Witch in the House

by Jenna McKnight

  His grin was pure light. “If I was honeymooning with you, you’d be on my list from top to bottom.”

  It was corny; she loved it anyway. Given that she didn’t pull away with contempt, he nuzzled her neck, nipped at her ear, palmed her breast until she almost, almost, forgot what they were missing.

  “I can’t believe I was supposed to wish for condoms.”

  He murmured a distracted, “Hmm?” and conducted damage control. “Would you prefer to make love in front of a roaring fire or next to a tropical waterfall?”

  Make love. She didn’t know if it was just a line for him, but as surprising as a smack in the head, she realized it hit closer to the mark for her than “hooked on him.”

  While her momentary silence gave her time to think and opened her eyes, it had the opposite effect on Mason. He tugged her bra down around her waist and began to lavish attention on her breasts so fast the room started to spin. If they were going to stop, it had to be now.

  “Mason?” When she pulled back, he reluctantly let her put some space between them.

  Then all of a sudden, he snapped his fingers. “Hey! Anthony. I’ll be right back.”

  Suddenly standing alone, chilled and confused and self-conscious, Jade tugged her bra up. “Ah, Mason, I’m kind of nervous as it is—”

  He charged up the back stairs.

  Jade threw her hands in the air. “I’m not ready for an audience!”

  Chapter 14

  M ason barged into Anthony’s room, relieved to find him there. He’d been making himself scarce lately, with no explanation. At the moment, who the hell cared?

  “Condom. Now.”

  Anthony slouched on both chairs by the table in front of the window, his ass in one, his sock feet on the other. “Hold on,” he said into his cell, laying it on the table as he got up. Already prepared for this from the earlier phone call, he slapped two packages into Mason’s open hand. “At least you haven’t lost your head completely.”

  “Two? That all you have?”

  “Out.” Anthony splayed a hand on Mason’s chest, shoved him through the door, and slammed it. Just as quickly, he opened it again. “Your resignation still is not accepted.”

  “Just two?”

  “For God’s sake, man, make do.”

  Mason flew to the top of the stairs, then instead of running right down, he went to his room and brushed his teeth. He thought about shaving, too, but decided if he tried that in his condition, he’d show up with more toilet paper on his face than on the roll, so he skipped it. While he was locking his Glock in a camera bag for the night, he heard voices downstairs. More company.

  “No. No, no, no,” he said, a heartfelt prayer to stop anything from interrupting his plans. His and Jade’s; she was as ready for this as he. But as he descended the back stairs, his hopes fell as he heard a woman in the kitchen with Jade. Not Annie.

  “Sorry about the short notice, Jade. I kind of got caught short, what with Elisha having twins in the middle of the night. Deborah isn’t due for three more weeks, but you know how babies are.”

  “You want the usual?”

  “Better make it extra. Mm, something sure smells good.”

  “Don’t touch it!”

  Mason entered the kitchen just as Jade descended on the range with a vengeance. Though they’d barely registered, he’d smelled the soup and seen the two tall candles when they’d first come in. The candles lasted about two more seconds. Jade pinched out the red taper with an angry twist, broke it in half, and threw it into the sink, where it landed with a thunk. The white candle followed, along with a few muttered words he couldn’t make out.

  “Bad candles?” was all Mason could think to say.

  “Bad Annie. I’ll explain later.” Jade looked up at him with eyes that begged him to understand a sudden change in plans. “Look, I need to get some oils together for Madeline. She’s our midwife. A terrific part of our community.”

  Madeline was about forty, with a huge green bag slung crosswise over her shoulder, red hair and freckles, and a sweet angelic look that probably reassured most mothers-to-be. That didn’t last any longer than the candles, though. She was staring at the sink, and from her crestfallen look, she was either going to cry or pass out. Maybe both.

  “I’m so sorry. Here I’ve gone and ruined your dinner…”

  Jade put her arm around her. “Madeline, no, it’s not you.”

  “…with Pierce Brosnan,” she wailed. “If only I’d called first.”

  “We weren’t going to eat this.”

  “Oh, sure, you’re just cooking it for the aroma.” Madeline didn’t look convinced, but no tears fell. “Smells divine.”

  “Trust me, you don’t want it. Annie’s not as good with herbs as she thinks she is, if you know what I mean. And he’s not Pierce Brosnan.”

  Madeline blinked. “He’s not?”

  “He’s Mason Kincaid.”

  “Oh. Right.” Madeline winked.

  “I’ll get those oils.”

  Jade steered Madeline across the room, and as smoothly as running water, handed her off to Mason. He wasn’t sure if it was her idea or his.

  “Madeline,” he said gently, sliding his arm around her shoulders, “why don’t we wait in the study? It’s cozy in there.”

  Jade graced him with a grateful smile, her eyes warm with the promise of an amorous night ahead. Maybe even an adventurous one. They’d need sustenance when they were through.

  “And, Mason? Whatever you do, don’t touch that soup.”

  “You sure? Madeline’s right—it does smell divine.”

  “Not even if you’re starving.”

  Mason steered Madeline into the study, all the while wondering what was wrong with the soup. Annie wouldn’t slip in some of those bad herbs, would she? Nah, she had no reason to harm him, and she sure wouldn’t harm Jade.

  Madeline regained her composure. She brushed off Mason’s help, pulled the ottoman close, and burrowed her ample hips into the upholstered chair. “What do you think that’s all about? The soup, I mean.”

  “I have no idea. Didn’t smell like she ruined it, did it?”

  “No, sir, it didn’t.”

  As long as he had a few minutes to kill, Mason lit the logs, stacked and waiting, in the fireplace. He’d get a nice blaze going. Turn off the lights after Madeline left. He’d even let Jade light candles, which he knew she’d want to do. It’d gotten so that didn’t bother him so much anymore. Didn’t remind him of his bad day at the church at all.

  “So. You’re a midwife,” he said, once the kindling caught.

  “Yessir, fifteen years now.”

  Two ‘sirs’ in a row. Mason smiled and tried to look more approachable.

  “Hannibal to Clarksville. I’ve been buying botanicals from Jade for the last ten. Oh, I know what you’re thinking. Ten years ago, she was barely legal. Well, in my defense, I came here originally to talk to her mother, and I was a little apprehensive—even a little miffed, if you want to know the truth—when she referred me down the genetic chain. So to speak.”

  Approachable must have worked; she kept going.

  “I mean, really, how could a teenager know enough about birthing and herbs to help me, when I’d been doing it for five years? Let me tell you, though, after ten minutes, I was all ears. Yessir, Jade’s one remarkable woman. Say, you’d better sit down. Mason, is it?” She winked again. “You look about ready to drop.”

  Jade sent Madeline on her way with the herbs and oils she used to help mothers ease new life into this world, thinking that maybe, just maybe, she herself was getting closer. Not that she’d consider having a child if Mason weren’t sticking around for the long haul, but maybe just closer.

  In the meantime, she’d enjoy the duration without guilt. She wasn’t worried about whether he’d respect her in the morning. She already had that. He might not have liked her going off with Noah’s nephews, but he’d squared his shoulders and accepted that she was a person who followed her
beliefs.

  He didn’t want to get married. Fine. Knowing what she knew, she wasn’t about to talk him into it!

  Funny that Courtney’s talisman wasn’t working. If Jade had seen less of anyone lately, it was Anthony.

  She found Mason stretched out in front of the fire, his hair dark against a cream-colored throw pillow, his back to the door. While she felt like leaning against the jamb and watching him sleep for the next, oh, five minutes, she was more concerned about the fire. She didn’t leave wood sitting around in fireplaces waiting to be lit, and he certainly hadn’t stepped out in his sock feet to get some.

  Which left Annie. At the very least, she’d stacked it, maybe even lit it.

  She’d also cast a spell in the kitchen—the lit candles were solid evidence—but Jade wasn’t worried about Annie’s candle-only spells. Generally, those worked well for her. Not that she didn’t have the best of intentions with other spells, but she just didn’t seem to have the right focus, didn’t think things through start to finish, didn’t take into account human nature and all the repercussions that came with it. Frequent end result: disaster.

  The fire called for countermeasures, no matter who’d lit it.

  Jade stepped outside for a handful of cut branches before padding across the carpet. Kneeling on her heels in front of the fire, tossing in a stick with each phrase, she said,

  “By the power of one, this spell’s begun.

  By the power of two,

  I clear my home through and through.

  By the power of three, I erase any lingering energy.

  By the power of four, Annie’s workings are out the door.

  By the power of five, only my spells survive.

  By the power of six, I quickly apply this fix.”

  There. A nice, romantic fire throwing off some heat, warming the room. The better to remove their clothes by.

  Jade stripped off her sweater, deciding with uncharacteristic wild abandon that she didn’t care where it landed. There was only one thing she cared about right now.

  “Mason?” Kneeling between him and the fire, she laid her hand on his arm and ran it up over his broad shoulder. “Mase?”

  He snored and said, “Mm?” in the same breath. He’d gotten to sleep without any herbs after all.

  Well, darn.

  She splayed her fingers through his hair, in case he was only snoozing lightly and would wake up without a good swift kick in the butt.

  He murmured again and tugged her down until she lay in the circle of his arms, protected in the hollow of his body. The fire was hot on her face, hot on her skin. As was Mason behind her.

  She wasn’t tired. Sleep was a waste of time. But she could lie here with him for a few minutes until he was sound asleep again. She could do that for him. He needed it.

  A catnap here, with him, didn’t sound so bad. She gave in and burrowed her head into a comfortable spot on his outstretched arm.

  Warm tropical water. Neutral buoyancy. Full cylinder of air. Clear mask.

  Mason awoke slowly, certain that he was in heaven. He savored something even better: the feel of Jade in his arms, the promise and excitement of making slow, passionate love, the thrill of every sigh he’d elicit from her…

  He ran his hand along her body, hip to neck, startled to full alert when a phone rang in the distance, and he discovered he wasn’t in the Caribbean. He still had Jade in his arms, though, and she wasn’t fully dressed.

  Silky skin. Silky black bra.

  Okay, better than diving—a real eye-opener, that one.

  She’d had her sweater on when Madeline was here, hadn’t she? He’d remember otherwise. He’d dreamed otherwise, but that’s all it had been, a dream. Which was about to come true from the feel of things.

  Did Anthony have a camera in here?

  Ah, hell, he was covered; he’d tried to resign.

  He stuck his nose in Jade’s hair, deep in a mass of curls that had gone unruly overnight, and breathed coconut. No wonder he’d been in Aruba-land. He snuggled closer, pressing himself against her.

  God, let me wake her like she’s never been awakened before.

  Jade sighed and hummed. Her whole body rippled as she woke gently, stretching head to toe. Mason pressed closer, wanting to let her take her time, impatient to get naked together.

  Should he get up and stir the fire, which had burned down to a mass of coals and half a log? Grab the throw off the sofa? That’d be good, in case Jade was concerned Weezy would pop in and find them going at it.

  Going at it. That didn’t sound nice. Well, it did, but not the way he usually meant it.

  Had she bewitched him? Did he care?

  Not the way she was snuggling against him now. There was barely enough room to slip his hand between them and undo his jeans.

  Jade hummed again, a little more alert now. She rolled over onto her back, then continued around until they were face-to-face. Crying shame her bra came unhooked while she was turning around. It hadn’t required much help on his part at all. Her breasts might be cold all exposed like that, though, so he covered one with his hand.

  “Mm,” she said, arching her back, filling his palm. “About time you woke up.”

  “You’ve been waiting for me?”

  “You know it. Oh. My. Gosh.”

  He leaned back a bit, just enough to see that her eyes were open wide, and she was staring over his shoulder at the window. “Snowing again?” What better reason to stay here all day?

  “It’s morning.”

  “Sure is.” He put his hand in the small of her back and scooted her closer until she could feel that his body knew it was time to get up, too.

  “It’s morning,” she repeated, as if a wondrous miracle had occurred. That or he didn’t understand her idea of disaster. “I slept all night.”

  “I’ll get the throw.” He would have, too, if she hadn’t clamped a hand on his arm to stop him.

  “You don’t understand. It’s morning.”

  “Happens every day.” He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers, kissing her until she was soft and breathless. “Tell me you don’t have anything against making love when the sun’s up.”

  She focused on him then, and a slow smile spread across her face. “Why would I have something against that?”

  “If you’re worried about Weezy coming in, I can carry you up to the bedroom.”

  “The door’s closed.”

  “You make love in here so often you have a signal?”

  “No, goof,” she responded to his teasing. “Weezy won’t come in when the door’s closed because I meet with clients in here.”

  Leaving lots of good, witchy vibes in the room, he hoped. “Anthony came through for us. Let me throw another log on the fire, and we can wake up real slow.”

  He was up and had his hand on the lid of the log box before she could say, “It’s just for looks. I don’t keep wood inside.”

  He pulled out two logs.

  “Annie,” she said.

  “Yeah, you mentioned her last night. Remind me to thank her.”

  “Remind me to kill her.”

  He tossed the logs onto the coals, and when he had the fire crackling and blazing again, he turned to find Jade wrapped in the soft cream-colored throw.

  “You look like a burrito.”

  “You like burritos?”

  “I devour them. Wanna see?”

  “Counting on it, big guy.”

  This time he wasn’t lying to himself. This time that was what she really said. And as he knelt beside her, prepared to go slow and make the morning last, she lifted the edges of the throw and showed him that while he’d been building a fire in the fireplace, she’d been building one here, for him.

  Her skin glistened from head to toe, so golden perfect in the light from the flames, which were nothing compared to the flames licking his insides. He ripped off his clothes, sweater to his socks, nothing between them finally except unspoken promises.

  Jade pulled him dow
n beside her.

  He thought she’d meet his energy with a shy, feminine reserve to remind him that it had been a long time, and he should go slow, but she opened her arms and turned her face to meet him and looked at him as if she’d been waiting for him her whole life. As if he were the only man she could possibly be with. And in that moment, he knew it was the same for him. One door closes; another opens. He’d been saved from a disastrous marriage so he could be here, now, with this woman, who was quickly, inexplicably, becoming his everything.

  He thought about telling her that he thought he loved her. Good sense prevailed.

  A woman didn’t want to hear “I love you” ten days into a relationship that had begun a mere twenty-four hours after his almost-wedding to someone else, even if it hadn’t happened. It would be justifiable cause to mistrust the depth of his feelings.

  A woman like Jade didn’t want to hear “I love you” from a man with secrets, who eventually was going to have to answer for every goddamn thing he said. When the time came, he didn’t want that picked apart, picked to death.

  A woman would be justifiably skeptical if a man said it for the first time when they were making love for the first time. It would seem false, as if he thought he had to cajole his way into her panties.

  He’d keep this to himself for a while.

  “I need you,” he whispered against her lips, again and again, hoping she wouldn’t take it for less than it was, because he’d never needed anyone as much as he did her. Not just today. Not just until the stakeout was over. But forever.

  “I’m here,” she answered in kind, responding to his words, rippling against him, around him, every time he said it. Nearly purring like a cat.

  He could feel Jade’s primal urgency, her need for him, as she wrapped her legs around his hips and pulled him closer, until he was nearly too mindless to remember a condom, but he did, and he put just enough space between them to take care of that before Jade tightened her legs around him again and pulled him home.

  It was too fast. He wanted better for her, to take care of her, give her what she needed, make it special, and she’d just driven him dangerously close to the limits of his control.