Light My Fire

by Jodi Redford

  Aiden stared at the back of Jace’s head as his brother rifled through the glove box of their rented Lincoln Navigator. “What are you doing?”

  “Scavenging.” Jace clicked the compartment shut with a disgusted exhale. “Why can’t anyone accidentally leave behind an envelope stuffed with cash? Or even some good porn. Shit, I’d settle for that.” Looking severely put out, he slumped against the leather seat.

  The perky voice on the GPS unit announced a turn ahead and Aiden flipped on the Navigator’s signal.

  “How much longer?”

  “You have reached your destination,” the GPS chirped.

  Jace grunted. “Guess that answers my question.”

  Aiden pulled into the small parking lot for Fancies, Dana Cooper’s art gallery. The only other vehicle was a beat-up yellow station wagon. He coasted to a stop in the space beside it and shut off the engine. Jace followed him inside the small, red-bricked building. A large painting of frolicking nude fairies hung on the far wall. Below it, a young male dressed entirely in black was busy arranging psychedelically colorful glass frogs on a low table.

  The kid straightened the instant he spotted them, a provocative grin lighting his face. “Well, double my pleasure and double my fun. Anything I can help you boys find?”

  “Yeah. Dana Cooper,” Jace said, beating Aiden to the punch.

  “Sorry, she’s working the festival this weekend.”

  Aiden frowned. “Festival?”

  “You know, the Ren fair. Lords and ladies and knights…” the kid’s gaze traveled leisurely to the crotch of Aiden’s jeans, “…with big swords.”

  Aiden grimaced. Jesus, nothing worse than cheesy sexual innuendo. Especially from a leering dude. “What’s the best way to get there?”

  “Dana drew a map. It’s posted on the front window if you want to copy it down.”

  Snapping his fingers at Jace—who was staring intently at the nude fairies—Aiden strode to the exit.

  “Don’t you two hunks be strangers now.” The kid’s husky laugh trailed them to the door.

  Outside, Aiden snatched the map taped to the window. Dana would probably be ticked about him absconding with it, but tough shit. He didn’t have the patience, or a paper and pen to jot down the information. They hopped into the Navigator and he handed the map to Jace. While his brother punched the address into the GPS, Aiden backed out of the lot and headed for the freeway.

  A companionable silence enveloped the cab of the SUV for the next thirty minutes, until they reached the turnoff for Dixie Highway. Jace slid his mirrored sunglasses off and hooked them over his visor before glancing at Aiden. “I’ve waited over twenty-four hours now for you to explain why the hell you changed your mind about the contract.”

  Aiden reflexively squeezed the steering wheel tighter. “Mom.”

  Apparently he didn’t need to elaborate further because Jace nodded. “The old lady can be mighty persuasive when she wants.”

  “I couldn’t let her down. Or the clan.”

  “Yep, sucks to be you.”

  He tried to detect any bitterness in Jace’s tone but couldn’t read anything beyond his brother’s typical sarcasm. “I’ve been meaning to ask how you feel about the council’s decision to name me Supreme Alpha.”

  Jace shrugged. “Hell, better you than me.”

  Did he mean it? Or was Jace merely putting on a good front?

  “That must be the festival ahead,” Jace said, breaking Aiden from his mental rambling.

  A line of cars clogged the road, all of them with their left-turn signals blinking. He slowed and clicked his indicator on. Crawling along, they finally made it to the head of the line and the traffic controller directed them into the enormous field being used for parking. Large flags that resembled the royal banners medieval knights carried as they charged into battle lined the roadway, flapping festively in the wind. Since the lot was crammed to the gills Aiden grabbed the first available spot and counted himself lucky. By the time they reached the fake castle towers marking the entrance to the fair, he was damn certain he’d sweated off half of his body weight.

  Jace slid him a look and grinned. “Shit, Dana’s gonna catch one look at us and run for the hills.”

  “She’s going to run no matter what, once she finds out who the hell we are.” Aiden crossed to the ticket booth and paid for their passes. He waved off the costumed performer who tried to sucker him into dropping ten bucks for a program.

  “That dude is wearing tights,” Jace grumbled. “What the fuck is the world coming to?”

  “Would you quit checking out the guy’s package and get a move on? We need to find her booth.”

  Other than a low grumble, Jace thankfully kept his yap shut. For two seconds. “Goddamn, get a load of that turkey leg.” His enraptured stare trailed after a chubby court jester gnawing on a huge drumstick.

  Grasping the back of his brother’s tee shirt, Aiden steered Jace forward. They had one purpose for being here and he wasn’t about to let Jace get sidetracked by a five-pound turkey leg. Digging in the rear pocket of his jeans, he removed the map Dana had sketched. Locating her vendor number, he hauled Jace toward Tree Top Lane.

  A strolling minstrel plucked the opening bars of Led Zeppelin’s “Stairway to Heaven” on his lute. Yeah, that was a big hit during the dark ages. Grunting, Aiden scanned the wooden signposts of the adjacent booths. A stiff wind kicked up, rattling the leaves of the nearby maples. A cacophony of scent eddied in the air. Frankincense and patchouli incense. Cinnamon-coated almonds. A whiff of roasted meat. Presiding over all the delectable aromas was something more subtle. An intoxicatingly sweet pheromone that coaxed a flash-fire inside him.

  Slowly, he turned. A woman dressed in a period costume stood outside one of the artist’s huts, talking to an older lady with a wild bush of purple hair. With his supernaturally acute eyesight, he easily detected the frown lines tweaking the narrow bridge between the younger woman’s blonde eyebrows. He battled the strange, overwhelming urge to rush to her side and smooth the small furrow away with his thumb.

  Sunlight streamed through the tree canopy, turning her cascading curls into a river of molten gold. His head and heart pounded and his cock swelled painfully against the fly of his jeans.

  Everything faded to gray. In that moment, fate roared its evil laugh. Because no matter how much this mission was a disaster in the making, he’d never be able to walk away from her.

  “Haddie, for the millionth time, stop worrying.” Fighting off the urge to roll her eyes, Dana rearranged the watercolor print on the outdoor display rack before ducking inside the booth. “The oracle isn’t going to be ticked because I’m choosing to ignore its message.”

  “I’ve been reading tarot for over fifty years, missy. Trust me, the oracle does not like to be ignored.”

  Dana swiveled in time to catch Haddie wagging a finger in her direction. “What’s the worst it can do? Send the ghost of Elvis to my bedside to keep me up all night with his a cappella styling’s of ‘Jail House Rock’?”

  “Ooh, you are really going to regret that suggestion.” Haddie threw her arms skyward and the elaborate brass bangles around her wrists clanged together musically. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She floated from the booth in a swirl of lavender cape.

  “Hey, I have a stockpile of earplugs. I’m covered.” Dana stooped and flipped back the corner of the velvet skirting that hid the storage area beneath the display shelves. She reached for the weatherproof plastic tub that held her spare prints and her boobs inched toward the danger zone. “Oh for Pete’s sake.” Growling, she tugged the burgundy corset firmly in place. “I swear if I had a time machine, I’d travel to the sixteenth century and kick the ass of whoever first envisioned this ridiculous getup.”

  “That’d be a damn shame, because you look beautiful.” The low, husky baritone came out of nowhere, making Dana jump.

  Clamping a hand against her precariously secured bosom, she tipped her gaze in the direction of t
he yummy, whiskey-smooth voice. Holy wowzers. A bona fide Greek god stood in the booth’s entrance. Seriously, he made Adonis look like a pencil-necked pansy.

  Dana moved her attention from the charcoal gray tee shirt clinging to his broad, muscular torso. Roving beyond the stubble darkening his strong jaw, she locked on midnight blue eyes that were a stunning complement to his jet black hair and olive-toned skin. Awareness—hot, heady and sensual—slammed into her, stealing her breath and leaving her dizzy. The sensation was majorly weird.

  Another man sauntered into the booth. Dana blinked. “Oh wow…there’s two of you.” Smooth, Dana. Could you sound more like a moron?

  The differences between the two men were subtle. The newcomer kept his hair longer than his brother’s tidier, close-cropped style and she could just make out a faint scar above his right eyebrow. Other than that, their physiques might as well be a matching set.

  Hmm, wonder if they’re identical in every way. The naughty thought hit her out of the blue, bringing a warm flush to her face. Why am I thinking about strange men’s penises? Giving herself a mental head smack, Dana gestured to the prints arranged on the shelves. “Feel free to browse. If either of you have any questions, just give me a shout.”

  Her focus returned to the tub. Heated whispers sounded behind her but she pretended to tune them out. Still, she sent up a silent prayer that the men were arguing over how many dozen prints they should buy. Dream on, Dana. Smothering a soft sigh, she grabbed four watercolor prints and wedged the plastic tub underneath the drape of velvet before pushing to her feet. Now wasn’t the time to fixate on the dismal state of her finances. There’d be plenty of opportunity for that later—preferably with a gallon of fudge ripple ice cream close by to deaden the pain.

  She swung around and collided with a solid wall of chest. The watercolors fell from her grasp and clunked to the ground. Blinking, she backed up until she bumped into the shelf and stared at the man who’d first walked into the booth. “Uh, call me crazy, but weren’t you standing all the way back there half a second ago?”

  “I’m quick on my feet.”

  “No kidding. You could give Flash Gordon a run for his money.” She bent for the scattered prints the same instant he did and their heads conked together. “Ow.” Grimacing, she rubbed her skull.

  One corner of his mouth lifted in a self-deprecating smile. “Who says I can’t make a great first impression?”

  Despite the fact she was on her hands and knees and in serious danger of flashing her boobs again, she couldn’t help laughing. He joined in with a deep chuckle and started to scoop up the prints.

  “You don’t have to do that.” Anchoring her corset with one hand, she scrabbled for the remaining pictures.

  “Allow me, Dana. It’s the least I can do after bashing into you.”

  “Really, it’s o—” Her words rear-ending each other like a five-car pileup, she gaped at him. “How do you know my name?”

  He stood and she quickly followed suit, scrabbling to her feet. Gripping the prints in one hand, he snatched a creased piece of paper from the rear pocket of his snug, faded jeans. It took a moment to recognize the flyer she’d taped to the window of Fancies. Her eyes narrowed. “Hey, I left that behind for a reason.”

  “I’m sure you did.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest, waiting for him to apologize. He didn’t. Instead, his scrutiny drifted to her plumped-up cleavage. The expression on his ruggedly handsome face turned predatory. For some ridiculous reason, it provoked shivers into playing a game of hopscotch along her spine. He lifted his attention from the neckline of her dress. Desire kindled in the depths of his irises, which were blacker than sin.

  No man had ever looked at her quite like that, like he wanted to eat her alive, and certainly not five minutes after setting eyes on her. Nervously, she licked her lips. “You can set those watercolors in that bin over there.” She pointed to the crate that contained her wood nymph watercolors.

  The stranger dutifully obeyed, giving her a nice view of sculpted muscles shifting beneath his shirt as he carefully settled the prints inside the rack. Dragging her gaze from the distraction of his broad back and tight buns, she glanced toward the other twin and noticed him watching her with an amused grin.

  Damn, busted. She cleared her throat. “Why did you say you were here again?”

  A flurry of wind bullied its way inside the booth, bringing with it a small bounty from the nearby maples. Both men ignored the swirl of scarlet leaves pooling around the scuffed toes of their hiking boots. The nearest brother—the one who kept devouring her with his gaze—stepped forward. A muscle ticced in his jaw. “Jace and I are here about the Drakoni contract.”

  “Drakoni?” Frowning, Dana let her scrutiny ping-pong between the men. “Sorry, I’m terrible at remembering names. And unfortunately all my records are back at the gallery. What did you commission me to paint?”

  Both brothers gave her equally blank looks. The one with the boyishly rumpled hair—Jace—sidled up beside his brother and elbowed him in the ribs. “What the hell is she talking about?”

  Ignoring the question, the other man stared at her intently. With each passing second, his large, muscular frame tensed until he resembled a stone statue. A deep exhale gusted from his chest, shattering the illusion. “Hell. You have no idea why we’re here.”

  A grunt fell from Jace. “Or maybe she just wants us to think that. To throw us off.”

  Dana cocked her head to the side. “Throw you off? From what?”

  Contemplation gleamed in Jace’s eyes. “Claiming our—” The remainder of his statement was muffled behind the firm clamp of his brother’s hand. Silent warning passed between the two men.

  Right about then, unease charted a course through Dana. Just because the brothers were walking poster boys for Hunks-R-Us didn’t mean they didn’t also have a side gig with Psychos Anonymous. God knows, she was a magnet when it came to attracting every freakazoid in the tri-state area.

  As if intuiting her concern, the one brother released his hold on his twin and stepped closer. His smile had a strangely hypnotizing effect. “No, you guessed right. We’re here about commissioning a painting.” He extended his hand. “I’m Aiden Fortune. The ugly one behind me is Jace.”

  Geez, she’d always been a sucker for a man with a sense of humor. And dimples. Despite the paranoid inner voice shrieking at her not to do it, not to fall for his obvious charms and later become a body stuffed in his basement fridge, she grasped his proffered hand. Strong, powerful fingers enclosed hers. An unbidden image of those fingers caressing her skin, rasping over her suddenly erect nipples, zipped through her mind.

  A voice crackled through the fairground’s PA system, announcing that the jousting tournament would be starting in ten minutes. The broadcast provided the perfect impetus to slap her out of her erotic daze. Biting her bottom lip, she broke contact with him and plucked one of her business cards from the small stack on the middle display shelf behind her. She shoved the card at Aiden. “Here. Why don’t you call me at the gallery on Monday, when I won’t be so scatterbrained?” Or horny.

  Bemusement stamped on his face, Aiden accepted the card. He stared at her for a long moment, as if he wanted to say something. Shaking his head, he scanned the card briefly before tucking it in his pocket. “I’ll do that.” He started to turn away only to stop dead still, his attention fused to something in the far corner of the booth. His jaw tightened, a strange tension buzzing from him.

  Baffled by his reaction, she swiveled to see what had captured his consuming focus. Her gaze landed on the print she’d titled The Sacrifice and she inwardly groaned. The painting was one of her best—no denying it—but she still couldn’t figure out what the hell possessed her to use herself for the model. Particularly since she was gloriously, decadently naked and tied to an apple tree while a dragon swooped above her, intent on seizing its prize.

  She returned her attention to Aiden and knew with all certainty he was cata
loging the obvious similarities. Great, why didn’t I give myself a smaller butt?

  Aiden stalked to the watercolor. He crossed his arms over his chest, his body more rigid than a column of marble. “We need to talk about this. Now.”

  “See that card propped there? It explains my inspiration for the scene.” Well, mostly it did. She’d left out the more steamy parts about her dreamtime dragon, the beast responsible for the painting.

  Aiden turned and revealed the annoyance flickering in his eyes. “Very handy, but not what I meant. I was referring to us.”

  Dana blinked. “Us? As in you and me?”

  “And me.” Jace ambled forward. The two brothers exchanged a look, the bizarre tension again crackling in the air.

  The whole afternoon was venturing farther and farther into Twilight Zone territory. She opened her mouth but was cut short by the Bewitched theme song chirping from her pocket. Scrambling for her cell phone, she glanced at the caller ID and saw the number for La Luna, her aunt’s restaurant. Flipping the phone open, she pressed it to her ear. “Hello?” Her forehead scrunching, she listened to her aunt’s frantic, nearly incoherent blabbering on the other end of the line. At the first pause in Emmaline’s diatribe, Dana jumped in. “Calm down. Isn’t there someone who can cover for Pauline?”

  She patiently endured over a minute of hysterical commentary from Emmaline before breaking in again. “Don’t sweat it. I’ll fill in for her. And I’m sure Raul doesn’t look nearly… Really? Who knew they made hot pink fishnets in his size? Okay. Give me five minutes to find someone to watch my booth and pack up for me, and then I’ll head over.”

  Clicking the phone off, she released a frustrated breath. “Look, this is all very weird.” She waved a hand to indicate Aiden and Jace. “But I have to go deal with a cross-dressing chef before my aunt suffers a nervous breakdown.” Ignoring the twins’ incredulous stares, she raced to Haddie’s booth.

  Chapter Three

  “Do you think she really doesn’t know?” Jace stroked his chin. “How is that possible? Her parents signed the contract shortly after her birth. Plenty of time since then to fill her in on her fate.”