I'm always available and don't mind at all being used as a guinea pig."

  Eyes glinting with mischief, she fluttered her lashes at him and purred just as seductively, "Thank you. I'll put your application right in the front of my file."

  "Sassy. Very sassy. Watch it, wench," he warned, "I'm keeping score."

  "And thinking up interesting forms of retribution?"

  "All in good time." He s
tood and stretched, his eyes going to the kitchen clock. "Good Lord, no wonder you're looking so smudgy-eyed. It's almost two. Where the hell is Ez? For that matter, I'm not exactly wide awake myself. Do you realize we've been up since five this morning?"

  "Yes, indeed, and I'm about ready for bed. You don't have to wait for Ez. All the doors are locked, and he's got his own key. I'm alone here all week, you know."

  "Not quite. You've usually got Hero. By the way, I'll bring him back in the morning."

  "Okay. Look, you really don't have to wait. Who knows when he's coming back? You won't get any sleep."

  "Sure I will. Just give me a pillow and a blanket. That couch is plenty long enough."

  "Don't be ridiculous! You can't—"

  "Unless you'd like to share?"

  Meeting his level look, she reached out to take his hands in a convulsive grip, and there was pain in her eyes when she said, "You know I want to, but—"

  "I know. But be patient, love. After today, I don't think it's going to take all that long to knock down those hurdles. Aha, the building shaketh as in an earth tremor. Ez has arrived."

  "You still here, O'Mara? Or are you staying over?"

  Jacket dangling from a finger, tie gone, shirt half-undone, and looking extremely pleased with himself, Ez strolled through the door.

  "Oh, my, yes, indeed," said O'Mara with a knowing smile. "If I ever saw a bear who'd been sampling the honey... and I wouldn't dream of asking what she did to your hair. But, ah... why braids? No!" He held up a hand. "Please don't tell us. We can spend a quiet evening this week making up our own story."

  "I have no intention of explaining anything," Ez said loftily, eyeing Kitt as she walked a slow circle around him, examining his head from ail angles.

  "What I want to know," stated Kitt with obvious interest, "is how long it took her to do all those tiny braids. You look like Bo Derek after she met Jack the Clipper."

  "Are you lecturing like that tomorrow?" O'Mara asked with the air of a reporter conducting an interview. "Do you think it will increase or decrease attendance? Is this intended to start a new fad, or is it perhaps a live demonstration of a fifteenth-century coiffure?"

  "No, no, O'Mara," Kitt exclaimed, "you've got it all wrong. It's a new style for athletes. Now that the coaches can't insist on short hair anymore, this is just perfect for keeping it neat and out of their eyes, and then in the evening, just comb it all out and—eureka!—waves and curls and nobody can accuse them of a sissy thing like setting their hair. Am I right, Brother?"

  "You're both weird," Ez said calmly. "Just because I decided on a change of hairstyle, there's no need for you two to start poking fun. If you're too hidebound and conventional to appreciate a truly creative approach to the expression of one's individuality through the medium of innovative hair arrangement—"

  Whoops of laughter drowned out the rest of his exposition, and he watched Kitt and O'Mara with a slightly raised eyebrow and a placid expression until they finally collapsed on the sofa and got themselves under control.

  "Oh, Ez," O'Mara moaned, "if only I had a tape of that. You'll never be able to do it again without missing something."

  "Nonsense. Of course I can. Remember, I did my postgrad work in England. University denizens over there talk like that all the time. For that matter, haven't you ever listened to Bill Buckley?"

  "He's right, O'Mara," said Kitt. "Give him a couple of stiff drinks, and he can go on like that for hours. It's appalling. He's been known to clear out a faculty meeting in fifteen minutes."

  "I can well understand why." O'Mara had put on his socks and shoes and now shrugged into his jacket. "However, I'm leaving for quite a different reason—namely, I'm falling asleep. Goodnight or morning or whatever, Ez," he said to the broad back moving down the hall. "Come on, love, walk me to the door and be sure you lock it behind me."

  They stopped beside the door and stood close together, not quite touching except for their clasped hands. Kitt met his eyes and read encouragement, inquiry, warmth and just a hint of tightly controlled desire. As his head bent, she swayed forward until she was leaning lightly against him, and lifted her mouth to meet his. Eyes closed, she savored the warm pressure, loving but undemanding, and the hardness of his chest against her breasts. All too soon, to her mind, he was stepping back, his hands coming up to her shoulders to steady her until she found her balance.

  A shadow of disappointment flickered in her eyes, and her voice held a note of reproach as she protested, "I wasn't afraid."

  He brushed a finger across her lips and smiled. "I know, love. That's why I stopped. I want you to go to bed with a good memory. Don't forget to lock this behind me. I'll see you in the morning."

  Kitt locked the door and stood for a few moments listening to his descending footsteps, which were remarkably light for such a big man. Humming The Second Time Around, she floated across the living room, turning off lights, and did a waltz turn down the hall.

  "Hey, Sis, come here and give me a hand, will you? I can't get these damn things undone." Ez's exasperated rumble came from the partly open bathroom door, and she pushed it all the way back to find him leaning over the counter, peering into the mirror as he tried to untangle his hair.

  Leaning against the doorjamb, she couldn't help giggling at his look of total frustration. "Why don't you leave it? I think it's kind of interesting. Different, definitely. Ahhh... why did she do it, or shouldn't I ask?"

  He gave her a sidelong, sheepish look in the mirror. "She was kind of miffed with me." Pausing, he straightened up and regarded his image ruefully. "I didn't realize just what it looked like until I got in here. We were in the car when she did it." Finally, he chuckled. "Dippy broad. God, that looks ridiculous! Kitt? Come on," he coaxed, "help me get them out."

  "Oh, all right," she said with a long-suffering sigh. "What are sisters for, except to stay up till dawn unbraiding their brothers' hair?" She hooked the stool from under the counter with her foot. "Sit down so I can reach this mare's nest. Oh, damn, she tied them all off with strands of hair. I'm going to have to clip the knots out."

  "Like hell! You're not going to go snipping chunks out of my hair!"

  "Don't be vain. It's only little bits of ends." She pulled open a drawer and rummaged in her manicure kit for small scissors. "It won't even show. If it bothers you, you can get a trim tomorrow. You need one anyhow—your hair is curling over your collar. Won't hurt a bit to get an inch taken off."

  "Half an inch. Oh, toads' nails, look at the kinks. I'm going to have to wash it to get all those out."

  "It'll take more than that. Hold still, before I chop a chunk out of your ear. Once I've got all these undone, if you'll just lean over the sink, I'll give you a shampoo and a creme rinse. That should get rid of most of the kinks, and, if I blow-dry it with a brush, I can get the rest of them out. You'll be as good as new in half an hour."

  "With raggedy edges," Ez grumbled. "That woman is demented, and she has an evil temper."

  "You still haven't explained how she could have done this without you knowing. Or did you? It must have taken some time."

  He met her eyes in the mirror, flushing and looking rather sheepish. "Oh, well, I was distracted and... ah... well, if you must know, we were parked down by the beach, talking and watching the surf and... I was sort of resting my head back against her... er... shoulder, and she was playing with my hair... I... we kind of lost track of the time, and we talked and—"

  "Watched the surf. Sure you did. What you're trying to tell me is that the conversation was so interesting that Midge could braid up all your hair, and you do have quite a bit of it, into tiny braids without you even knowing it. Right? That must have been some talk—this had to have taken well over an hour."

  Ez merely grunted, his gaze fixed morosely on the mirror as he watched Kitt snipping away at the ends of the braids.

  "Cheer up," she urged, glancing at his unhappy expression. "I'm really being very careful."

  "I know." It came out on a g
usty sigh. "You and O'Mara seemed very simpatico when I came in. Everything progressing?"

  "Umm-hmmm. Fine, so far. He's wearing his kid gloves and being very cautious. I'm doing better than I ever thought I could." For a few minutes, she concentrated on the last of the braids, then met Ez's concerned gaze in the mirror. "How did he react when you told him about... Leon?"

  "With rage. Total, nearly uncontrollable rage. He came up with some terms that I'd never heard, went on for ten or fifteen minutes without repeating himself once, and then switched to several other languages for another quarter hour. Near as I could keep count, he knows every curse there is in at least twelve languages. We were walking around the cliff path on the top of Crest Rock, out in front of the house, when I told him. Right off, he flung the can of beer he was holding out to sea. Then, while he was roaring curses at the ocean, he started heaving rocks over the edge. I figured it was as good a way as any to work it all off, so I found a comfortable boulder and let him go at it. It was an education. The man knows more basic Anglo-Saxon than I do."

  "Guess it's just as well that you were the one to tell him. Did he... what did he say when he cooled down?"

  "Blamed himself. Also told me I was a damned mealy-mouthed fool for not stopping you. After he got that out of his system, we settled down and talked about you and how you'd reacted and what it had taken these last five years to get you back together. We... ah... talked a bit about a couple of ideas he has for getting you through the rest of it. Did he say anything to you?"

  Kitt was adjusting the water temperature, and now she pushed his head down and reached for the shampoo. "Get your hair good and wet. That's fine. Now close your eyes. He didn't say much. Just that you'd talked about it, and now he knew, he... it would be good for me to tell him myself... when I'm ready. Stick your head under the faucet again. I know he's right, and I guess I'll probably do it pretty soon. It's something we have to go through. Okay now, keep your eyes closed while I work this rinse into your hair. Ugh, next time you get a haircut, have him thin some of this out. How do you get a comb through all this? There. Stay still for a few minutes."