Again the Magic

by Lee Damon

  She pressed her open mouth against his neck and traced moist circles with her tongue before teasing, "You don't like it?"

  "Mmmmm. I love it. So much so that we are definitely going to get off this couch while you've still got your clothes on."

  Reluctantly, they untangled themselves and sat up. He finger-combed her hair back into reasonable order while she tugged her cotton-knit shirt into place. His abstracted gaze followed the motions of her hands and then lingered on her breasts and the hard jut of her nipples pressing against the fabric. She groaned and leaned toward him as his hands cupped her breasts, his thumbs lightly stroking the taut nipples.

  "O'Mara, please...."

  "Oh, hell!" he growled. His hands slid down to her waist, and he stood up, simultaneously bringing her to her feet.

  "I don't care what those two are cooking up," he muttered, impatiently pushing the thick swath of hair back from his forehead. "There's safety in numbers right now. Come on, temptress, and stop that giggling. It's not funny."

  "It is so, grumpy. All these weeks, and now that we finally can, we can't."

  He pushed her toward the kitchen, stating positively, "Oh, yes, we can. And we will. In fact, we are."

  "When?" she challenged, swinging around to walk backward, laughing at him while her eyes flashed a "Dare you!" message.

  Before he could answer, his attention was diverted by the scene in the kitchen. The slow smile lighting his face spun Kitt around to find out what was so amusing. Her shoulders started to shake with silent laughter as she took in the picture of Midge perched on the edge of the high counter, her arms and legs wound around Ez while he kissed her, holding her small body close to him with obvious care.

  "Wonder how many more ways he's going to find to overcome that height difference," O'Mara murmured in Kitt's ear.

  "I'm more concerned about his forgetting someday and giving her a bear hug. She'd end up looking like a half-used tube of toothpaste!"

  "Right now, I want to eat." O'Mara let his deep voice out in a roar. "Ez! Food! Lobsters! Salad! Dinner!"

  It was enough. With a growled "I'll get you for this, O'Mara," Ez swung Midge off the counter and onto her feet, and the four of them made short work of getting supper onto the table. Despite their many questions, Kitt and Midge gleaned only the information that their skinny nuisance was now driving a blue Chevy and staying at the Day's End Motel. All questions as to how O'Mara and Ez were going to make use of that knowledge were firmly fended off. Resolutely, the men kept the conversation light, steering it into a fast and funny exchange of ideas for the most unusual wedding of the decade for Kitt and O'Mara.

  Later, in the comfortable coolness of a delightful spring evening, the four of them relaxed on the deck, finishing a bottle of wine and listening to the soft sound of the river. Kitt, mindful of the size of the men in her life, had furnished the deck with sturdy redwood settees and loungers, their hard contours softened by colorful canvas-covered cushions. Ez was ensconced on a lounger holding Midge on his lap, while Kitt and O'Mara shared the long settee with their feet propped on a low table. Hero, finding his usual lap filled with Midge, had settled down on O'Mara's lap with only a mild 'Rrrorrow" of complaint.

  Kitt rested her head back against the hard warmth of O'Mara's arm, which was draped across her shoulders. It was a clear night, and she stared dizzyingly up at the silver canopy of stars, wondering vaguely why she felt slightly muzzy-headed. After a few moments of uncomplicated thought, she decided it was partly the wine, partly the scent of lilac, salt and lime aftershave, but mostly the effect of O'Mara's long length pressed close to her right side. Her abdominal muscles tightened instinctively, and she shifted her hips in a restless, tingling response to his nearness.

  "I know just what's bothering you. I promise I'll take care of it soon," he whispered. She could sense his smile, and her breath caught as the warm, moist tip of his tongue traced her ear.

  The comers of her mouth twitching in a repressed smile, she turned her head just enough to slant him a doleful look. "Promises, promises. All I ever get is—"

  The rest of her sentence was lost against his mouth. After a few moments, and long before she wanted him to, he drew away. His soft chuckle at her instinctive move to continue the kiss earned him a light punch in the solar plexus.

  "Beast! You've got a stomach like a rock wall."

  "Only when someone aims a punch at it," he explained. "Now, if you were to rub it gently..."

  "You know what that would lead to, and you keep telling me this is not the time for further lessons. Mine, that is. You already know everything." She turned her head against his shoulder to look up at him with mock-admiration.

  "Too true," he countered smugly, stroking a caressing finger across her lips and watching her face soften with desire. "I do like that look in your eyes, love. Maybe we should send those two on a long moonlight swim, hmmm?"

  "Too cold. How about down to Boston for pizzas?"

  "Ez would probably do it, too. On the other hand, he may well be trying to figure out how to get rid of us."

  They glanced over at the couple in the lounger and, after one unbelieving look, Kitt buried her face in O'Mara's shoulder to stifle her laughter while he shook in silent glee. Ez had lowered the back of the lounger until he was lying almost flat, with his head propped up on a cushion. Tiny Midge, perched cross-legged on his chest, was leaning forward, shaking her finger and talking intently down into his laughing face. In an apparent effort to emphasize her point, she suddenly started bouncing up and down, which only made Ez, obviously unaffected by having some hundred-odd pounds thumping onto his chest, laugh harder and grab her hips to keep her from tumbling onto the floor.

  "Would you two mind speaking up?" O'Mara called. "If the dialog's as exciting as the action..."

  "Ooops!" gulped Midge, clapping both hands over her mouth and staring at them in dismay.

  In a smooth, fast move, Ez was suddenly sitting up on the edge of the lounger with Midge balanced on one strong thigh. "Enough of this levity, folks. It's a little after eleven, O'Mara. What do you say?"

  "What are you talking about?" asked Kitt, looking apprehensively from one to the other. "What are you going to do?"

  "Yeah, what?" chimed in Midge with a touch of belligerence.

  "We'll tell you inside," O'Mara said. He nudged Hero off his lap and stood up, pulling Kitt along with him. Ignoring all female questions, the two big men quickly flipped protective covers over the deck furniture, collected the wineglasses, and shooed the women ahead of them into the living room.

  O'Mara slid the door shut and locked it, then reached for the drawcord and closed the drapes before turning around to meet Kitt's demanding gaze. "All right, love. Now, we'll tell you. We're going... hunting. I definitely want to talk to this young man before the police find him. It could well be that I won't want any public records of whatever is behind this."

  "Oh, no." Kitt sank into a chair with her arms wrapped around herself, staring at him with a half-fearful, half-angry look. "You can't just— How do you know he's alone in this? There may be more of them. And what if he's got a gun or something? If he was really scared the other night, he may have gotten a weapon by now."

  "Come on, Kitt," Ez growled. "One skinny guy. You were ready to take him on with a golf club."

  "I didn't have any choice, dammit," she snapped, anger at their apparent foolhardiness momentarily overcoming her fear. "I was all alone here, with no time to call for help. But you two don't need to do this. If he's outside watching, all you have to do is call the cops and let them pick him up. Confronting armed thugs is their job, not yours."

  "Kitt, Kitt," soothed O'Mara, dropping to one knee in front of her and taking her shoulders to give her a slight shake. "I'm sure he's not armed, and there's no evidence that anyone else is with him. We'll be just fine." He cupped her face between his hands and smiled at her reassuringly. "Will you please not worry so? I have had quite a bit of experience at this sort of thing, you know.
"

  "But—"

  "Come on, you faintheart," Ez said encouragingly. "Can you really see one skinny weasel giving the two of us any trouble?"

  Kitt looked from one to the other, lines of strain starting to show in her face. With a gentle touch, O'Mara stroked his fingers over the tension marks and then leaned forward to kiss her lightly but lingeringly. "Stop fretting, love," he said softly. "I promise you we'll be all right. You and Midge have a cup of coffee, and we'll probably be back before you're finished. Okay?"

  She looked at him for a long moment, then wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her cheek tightly against his. "Okay," she murmured shakily in his ear. "But if you let anything happen to you, I'll never forgive you."

  He held her close for a few moments and then stood up, pulling her to her feet. "Go make the coffee, toad-kisser." He turned her in the direction of the kitchen and started her on her way with a light slap on the bottom before heading for the stairs. "We're going out the back way downstairs, and we'll lock the door behind us. We'll come back via the deck. Don't open this door until you're sure it's us. Come on, Ez, stop fooling around and let's go."

  Ez dropped Midge back onto her feet and started after O'Mara. "Stay loose, girls. You've got a whole bag of golf clubs." He winked at Midge, adding, "Take care of Kitt."

  "Oh, sure," agreed Midge, looking up at her tall friend. "I can just see it now."

  Kitt managed a shaky laugh. "I'll bash him with a golf club while you and Hero bite him on the legs." She listened to the receding footsteps and then drew in a deep, steadying breath. "Well, sprite, let's go make that coffee."

  It was the longest twenty minutes Kitt could remember. She paced and sipped coffee and tried to listen to Midge's distracting questions about her summer plans for the shop. She had no idea what she answered. Resolutely, summoning up all her willpower, she tried to erase the insistent visions of Ez and O'Mara lying in pools of blood and surrounded by scrawny young men toting every kind of weapon from ancient pikes to modern automatics. It was ridiculous, she knew, to put herself into a panic. O'Mara knew what he was doing, and he wouldn't take foolish chances with either himself or Ez. But what if there were two or three instead of just one, and what if they had guns, and what if—

  "Kitt! Snap out of it!"

  She blinked and looked bewilderedly at Midge. Glancing around, she realized that she was sitting on the edge of the sofa, clutching her coffee mug so hard that her fingers had cramped, and that Midge was bending over her, looking distressed.

  "Whew! I thought you'd gone into a trance. Now stop being so silly. You know perfectly well that either of them can handle just about anything and, together, they're enough to scare the stitches out of Frankenstein. Well, aren't they?"

  "Oh, yes," Kitt murmured vaguely, her mind concentrated on her rapidly changing feelings. The metallic taste of fear was in her mouth and her hands were still unsteady, but gradually a deep welling of revulsion for her weakness was rising from within her. She had survived very real violence before. She had overcome crushing fear and fought back. True, it had left her emotionally crippled for a time, but she'd struggled long and hard with Ez's help to get herself back together. And she'd done it. Now, with O'Mara's help and love, she'd overcome the last great barrier to a complete, fulfilled life, and she'd be damned if she'd let her overactive imagination wreck everything at the first challenge!

  "I am NOT a plate of spaghetti!" Kitt leaped to her feet and glared at Midge.

  The younger woman grinned back at her. "Who the hell said you were? I take it you are now getting a grip on yourself. Good. Because from the sounds on the stairs, our heroes are back."

  Midge ran to the door but didn't flip the lock until she heard Ez's "Open up, girls."

  Chapter 21

  Ez pushed the sliding door all the way open to allow room for himself and the young man held firmly at his side by the tight grip of Ez's large hand around his upper arm. Kitt took one quick, all-encompassing look at her twin as he moved into the room with his captive, and then her gaze flew to O'Mara, who was strolling lazily through the door as if he had been doing nothing more than taking an evening walk. His hair isn't even ruffled, she thought indignantly, and here I've been worrying myself into a purple funk. Which he would probably tell me is all my own fault for not listening to him. She glowered at the smug look he sent her, and briefly considered methods of taking him down a peg or two. Almost reluctantly, she shifted her attention to the very nervous man now sitting uneasily on one of the captain's chairs which Ez had placed in the middle of the room.

  For a moment, no one spoke. Four pairs of unfriendly eyes examined the unprepossessing figure in the chair. About as tall as Kitt, he was pale and skinny, with thin, mousy hair straggling over his shirt collar and pale blue eyes set in an unremarkable face. Those eyes were darting rapidly around the room, lighting fleetingly on first one face and then another. It was obvious that he would have bolted for the door or stairs if Ez's big hand on his shoulder hadn't been holding him in the chair.

  Kitt was beginning to relax now that O'Mara was at her side and she could feel the reassurance of his arm around her. She looked up at him questioningly.

  "This," he said, flipping his free hand toward their unwilling guest, "is Stanley Portman. According to his driver's license, he's from Delaware."

  "Listen, you... you had no right—" Stanley Portman's voice was light and pitched high with tension. He was sputtering now with fear which he was trying to turn into outrage. "What did you bring me in here for? You had no right to go yanking me out of my car. Damn you, you're a couple of thugs. I could bring charges against you for assault. Bastards! You're twice my size. You—"

  "Shut up, Stanley," growled Ez, tightening his hold until the younger man groaned. "AH we want to hear from you is your reason for spying on my sister, and what you were looking for when you tried to break in here Monday night."

  "I... I don't know what you're talking about." His voice couldn't quite hold steady and, almost against his will, his eyes flicked to Kitt and then quickly away. "I don't even know your sister. I'm on vacation. Nothin' wrong with that. Just been lookin' around the place."

  Kitt, watching him from the security of O'Mara's arm, could feel his fear. In a way, she could almost feel sorry for him. Ez and O'Mara in an unfriendly mood would curdle the blood of a much stronger man than this one. Mentally shaking her head, she wondered how long he thought he could hold out against the two of them. She leaned against O'Mara, listening to the staccato rap of insistent questions and the stumbling, stammering answers, and knew that it was only going to be a matter of minutes before Portman broke. He was sweating now, his hands clenching the chair arms. Ez wasn't even holding him down anymore; he was standing off to the side alternating with O'Mara in the rapid-fire interrogation.

  Suddenly, Portman dropped his head in his hands and screamed, "All right! All right! I'll tell you."

  They stared at him for a few silent moments. He panted in harsh gasps, as if he'd been running. Finally, he slumped back in the chair, defeated, his wary eyes skittering from one face to another. He looks like a trapped rabbit, thought Kitt, even to the twitching nose. How could I have gotten so worked up over a weakling like that? Of course, even a weakling can turn on you if he's scared enough and cornered. On that thought, she turned in alarm toward O'Mara.

  "Now what's boiling up in that overactive imagination of yours?" he teased in a low voice. "No, don't tell me. Just have faith, and stop worrying about everything. Don't you think I can take care of you?"

  "Oh, yes, I know you can." Her answering grin was a bit wavery, but there was no sign of weakness in the hug she gave him as she reached to press her warm mouth to the hollow below his ear.

  "First things first. I'll take care of you later," he whispered. His tender expression faded as he turned to Portman, and was replaced by a cool, controlled and quietly menacing demeanor. "All right, Portman, let's have it."

  With a pathetic show of bra
vado, Portman attempted a sneer and glared weakly at O'Mara. "Your wife sent me!"

  Three of his listeners looked startled. O'Mara merely lifted an eyebrow and stated, "Ex-wife, you mean. Why did she send you, Portman?"

  "To watch her." He pointed at Kitt. "Laura—"

  O'Mara cut him off. "Why you, in particular? How do you know Laura?"

  "She's my cousin, second or third or something. Our mothers are good friends, and me and Laura always got along. So when she asked me to come up here and get evidence—"

  "WHAT EVIDENCE?" O'Mara roared, startling everybody. He stepped away from Kitt and took two long strides toward Portman. The younger man cowered back from O'Mara's blackly threatening look and his menacing growl of, "What's that bitch up to, Portman? I told her she wasn't getting any more money out of me. Once was a favor, and that was IT."

  "You owe her—"

  "Nothing. Not one damn thing." O'Mara was towering over the cringing figure in the chair.

  "B-but you w-won't even l-let her see h-her k-kid."

  O'Mara leaned over the chair, braced with his hands on the arms, his blazing blue eyes practically blistering the terrified man's skin. "You listen carefully, you—Laura abandoned my son when he was less than a week old. She has never tried to see him, never asked about him, and doesn't give a damn about him. If you don't want to believe me, ask her own mother and father."

  "But she said—" Portman began tentatively.

  O'Mara cut him off with a seldom-heard gutter term and straightened up, pushing back his hair angrily. "I don't care a damn what she told you. She's lying. She's already tried to threaten me with a court action to get Gus. She doesn't stand a chance. Her own father is quite willing to testify as to her complete lack of interest in him for the past nine years."

  "Uncle George would testify against Laura?!" Portman's voice rose to a squeal, and his shock at this revelation was evident.

  "Damn right he would. Daughter or not, he has no use for her and the way she's been living. He's too upset over the effect on his wife to have any sympathy for Laura. She's really done a number on her mother, and her father isn't about to let her have a shot at messing up Gus. And believe me, neither am I. She's not going to get within a mile of him. Furthermore, she knows it. She's just out to try and cause me as much trouble as she can in the hope that I'll pay her off to shut her up."