“Stew.”
“I’ve had stew. It never smelled like that.” He stepped behind Jade for a closer whiff. He was drawn closer, involuntarily, until he was leaning over her shoulder, and it wasn’t because dinner smelled so good.
“It’s the herbs,” Jade said, drawing him back to the subject of food.
“Can I help?”
“Sure, you can bring the honey and wine. They’re on that counter over there, by the candle.”
Mason gathered up the wine bottle and the jar of honey, then, because they were leaving the room, he leaned forward to blow out the candle. It was an unusual one, black knobs stacked one on the other, with scratches on the side.
“I hope you like it,” Jade said. “It’s locally—No!”
Mason snapped upright. “What?”
“Never blow out a candle. You should snuff it, or pinch it.”
“Why?”
“It’s bad luck.”
“Oh. I used to blow Brenda’s out all the time.”
“Who’s Brenda?”
“The woman who jilted me Saturday night.”
“Well, see?”
Mason didn’t know what he’d expected. Sympathy, maybe? Surprise? Heightened sexual interest in salving his wounded psyche?—that would be nice. At the rate he was striking out, he didn’t have to worry about Anthony finding out there was a part of him that wanted to get very involved with this subject.
“Yeah, she ran off with some guy named Lyle.” Giving her time to, oh, come clean and say, “That’s funny, I know a couple named Lyle and Brenda, too,” he set the wine down briefly, licked his fingers, and reached for the candle.
“Let it burn.”
She was so smooth with her lies, he’d lost count. “But we won’t be in the room.”
“It’s in a safe spot. Don’t worry about it.”
It did look safe, sitting on a heavy glass plate far from anything flammable, so Mason let it be and followed Jade to the dining room, still mulling over her nonreaction to his getting left at the altar three days ago. Women didn’t ignore a situation like that. Women commiserated with a jilted man. They couldn’t help it; they were built that way. They wanted to comfort—or find out what he’d done wrong so they could bawl him out a second time.
Jade was doing neither, and for one very simple reason. If she knew Lyle and Brenda, she knew about him. Yeah, sure, there could be another couple with the same names, but if it was all that innocent, she wouldn’t be keeping that to herself, now would she? So why were they thanking her?
Maybe if he kept filling her wineglass and kept her talking, she’d eventually let something slip. Not admirable, but eminently effective.
As they set their bowls on the table, he said, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but why do women like candles so much?”
“I think a better question is why do you dislike them so much? Would you like me to take them off?”
If she removed them, she’d probably turn up the lights, dispelling the cozy atmosphere, and then she wouldn’t be as likely to confide in him. Or she’d see the gash on his cheek and move in to check it out, and while he wanted her close, oh man, did he ever, he knew his limits.
“They’re fine. Leave them.”
“You’re sure? Because that took quite a while for you to decide.”
She grinned, slow and cute, glancing at him from beneath lowered lashes as she rotated one of the candles until it was just so. Probably giving him time to change his mind.
“I was just thinking you need some of this tea, too, but you don’t have a cup.” Mason opened the china cabinet and set a matching one out for her. Only after she’d had a couple sips did he savor the warm liquid on his throat and murmur, “Oh, man, that feels good.”
“I made enough so you can reheat another cup before you go to bed.”
“How come herbalists don’t put doctors out of business?”
“Doctors have their place.” Jade took the tiniest little taste of her stew and made a face. “I forgot to salt it,” she said, and pushed the saltshaker across the table toward him.
Mason looked at it. He looked at her. “Ladies first.”
“But you’re company.”
“My mother would roll over in her grave.”
“Well, we couldn’t have that, could we?”
She gave in and went first, which would have eased Mason’s mind except that when she was finished, she set the shaker close to him. And then pushed it even closer.
He debated whether a person could successfully poison the salt below the top layer and not suffer any ill effects from the first helping. Impossible, of course, so he bit the bullet and seasoned his stew while Jade stared at every grain that fell into his bowl. He scooped up a bite, then with it halfway to his mouth, he paused.
Jade’s gaze was riveted to his spoon.
“Aren’t you going to eat?” he asked.
“Oh,” she said, flustered. She looked as if she might have blushed, but in this light, who could tell? “Yes! I’m famished. I hope you like it.”
After his first bite, Mason said, “Mm, you were right. Here,” and, in challenge, pushed the biscuits toward her.
She took one and bit into it, so then he didn’t know what to think, except that maybe he was letting his imagination run wild. But he’d staked out some real scumbags since he’d partnered with Anthony five years ago. People were capable of anything. You never could tell; some of them masqueraded as cute and innocent for years before they were caught.
“Do you like honey? It’s local. It’s very good.” She pushed the jar toward him. “The wine’s local, too.”
The table was starting to look unbalanced with everything getting shoved his way. He got in the last word, though, as he filled her glass. “Ladies first.”
“You’re a guest.”
“Please. My mother raised me to be a perfect gentleman, and if you make me go first, then all that hard work goes to waste.”
Jade’s eyes twinkled in the candlelight as she held up her glass and said, “Can’t argue with that. To mothers who raise perfect gentlemen.”
As sound a plan as it was to get Jade tipsy and talking, she didn’t cooperate. Mason figured she knew what he had in mind. She must. That or she wasn’t much of a drinker. But the food and the fire and the ambiance was working anyway, and they talked about everything else through dinner, then lingered over a dark chocolate mousse. To-die-for mousse.
He hoped that wasn’t literal, but what a way to go. Beautiful, intelligent woman. Low lighting. Crackling fire.
“Are there herbs in this, too?” he asked, trying to get his mind out of the romance gutter.
Sharing a cozy meal with Jade should not make him long for bouncing a little girl of his own on his knee. Chrissakes, he’d never sat with Brenda and imagined having a child with her. He just missed Lily, that’s all. In his rush to leave the church, he hadn’t said good-bye. He should call her.
Damn. Jade licked her spoon like a kid licked a brownie mix spatula, only a helluva lot sexier. Mason’s mouth went dry as he watched every little dart of her tongue, up the spoon, down the spoon, around the friggin’ spoon, until it was clean, even though she had half a bowl left. After that demonstration of dexterity—he was a hundred percent certain that Jade had no idea how sexy she was, or how provocative, which just made her hotter—he had no recourse but to chug the rest of his wine.
Willpower—ha! He’d sworn off alcohol two days ago, and if he didn’t drink himself senseless in the next thirty seconds, he wasn’t going to be responsible for reaching across the table and doing a little licking of his own.
He was startled back to sensible when Jade said, “No herbs. Why?”
“Oh, just wondering.”
“It’s dark chocolate, though. Dark’s healthy.”
“Do you hear bells?” For once, it wasn’t church bells.
Jade was already scooting her chair away from the table. “It’s the side door.”
On the
opposite side of the house from the conservatory, Mason recalled, the door led out to a porte cochère, where carriages used to pause so guests could enter in bad weather without getting wet.
“You expecting guests?” he asked.
“Enjoy the fire as long as you like. Just close the screen when you leave the room, okay?”
Now she was ignoring questions. It beat lying. Maybe.
“You’re not coming back?”
“Sometimes these things take a while.” She dropped her napkin beside her bowl.
Eyeing her half-eaten dessert, Mason asked, “Anything I can do?”
“Do and you die.” She obviously thought the temptation was too much, because after the slightest hesitation, she grabbed the bowl and took it with her.
Mason felt dismissed—utterly, completely dismissed. The possibility of her words being a threat never entered his mind, because the thought of Jade’s rushing off to let her husband in sobered him up faster than throwing him out bare-ass naked into the snow.
But, hell, her husband wouldn’t ring the bell. So who would? She’d gone to answer the door as if used to receiving visitors on cold, dark nights on the outskirts of West Bluff. What was so important?
Mason didn’t know if Anthony had a camera on the side door, so he followed quietly, keeping his distance. By the time he’d parked himself behind a tall potted tree in the unlit music room adjoining the side foyer, Jade was deep in conversation with the two men she’d let inside. Big guys, rough-looking. Insulated coveralls, insulated coats, heavy boots.
Weight and hair color could change. Eyeglasses and beards came and went. But both these guys were too tall to be the dead husband. That didn’t mean they didn’t know anything about where he was, though, so Mason listened closely.
“Nathan, you didn’t drive all the way from Keokuk tonight, did you?” Jade said, sounding surprised at what they’d told her so far.
She should be, if she meant Keokuk, Iowa. It wasn’t as if there was a four-lane highway connecting it to West Bluff. What they had was two lanes, unlit, with snow, black ice, and headlight-crazed deer.
Nudged by his buddy, Nathan whipped off his bright orange knitted hat, turning it over and over in his hands. “Sure did, Miz Delarue. Uncle Noah’s been tellin’ me to come here for days, but my wife, she wouldn’t have none of it. But now she’s got herself all worked up over this, and with her expectin’ and all…”
Jade appeared comfortable with their arriving after dark, and apparently they knew someone in common. Mason made a note to ask Anthony who Noah was.
“The first for-sale sign kinda got lost, if you know what I mean,” Nathan continued to explain his plight.
Mason wasn’t sure he caught that accurately, because the guy had a speech impediment, most likely due to the wad of tobacco he kept working. Mason leaned as close as he dared, risking personal eye injury from a tree branch.
“But the owner, he come along and put another one up. He’ll get suspicious if I keep takin’ ’em down. But we got no other place to live, so what’m I ’spose to do? So Uncle Noah, he says you can help.”
“You don’t have a rental agreement?”
“No, ma’am.”
“So, can you? Help?” the other guy said, softer but easier to understand. Then he whipped his hat off, too.
“I believe so,” Jade said.
Mason could tell she was thinking. About what, he didn’t know. How to approach their landlord and talk him out of selling his rental property? Ways to convince a local motel to put the family up until they could find an apartment? Anthony hadn’t relayed any pertinent background on Jade that gave a clue as to how she could be of assistance.
“Thank you, ma’am. I ’preciate it, really I do.”
“Why don’t you two go on into the dining room while I put something together?” Jade said warmly. “There’s a nice fire in there. Mason’ll show you the way.”
Mason froze behind the tree. He just flat out quit breathing. Jade was talking in general terms; she couldn’t know he was there.
She turned and stared straight at him. “Okay, Mason?”
He figured he had about fifteen seconds to come up with an explanation good enough to keep from getting booted out on his ass.
Chapter 8
M ason had been eavesdropping? What was up with that?
The night air was cool and crisp. It was snowing again, big fluffy flakes that fell softly, refreshing the landscape with a fresh coat of white.
Jade pulled up the hood on her cape, tugging it with unnecessary force, a sure sign that Mason was getting to her, and she didn’t mean just the fact that he was still at Mystic Manor. Sure, he was an eavesdropping slug, but, silly her, she hadn’t specified that she wanted someone who didn’t listen in on things that were none of his business. She’d asked for a man who lit her fire, and Mason did that so well, just thinking about the way he looked at her had her sucking in freezing air to cool her insides.
Focus.
She should be thinking ahead to helping Nathan and his family keep their home a little longer, not self-combusting over the clone.
Better yet, she should be watching where she was going. The five-day-old moon was obscured by clouds, leaving only a few dim landscape lights to illuminate the walk to the drive. There were icy patches, even though Henry had shoveled it recently. Her uncle could go for days without being seen, but he seldom missed a chance to do something sweet like this. He didn’t like to make a big deal about helping with the house and property, or packaging up her botanical shipments in the dead of night. Henry pretty much kept to himself.
Jade paused on the walk, taking a moment to face the bluff’s edge, to let the breeze wash over her and blow away the negativity she was harboring over the eavesdropping incident.
Refreshed, she moved on.
The spell she was preparing to do for Nathan didn’t require much in the line of supplies, not for her part. Witchcraft was all about intention and belief and trust. She could buy his family extra time as long as they believed in what she did. But people expected a witch to pull out a wand and cast a magic circle for every little thing, and if they didn’t get what they expected, their negative energy worked against her efforts. So, draped from Jade’s shoulder was her trusty carryall bag, holding an athame, a wand, and a few other items she “needed” to take with her tonight.
Well, everything except her mind. That should have been thinking ahead, forming an ironclad, impossible-to-misunderstand intention, but in spite of every effort to stay clearly focused, a certain sexy eagle photographer kept winging into her thoughts.
And her line of sight. As if she’d conjured him up, she found Mason leaning against the front of the Jeep, shivering in spite of his hat, his coat, and the engine rumbling beneath his butt.
“Want some company?” he asked.
No way he could continue to stay at Mystic Manor, not with clients arriving for the weekend. Having him on the premises made it easier to tuck banishing herbs into his pillowcase, but for what they were paying, her clients expected privacy and discretion with their spells, not an outsider lurking behind potted trees. Mason would have to be gone by Friday afternoon.
Geez, that was tomorrow already. She’d give him until evening.
Jade intended to glare at him, the better to get across the message that he’d done wrong and wasn’t welcome here, but shoot, how was she supposed to look at Pierce Brosnan, even a faux one, and not melt at his feet? Mason was every bit as sexy, in spite of the shivering. Maybe more so, because he was here, in person, someone she could talk to and touch—if she wanted, not that she intended to touch, no, no, that wouldn’t be right at all.
How could she give the cold shoulder to a man who appreciated eagles and put up with weather conditions he hated, just to bring them to life in glossy pictures for thousands to enjoy?
How could she ignore a guy who didn’t press for more information on why she’d been lobbing Tupperware off the bluff—and one marked wi
th a skull and crossbones, at that? Who volunteered his strong right arm to help, and was comfortable enough in his own skin to joke about auditioning for pitching services?
Mason didn’t look the least bit uncomfortable beneath her gaze, so Jade figured she’d failed horribly with the glare. Odd, but if she didn’t know he was a photographer, she would have guessed he’d lean toward a more exciting career, maybe even something dangerous. He just had that look about him, the way he held himself, always so poised and yet ready for more. Anticipating more.
He levered himself away from the Jeep and walked toward her in no apparent hurry, seemingly oblivious to snowflakes accumulating on his dark collar and across his broad shoulders.
She felt like lingering as well, but Nathan and his brother were in their truck, idling in the porte cochère, waiting for her.
“Keokuk’s an hour each way,” Mason said, his voice stronger since he’d had a healthy dose of her tea.
She shouldn’t be analyzing his voice. She should go. Right now. Just get in the Jeep and go.
He cocked his head to one side, seeming concerned about the long drive she had ahead of her. “Maybe more. There could snowy patches on the road. Black ice.”
With a deep breath of frigid air to stiffen her resolve, Jade opened the driver’s door and tossed her bag inside, careful to remain silent until she could trust herself not to gush and give the impression he was welcome to stay.
“I came out to shovel the walk,” he said. “Somebody beat me to it.”
Persistent devil, especially considering how much he hated the cold and snow.
“So I thought I’d warm the Jeep for you.”
See, just one more reason to like him. It had been parked in the unattached garage, but would’ve been freezing just the same.
He stopped in front of her, looking protective and, again, just a little bit fierce. “You don’t know these guys.”
“And you know that how?”
His grin said, Okay, so I was bad. But I admit it, and I’m a helluva cute guy, so you’ll forgive me.
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