A Taste of Magic (7 page)

“Look, it was just for a few minutes while I ran up to see my friend Maddie. It seemed simpler to leave the key here because my hands were full, that’s all.”

Nate frowned. “That’s not a good enough reason. It’s too easy to feel safe in a locked building. You don’t know all of your neighbors, and you don’t know who they might have coming to see them. Trust me on this.”

“This woman, will she be okay?”

“Physically, probably. Mentally? Who knows. It depends what type of help she gets and how strong she is. This job …” He broke off and shook his head. “It’s rough sometimes.”

“Do you want to come in? I can make coffee. We can talk.” My heart reacted to the stiff way he stood, the washed out color in his face. If a cup of coffee and some conversation would ease his tension, I was all too happy to offer.

He hesitated, and I thought he was going to say no. But then he said, “Yeah. That would be nice. Let me go get out of uniform and I’ll be right back.” He started to step away but said, “Lock your door. I’ll knock.”

Once inside, I locked up as he’d requested and went to the kitchen. I barely had the coffee brewing when there was a light rap on my door. Even though I knew it was Nate, I checked through the peephole just to be sure. I couldn’t stop thinking about the woman he’d told me about. Sliding the chain off, I said, “Come in.”

“Please tell me you didn’t open this door without seeing who it was.”

“I looked. And I saw it was you,” I said softly. “Come on, you need to relax.”

He exhaled. “I’m sorry. It usually takes me awhile to clear my head after a bad night. I don’t mean to be taking it out on you.”

“I can’t imagine the things you’ve seen.”

He followed me into the living room and sat on the couch, his long legs spread out in front of him. I curled up on one of my ugly chairs. This was the first time I’d seen him in anything other than his uniform or sweats. He had jeans on, along with a soft-looking flannel shirt the color of a worn teddy bear. His eyes were a dark jade.

More than beat, he appeared empty—as if what he’d witnessed had reached down inside of him and jarred everything loose. I wondered how often he had bad nights. After all, we didn’t live in small-town USA. And then I wondered how long it would take for the pieces to settle again. For him to have that amazing smile I’d seen so often in such a short time frame.

“Why do you keep doing it?”

“Because I can’t do anything else,” he replied.

“What do you mean?”

He cleared his throat, and I didn’t think he was going to answer, but then he said, “When I was a kid, my mother was attacked. A police officer saved her life. That’s why I do it, to help keep people whole.” And then, in an obvious attempt to change the subject, he asked, “How long have you lived here?”

“Almost a year.” Everything in me softened as I looked at him. Somehow, I’d met a really cool guy. In today’s world, that’s not so easy to do.

A slight grin tipped the corners of his lips, and I was happy for it. “Really? That long?” He chuckled. “I wouldn’t have guessed.”

His teasing tone vanquished any embarrassment I might have felt. “I haven’t unpacked much yet.”

“How come?”

Such a simple question. Unfortunately, I didn’t have a simple answer. The beeping of the coffeemaker saved me. “How do you take your coffee?”

“Black.”

“I thought I was the only person to drink coffee at night,” I said when I returned to the living room. Handing him his cup, I had the impossible desire to brush my fingers across his cheek. To wipe the strain away from his expression. To somehow offer him comfort.

“I drink it all hours of the day.” Accepting the cup, he patted the cushion next to him. “Sit. Let’s talk.”

He didn’t have to ask me twice. I sat down and angled my body toward his. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Anything other than what I did tonight. Tell me about you.”

“Me? There’s not much to tell. I’m divorced and I work in a bakery. Oh, and I suck at follow-through. That pretty much sums it up.” Well, that and I was the descendent of a gypsy. And I could spell people with baked goods. But really, he didn’t need to know that.

“Follow-through? What do you mean?”

“Take a look around. I start crafts, but I don’t finish them. I start unpacking, yet it’s never really done. I make myself promises and rarely keep them. I’m sort of stuck between here and where I want to be.”

His body tensed. Not in a negative way, but in a
I’m-really-paying-attention-to-you
way. “Where do you want to be?”

“I don’t know. That’s probably why I’m stuck.” I laughed, trying to lighten the suddenly serious moment. All the focus on me was a little uncomfortable. “Happy, I guess.”

“Why aren’t you happy?” He smelled so good, and all I wanted to do was crawl onto him and lay my head down on his chest. Partially to give him comfort, but I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t to gain a bit of comfort myself.

Instead, I set my cup down and twisted my hands together. “Long story. Let’s talk about something else. What about you? How do you know Grandma Verda?”

Good humor zipped into his eyes, chasing out the desolation of earlier. “I thought you were going to ask me about follow-through. I excel at follow-through.” He scooted closer to me, put his cup on the table, and leaned in. And in that second, everything changed. The atmosphere in the room became charged. Tickles of awareness dotted my skin. I couldn’t breathe, he was so close.

“Do you know how sexy you are, Elizabeth?”

“No,” I whispered, my belly doing all sorts of weird flipflops.

“You are. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since I found you hanging out your window.”

“Not my finest moment.”

“Nah, I remember it as being an excellent moment.”

And then, his hand was on my chin, tipping it upward. His eyes changed again, from humor to something else. Desire?

His lips touched mine, softly at first, as if testing the waters. I sighed, allowed myself to fall forward slightly. His other arm wove around my back, pulling me tight to him.

“I want to taste you.” His rough and tumble voice made my heart skip a beat in anticipation.

“Okay,” I said.

His hand moved from my chin to my cheek, guiding my face closer to his. The flip-flopping in my belly disappeared, replaced by searing heat that slowly inched from nerve to nerve, muscle to muscle, until my entire body flushed with warmth and I shivered from the pleasure of it.

Yes, this was exactly what I wanted.

What I craved.

What I’d wished for.

His mouth took mine as if we’d kissed before. No hesitation, no doubt. Just stark desire and needy want. It had been so long since a man touched me like this, kissed me like this, that I thought I would explode. I moaned as his lips left mine, afraid what had barely started was already over.

I shouldn’t have worried.

“Come here,” Nate said, pulling me onto his lap.

“I’m here.”

For once, I did what I wanted.
I
took
his
mouth this time. Tasting, exploring on my own, while he held me, one hand on my back, the other in my hair. My tongue slipped into his warm mouth, and I tasted coffee, heat, and yes, desire. I wanted him to touch me. No matter how fast this was, whether it made sense or not, I acted on my want. I pulled back and slid my sweater off, tossing it on the ground.

“Liz,” Nate groaned, as I began unbuttoning his shirt.

“I want to feel your skin against me. Help me,” I whispered. “Please.”

“Please?”

“Yes, please.”

In mere seconds, his shirt met mine on the ground, and he unhooked my bra and dropped that, too. His mouth came back to mine, and he took control. My nipples hardened beneath the stroking of his fingers, and all I wanted was Nate. Just Nate. Every coherent thought left my brain.

Trailing kisses from my lips to my cheek to my earlobe, he said, “You’re beautiful.”

“No, you are,” I argued.

A small chuckle. “No more talking.”

“Okay, no more talking.”

I moaned as his mouth found my breasts. Arching back, I closed my eyes and just experienced the moment, the hot flash of his tongue as it brushed over each nipple, the suction of his mouth as he brought them to hard peaks, and the press of his erection through his jeans, pushing against me, making me even wetter. I had never wanted a man as quickly as I’d wanted this man.

“You need to lie down,” Nate muttered. “Right now.”

“Right now?”

“Yes.” He stood up, holding my weight easily, and turned, laying me down on the couch. Straddling me, he leaned over and began kissing my breasts again, moving down to my belly, leaving a trail of wet fire wherever his mouth touched.

He unsnapped my jeans, then looked at me. “Is this okay?”

“Yes.” My belly quivered again. “Hell, yes.”

I lifted my hips so he could pull my jeans down my legs, and those, too, met the ever-growing pile of clothes on the floor.

“You’re wet,” he groaned, his hand inside my pan ties, rubbing, feeling, teasing me. His fingers stroked, starting an entirely new burn, one I hadn’t felt for far too long.

I pushed his head closer. “Kiss me again.”

His mouth came back to mine. His fingers entered me, thrusting deep inside. With a gasp, I raised my hips. I wanted more than his fingers, but before I could pull away long enough to say those words, the burning grew hotter, and my mind numbed to anything but sensation.

It traveled through me in a hot rush, setting off tiny explosions as it went from the core of my body. I ground against his hand, needing to find the release only Nate could give me.

“That’s right, Liz, come on, baby,” he whispered, moving his fingers to the rhythm of my movements, to the sound of my moans. I pulled his face back to mine. I wanted my tongue in his mouth when I came. At that moment, I would have swallowed him whole if I could.

I whimpered, pushed against his hand again, and suddenly everything exploded in a burst of light, sensation, and pleasure. “Oh my,” I murmured, riding the crest, still moving my hips against him as my entire body melted from the release, from the heat.

Nate kept his hand there, but laid his head on my chest, playing with my breast with his other hand. “This should feel odd, but it doesn’t,” he said quietly. “Are you good?”

“I’m good. I’m very good.” Though, I must admit, I was now a bit shy. Crazy, but there you have it. “I feel kind of bad, though. What did you get from this?”

“More than you know. This was exactly what I needed to-night. Thank you.”

“Whenever you feel that particular need, let me know,” I laughed. A few minutes passed, with neither of us speaking. A little while later, I asked, “Are you doing better now?”

Lifting his head, he kissed me slowly. “Yes. You could say I’m a new man.”

I stroked his cheek, like I had wanted to earlier, and soaked in his gaze. “I’m glad.”

“Hey, Elizabeth?”

“Hmm?”

“I don’t think you should say you suck at follow-through anymore,” Nate said with a chuckle.

“I don’t know. You were the follow-through that time.”

Another laugh, and then his head came back to my chest. I closed my eyes, enjoyed the weight of him, the feel of his body against mine, the solidity of it, and simply relaxed.

Tired, I yawned, and began drifting off. Then, the banana muffins came to mind, followed by the brownies, and I had to wonder if the night’s magic was real or simply the result of Miranda’s gypsy magic.

At the moment, I wasn’t sure I cared.

Chapter Six

“Sit up, back straight, legs even, knees out. Pull your arms slightly to the back and slowly push the weights in toward you, but not too close. See how my feet are flat on the floor? This is the posture you want when you’re using this machine,” said Kevin, my hunky trainer, as he demonstrated.

It looked simple enough. Even better, it wasn’t hard on the eyes watching him work out. With his rippled physique, chocolate brown eyes, tawny complexion, and almost-to-his-shoulder chestnut hair, Kevin had it going on. In fact, there were plenty of muscle-bound gym guys at Steel Bodies. There were also numerous women with, well, yeah—steel bodies. I fit in about as well as a carrot in a box of donuts. Well, I wasn’t the carrot, but the analogy is still valid.

I couldn’t help but wonder what my mother thought when she came in to get the gift certificate. The gym was close to A Taste of Magic, and my mother was well aware of my innate laziness, so it probably seemed a perfect fit. But it wasn’t a polished and pretty gym. The people there were definitely serious about fitness.

“Your turn, Elizabeth,” Kevin said. He adjusted the machine and waited for me to hop on. As if.

“Could you show me one more time? I’m not exactly sure I understand how to use it.”

He smiled, and his dimples appeared again. I loved dimples.

“It’s easy. I’ll help you.” He put his hand on my hip and pushed me toward the machine. Hesitantly, I slid on the seat and tried to take the position he’d just shown me.

“This can’t be right. It feels as if my shoulders are going to pop out of joint,” I said, my arms stretched behind me.

“You’re holding them too far back.” He gently repositioned everything. “There, like this. Slowly push forward. There you go. See, you’re doing great.” He moved directly in front of the machine. “We’re only going to start with two sets of twelve reps. It’ll be a breeze.”

“You have no idea how completely wrong you are.” I pushed the weights in and then slowly released them. The muscles in my arms began to burn, but it wasn’t really unpleasant. At least not at first. After I’d done a few, I could definitely tell the difference, and yeah, it pretty much sucked.

Why did I need hot-looking arms anyway? I lived in Chicago, so I didn’t have twelve months of short-sleeve weather to contend with. I wasn’t really concerned about my arms. I needed to focus on my midsection, flatten my tummy, tighten up my rear, and pull in the hips. Kevin said we’d focus on a core workout, so why the arms? “How many more?”

“Five.”

“Really? I’ve done that many?”

“I told you! Just a few more and you’ll have the first set of repetitions done. Doesn’t it feel great? Do you want me to add more weight for the second set?”

“No,” I huffed. “Make it lighter.”

“That’s twelve. Rest for a second, drink some water if you need to, and we’ll do the last set.”

“Make it lighter,” I said in between gulps of water. I was going to die. I didn’t realize how much of a wimp I was. Pitiful, I know, but facts are facts. “Please. My arms are going to fall off.”

“Good! That’s how it’s supposed to feel.”

I didn’t think he looked so hot anymore. He was torturing me, and he was smiling while he did so. No way would I come back. Forget it. It wasn’t worth it. Not for anything.

But then I thought of Nate. A week later and my body still buzzed with the memory. Maybe a few more sessions wouldn’t hurt. I hadn’t seen him again since that night. The fact that I hadn’t, well, it worried me slightly—but not too much. He did work odd hours, after all.

The rest of the training session went pretty much the same way. By the end of the two hours, I couldn’t decide if I wanted to slap Kevin or thank him. Because, while I was certainly exhausted, I also felt really good. Though, I stunk. And the mirrors surrounding the entire damn gym didn’t make me appreciate my appearance any.

“This was the first half of your workout. Tomorrow, same time, good for you? If so, we’ll go over the second half,” said Kevin the torturer, as he bent over to pick up his water bottle. I had never seen butt cheeks as firm as his. Forget what I said earlier, the man was definitely hot. Working out eight hours a day will do that, I guess.

“Elizabeth?”

Oh yeah, I was supposed to answer him, not stare at his drool-inducing body. Silly me.

“First half? You mean I’ll be doing twice this much every day? I can’t do that. You’re crazy.”

“Stop saying you can’t do something. That’s the number one rule here. You can do anything, Elizabeth! But no, you’ll have two different sets of workouts, so you can switch things around. Then, after six weeks or so, we’ll change them again.”

“Why would we do this?” His enthusiasm should annoy me. The intelligent part of my brain knew this, yet it was weirdly endearing. As if he’d become my personal cheerleader.

He laughed. “Because our bodies fall into a habit, and once they’re used to something, they get lazy. They find ways to cheat so your muscles don’t get everything out of it they should.” He tapped his finger to his temple. “But we’re smarter than that.”

“I see.” I didn’t really see, but he was the expert, not me. “Well, I can’t come in tomorrow morning. I work until five.”

“What time do you go in?” Kevin asked.

“Early. Why?”

“We open at six. You could get your workout in before the day started. What a great way to wake up, Elizabeth!”

Yeah, right. Sure, that would happen. Before coffee. “I don’t think so, Kev.”

He sighed. “That’s too bad. I won’t be here tomorrow evening. Let’s see who we can hook you up with. When can you be here?”

“Um. I don’t know. Six, I guess?”

“That’s Ellen or Joy. Have you met either one?”

I didn’t really want to meet a new trainer. I hated this so much anyway, I figured I should at least enjoy looking at my torturer. “No, but what about lunchtime? Can you see me at eleven? And can we make it shorter? Like an hour or so?”

“That will work, and yeah, you’ll have a heavy and a light day, so that’s perfect.”

“Okay. I’ll see you then. Thank you for being patient with me.” This was odd. I almost felt as if we’d been on a date, because let’s face it, we’d just gone through a fairly intimate process. All the groaning, sweating, and swearing created an interesting bond I hadn’t expected.

“We’ll weigh and measure you tomorrow, so wear something more formfitting than those baggy sweats. You don’t want to add extra inches on because of too-loose clothes.”

“I don’t think so,” I said, aiming for the door. He was nice and all, but wow, a little too overwhelming for the first day. I wanted a shower. And I was ravenous. I’d planned on a healthy salad for lunch, but now I wanted a huge burger, complete with all the trimmings, and maybe some dessert. Screw salads.

“Elizabeth! We need to know where you start so we can celebrate each accomplishment! It’s exciting,” Kevin called after me.

Sure, exciting. I didn’t bother replying as I made my way to my car. This exercise stuff hurt. My muscles were already curling up into tight little knots. I wondered if I could wish myself to a better body. Yes, I liked that idea. Smiling, I decided it would be the perfect experiment when I got home. I mean, I couldn’t bake a salad, now could I?

What is it they say about best-laid plans? On my way home, Alice called crying so hard I couldn’t begin to make any sense of what she said. So now, instead of standing in the shower contemplating what words to use for the steel body spell, I was pulling into the parking lot of my sister’s apartment complex.

Alice didn’t get upset often. Well, wait a minute. She gets upset, but usually it’s the fearsome, get-out-of-my-way-before-I-clobber-you type. Nobody was as scary as my little sister when she was pissed off. But crying hysterically? No, that had been my niche for the last year, not hers. Luckily, I seemed to be growing out of that, which made not only me, but everyone around me, all that much happier.

Climbing the last flight of stairs to her fourth floor apartment wasn’t easy. My legs almost gave out. My entire body hated me. Tomorrow would be fun, adding insult to injury.

I arrived at Alice’s door and found it hanging open. This on its own didn’t alarm me. Though, in hindsight, it probably should have. Walking into her apartment scared the crap out of me. My eyes took in the mess, and even though it was right there, right in front of me, I could still hardly believe it.

My sister’s place was normally perfect. Anyone from
Home Beautiful
could literally stop by at any moment with a camera and snap amazing pictures. Well, not at
that
moment. But that’s what terrified me.

Broken glass pieces were strewn all over the dark wooden floor of her entryway. The cloudy green of her drinking glasses, the head off her white-as-snow porcelain cat, other various pottery pieces, and her black dishware—all were smashed in a trail from the entry to the kitchen to the dining room.

“Alice?” I yelled. “I’m here, honey. Where are you?”

Carefully, I stepped over the chunks and splinters of glass, every now and then crushing a piece beneath my feet, and moved to her bedroom. Maybe she was in there.

She wasn’t. I shoved my trembling hands into my coat pockets. The mess hadn’t come this far. What ever had happened hadn’t touched her bedroom, as it was as neat as a pin.

“Alice! You’re scaring me. Where are you?” I yelled again. I knew it was useless; she wasn’t there. I could tell I stood in an empty apartment. You get a specific type of feeling when you’re alone.

Grabbing my cell phone out of my purse, I tried to ignore the panic building. I clicked her cell number in my directory. It rang, not only through the phone, but from somewhere inside the apartment. I set my phone on her bed and followed the melodic sound of ringing. It took me to the living room, and I had to step over more broken glass as I made my way to the other side.

My eyes darted around, trying to find it.
There
. Her little blue phone was sitting on an empty bric-a-brac shelf above her leather couch.

I clicked the
END
button on the phone. My mind sifted through the possibilities, and I didn’t like any of them. Most people thought they knew exactly how they’d react in situations like this, but it was as if my mind had shut down and I had to remind myself to call 911. I pushed the numbers in as fast as I could and hit the
SEND
key.

“911. What is the nature of your emergency?” the operator’s voice came through the line.

“My sister is missing. Well, maybe she isn’t. I guess I don’t know. But her apartment door is open and there’s broken stuff all over, and she’s not here.” I rambled as I tried to make sense of an unimaginable situation. I stopped, took a breath. She was fine. There was probably a perfectly reasonable explanation.

“What’s your name?” the operator asked calmly. “Elizabeth. Elizabeth Stevens.”

“Elizabeth, are you in danger?”

“What? Me? No.”

“You’re safe?” she questioned again.

“Yes! I’m safe. I’m worried about my sister.”

“Is your sister a child, Elizabeth? And what is the address, please?” the operator asked, enunciating each word slowly.

“No, she’s an adult. And, I don’t know. She’s in the Vale Apartments on… oh hell, what is the name of her street.” I closed my eyes and tried to envision the street sign. “I thought you could tell by the number I called from,” I snapped, my mind blank.

“Are you on a cell phone?”

“Shit. Yes. Wait—she’s on Edmonton Street. The Vale Apartments on Edmonton, number 4521.”

“We’ll send a car over. Stay on the line with me until the officers get there.”

“But I’m safe. No one is here. I have a friend who’s on the police force. I don’t know if this is his jurisdiction or not, or even if he’s on duty today, but can you contact him? His name is Nate Sutherland. Please have him come.”

“One moment. I am not putting you on hold. Do not hang up.”

I paced the living room, my heart pounding like crazy, my feet crunching on bits of glass. “Where are you, Alice?” I murmured.

“Elizabeth? Did you say something to me?”

“No. I’m sorry. Is Nate coming? Please tell me Nate is coming,” I blubbered.

“I don’t know. I’ll try to get a hold of him for you, but I can’t promise anything. The important thing is for you to stay calm until the officers arrive.”

Stay calm? I inhaled deeply and tried to stop trembling. “It’s not working.”

“As soon as the officers get there, they’ll need you to be calm enough to take your statement so they can find your sister. What is your sister’s name?”

“Alice. Alice Raymond.”

“That’s a nice name. Is she younger than you?”

“Look, I know you’re trying to make me feel better, and I appreciate it, but I don’t need to have a conversation right now. I need to find my sister. But there’s no one here, so there’s no reason to stay on the phone. I’m going to disconnect and wait for the police.” I clicked the end button and set my sister’s phone back down on the bric-a-brac shelf.