Johnny lifted me to my feet, stripped off my clothes and wrapped me in my terry housecoat. Made me lie back down and piled blankets around me. I thought he might go then, duty done. Instead, he brought the wine from the kitchen and poured two glasses.
“Tell me about it. All of it. It will help.”
So I told him. Sometime during my recounting and the silent slide of tears down my face, he took my restless hand and held it tight, rubbing his thumb over my knuckles. I was grateful for the anchor of a hand so different from Nathan’s.
“Never thought I’d see the day when I’d feel I had to—as they say—flash my tits to the likes of Stanley Sullivan. What a gaudy thing for me to do,” I said after I finished. I tried to laugh and snuffed instead.
“Man’s an asshole,” said Johnny. “That’s why I claimed you as an agent. Don’t feel obliged by it though. I was a thoughtless asshole to you several times today. But…will you think about my offer? Reconsider? I wasn’t kidding. Can we work out a deal?”
“I thought you’d written me off. That you’d decided you didn’t need a character like me with suspicious sidhe connections.”
“I meant it. I need you, Lillie, your Talent, your cool mind under pressure—and your guts. There’s a lot of shit about to come down and there’s damned few who can handle it.”
“I don’t have guts. I cried all over you. I’m sorry. You didn’t need that. You don’t need me,” I said, wiping at my cheeks.
“That was after. I’d worry if you hadn’t cried.”
He shook his head slowly. “I see we have a ways to go yet.” His eyes went dark blue. “Lillie…I think I will always need you.” He brought my fingers to his lips, pressed them tight against his mouth and then his jaw, and said one quiet word.
“Leannan.”
About the Author
Bernita Harris worked as a short-order cook, a library assistant and a less-than-serious actress before winning a university fellowship and earning a master’s degree in English literature. Subsequently, she worked in public affairs and later as a forensic consultant in occult-related material, events, practices and beliefs.
A Libra and left-handed, she is drawn naturally to the sinister side of justice. She has grown four splendid children and now lives in an old house in the Thousand Islands with a German shepherd, a “mostly” corgi and ten thousand books. A Canadian who hates the cold and thrives on spring, she spends her time writing, tending her herb and flower gardens and negotiating with the dead.
Previous to Dark and Disorderly, her first novel, she has published occasional pieces of nonfiction, poetry and several short stories. You are invited to visit her blog at www.bernitaharris.blogspot.com/ or e-mail her at [email protected].
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A scene from this book was previously published as Ding Dong Dell by Wild Child Publishing.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-9033-8
Copyright © 2010 by Bernita Harris
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All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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