Malcolm and Ives 02 - Trouble With Air and Magic (34 page)

That
eelang
stuff was making him crazy. He was more interested in getting Dorrie into the bedroom where he could see if she smelled like that all over, but he didn’t want to be too blatant about it. Feng shui was important to her, so he figured he needed to understand.

Conan made her draw up a chart so he could visualize what she was telling him, and leaned over her shoulder while she was drawing it just so he could breathe in her exotic scent. And watch her breasts move beneath that shirt.

Once he had the design in hand, he could see that his bedroom was in the love and relationship corner of the house. Oh yeah, that would do it.

***

Dorrie took a deep breath when Conan grabbed her chart and wandered off down the hall. Her heart was pounding so hard that she feared he could hear it.

His
chi
was maddening. It raced back and forth so fast that she had no chance of telling if his interest was in her or the bagua or his career or a bug on the rug. Or all of the above. Conan was a complex, frustrating man, and his inability to communicate was a wall she wanted to knock down.

That he was really trying to have a conversation had her hormones humming—and her hopes rising. He’d actually invited her upstairs. And he’d set aside his work to listen to her. And he was listening, not just humoring her. He was definitely trying.

She knew almost as little about making relationships as he did, so she was kind of flustered. She could handle family, but the sex thing… She was just learning sexual communication. But maybe if she could reach him through sex… Could it lead to more? She wanted it to lead to more. A man who had saved her life was worth exploring.

She knew he had an excellent sense of smell. She’d worn the seductive perfume in hopes of stimulating it. If she’d only had time to learn what else turned him on…

She couldn’t picture cottages with morning glories climbing to the roof just yet, but she wanted to see if the way their
chi
synchronized meant what she hoped. She knew how she felt every time she looked at Conan, thought about him, remembered how his arms felt around her… It was damned scary, that’s what it was. But she didn’t intend to live in fear anymore.

She wanted to live, and he was her secret to living. And loving, she hoped.

He was making a lot of noise moving things around. He hadn’t invited her to help. So she checked his refrigerator for food and set about making brunch. If she surmised correctly by the lack of dirty dishes, he hadn’t eaten today.

Conan emerged from the unseen back rooms when the odor of coffee and bacon filtered back to him. She could swear the hunger in his gaze was for her and not the platter of eggs, but he politely set the platter on his miniscule glass breakfast table and poured coffee.

“You didn’t have to cook for me,” he said warily, “but thank you. Shouldn’t you be in the office? Do you have a place to take your stuff yet?”

He’d shaved while he was in the back room. She almost curled up in pure delight at the earthy scent when she leaned over his shoulder to put toast on his plate. She wanted to kiss the spot of shaving cream behind his ear, but she wasn’t daring enough. Yet. She needed encouragement to develop that kind of confidence.

“Apparently Oz’s new house is almost done enough that Pippa’s mother can move in. It’s easier for her to walk to town from there, so she’s renting the cottage to me. I’ll be helping Pippa decorate and just coming in to the foundation office once a week.”

There it was, she was laying it on the line. She desperately wanted her own home and her own business. But she wanted Conan, too. And he was in the city.

“Yeah, you looked right in that cottage,” he agreed. “No cliffs. I like that.”

She lightly cuffed the back of his head and nibbled the toast she’d fixed for herself. “I usually don’t go out on cliffs, but there are plenty to be found if I’m so inclined.”

After inhaling his eggs, Conan leaned back in his chair to sip his coffee and watch her with what she’d swear was admiration in his eyes. “I like a woman who can stand on her own.”

She wasn’t sure how to take that. She’d been on her own for a long time. She rather thought she’d like to share company now. “I’d like a man who can stand beside me,” she countered dryly.

A grin lit his eyes as he lifted his cup in toast. “I’ll drink to that. Come see if I’ve got this fang shoeey thing right.”

She narrowed her eyes at his deliberate mispronunciation, but he set down his cup and dragged her up from the table and down the hall, and she went. Her curiosity was as bad as his. She raised her eyebrows at a bowl of cactus discarded on the floor at the far end of the hall. He really did have cactus in his relationship corner?
Had.
He’d kicked it out.

Conan opened the door on his love and relationship sector—his bedroom. Before Dorrie could peek over his shoulder, he grabbed her by the waist, lifted her off the floor, and flung her into the center of red satin sheets.

Looking up, she could see a mobile of dancing family pictures and red hearts cut from one of his folders, and her own heart fluttered wildly. Glancing to his dresser, she could see an old fish bowl filled with water and stuffed with branches of hot pink bracts from a bougainvillea. He must have cut them from the vine spilling over his deck outside the sliding doors. Not precisely flowers and still prickly, but he’d actually connected fresh flowers with romance and tried to get it right. She was about to melt into a hot puddle of butter.

“Satin sheets?” was all she could think to say.

“Valentine’s Day, right? Candy, hearts, and flowers. There are M&Ms on the stand.” He fell down beside her and swooped her into his arms and kissed her before she could laugh.

Dorrie woke to a man’s heavy arm around her bare waist and her back pressed into his chest. She ought to feel confined, but she didn’t. Conan’s crazy
chi
settled down when he slept, wrapping her in cozy comfort. She probably wouldn’t need a blanket in winter.

He didn’t even have blinds on his glass doors. Fortunately, she couldn’t see the house above his or she’d have to get up and hang sheets for privacy. She hated to disturb him; he was sleeping so heavily. He’d probably been up all night again.

Thinking about her as she had been about him?
She could easily convince herself. She’d been amazed when Supergeekman actually noticed her arrival and stirred himself from his cave to greet her. The sex had been so incredible that she had to believe he’d been waiting for her. She simply didn’t think she could find another man who rang all her chimes the way Conan did, so she was willing to believe almost anything if that meant she could keep him.

Even now, after the greatest sex she’d ever known, she was hoping he’d wake so they could make love again. He was incredibly inventive once she pushed him past his preconceived notions, no doubt learned from instruction manuals.

The man lived inside his head. She understood that. Could she live with it? She really wanted to try.

He stirred, and she wiggled closer, finding his arousal. They really needed to talk, but she wanted to put it off a while longer, hoping the sex would be enough to cement a relationship. She knew better, but he was so damned good….

His hand found her breast, and her hormones danced happily.

“Bad song warning,” he murmured, kissing her damaged shoulder. She’d removed the bulky bandage and covered the stitches with a smaller one. “I want you. I need you. How can we make this work?”

“I don’t recognize the lyrics. Want to hum a bar?” She turned over and arched up to kiss his jaw. He wasn’t smiling. His
chi
was incredibly focused. She placed a hand on his solid surfer’s chest and shoved him backward.

Conan dragged her on top but crushed her against him instead of letting her distract him. “I mean it, Dorrie. I want to know you’re part of my life. I can’t spend my days moping around, hoping you’ll stop by. I have work to do.”

She laughed and nibbled at the places she could reach. “You’re such a romantic, Oswin. I want to work, too. I don’t want to sit around waiting for you to come up for air. What do you suggest?”

She wriggled, pressing her breasts against him until he gripped her buttocks and worked his magic hands.

“Have laptop, will travel,” he said solemnly while stroking her, parting her legs, teasing her with his arousal. “But sometimes I’ll need my extra equipment here. I can’t duplicate everything.”

Dorrie moaned as he found a sweet spot. “You have all the right equipment for me. You’re the only man I know who actually talks in bed.”

“Multitasking.” He swung her back to the mattress and propped hands on either side of her. “Tell me we can share a bed, and I’ll promise to be wherever you are at night.”

Dorrie closed her eyes and inhaled the masculine scent of him, concentrating on the solidity of the muscles surrounding her, the intensity of his chocolate-smooth baritone, the way his
chi
shivered her bones. How could he expect her to think like this?

“You’ll let me decorate your cave?” she managed to ask.

“You can hang hearts in the bathroom and money trees on the ceiling if it makes you happy, I don’t care. I know how to prioritize, remember? Things don’t matter. You do. I don’t want to let you out of my life.” He kissed her cheek and nibbled his way down to her mouth. “I’ve never ever said that to a woman.”

“Or a dog,” she guessed, smiling and pulling his head down. “I do love you, you know. I still don’t know why. Maybe I should stick around and find out.”

“Yessssss!” He kissed her so thoroughly that talk wasn’t necessary.

They fit together like puzzle pieces, Dorrie responding to his energy with such enthusiasm that the bed shook and the covers ended up on the floor. She cried her release before they could tumble off with them, and Conan finally gave in, thrusting long and deep and growling when he finally climaxed.

“You’re so good, I could learn to be a beach bum,” he rumbled in her ear, rolling back to the mattress and pulling her on top of him. “I want to figure out what love is and tie it up in a box with pretty ribbons and give it to you. I think I’d better get up and have some coffee or I’ll write a poem.”

Dorrie shook with laughter on top of him. Conan relaxed and smoothed her curls down her slender back. He didn’t mind when she laughed at him. She helped him to understand how life outside of computers worked. He could live with that.

“Love can’t be tied up in ribbons,” she told him, kissing him instead of hitting him over the head. “For me, it’s this giddy, crazy, whirling sensation every time you walk in a room, but that’s probably your
chi.
But it’s also listening for your voice, longing for your touch, needing your opinion, so many things!”

Conan considered that, processed it through his multitudinous brain cells, before relying on the sensations she aroused just by breathing in his ear. “Wanting you in my bed every night, that’s part of it, right?” he asked dubiously.

She nodded, and her curls brushed his cheek. “But I’ve been told that part becomes mundane. I don’t believe it yet, but Bo and Amy lost it for a while. I think they can get it back. But there has to be a stronger bond than sex.”

“I moved my cactus out for you,” he reminded her, but he wasn’t serious. “I’m afraid love is being terrified every time you leave my sight. I almost died out there on the desert when you fell down that vent. I’m not certain I’m ready for those kinds of shocks to the system.”

She pinched the skin over his ribs. “Your hide is tough. You’ll figure it out. That’s another thing I love about you, you figure things out.”

Irrationally pleased that she understood this about him, Conan rolled both of them off the bed and carried her into the shower. “Then I’m pretty certain love is taking a shower with the smartest woman in the world and telling her she can rearrange my shelves anytime.”

She nodded knowingly. “Good start. Admiring the fact that I mean to be more aunt to Bo’s kids so my brother can patch up his marriage would be another good hint.”

“I’ll teach the brats to surf and match you one by adding Oz’s kid to the bunch. I’ll even walk the dog.” Conan tested the water showering from the overhead rainspout before setting her in the glass stall. Then he leaned her against the wall and proceeded to kiss her into senselessness. He’d always wanted to use this fancy shower in more inventive ways.

***

Stir-frying chicken slices for the enormous hunger they’d worked up, Dorrie reacted to Conan’s stunned silence from the front room first, before she registered the sharp spike in his energy. She thought maybe her ability to pick up his silent communication helped connect them in ways they couldn’t connect with others.

Setting aside her pan, she wandered in to see what was wrong. He was staring at his oversized monitor and waved her over to look.

Before she could read what was on the screen, Magnus chose that moment to tromp up the stairs. Seeing Dorrie, he almost turned around, but she’d sensed him coming. She gestured for him to join them. Conan had told her he’d offered the basement to his brother, so she needed to learn to deal with two mighty Oswins. After years of coping with her father’s overbearing temperament, she thought she could manage.

“Holy crap,” Conan muttered, rolling his mouse and re-reading the message on his screen. “Dorrie, I think I love you. Add more garbage in any corner that makes you happy.”

Magnus raised his heavy eyebrows and strode across the room. The corner was too small for him to squeeze in beside his brother, but Conan swiveled the monitor so they could both read it.

“You’ve got a new contract, so?” Magnus shrugged after scanning the screen.

“Oh my.” Understanding better, Dorrie dropped into Conan’s lap and hugged him. “You got the contract after all! What happened?”

“
You
happened,” he said with a hint of amazement. “You messed with my
chi
and the Universe answered. Hell if I know. Someone higher up threw out the low bid and awarded it to me.”