Fairytale (6 page)

“No.”

When she wasn’t looking at him, his
equilibrium seemed to function just fine. “Now how can you be so
sure? You haven’t even told me your name.”

She shook her head slowly, her raven hair
falling over her face. “What does it matter? The class is full.”
She started to turn away.

And he felt an inexplicable urgency not to
let her go. “Wait a minute,” he said, and she stopped. “Look, you
never know when someone will drop out. Give me your name. Your
phone number...”

She lifted her gaze to his, and he went
tongue-tied all over again, and was forced to let his words trail
off.

“I know I’ve seen you before...somewhere,” he
whispered.

She narrowed those gleaming black eyes on
him, and this time he got the feeling it was she who couldn’t look
away. He felt her try, then surrender. She stared into his eyes,
and then a tiny frown appeared between her dark brows, and she
stared harder. Adam experienced the most peculiar sensation
of...
invasion.

And then her eyes widened.

Adam snapped his fingers and pointed at her.
“Aha! You recognize me, too, don’t you?”

She shook her head, taking a single backward
step. “No.”

“You do so. I can see it in your eyes. So
come on, tell me, where did we meet?”

She closed her eyes, lowered her head. “It
can’t be...”

“Gee, was it that bad?” He dipped his head in
an effort to see her downturned face, and tried to inject a little
lightness, because frankly the woman looked as if she’d seen a
ghost. “It
was
that bad? Hmm, maybe I’m better off not
remembering.”

“I have to go.”

“Oh, come on. Give me another chance, huh?
Isn’t there a rule somewhere that says you can’t blame a guy for
stuff he doesn’t even remember?”

She shook her head, turned toward the door.
.

“Okay, what if I can find a way to make room
for you in the class?” Damn, what made him say that?

She went still, her back to him. And Adam had
no idea why he felt such an incredible longing to go to her, to
touch her. It was powerful stuff. Made him think of that damned
text he’d just been reading to the students.

“I’ve...I’ve changed my mind,” she said
softly, her voice a little hoarse.

And it hit him then, clear as day, that she
was lying to him. She wanted
something,
all right, but
taking his class wasn’t it. No doubt in his mind. Though how he
knew that, he still wasn’t sure. What he did know was that nothing
was more dangerous than a beautiful, dishonest woman. Especially
one who looked the way she did. She was probably ruthless to the
bone. Deadly to him. He felt her subtle threat right to his soul.
But he felt this sudden, inexplicable allure, too.

Sirens and rocks, he reminded himself.

And even as he was nodding in agreement with
his mind’s silent warnings, his body was moving toward her. His
hands were closing on her shoulders. “Tell me how you know me,” he
said softly. “It’s gonna drive me nuts if I can’t remember.”

“I can’t,” she said as her chin fell to her
chest.

It was a whisper, so low he barely caught it.
Something wasn’t right here, and his curiosity rose up to challenge
his wariness. It didn’t put a dent in his attraction to this
strange, familiar woman, though. “Maybe if you’d just tell me who
you are...”

She turned to look up at him once more, shook
her head from side to side, sparkling moisture adding a sheen to
her eyes.

“Are those tears?” he asked her, running the
tip of his thumb over her dampened cheek as his stomach clenched
oddly at the sight of her crying. “Look, if there’s something
wrong, maybe I can—”

She lifted her hand, laid it gently upon his
as he touched her face, and stared so deeply into his eyes, he felt
his world begin to tilt on its axis. Very slowly, he trailed his
fingertips down the side of her face, tracing the curve of her
cheekbone, and the hollow beneath it, and the line of her jaw. And
she closed her eyes, and he felt the hand upon his tremble.

And then she jerked away, eyes flying wide.
“No,” she whispered, and backed away as if his touch burned her.
Then even more softly she said it again. “No. You’ll be far better
off if you stay away from me, Adam Reid.” She turned and ran out of
the room. And though she seemed agitated, desperate to escape, Adam
later couldn’t recall hearing her footfalls when she raced down the
hall. Which was odd, because footsteps in that hallway tended to
echo nonstop.

Him!
My God, it was him!

Brigit ran all the way to her car, but when
she tried to fit her keys to the lock, she dropped them. And then
she just stood there, fighting to control her suddenly rapid
breathing. Her hands vibrated, and she braced them on the warm
metal of the car, arms rigid, head lowering between them. She tried
for a deep, steady breath but it became an open-mouthed gasp. Her
heart hammered. Her pulse thundered in her ears.

This wasn’t possible!

But it had happened. Only moments ago, she’d
looked into the eyes of the man she’d dreamed about, on and off,
for as long as she could remember. Always the same dream. It never
changed, only grew longer, more intense. Her feelings about it had
changed, though. They’d matured into something completely
different. She used to look through the mists and see a troubled
man, and she’d want to comfort him. But with the years, she’d seen
so much more. Her dreams of him revealed a tortured man. One in
more pain than any human should have to bear. And more. A virile
man, with enough passion in his eyes to burn her alive. A man in
need...of her. In every way a man could need a woman.

All of that had been there, visible in his
eyes, in those dreams Brigit had always had. Dreams where the
fictional Maire had whispered that he was her fate.

God, what did it all mean?

Those same things had been in his eyes again,
just now, when they’d met hers up there in that classroom.

He needed her. And he didn’t even know
it.

Worse yet, she hadn’t come to him to help
him. She’d come to hurt him even more than he’d already been
hurt.

God, what was happening? Had that lifelong
dream of hers been some kind of premonition? Was there any such
thing?

The very idea terrified her, so she put it
from her mind and tried to focus on simple things. Immediate
things. Crouching down to recover the keys. The dirt and gravel she
scraped up along with them. Getting the door open. Adjusting the
visor against the brilliant, late summer sunlight and slipping on
her dark glasses. Starting the motor.

She drove down the steep inclines of the
university area’s streets, then turned and headed for the Commons.
By the time she’d parked and left the car, she was telling herself
that there had to be a way out of this mess. There had to be. She
and Raze hadn’t come this far to have it all ruined for them
now.

This was maddening! She wanted to stand in
the middle of the sidewalk and scream at the top of her lungs! She
wanted to tug at her hair and spin in rapid circles until she fell
to the ground from dizziness! She wanted to smash something!

What was she going to do?

She couldn’t go through with it. Not now that
she’d seen the man. Adam. His name was Adam Reid. His eyes were the
deep, glittering blue of a midnight sea under a harvest moon, the
dark, bottomless blue of sapphires, and when she’d looked into them
she’d seen his very soul.

No. She wouldn’t do it to him. She told
herself that again and again as she stifled her maddening
frustration and walked the last couple of blocks to the Commons.
Then she paused, and stood still for a moment, eyes closed, head
tilted slightly back. She listened, and she sniffed the air,
waiting for the magic of this small strip to get to her, to calm
her.

A hundred feet away, a jazz band played, and
the saxophone solo wafted straight to heaven. When summer sighed,
its warm breath brought the scents of fresh-baked doughnuts,
because she was standing near the bakery, and more subtly, the
scents of flowers. Violets and hyacinth.

That was better. Brigit opened her eyes, a
little calmer now, a little less likely to smash the first
breakable object she got her hands on out of sheer frustration. It
wouldn’t do. She had a reputation in this small college town. Among
the merchants, she was liked and respected for her innovative ideas
and determination to succeed.

Among the students, she was admired and
sought after for long heart-to-hearts and advice. The town’s
residents saw her as a success story. A young single woman caring
for her aging father, running a successful business, and doing both
with ease. They called her a good example. An inspiration.

She’d fooled them all, hadn’t she? No one who
looked at her would see an orphan, much less a wild thing of the
streets. No one would see an accomplished criminal, a master art
forger who’d sold her soul to get where she was today. No one would
see the wanton that lived inside. The feelings that burned in her
sometimes late at night. The ones she doused and drowned and
suffocated, only to have them return to haunt her over and over.
The ones she’d never confessed to anyone. Not even Raze.

The ones instigated by those dreams of the
man with the pain and the passion in his eyes. But she saw them.
Her dreams of that man had grown up over the years. Now, when she
dreamed of him, she went to him. And he looked up into her eyes and
he knew her. She knew he did. He’d slowly get to his feet, and he’d
reach for her, and she’d go slowly, willingly into his arms,
tilting her head up for his kiss. Never a timid kiss. His mouth
would cover hers, and his tongue would plunder, and his body would
send silent messages to hers. He’d set
fire to
her blood as
he kissed her. And in the blink of an eye, she’d see them naked,
clinging to one another in a frenzy of lovemaking so intense it
left her weak. She’d wake from those dreams breathless, shivering
and damp with sweat. And because the dreams kept coming, more often
and more potent all the time, she knew the wanton inside her must
be growing stronger and more restless.

Sister Mary Agnes would be appalled if she
knew about those dreams. It was times like this that made Brigit
glad her twin sister was only part of the
Fairytale,
and not
a real woman. Certainly not the fair angel she’d become in Brigit’s
mind. The living, breathing image of feminine perfection. Of
goodness.

Or if she were real, thank goodness she
didn’t know what kind of woman Brigit had become.

But she tamped that thought down, too, and
moved forward, and thought about how stupid it had been to dress in
faded jeans and a crop top in order to try to fit in at the
university. To pass as a student. The scents of flowers grew
stronger and more varied as she approached her place—
her
place,
the little flower shop called Akasha which she had
bought, which she
owned.
She smelled daffodils and
narcissus.

To Brigit the mingled aromas were the smell
of peace, of security, of happiness. She even managed a small smile
and picked up the pace. Sun glinted from the glass walls of the
little greenhouse, which projected from the rear of the narrow
brick building like a house’s back porch.

The spell shattered to bits, though, when she
reached the front door and saw the man sitting on the step. He wore
a suit and a tie, but he was filth in human form. He was a
nightmare from the past. He was the embodiment of her many sins,
finally come to demand their wages.

“Out to lunch, Brigit? Well, I’m glad you’re
back. I’ve been waiting.”

“Zaslow. You said you’d give me until
tomorrow,” she whispered, glancing up and down the walk at
passersby, feeling as guilty as if they could tell at a glance why
this man was here, what he wanted, what she’d done. Who she really
was underneath the civilized facade. A wild thing.

That other part of herself was one Brigit
thought she’d buried a long time ago. She was the one who’d lived
on the streets with Raze, who’d learned to pick pockets with the
stealth of a cat when the need arose. Or to spend fifty cents in a
grocery store, and leave the place with fifty dollars’ worth of
food, and who’d done it without compunction if it was what it took
to stay alive. She could steal from the cleverest, and fight with
the dirtiest, and do it better than anyone. That was the other side
of Brigit. The side she tried so hard to pretend no longer existed.
The side without inhibitions or fears.

“I changed my mind,” Zaslow said, bringing
her back to the present as he got to his feet. Stepping aside, he
nodded toward the door. Zaslow was a big man. Barrel-chested and
broad, but not flabby. Intimidating.

There was little choice. Brigit fished her
key from her pocket and unlocked the shop. As she stepped inside
the chimes above the door tinkled a magical welcome, and the
countless other sets hanging from every possible appendage followed
their example. The smells of hundreds of plants embraced her, as
they always did. But the usual, soothing effects were nowhere
within reach. She felt the filth of the man’s presence soiling the
sunlit air around her, and the smell of her own fear overpowered
the calming aromas of the plants.

She fought for calm as she walked behind the
counter, instinctively wanting something solid between them. She
nudged her glasses up higher on her nose. Placing her palms flat on
the cool marble surface, she met his interested gaze on the other
side, and she dipped down deep in search of courage before she
spoke.

“You can’t make me do this.”

“I can and I will.”

She’d always known he was evil. Men like him
were a breed apart from most inhabitants of the planet. They were
hollow inside. Empty. Without a soul. It was all right there in his
eyes. She couldn’t look into those eyes for more than a few
seconds. So much evil there, and more than that. There was
certainty, confidence. He was convinced she would do exactly as
he’d ordered her to do. But she couldn’t do it...not anymore. Not
to Adam Reid.