Witch in the House

by Jenna McKnight

  “Uh-oh.”

  “What uh-oh?” Mason stared at the splayed contents to see what he’d missed.

  “Jade’s back.”

  Mason began replacing items in the box methodically.

  “Really back. As in she’s in the house.”

  “Some lookout you are.” Mason threw everything back into the hatbox, stuffed it back up on the shelf, and darted for the door. “Time for bed, Goldilocks.”

  “Don’t go out there,” Anthony whispered frantically. He dove deeper into the closet.

  “I’m not staying in here. I’d snore and give myself away.” Or Jade would undress in the closet, he’d whimper, and that’d give him away.

  Mason could have made it out of the room in time, if not for King Kong blocking the door.

  “Shoo,” he whispered, waving his hands.

  The dog didn’t budge, just studied him with an expressionless gaze that could’ve been, Oh, brother, another human for dinner or Hey, I’d better dispose of the idiot snooping through my mistress’s belongings.

  Mason didn’t think Jade would still be angry about the eavesdropping incident, but if she caught him in another compromising position, say, her bedroom, she’d throw him out for sure.

  Unless she found the dog’s teeth wrapped around his arm. Yeah! He could claim that he was in the hall, minding his own business, when the dog grabbed hold of him for no apparent reason and dragged him into her room. He was a huge dog. With big teeth. Not only would Jade buy it, she’d be too upset to suspect a little creative ass-covering.

  “Here, boy. Nice dog. C’mere.” Mason bent down to the dog’s level.

  Man, if the CIA could see him now.

  Jade’s cell phone rang, and she said, “Hi, Daddy,” from a lot closer than he’d expected.

  Mason checked over his shoulder to find the dog had disappeared. As covers went, it hadn’t been a very good story, but it was all he’d had, and now it was gone.

  “Think you’ll make it later this month?” Jade asked, nearing the top of the stairs. In fact, Mason could see the top of her head.

  He dove into the closet.

  Chapter 9

  A nthony huddled beneath a bottom row of Jade’s soft sweaters as Mason barrel-rolled across the floor and crashed into him. He scooted against the wall, giving them more room to hide.

  Mason sucked in his breath and said, “The light.”

  “I unscrewed the bulbs.”

  “Way to go.”

  “Hey, just because I don’t like getting caught in a woman’s closet doesn’t mean I don’t know what to do when I am.”

  They froze as Jade walked in, flicked the switch several times, and muttered a soft curse. They both breathed a sigh of relief that she didn’t think, Hm, what are the chances of two bulbs burning out at the same time? and try tightening them.

  She rummaged through the shelves, found what she wanted, and returned to the well-lit bedroom. Anthony peeked over Mason’s shoulder and through the clothes just long enough to see Jade strip out of her sweater and bra and toss them onto the comforter. Not much left to the imagination. Not that he was interested, but he could tell by the stiff set of Mason’s back that he was all eyes.

  “See anything dangerous?” Anthony whispered, settling back and leaving the show to his partner. “A gun? A knife? Little vials of poison?”

  Mason groaned, and muttered something about smooth skin and perfect breasts.

  “Bet you’re loving this,” Anthony said, more than happy to goad his partner. “If she were that cute bartender you slept with, I’d be loving this.”

  “Oh for the love of—I didn’t sleep with him.”

  “Has she taken off her jeans yet? I’ll bet her naked legs look really long. Is she wearing skimpy little panties?”

  Mason jabbed his elbow backward, connecting with Anthony’s gut, but he was ready for it.

  “I bet she’d look good in high-cut panties.”

  “Have you called him yet?”

  “Who?”

  “The bartender.”

  “Are you kidding? I was so busy keeping an eye on you so you didn’t jump out the window that I never even got to talk to him.”

  “And he was very upset about it.”

  “He was?”

  “I was drinking because Brenda jilted me. He was drinking because you ignored him.”

  “Damn.” Anthony punched Mason in the kidney. “I knew I was right to be mad at you.”

  “So call him.”

  “Move forward.”

  “No. Why?” Mason asked.

  “I want to kick you, and there’s not enough room.”

  “Didn’t I give you his number?”

  “What?”

  “I told him you said he was cute, and he gave it to me.”

  “You told him I said that? Really? What did he say?”

  Mason groaned again and mimed banging his head on the floor. “He gave me his number, idiot.”

  “Where is it?”

  “Will you shut up? All this talking’s ruining the view.”

  Anthony slipped both hands around Mason’s neck and squeezed.

  Mason croaked, “I’ll look for it.”

  She was in one piece, thank God.

  Mason felt like throwing his arms around Jade and hugging her again, and not because she looked tired and was dragging in with her eyes half-open, because neither was true. She looked as fresh and mysterious as ever, and he was prevented from grabbing her and kissing her right this time only by Anthony’s fingers sunk in his windpipe. Damn near killed his erection.

  Smooth skin. High, perfect breasts. Man, oh, man, he could lie here for an hour with this view, if not for Anthony. But when Jade went into her bathroom, Anthony darted out, and after a moment Mason figured he, too, was better off taking his chances at escape.

  King Kong was in the hall again, only this time Mason wasn’t playing his game. He’d nearly slipped sideways past him when the dog lowered his head and came up between his legs. Not a good thing. Mason cupped himself for protection, too late. He ended up in a fetal position on the Oriental runner, with tears in his eyes.

  “Mason?” Jade said from the doorway, sounding confused to find him there. She might have said more, but he wasn’t hearing too well, and through his tears, he saw she’d gotten dressed.

  When he could speak, he said, “I tripped over the dog.”

  “Uh-huh.” She crouched beside him and felt his forehead.

  “That’s not what hurts.”

  “I can see that. But since there’s no dog, I’m suspecting head injury.”

  Mason let go of himself and rolled onto his back so he didn’t look so pathetic, though he still couldn’t straighten his legs. “Maybe you have some wonderful home remedy?”

  Jade’s brow rose, even as her eyes dipped south. “An ice bag?”

  “I was thinking herbs.” Hand-applied, please.

  “I think that was a four-hundred-level course.”

  “I could be your lab rat.”

  “What are you doing up anyway? It’s after three. Don’t tell me you were sleepwalking.”

  Her tone was light, but there was an undercurrent that warned him she wouldn’t buy that overused cliché. No, he’d have to do better.

  “That’d be right out of a one-star movie, wouldn’t it?” he said, buying time to think.

  “Yes. It would.”

  She waited, and he came up with, “I, ah, don’t sleep.”

  “You don’t sleep?”

  “Nope,” he said decisively, invoking another rule of investigative work: Choose a plausible cover and stick to it. “My laundry’s piling up, so I thought I’d look around for a washer and dryer.”

  A smile spread across Jade’s face then, lighting up the whole hall as she sat on the floor beside him, and it was very easy to imagine how wonderful life would be if he deserved that smile.

  “Do you mind it?” she asked.

  “Doing laundry?”

  “
Not sleeping.”

  “You get used to it after a while.”

  “It’s terribly hard on most people’s bodies. Unhealthy, in fact.”

  “I feel fine.”

  She snickered. “Yeah, you look it.”

  “I must be healthy.” He pointed at his cheek. “Look, you can hardly see the cut anymore.”

  She rested her elbow on her thigh, chin on her palm, clearly comfortable as she tipped her head and studied him. “I’ve never known a man with insomnia.”

  “As opposed to women?” he joked, slowly rising until he was cross-legged on the rug, facing her. They had this whole huge house they could sit and visit in, but they stayed right where they were, and it felt intimate because there were no extraneous distractions, just each other.

  “That’s right. It runs in my family.”

  A sense of dread rose up and slammed Mason in the head. Ever cool and composed, though, he said, “Really?” and remembered another rule: Be flexible.

  “Mm-hm,” Jade hummed.

  “Let me guess. You?”

  “Personally, I find it great. I get so much more done than people who sleep all night. Don’t you find that? Sure you do. That’s why you’re trying to do your wash in the middle of the night. And your eagle book—I’m sure you’ll get it done in no time and move on to your next project.”

  Jade seemed overly happy about that, Mason thought.

  “Washer and dryer are at the other end of the hall. Those double doors down there.”

  He’d already found those, of course. Aiming to withdraw more information, any information, he said, “Must be small to fit in there.”

  Jade’s brow arched playfully. “You’re planning on doing the blankets?”

  “Just marveling at the plumbing it took to accomplish that.”

  He shut up while he was ahead. Though he wasn’t sure he was ahead at all. There had to be a cellar somewhere; he still hadn’t a clue how to get to it.

  “Weezy’s son-in-law’s pretty handy,” Jade said. “I’m glad we had this chat.” Meaning she was done sitting in the middle of her hall, entertaining a man until he could walk again. “Because now that I know you don’t sleep, I won’t worry about disturbing you if I knock on your door in the middle of the night.”

  Yes, yes, yes. Mason pictured himself never sleeping again—not at Mystic Manor anyway—and in a good way. First thing in the morning, he was quitting this case. Anthony would understand. Well, no he wouldn’t, but he’d be afraid his recently jilted partner would take to the bottle again if he got all bent out of shape about it, so he’d cut him some slack.

  “UPS finally delivered the wallpaper I’ve been waiting for,” Jade said. “I need to do your bathroom.”

  “No need to knock.”

  “I wouldn’t think of going in without knocking first.”

  Was she grinning? Sure she was. The corner of her mouth was tipped up. Just a little. Enough to qualify as a grin. “Are you flirting with me?”

  Jade jumped to her feet. “How about breakfast? I’m always famished after, ah, a long drive. Let’s go cook up a banquet.”

  “I’m not all that hungry.” Not for food anyway.

  “Oh, but you have to eat something,” Jade said. “I can’t give you bad news on an empty stomach.”

  Mason looked wary. Jade needed to stand firm, to tell him he had to pack up and leave for the weekend, but the words weren’t coming out.

  He had insomnia, too! How perfect was that?

  Her husband had been a light sleeper. Jade remembered tiptoeing around at night so she wouldn’t disturb him. And unplugging the phone after ten o’clock so calls from her mother wouldn’t wake him. Like Mason, Doug usually asked her not to leave when someone interrupted their dinner, but he generally had ulterior, husbandly motives and tried to make her feel guilty for neglecting him. He never once stayed up until she returned.

  This was so different. Tonight, when she’d come in from the long, cold drive and found Mason still up, Jade had felt instantly warm, cozy inside and out, as if she’d finally come home to what she’d always wanted.

  How could something be wrong when it felt this right?

  True, he hadn’t looked too good lying on the floor with his hands between his legs and his knees drawn up to his chest, but the point was, he’d been worried about her when she left, and he was up when she returned.

  And now, poor baby, she was going to reward him by tossing him out into the cold.

  She’d spent the entire drive home staring through whooshing wipers, trying to get up the backbone to ask him to leave for the weekend. Trying to convince herself that the only reason she didn’t want him to go was because, if he stayed, she could keep fresh Banishing Herbs hidden inside his pillow. That’s how she was supposed to feel. But look at him, standing there like a kicked puppy, waiting for the bad news.

  How could asking him to go be right when it felt this wrong?

  She’d relit the knob candle in the kitchen on her way in. She was tempted to go back down and snuff it out. But she couldn’t. She needed a moment, needed space between them to lessen the attraction, so instead of giving him the bad news right off, she said, “Just let me check my messages first,” and ducked into her office.

  Mason followed slowly. “The phone rang a lot right after you left.”

  Jade stared at her answering machine. “Six messages. That can’t be good.” She punched the PLAY button.

  “Ms. Delarue, this is Fred Smith. I heard you’re having a blizzard up there. Just hang on to my deposit, and we’ll reschedule when it’s warmer.”

  Jade punched ERASE. She should be ticked; she wasn’t. “Good news, Mason. No bad news.”

  “I don’t have to leave?”

  “What are you, psychic?” He wasn’t more than a foot behind her. She turned slowly, studying him to see whether he was guessing or knew more than she’d given him credit for.

  The machine waited for no man and started on the next message. “Mrs. Delarue, this is Tricia Sherwood from West Bluff News. I’m calling to do a follow-up story on your husband. I’d like to schedule a time—”

  Jade punched ERASE, noticing Mason’s attention was now riveted on her machine.

  “Mrs. Delarue, this is Tricia—”

  ERASE. Jade used her vintage knife pen to jot Tricia Sherwood’s name on a piece of plain brown paper; she’d do something special with that later.

  “Mrs. Delarue—”

  ERASE.

  “Mrs.—”

  ERASE.

  “You’re married?”

  Mason sounded surprised and just a little bit worried. After all, Jade recalled, he’d gotten familiar with her in the driveway. A nice guy might be worried about the mystery husband coming home and knocking out a few teeth.

  She debated whether to tell him her husband was away on business, but if Mason talked to anyone or read the newspaper, he’d soon know the truth anyway.

  “Widowed,” she said.

  It was the first time she’d said it to someone who hadn’t heard about the infamous West Bluff Widows, the first time she’d said it out loud since it became official. She had mixed feelings. Bad that it had to happen, of course; relieved that the slate was clear and she could move forward. Especially since Mason was standing close enough for her to feel his body heat, and if she were still married, she’d have no business feeling the things she was feeling now.

  Lust for him, sure; look at him—what was not to lust over?

  Like, definitely. He was easy to be around, and always had a twinkle in his eyes for her, which didn’t hurt.

  Attraction, oh yeah. But she’d covered that ground already.

  “Sorry to hear that.” Mason stepped away, rubbing the back of his neck like a man who’d stuck his foot in his mouth and didn’t quite know how to extricate it gracefully. She had to hand it to him, though. He tried. “Not recently, I hope. I mean, Anthony and I practically barged in here, and if this isn’t a good time, we can go.”
<
br />   Jade’s heart skipped a beat. “Back to Florida?”

  “No, we’d have to stay around here.”

  Damn. Couldn’t have been that easy, could it?

  “The book’s going slower than I thought it would. I don’t have the right pictures yet. More sunshine would be nice.”

  “Might as well stay here then.”

  Maybe if she let him think it was recent, he’d quit looking at her like a hungry wolf. Maybe then she could get a rein on her own libido.

  “Doug’s been gone six years,” popped out before she could stop herself.

  Surprise flickered across Mason’s face, while Jade warred with herself over the implications of what she’d just said.

  Why the heck does he have to look exactly like I specified?

  It wasn’t that she had to have a man who looked like Pierce Brosnan, but the fact that he did tied his arrival directly to her commingled spells, reminding her she’d made a mistake, and he wasn’t fair game.

  “The media’s still interested after all this time?” he asked.

  “It’s a yearly thing.” Jade closed her eyes and tried to picture him short, fat, and bald. It didn’t work; she still liked him. She hadn’t seen every quality she’d asked for yet, but so far he was right on the mark.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  Why the heck does he have to be so considerate?

  Maybe if she did something to repulse him. Or offend him.

  “Yearly? Like an anniversary? What was he, mayor or something important like that?”

  Or scare him.

  “No, nothing like that.” Frustrated, determined, she blew out a breath and plunged ahead. “They just want to know where I buried the body.”

  Chapter 10

  M ystic Manor? Say, we’re sort of in the same business. Tricia Sherwood. You’re working on a story about eagles, I’m working on a story about the owner.”

  The twentysomething reporter wore a black beret over short red hair, Anthony noted. He toyed with the idea of introducing her to Mason, just to get him out of his mood, especially when she asked if he was available.