by JL Wilson
She smiled. "And then you get that look."
"What look?" I breathed the question into her ear and was rewarded with a wiggle as she pressed closer to me.
"You look like you want to kiss me. You look like you want to..."
I twined my fingers into her hair. "That's only because I do." I lowered my face to hers.
Nico.
Her voice, combined with the feeling of her body against mine, dizzied me. Memories washed through my mind, images of people and places flickering like frames of a film. My parents--both sets--Lucinda's brother, her sister, my home in Yorkshire, the trip by sail that brought me to America, solar-powered personal transports carrying me from Paris to New York in the 22nd century, time-trips to Egypt, America, Spain--everything jumbled together in my mind as Lucinda and I kissed.
She trembled in my arms and I wondered if she was sharing the experience with me. Then I felt her memories begin. I saw myself as a swain in Revolutionary America, laughing with her as we walked hand in hand on a New York street. We danced, Lucinda in my arms as I swirled her around a floor while her parents watched, smiling indulgently. Then I saw David Delacroix, sitting at a desk and talking with her, obviously about business.
"Nico, what's happening? I feel so..."
I slipped her jacket off and pulled her down to the couch with me. Her blouse was cool and silky under my palms. "You were just in an accident," I murmured. "Although I'd like to think it's the power of my kiss."
Her protests faded as I finally touched the bare flesh of her back, my hands undoubtedly cold and surprising. She shivered but didn't pull away. "Do you forgive me?" I whispered.
She lay back on the cushions, her skirt hitched up and her left slipper dangling rakishly off her foot. "No, I don't forgive you."
"No?" I ran my hand up her silky leg, stopping when I felt bare skin above the top of her elastic-topped nylons. I inched my fingers upward, toward that hot triangle of flesh that beckoned me.
"Not yet."
I croaked out a laugh. "I get the feeling I need to make things up to you."
"Yes, you do."
"Okay, boss. Whatever you say."
"Really?" She slipped a hand downward to my belt buckle. "I like an employee who knows his place."
"And where is that?" I was almost unable to breathe.
She tugged at my belt. "Right here, keeping the boss happy."
* * * * *
They were noisy. How come?
Why is your hair so rough?
Is he going to stay here?
Mommy said you were a dog. What's a dog? She said dogs are mean. Are you mean?
Our sister is dead. Will you die?
Does it hurt to die?
Lucinda sprawled next to me on her double bed, the light from the hallway cutting across us like a splash of white paint. I lifted my head. Cerberus lay on the floor next to the bed, the two kittens lying on his back, their little paws pulsing rhythmically as they flexed their toes. Three sets of sleepy eyes were raised to meet mine.
They've got a lot of questions, Cerberus said, laughter in his voice. Are all babies full of questions?
I shrugged. How would I know?
Lucinda stirred next to me. "Nico," she murmured. She touched my stomach, her small fingers caressing me. My erection was immediate, which pleased me given how much activity we enjoyed just an hour earlier. I may have been immortal, but I wasn't getting any younger.
"I've never experienced anything like that," she murmured, snuggling against me.
Like what? Like what?
I glanced at the two kittens who spoke simultaneously. "Hush, now." I folded Lucinda into my arms.
She blinked up at me. "What?"
I nuzzled into her neck, the amazing feeling of her body and her mind caressing me. "Hush up and kiss me."
She drew away. "I have so many questions. Are you really a doctor? How did you know about the accident? Do you know Robert--I mean, did you know him before yesterday?"
Yesterday. Good Lord, was it only a day since Lucinda and I heard Robert Meyer propose his outrageous scheme?
"I'm hungry." I reached past her to pick up the alarm clock. "It's almost eight. Good thing for you I remembered to turn off the stove, otherwise our lasagna would be ruined. Let's go." I swung my legs over the side of the bed, edging my toes past the kittens who jumped off Cerberus and were playing tug of war with my discarded black sock.
"You're all bruised along your side." She snuggled under the sheet and peered up at me, her tumbled dark curls framing her face. "Did you have an accident too?"
I thought of the bullets Robert Meyer shot into me. "Yes. I'd like some food." I slapped her lightly on the hip. "Come on, lazy. Let's eat." I scooped up my jeans from the floor and pulled them on, then grabbed my shirt, which had landed near the doorway when she and I had kissed our way into the room, discarding clothing as we went. She grumbled behind me, but finally sat up as I paused in the doorway.
She leaned over to pet Cerberus. "It feels sometimes like you can understand what I'm saying. Can you? Do you understand?"
Of course, he answered as he surged to his feet. He laid his muzzle on the side of the bed and regarded her, his pale blue eyes alight with humor. You just can't hear me, that's all.
None of them can hear us, the tabby kitten called back over his shoulder as he skittered ahead of me on the wood floor of the hallway. Except for you. How come?
Just lucky, I guess. I chuckled at the sight of his furry butt as he scrabbled for footing. He went to the food dishes in a little alcove at the side of the room as I pulled the lasagna out of the oven to cool. The tiramisu was still in the picnic basket. It had lost a bit of its firmness, but otherwise looked fine. I put it in the fridge and was reading the instructions on the Easter egg kit when Lucinda came into the room, tying the belt of a worn pink bathrobe.
"Will you show me how this is done?" I asked, holding up the kit.
"Easter eggs? You've never made Easter eggs?"
"No, I haven't. At least..."A tiny memory was clamoring for attention. Had my mother helped me dye eggs once? She crushed onion peels and used them with vinegar to make yellow eggs? I shook the errant thought away.
"It's simple." She made a beeline for the cupboard and pulled out two highball tumblers. "I don't have any wine glasses." She opened the spigot on the wine-in-a-box on the counter near a battered toaster oven. I sipped warily from the glass she handed me. She leaned against the counter and watched me with an impish smile.
"Not bad," I said grudgingly. It was passable--not good, but at least not poisonous.
"I'm impressed. I didn't think you'd drink it." She set the breakfast table in the little alcove with mismatched plates and cutlery then joined me at the stove where I was testing the lasagna with a knife. "Did you really make that?"
"Yes. I'm a good cook. If you remember, we were supposed to go to dinner with my neighbors tonight." I moved the casserole to the table and put it on a crocheted trivet shaped like a pumpkin--or maybe it was an apple. The design was lopsided so it was hard to tell.
Lucinda sampled her portion. "This is very good."
I smiled knowingly. "Wait until you taste dessert. It's my own special recipe."
"I'm glad I hired you. It may be useful to have a financial advisor who can cook."
"Does that mean you forgive me?"
Hey, don't forget about us.
I looked down. Cerberus lounged on the floor at Lucinda's feet, the two kittens arrayed between his front paws like porcelain figurines, their rapt attention shifting between Lucinda's plate and my own. "Are you the designated babysitter?"
Just giving Mom a break. He yawned, his jaws opening wide enough to engulf one of the kittens whole. Care to share?
"Why are you here, Nico?"
My gaze snapped back to Lucinda. Her gray eyes were fixed on me. "Here in your house? Or here in your life?" I asked lightly.
"Both."
How do I answer that? I asked Cerberus
as I got up to put a dollop of melted cheese into the food dishes near the entryway. The kittens abandoned their vigil and tripped over themselves to get the morsels.
Honesty is frequently the best policy, but I doubt if it would work in this case, he said. Reincarnation is a bit hard to grasp unless you're intimately involved in it. Try a good lie.
Good idea. Got any handy?
Nope. You're on your own.
I took a swallow of wine, considering and discarding options. I took a deep breath and decided to try the truth, or at least a portion of it. "I have a friend in law enforcement. She called and told me you were in an accident. I had asked her to keep an eye on you because I was worried. This deal with Masterson..." I took another sip, struggling for coherency. "I did some checking and I found out things about him that I doubt you know."
Her fork paused on the way to her mouth. "What kind of things?"
"I'm not at liberty to say." She started to protest. "I mean it, Lucinda. I have confidential sources in the government. They're interested in Masterson. I think some of the work he's doing may not be legal." I sat back, wondering if she would buy the story.
"So, the government is interested in Robert and the research he's doing. I'm close to Robert. Therefore, you're interested in me? Does that mean you work for the government?"
She was close to the truth, but in a twisted way. "It's true that some people in the government are interested in Dr. Masterson, but that's not why I was," I almost said "assigned" and managed to fumble a new word in time, "asked to watch out for you."
"Asked? By who?"
Cerberus had followed this exchange with interest. He got to his feet and put his snout on Lucinda's lap. Leave it alone, he whined.
She petted him, her eyes still on my face. "Well, Nico? Who?"
"Your father," I blurted.
Her hand stilled on Cerberus's head. "He couldn't know you." Her eyes gave her away. She wouldn't meet my gaze.
I set my fork down. "You knew he was alive."
"I don't know what you mean. My father died years ago. He was traveling and became ill. He died before we could join him."
I reached across the small table and put my hand on her wrist. You can't lie to me.
She flinched, almost knocking her plate off the table. "Stop that. It feels like you're poking into my mind when you do that."
"Then you stop lying."
Hypocrite, Cerberus said, his chin resting on her knee. His pale blue eyes regarded me with unflinching humor. You're a fine one to be talking about lying.
"You knew he was alive, didn't you? Did he contact you?" Did she expect him to be alive? Would I have to be the one to tell her that her father had truly died?
Cerberus snuffled against her knee and she laughed, jerking away. "Keep that cold nose off my skin." Then she sobered, looking at me. "I've known all along he wasn't dead. He called me almost a year after he supposedly died. He...explained what happened."
It felt as though someone had punched me. "What do you mean?"
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," she whispered.
"Try me." I sipped the atrocious wine. It was starting to taste good. It was probably shock on top of shock that had ruined my palate.
Lucinda froze. Our previous amorous activity seemed to have energized her curls, giving them a bouncy life that was at odds with her sudden stillness. "I can't discuss it. I promised my father I wouldn't tell anyone." She reached out a hand as though to touch me but withdrew it before she neared me. "Even you."
"You know you can trust me. Okay, maybe I goofed with Cara, but don't you know how I feel? Haven't I proved to you that I care? Please, trust me. I want to help."
Cerberus sneezed. Lucinda drew back with a shaky laugh. "Your dog seems to have a habit of sharing his germs with me."
I glared at the animal. "He's your dog. I'm just taking care of him, remember? Why did your father fake his death?" I tried my best innocent look. "Was it something to do with business?"
The Beatles' "All You Need Is Love" chimed from Lucinda's tattered chenille pocket. She extracted a mobile phone and opened it with an apologetic smile at me. "Hello?" Her eyes meet mine in startled surprise. "Cara. I'm surprised to hear from you. When you missed our meeting this afternoon I assumed you were busy."
She listened as I picked at my food, wondering what that devious bitch of a sister was cooking up. Lucinda tilted her head to one side, her black curls swaying. "Really? He did? That's odd. Nico doesn't seem to me like the kind of man who would--what did you say?--maul a woman in her office."
I put down my fork and held out a hand. "Let me talk to that witch."
Lucinda leaned away from me. "No, of course not, Cara. I realize you're far more experienced in these kinds of things--these kinds of men--than I am." She nodded, all the while looking at me with laughter in her gray eyes. I crossed my arms and watched, eyes narrowed. "Nonsense, Cara, of course not. We're family, after all. I wouldn't let something like that bother me. Nico is somewhat attractive, of course."
Somewhat? I frowned at her and she winked at me as she listened. I could hear a muted voice on the other end of the phone. From the cadence of the words, I suspected there was a great deal of hyperbole going on. Lucinda finally interrupted by saying, "I had an accident tonight, driving home from work."
A squawking sound told me she had either surprised Cara or else Cara was doing a good imitation. Lucinda said, "Yes, it was scary. A car almost drove me off the road. I'm fine, but a bit shaken up. I was so lucky Nico came along to help me."
There was dead silence from the phone then I clearly heard, "You've seen him tonight?"
"Yes, he's here with me. He..." and Lucinda paused just long enough to add weight to her words. "Well, you know how it goes, Cara. I have so little experience with a man like that. I just didn't know what to do."
There was an outraged pause then I heard a scream of pure rage. "He slept with you?"
The tabby kitten poked his head around the edge of the doorway, a bit of cheese dangling out of his mouth. Who's shouting?
"We haven't done much sleeping yet, Cara," I called out.
Lucinda pulled the phone away from her ear, wincing. "I can't hear you, Cara, the signal must be breaking up." She rang a fingernail over the phone. "I'll talk to you tomorrow." She closed the phone with a loud snap and set it on the table. It rang again immediately. "Oh, dear. I believe Cara is upset." The phone disappeared back into Lucinda's robe pocket. I heard it shut off, presumably going into message mode. "I'm sure she'll feel better tomorrow."
"I didn't maul her." I got up so fast I almost knocked over my chair. I strode to the appalling wine in a box and refilled my tumbler. I took a long gulp, then refilled and gulped again. "If anything, she mauled me. She stood there in her office and practically stripped in front of me."
"I believe you, Nico."
Lucinda's quiet voice cut through my anger as effectively as a dose of cold water. I turned to look at her. She regarded me with a puzzled frown. "What did I do wrong now?" I asked.
"Why do you say that?"
"You only frown at me like that when I'm in the doghouse." I glanced at Cerberus, who raised his head. "No comment from you."
Wouldn't dream of it.
"I was just wondering..." she said, tapping the phone against the table.
"Hmm?" I choked slightly on my wine.
"What did you and my father talk about last night?"
Chapter Seventeen
Damn. We were back to her father. I didn't want to be the one to tell her that her father had truly died this time. Then I reconsidered. Would anyone connect 'Dawson' to 'Delacroix'? Would Lucinda even find out?
Is there any casserole left?
I glanced down to see Cerberus, eyeing my plate. He edged closer to the table, his pale blue eyes fixed on the morsel of lasagna I left on the dish. I pushed my plate away from incipient thievery and sat down.
Spoilsport. He sagged to the floor in the corner by Lucinda.
"Why do you think I spoke with your father?" I asked.
"Because he told me that you two talked," she said in a patient voice. "We talked last night after he saw you. He didn't tell me why he wanted to see you, though."
"He's worried about Masterson and his plans to take over the company." I broke off a clump of cheese and held it out to Cerberus. He ignored me with a disdainful sniff. "Spoilsport." I glanced sideways at Lucinda. I was coming to recognize her expressions. This was her attempt at innocence.
What did she and her father talk about last night? I ran through the conversation I had with Delacroix in my mind, but didn't remember anything in particular. Of course, it had been a busy day what with getting shot and having an argument with Lucinda. David Delacroix reappearing from the dead was the least of my surprises.
I decided to go on the offensive. "Will you tell me why your father faked his death?"
She hesitated. "It's complicated."
I glared at her. "My life has been nothing but complicated since I met you. Try me. I can handle it."
I didn't need telepathic contact to read the conflicting emotion on her face as she considered divulging her father's secret. Discretion won. "I can't, Nico. I'm sorry."
A rush of anger stirred through me. Damn the woman, when was she going to trust me? After everything we'd been through, she should trust me.
Don't forget, she doesn't know you've been through anything together, Cerberus pointed out. Don't get pissed off because she's unaware of your shared past.
We just made love. That should count for something. I don't why it hurt, but it did. Why wouldn't she trust me? Didn't she know how I felt? Didn't she know...I hesitated to say the words even to myself. Didn't she know I loved her?
I shoved back from the table and Lucinda jerked, the cell phone flying out of her pocket to the floor. The orange kitten pounced on it, wrestling it to a halt with a throaty little growl. He clasped it to his belly and prepared to pummel it to death with his hind legs.
