by Kathy Love
Which was good, he assured himself as he made his way back to the floral hell. He needed to stay on task and get her a man. Juggling his several bags, he rooted around in his pocket for the key.
He unlocked the door and was assaulted by the musty old smell and wanted to groan. He had to figure out how to get back onto good terms with Poppy and get this stupid matchmaking task done. A mission that was never going to happen if things kept getting awkward between them.
“Of course,” he said aloud to the dreaded apartment. “If you’d just let the guy from the restaurant ask her out, you’d be halfway home—maybe even all the way home.”
He grimaced at the place he had to call home for now. Away from here. That would be—dare he say it?—Heaven.
But that guy hadn’t been right. Poppy needed someone better than that guy.
“You didn’t even know him,” he muttered roughly to himself. Killian couldn’t tell anything about him, good or bad.
This was an impossible task. Why had he been the demon conjured anyway? There were demons who could read minds. Read auras. Even touch a person and see that person’s whole past. Wouldn’t any of those have been a better choice than him?
He wandered into the bedroom, dropping his bags onto the floor. Then he searched the room for the fiendish thingy otherwise called a cat. Or Vepar. Which was even worse.
He looked behind the furniture, under the bed—being extra careful about that one—even in the closet. Twice he’d spun around in defense mode because he thought he’d heard something. He was starting to feel like Inspector Clouseau, awaiting an attack from his house servant Cato.
Cato. More like Cat-o. Evil Cat-o.
Okay, clearly his mind was scrambled. Again he was starting to feel like this place was having that effect on him.
When he was sure the room was clear, he shut the bedroom door and fell onto the bed. How was he going to find a man for Poppy? A decent man?
But his attempts to sort that out were soon driven away by other thoughts. Thoughts of how her little hand had felt touching him. Tiny hands that seemed to have the power to ignite him. To make him burn for more of her touch. Even the slightest caress.
Then his disobedient mind imagined what those hands of hers would feel like on his bare skin. Stroking him. Down his chest, over his stomach, down, down to the flesh that ached for her.
He groaned, closing his eyes and allowing himself to indulge in his fantasy. Just for a minute.
Poppy did something that she rarely did. She gathered up the manuscript she was working on, the one she should have been working on all day, and took it to her bedroom. She needed to work, but she felt exhausted. Certainly more emotionally than physically, but either way her bed was calling to her.
She piled up several pillows and settled herself against them, arranging herself and her papers. Once situated, she reread the last part she’d been editing, then started in. She forced her mind to stay on task, finding the occasional typos or grammar mistake, as well as readying the format for the typesetters.
Her mind stayed focused for almost three pages. Then she found images of Killian replacing misspellings and missing commas. More precisely, images of how he’d looked in that shirt and how his chest had felt under her hand.
She gave up marking the page in front of her for a moment, letting her head fall back against the fluffiness of her down pillows. Closing her eyes, she allowed her thoughts to go where they wanted.
He’d been so strong and so warm against her fingers.
You shouldn’t go there, she warned herself. But her mind wasn’t listening any better than her body. She imagined what that kind of power and heat would feel like against her. Pinning her to the bed. Pressing her down into the mattress. Pushing deep into her body.
She pulled in a shuddering breath. She hadn’t thought of such things in … well, forever. A longing so sharp, so intense, pierced through her, making her ache. But she didn’t open her eyes. She didn’t force the thought away. She could just fantasize for a few moments, couldn’t she? Just a few minutes.
The sheets were tangled, the bed a rumpled mess. Sweat clung to their skin. Bare skin. Bare legs intertwined, as tangled as the sheets. Arms locked. Chests touching. Hearts beating in time. Pounding out a steady rhythm. Or maybe the rhythm was created by the even, deep thrusts. One body filling the other, only to pull away and then refill. Delicious friction. A deep, heavy fullness. Muscles tensing with combined pleasure. A sharp gasp. A moan. A relentless rocking toward ecstasy. Each thrust pushing closer to release, toward Heaven. Closer. Closer. Closer.
“Yes, yes! Oh, yes, Killian.”
“Oh my God! Poppy.”
Poppy flung her arm back over her head, panting. Sweat trickled over her flushed skin. More moisture pooled between her legs, the flesh down there pulsing with her release. She’d fallen asleep and had a dream.
A very, very graphic dream.
She knew she should be embarrassed. Mortified, really. She didn’t have sex dreams, but the truth was, she was simply too weak to even muster concern. Her body felt heavy and sated—as if Killian had really been in bed with her, loving her.
Killian gasped, his whole body shaking from the intensity of his dream. A bead of sweat rolled from his temple, slowly down his neck, and even that tortured his overwrought skin.
A dream, he realized as he reached down to press his hand against his waning erection. The organ was still so sensitive, he gasped, imagining what it would feel like to be inside Poppy when he experienced that kind of release.
They both closed their eyes, allowing themselves to float.
It had only been a dream. A delicious, lovely and utterly erotic dream. This time when sleep returned, it was nothing more than engulfing black. Peaceful and warm.
CHAPTER 16
“Poppy?”
Confused, Poppy sat upright, looking around her. She was in her bedroom, her manuscript pages strewn across her duvet cover. Daisy stood in the doorway, her brows drawn together with confused concern.
“Oh, sorry,” Poppy said, still feeling heavy and languid. “I must have fallen asleep.”
“Are you all right?”
Daisy came closer, her dark eyes worried. Poppy wasn’t the type to nap, unless she was sick. And even then, she wouldn’t sleep through Daisy’s getting home from school. Poppy never liked the idea that Daisy might not come home and no one would know for hours she was missing. Poppy was an unbridled worrywart. Daisy knew that.
“Yes,” she reassured her little sister. “I’m fine. Just sleepy.”
Daisy sat down on the edge of the bed, her eyes still reading her. Poppy, self-conscious, touched her hair, brushing wisps that clung to her warm skin back from her face.
“You don’t look right,” Daisy said. “You’re all sweaty, and your cheeks are really flushed.”
Poppy touched her face. She did feel hot, but she knew that was because of her dream and her own embarrassment.
“I’m fine,” Poppy repeated, gathering up her work papers, then crawling off the bed. Her legs quivered as she stood, as if she’d really participated in the act of her dream. Even the sensitive spot between her legs felt different, heavy and moist as if Killian had really …
She blushed. But then she cleared her throat and forced a wan smile. “You know, maybe I do feel a little off. I think I’ll take a quick shower.”
She grabbed her robe off the back of the door and started down the hall toward the bathroom, only to stop when she realized Daisy was following right behind her.
She turned back to her sister, this time regarding Daisy closely.
“Is everything okay with you?” Poppy asked.
Her own residual reaction to her dream and her embarrassment disappeared as soon as she realized Daisy looked—anxious.
Daisy fiddled with her ring, one she always wore: a gold band with a garnet stone, her birthstone. A gift from their mother.
“Nothing’s wrong,” Daisy said with a smile, but Poppy go
t the feeling she still wanted to say more.
Poppy raised an eyebrow expectantly. She knew her little sister. Something was on her mind.
Daisy made a what? sort of face, but then asked, “So did you do anything today?”
For some reason that wasn’t what Poppy had expected her to say. Not that asking Poppy about her day was so out of the ordinary. But there was a strange paradox between Daisy’s fidgety body language and the casual—the almost too casual way—she asked that just didn’t seem normal.
“Why? Should I have done anything?”
Daisy shrugged, again the movement a practice in mild indifference. But not total indifference. The ring was still being twirled. Daisy wanted to know something.
“I did go out to lunch with Killian,” Poppy finally offered.
“Killian? Really?”
Around went the ring again. And again.
Oh, there was definitely more to this line of questioning than her sister was revealing. But Poppy simply nodded, waiting to see where Daisy’s questions would go now.
“So you really like Killian. I mean as a friend.”
“Sure,” Poppy said, trying not to think about her other, more-than-friendly reactions to him.
“Did you go somewhere nice? Where did you go?” Daisy asked, her finger moved from her ring to her hair, twirling a strand by her temple. Another nervous habit.
“We went to Smiley’s,” she said.
“Oh, that’s good.” Daisy nodded, her expression approving. But Poppy got the distinct feeling it wasn’t because Daisy loved the food there. What did Daisy expect to happen today?
Poppy nodded back, deciding maybe the best thing to do was just go take her shower. Maybe she was reading too much into Daisy’s behavior.
“Well, I’ll be out in a minute.”
“Okay,” Daisy said, turning to head into to the living room. But then she looked back. “Did anything—you know, interesting happen? At Smiley’s, I mean.”
Poppy didn’t answer right away. What was she trying to find out?
“Not really,” Poppy said, which wasn’t exactly a lie. All the excitement, such as it was, had happened after lunch.
Just briefly her dream replayed through her mind.
“Did you have fun?” Daisy asked.
Poppy shrugged; this time she was the one to play casual. “It was fine. Just lunch.”
“Oh, okay,” Daisy said, her expectant look fading.
She left then, but Poppy got the distinct feeling her little sister had been disappointed.
“Why are you in bed?”
Killian sat upright, startled out of the warm cocoon he’d been lost in. What the hell?
Then he saw whom the demanding voice belonged to, and all vestiges of anything remotely dreamy fled.
Madison leaned against the doorframe, her arms crossed, her mouth set in its usual disparaging smirk. Emma stood behind her, nothing visible but her round face, huge eyes and pale Shirley Temple curls. It was a bit like a two-headed teen monster.
And neither was the female he’d want to find in his bedroom doorway. At least there was no sign of their ringleader. He supposed that was a small blessing. And they were perhaps better than either the cat or the possessed version of the cat.
“So did you take out Poppy today?” Madison asked, either not aware, or not concerned, with the fact he’d been asleep and wasn’t fully awake now.
“I did,” he answered, running a hand through his hair, trying to clear his head enough to comprehend what was going on.
“Where?” Madison asked, her tone as staccato and no-nonsense as a drill sergeant’s.
He grimaced. He didn’t remember, and he didn’t want to think about it frankly. He’d been rather enjoying a nice, deep sleep after his highly sensual dream.
Talk about a buzzkill here.
“I don’t know. Some coffee place that actually served food. The name didn’t match the décor at all. It had good waffles and lots of gilded decorations.”
“Smiley’s. That is a good place.” Emma nodded with approval.
“Well, clearly Poppy chose it,” Madison said with her usual disdain.
“How would I choose it? Not from here. From Hell. Remember?” Killian said, irritated with himself that he was even bothering to be defensive.
Madison rolled her eyes. Emma’s eyes grew wider, if that was possible. At least one of these girls was smart enough to be unnerved by an aggravated demon.
Small consolation, that.
“So did you find her a guy?”
Killian supposed he should be as pleased that they were as antsy as he was to get this mission done. But answering to sixteen-year-olds didn’t please him. At all.
He was quickly learning that teenage girls had one-track minds. And they said it was boys who were the ones prone to that affliction. Well, he was here to tell the world, “Not so.”
“There were guys, but do you really want me to pick just anyone?” he said.
Emma shook her head, while Madison spent more time considering the question.
“Shouldn’t you just get a feeling or something about who would be the right guy for her? I mean there has to be a reason the spell chose you to come do this. Right?”
He couldn’t agree with Madison more, but as of yet, he just didn’t see any signs of why he was the chosen one.
“It’s going to take a little time,” he said. And he wasn’t just referring to finding Poppy the right man. He’d have to somehow smooth over things too. But he wasn’t about to tell the teenage harpies he had to re-befriend Poppy. Yet again.
“I’m working on it,” he said instead.
“Not if you’re sleeping,” Madison pointed out.
Killian gritted his teeth.
“I’m working on it,” he repeated, this time his voice low, taking on a growling quality.
A little of his demon showing.
Madison stepped back, bumping into Emma. Both girls looked stunned, scared. And Killian would like to say he felt bad, but at this moment—nope, he didn’t.
Then Madison rallied, although he noted she didn’t step back to her original position in the doorway proper.
“You aren’t taking your time on this because you’ve got a thing for Poppy, are you?”
“Oh, hell no.” All bodily reactions and dreams to the contrary, but they didn’t need to know that.
“Okay. Just—just making sure.”
The two girls turned then and hurried through the apartment. He heard the door slam moments later.
Killian stared at the door, not totally sure what the girls had wanted from that conversation. Was it to see if he was doing his job? Or to see what his intentions were concerning Poppy? After that dream, he wasn’t sure about either one himself.
With a sigh, he swung his legs over the bed, only to snatch them back up just as a grayish paw shot out and curled toward his foot, sharp claws extended. The paw fished around a few seconds longer, then disappeared back under the bed.
“Damn beast,” he muttered. The girls must have let the evil cat in when they opened the bedroom door. With another sigh, he vaulted away from the bed. Then he grabbed the bags with his new clothes and toiletries and headed to the bathroom, making sure the door was tightly closed behind him.
But just as he began to rinse his sudsy hair, he heard the bathroom door rattle. He pulled back the shower curtain, blinking through soap bubbles.
The knob rattled again. Great. Now the teen queens were attempting to interrupt his shower. Was there no privacy?
“Go away!” he shouted. “You can grill me more once I’m done.”
He slammed the curtain closed and returned to the hot spray.
“I do rather like that one girl,” a distinctly male voice said from just outside the bathtub.
Killian whipped back the curtain to find the cat sitting on the closed toilet lid.
“You know, the one with all the attitude. The Kewpie-doll blonde I could do without, though.”
“I’m just checking to see if you are on task. Satan is getting testier by the minute.”
Killian stepped out of the shower, unconcerned with his nakedness. “I’m working on it.” Not as expediently as he could, but he was working.
“In the way that girl said? By falling for this mortal yourself?”
“Hardly,” Killian said, reaching for a towel. “And do you mind—?” He gestured to his nakedness.
Vepar curled back the cat’s lip in disdain.
“Hmm, I hope for your sake that’s true. And I’m serious, you better speed this up. Or else,” his coworker hissed.
Vepar disappeared again, leaving him yet again with the psycho beast. Killian wasted little time escaping the bathroom. He had too many important parts bared to risk another attack.
As he dressed, he realized, as much as he hated it, Vepar had a point. Between his awareness of Poppy, the erotic dreams, the beleaguering teen girls, the fusty floral apartment and the sometimes possessed, always evil cat, it was really time to get down to business.
Mission Boyfriend for Poppy was officially on. Whether Poppy liked it or not.
Whether he liked it or not.
Something terrible occurred to Poppy as she showered. What if Daisy had somehow set up Killian to ask her out? Her little sister had mentioned more than a few times over the past couple years that she thought Poppy should be dating. Daisy worried that when she went off to college in the next two years, Poppy would end up living alone.
“You’ll be a crazy cat lady,” she’d say.
“I’m allergic to cats,” Poppy had pointed out, but her little jokes never convinced Daisy that Poppy wouldn’t end up alone. Without even a cat.
That was it, Poppy realized, toweling off. Her little sister was playing matchmaker. And her chosen match was Killian, of all people.
Poppy pulled on her robe and headed to her bedroom. So her sister wanted to see her date Killian. Odd choice, but she supposed Daisy wasn’t immune to Killian’s amazing looks either. But that match wasn’t going to happen.
