Blame It on the Moon

by Shara Lanel

  Marsha quickly got Brad out of the way by sending him to the backroom to search for their special evening entertainment. Then she cornered Kit by the checkout. “What is it? What’s happened?”

  Kit blushed when she caught Marsha thinking about her friend’s nipples sticking out like dials on a radio, but her thoughts quickly switched to Brad in the backroom and what kind of video he would select.

  Kit laughed, partially at Marsha’s expression and partially at her scattered thoughts. “Nothing’s happened,” she said innocently.

  “Oh, spill, before Brad gets back. It’s that guy, right? The evil man that wants to take over your store?”

  “The evil man with the most to-die-for ass on the planet!” Both women sighed in rapture at just the thought. “He wants me to come over for dinner after I close up.”

  “Over where?”

  “Next door, to the pub.”

  “But it’s not open yet.”

  Kit waggled her eyebrows. “That’s the point.” She paused and bit her lip. “I think.” Could Haden have such raunchy fantasies about every woman he met? Maybe he wasn’t really that into her.

  “He wants you,” Marsha said positively. “I mean, who wouldn’t?”

  “Hah! If I’m so wanted, why am I thirty and unmarried?”

  “By choice, girl, and don’t you forget it.”

  It was by choice for Marsha, maybe. She’d been happy with Brad for two years, but she’d told him point blank that she’d never marry him. That was who she was, but it was different with Kit. She’d hoped to marry and have a man to help shoulder the bills and the yard work, someone to keep her warm, even hot, at night. Instead she had a small house with a backyard that luckily had no need for mowing, and she had her own business. By most women’s standards, she was considered a success. By her own, she was a dismal failure, and she’d made that assessment even before the whole mind-reading curse.

  Marsha patted her shoulder. “I know you want more out of life, but you can’t just hole up waiting for it. So go for this guy, have fun, and maybe he’ll be the one.” It was funny to hear her friend talk like that, almost sentimentally, but she knew Marsha empathized with her, even if their goals weren’t the same. That’s what friends did for each other: kept their eyes on the other person’s goals in case they ever lost sight.

  Kit felt like she lost sight of her own goals the minute she stepped out of her car each morning and read someone else’s thoughts. Her days just grew more and more confusing, more diffuse. All she focused on now was keeping the video store in the black so that she could make her house payments. Not really a life, that.

  Marsha greeted Brad as he left the backroom and peeked at his selection. Kit picked up the thought, Hmm, so he went with the bondage, huh? before the couple moved toward her. They’d picked a nice romantic comedy to complement the “adult” film. It was hard to get Marsha to blush, but she did blush as Kit scanned the title into the computer. Kit just smiled and told them to have a fun evening.

  “Oh, we will. And you do too!”

  Around ten-thirty, things slowed to an interminable crawl at the store. No customers came in. Moulin Rouge played on the monitors, and Kit stared at dreamy Ewan MacGregor out of habit. What should she say to Haden? How should she act? She wished she’d have time to go home and take a shower first. She’d at least freshen up in the bathroom before knocking on the wall. She put all the rental returns away in record time, not worrying about precise rows and even stacks, but still the time crawled. Then, at five to eleven, a single man wandered into the store.

  Damn! She’d been just about to lock the door. Instead she smiled and turned off Moulin Rouge as a hint for him to make his choice quickly and leave. She pushed the return box under the window slot and surreptitiously began counting the money in the cash register.

  The customer was an older gentleman in a long overcoat that had seen better days. She caught bits and pieces of his thoughts, but Kit didn’t really sew them together because she was too preoccupied with her upcoming date.

  Finally, she couldn’t stand it any longer. She approached the man. “Can I help you find something in particular?”

  It was then she read his one clear thought: Take the money and get out.

  Sweat broke out under Kit’s arms and breasts. Her breathing sped up, though she tried to keep calm, tried not to show fear. He could still change his mind. He hadn’t made a threat yet. Just back away.

  She took two steps. But don’t go to the register. Don’t make it easy. So she crossed the store to the wall closest to Haden and knocked as she pretended to straighten PlayStation games. But she didn’t do the standard knock. She did three short, three long, three short. SOS in Morse code. Who knew if Haden even knew Morse code? It was a long shot, but she hoped he’d find it odd enough to investigate.

  She turned back to the man and smiled nervously. His right hand was lost in the deep pocket of his overcoat, his thoughts on the shape and texture of the old revolver hidden there. He’d inherited it from his father. It wasn’t loaded.

  Thank God!

  But she’s so small. I could hit her in the head with it if I have to. I won’t have to. Just show her the gun, get the money, and get out. Will it be enough? No. He’d have to do this twenty times for it to be enough. A bigger target, maybe, but a bigger target would be better protected. No, several little targets.

  Do it now, chicken shit, before anyone comes peeking through the windows.

  Kit froze. If she moved toward the phone, she’d also be moving toward the register. If she moved toward the storage room where the other extension was, she’d be out of sight, which could make her more vulnerable and give easy access to the register.

  “Ma’am?” The man’s voice cracked a bit. He cleared his throat.

  “Yes?”

  “Could you look something up for me?”

  “What would that be?”

  “Um…” He scratched his head with the hand that wasn’t caressing the gun. “What year was Citizen Kane made?”

  “Oh, let me find the box for you.” She walked to the C’s, which placed her farther from the counter. The man followed her, closing the distance.

  Blame It on the Moon

  Chapter Three

  Why had Kit tapped SOS on the wall? Was she joking? Haden glanced at his watch. It was five after eleven. She couldn’t be closed up that fast. He stood near the wall connecting his pub to the video store and listened. A man’s voice asked a question, and Kit’s voice betrayed her tension.

  And she’d tapped SOS. Shit.

  Haden dashed outside and passed the store windows in seconds. Inside, Kit stood behind the counter across from a man in an overcoat. She looked distressed, but he couldn’t tell what was going on until he opened the front door. Then the scent of sweat and fear accosted him. Not only Kit’s fear, but the man’s fear. Beads of sweat glistened on his brow as he fiddled with his jacket pocket. When the bell tinkled above the door, the man looked up, and his gray eyes widened.

  “The store’s closed,” he said, his voice was scratchy like a man who’d smoked too many packs during his lifetime.

  Kit’s eyes had widened, too, but with relief. He could see the tremors running through her hands. They sat on top of the open money drawer. She let out a whoosh of breath. Haden walked right up to the counter, knowing that his size would intimidate, not to mention the look on his face. He’d been told that when he got that look on his face, it could frighten the most hardened criminal into straight behavior. He focused his most fiery expression on this grizzled man. What had Kit so frazzled? Something about this man was not right.

  “Kit, do you need some help closing up?”

  Like a spell had been broken, she slammed the money drawer closed.

  The stranger blinked. “I told you I have a gun.”

  “So what?” She shook her shoulders as if sloughing off her previous fear. Then she snatched up the phone and dialed 9-1-1.

  Oh, shit. “What’s goin
g on, Kit?” Haden tried to keep his tone even, but he was feeling a bit panicky. Police might ask questions, delve into his background. At the very least, news of a robbery would be really bad publicity for the shopping center right before the grand opening of his pub.

  He heard Kit disconnect the call with her finger before it even rang once, but she still held the receiver to her ear. “Yes, this is an emergency. I’d like to report an armed robbery.”

  The man’s panic was palpable. It tasted nasty on Haden’s tongue. He darted in a wide circle around Haden, lifting up the pocket of his jacket. Haden glimpsed the outline of the gun. He could tackle him. A bullet wouldn’t kill him, but it would hurt plenty. He should tackle him, hand him over to the police. He deserved it for scaring Kit like this, but the man had clearly given up on the robbery. If Haden let him be, he’d disappear, and the police wouldn’t be involved.

  The stranger pushed on the glass, tripped on the doorjamb, then broke into a full-blown run down the sidewalk. For a moment he pictured himself in his wolf form flying down the sidewalk, attacking the man, and ripping flesh from his ankle. Haden’s nails bit into his palms as his primal urges fought with his rational mind. If only he could give into the wolf! He was God’s cosmic joke ‑‑ a monster with supernatural strength and agility, too afraid of the police to act when needed. He was a coward, a fucking coward, so it was easier to stare at the windows rather than turn and face Kit.

  “You could have stopped him,” she said. He looked at her finally. She was still holding her finger on the phone.

  “You could have called the police.” He took a deep breath, trying to rein in his anger at the would-be thief and at himself. Mostly at himself. Kit’s scent helped calm him. It was familiar now, though he’d only known her a few days, and it turned his focus to other things, like whether the stranger had spoiled their dinner plans.

  “How do you know I didn’t?”

  He gestured to the finger Kit had used to disconnect the call. It hadn’t moved.

  “Well, you didn’t want me to.” She blinked a moment, then gasped, letting her finger fall from the phone. The dial tone burst out of the receiver.

  Haden narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean by that?”

  “Nothing.” She glanced at the cash register, at the wall, at the door. “You just looked like…I don’t know. He was harmless. I don’t think the gun was loaded.”

  “Did you even see a gun?”

  Finally she looked at him again. “He waved it for a minute.”

  Haden shook his head. “Then why didn’t you just give him the money? Whatever’s in that drawer isn’t worth your life, is it?”

  “I wasn’t really scared.”

  “Yes, you were.”

  She set the receiver back in the cradle with shaky hands and took a deep breath. “Yes, I was. Can you lock the front door, please?”

  He went over and turned the deadbolt and slipped the top lock in place. “How about your backdoor?”

  “That’s locked, and the alarm is set. I always leave it that way, since I usually go out the front.”

  “It was damn foolish to challenge him that way, even with me standing here. I wouldn’t have been able to stop a bullet.”

  “He wasn’t going to shoot anyone,” Kit insisted, as if she had a crystal ball. “He was just feeling desperate. His daughter is sick, and he has bills to pay.”

  “He told you that?” She’d taken the time to chat with the guy?

  She hesitated and glanced beyond his shoulder. Her scent shifted. She was about to tell him a lie. “Yes.”

  Was she making up the story to justify letting the man escape? Haden shook his head. If she wanted to believe the man had a reason for threatening her life, he wouldn’t disillusion her.

  He worked at ignoring the ridiculing voice in his head, the one that laughed sarcastically at his feeble attempt to protect Kit. Anyone walking into the store at the right time would’ve surprised the man enough to give up his game. Haden had had nothing to do with it, really, and to salt the wound, he’d let him get away. He didn’t deserve Kit or any other woman. Involving her in his life would end badly. Either she’d end up hurt when she found out his secrets, or worse, she’d end up dead.

  Well, maybe she’d changed her mind. “Are you still up for dinner?”

  Relief filled Kit’s eyes. “Oh, yes…but will you stay with me while I close out everything? I’m still a bit shaky.”

  “Sure thing.” At least he could do that without screwing up.

  * * * * *

  Kit pulled the money drawer from its nest after shutting down the computer, sucking in deep breaths and ordering her clamoring heart to slow down. She flipped on the answering machine, then carried the drawer to the back of the store. She was extremely conscious of Haden following behind her, silent, strong, with roiling emotions indicated by jumbled images in his head. The blonde woman had been in his thoughts for a moment, but was quickly replaced by an empty bed, king-size, then a dingy jail cell. Then a flash of Kit’s ass as she walked in front of him. She would’ve liked him to linger and expand on that one, but then he went back to picturing the robber as he trotted across the parking lot.

  Shoving open the door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY with her shoulder, Kitty gratefully made way for Haden, no matter what his state of mind. It didn’t matter that she knew the thief’s gun had had no bullets; she was still terrified that he would return. And it wasn’t even about the money ‑‑ though she needed every cent of it ‑‑ it was about the violation. A needy man could ask her for money and she’d give it, but taking it by force, that was something else altogether.

  Haden remained silent as Kit counted the cash and locked it up in the small floor safe. She’d do the deposit in the morning. She didn’t feel like risking it tonight, no matter that the bank was only a few doors down.

  She found that she liked Haden’s silence. He was still thinking, of course. That was something no one in the human race seemed able to stop themselves from doing, but since his thoughts came to her as pictures, and most of those pictures had to do with beating the strange man to a bloody pulp to protect her, she felt comforted. Some of the images had to do with flashing blue lights and Haden locked up in handcuffs. Memories? Fear? The outcome of beating the man to a bloody pulp? Kit couldn’t tell, but she was also determined not to pry. It wasn’t right to invade his privacy. And she certainly didn’t want to mention her gift/curse this early in the relationship, if ever. So she let the images float around her brain and mix with her own scattered thoughts, while she concentrated on the evening paperwork.

  Finally, she locked the account ledgers in her desk drawer and faced the stewing man.

  Haden dragged himself away from his thoughts and smiled gently. “Ready? I don’t know about you, but I’m starved.”

  “Hmm, I think my stomach’s calm enough now to eat.” They stood at the same time, and their elbows touched in the small space that was crowded with boxes of inventory and bathroom supplies. Kitty felt a zap of arousal, and suddenly, she found herself anticipating the evening again. “Can we get into the pub through the back?”

  “Yep.” Haden reached into his front pocket and pulled out his store key. “Ready when you are.”

  Haden exited first, so she could reset the alarm and relock the door. Then they walked the few short feet to the pub’s rear entrance. He opened the door and gallantly waited for Kit to enter before he followed her inside.

  “Would you like the grand tour?”

  “I’d love it.” Kit’s voice came out huskily because she could feel the heat from his body, just behind her in the dark delivery area. For a moment she didn’t move, allowing him to take a step closer, to actually touch her back. He slid his hand up her arm, warming every inch of skin, stopping at her shoulder. She listened to his breathing close to her ear as her heart accelerated. He paused, too ‑‑ tempted, she thought. Then he stepped around her.

  “Follow me.” They left behind stacked crates and empty tras
hcans. “As you see, this is the kitchen.” A stainless steel stove, two sinks, a freezer, dishwasher, and cabinets filled the space lit by half the bank of fluorescent lights. One door to the right was open and gave Kit a peek of brimming pantry shelves. The other door was closed, but she guessed it led to an office area. She’d worked in her share of restaurants before she bought her store, and the layout was always similar.

  “Very nice. Looks squeaky clean and professional.”

  “But hopefully from this weekend on, it will look busy and messy.” He pictured the scene of his grand opening in his mind.

  “Not too messy. I will not accept a new roach population moving in.”

  He grinned. “You’d have no qualms about calling the health department, would you?”

  “None at all.”

  “Hah! Well, I’ll be sure to not give you cause.”

  Placing his hand on the small of Kit’s back, he guided her through swinging doors into a space fronted by a long counter and backed by shelves stocked with glasses and bottles of all shapes and sizes. Heat from his palm sizzled up her spine, as if he were an energy healer and she the patient. Her mind filled with an image of Haden’s hand sliding lower and cupping her ass, admiring its curve and give, sliding lower still, pushing into the hot space between her thighs, curving his fingertips up and pressing into the dampness…

  Haden’s thoughts easily morphed into Kit’s fantasies until she couldn’t tell which were which.

  “The bar.” Haden's voice caught, and he cleared his throat. “Can I get you a drink, madam?”

  “Oui, monsieur. What’s the house specialty?” There was so much electricity in the air that Kit could barely breathe. She bit her lip and willed her body to remain calm. It didn’t want to. It was sensitized to every breath of air, every change in temperature, and it ached down low, longing to be touched and filled, and not just by questing fingers.