Sentinel: A Light Mage Wars Novella (The Light Mage Wars) (5 page)

Chapter
Five

Hardly daring to breathe, Caro tried to look casual despite the weird flutter in her pulse. She liked this man. He seemed to like her. But maybe he merely felt sorry for her, as Jerald had claimed to.

"
I don't know, Rick. I need to set up this demo."

"
That won't take long. I'm going out there, and I'd like to have the company." His warm, firm, callused hand covered hers on the table. "I like you, Caro."

The physical contact deepened their magical awareness of each other.
His sincerity vibrated in the touch, with no hint of deceit or pity or condescension tainting it. He did feel uncertain, and that was strangely endearing.

When he lightly stroked the back of her hand, a bolt of desire shot up her arm and down into her
womb. Her inner muscles clenched. Caro swallowed hard.

"
Well?" he prompted, his light, easy tone reassuring. "I've officially hit on you. Do I strike out, or do we have a friendly date?"

Despite his calm tone, the nervous vibe increased.
He genuinely cared whether she agreed.

Her pulse thudded as she turned her hand over to take his.
"I haven't been out to the mounds in quite in a while."

She wanted to
go. Oh, yes, indeed, she did. But was that a smart move? Or incredibly stupid? Belinda had known him for years, even knew someone he'd dated, so he obviously wasn't an axe murderer. Besides, if he were, wouldn't the awareness coming through their joined hands alert her with some kind of squicky feeling?

"
You know you're going to be great," he said, "so don't overthink it."

His faith in her was
reassuring. It flicked the soft spot in her heart that she tried to keep under control.

"
My hero's stuck," he added. "I need to get out and walk and recharge the magic. Maybe it'll clear my brain, maybe not. Either way, I'll enjoy it more if you're with me."

Maybe she could help him figure out his story problem
, sort of repayment for his help with this demo. "Okay," she said. "How's two thirty for you?"

"
That works."

Maybe it did, Caro thought.
Or else it was a huge mistake, but there was only one way to find out.

#

Rick kept a sharp eye on the path. Caro walked a half step behind him, her left hand gripping his right elbow while her right plied her white cane. The leaves underfoot on the unpaved path didn't seem to slow her down. They'd been in the woods about fifteen minutes, and she seemed to be reveling in the sunlight and life energy around them as much as he was.

"
Do you want to climb the temple mound?" he asked as it came into view through the trees.

"
Not unless you particularly want to. You can feel the residual power in it when you're up there, but it isn't really a comfortable sensation."

"
No, it isn't. We'll stick to strolling through the trees."

Despite the
shirt sleeve between his arm and her hand, having her hold onto him felt good. Not nearly as good as her growing trust did, though. He'd seen enough at the gallery, overheard enough of Dickhead Jerald's comments, to realize she'd had her share of bad luck with men.

Which
you're about to add to
.

Yeah
, he'd doubtless become Dickhead Rick, but it was for a good cause. The mages who'd died at her brother's hands deserved to have the real story told.

From the right
of the path came the faint zooming noises and thrum of wheels from traffic on I-16. Here under the trees, though, the air smelled of pine needles and damp earth and bark. A light breeze rustled the leaves, casting moving patterns of shadow over Caro's elegant features.

She
wore wraparound sunglasses–to blend, since it was such a sunny day, she'd said. Caught up in a ponytail, her hair swung free of the long, smooth column of her neck.

A very kissable neck.
As kissable as her sexy half smile.

Not that he had any business noticing
. Gaining her trust for a story was one thing. Actual seduction for that purpose was just scuzzy. Especially with a woman who'd been hurt.

Yet he couldn
't help asking, "What're you smiling about, Sunshine?"

"
The sunshine, actually." Her smile broadened into a grin that had him fighting a sharp, strong urge to kiss her. "Plus the trees and the rabbits and birds and deer in the woods around us. You were right. Being out here feels good."

"
To me, too." He drew his arm close, briefly pressing her fingers against his body. Her thumb stroked the outside of his elbow, a light, brief caress that shot all the blood in his head due south.

What the hell?
She was barely touching him. He needed to make friends with her, not think about having her under him on a bed of pine needles.

Her smile faded.
Above the sunglasses, her brow furrowed. She dropped his elbow and stopped. "Rick?"

Of course she
'd sensed his change in mood. They'd both had their personal walls down, and magic carried emotional vibes that could be read at close range. But he didn't need magic to read her obvious emotional withdrawal.

He blew out a
n audible breath. "Sorry. Beautiful day, gorgeous woman, and a walk in the woods. It's a recipe for libido, but I didn't ask you out here for that."

"
I know." When she cocked her head, that sexy half-smile quirked her mouth. "Considering all that, I'll just thank you for the compliment, and we can move on."

Moving on.
Great idea. Not as great as the idea he wasn't pursuing, but a smart guy seized his reprieve and ran with it. Yet the light grip of her slim, strong fingers on his elbow seemed to echo through his body.

"
You said you began weaving with one of those potholder kits," he said as they strolled down the path. "Why? What drew you to that?"

He
'd emailed her that question, but he was desperate for any topic that would divert the tiny idiot brain in his jeans from its doomed preoccupation.

"
I wanted to make something. Mom sculpts, as you know, and she's not a bad painter. I wanted to create with colors."

Her brother was reportedly a talented painter, too.
Had she trained herself never to mention that?

"
Why not paint, like your mom?" he asked, and then realized. "Ah. You can't run your hand over wet paint the way you can over the threads on your loom."

"
Exactly."

She beamed at him, and he had the feeling he
'd passed some sort of hurdle.

"
I learned to use the potholder frame pretty quickly, but I wanted more choices of colors and patterns. My folks got me a small loom, and we went from there."

"
Well, however you started, you're a genius now. You're brilliant, Caro."

"
Thank you," she said quietly.

A rush of color suffused her cheeks, and he clenched his fist against the urge
to caress that swath of bright pink. Especially when he sensed her doubt.

"
I mean it," he insisted. "Surely you know how good you are."

Caro shrugged.
"I like what I do. That doesn't mean it's good."

"
All the critics agree it is, even if one or two demonstrated a certain lack of perception."

"
Lack of perception." She smiled. "I like it."

"
Well, I do fancy myself a writer," he said lightly.

"
According to my dad, you're a very good one. How did you get started on that?"

"
Made up stories about characters in books I'd read. I guess you'd call it fan fiction, though I never showed it to anyone. Then one day, a librarian found some of my stuff on a desk. She told me she thought it had promise."

Trusting that Caro would feel the vibe of his smile even though she couldn
't see it, he added, "Besides, I like being boss of my own small universe."

"
Who wouldn't?" She bumped her shoulder companionably into his. "So what kind of trouble was Max Grant in this morning, and did you get him out?"

"
He'd followed a beautiful woman into a deathtrap. The Shade's goons–do you know who The Shade is?"

When she nodded, he continued,
"Anyway, the goons have Max tied up in the wine cellar of a Swiss chalet, planning to sell him to a jihadist group in Pakistan. Or maybe Chechnya. I haven't decided."

"
Thinking with the wrong brain, was he?" she teased.

Rick grinned and
carefully returned the shoulder bump. "You could say. Though Max would say he had to follow the woman because she was his best lead to The Shade."

"
Can he have something up his sleeve? Or somewhere else he can reach?"

"
He could, but I did that in the last book."

They walked along in silence.
Caro didn't seem to mind his rejection of her idea. He could almost feel her thinking, trying to find a solution.

Paying him back, he realized
abruptly.

Damn it, he didn
't want payback. He wanted her to trust him so he could get his story. Clear his dad. More–worse–he simply wanted her to like him.
Crap
.

"
What about a new character?" Caro suggested. "Someone he knows and maybe isn't counting on?"

The back of Rick
's brain went
click
. Slowly, he nodded. "I could work with that. It's worth a try."

"
Glad I could help." She squeezed his elbow again, and the contact zinged through him. Again. Damn it.

"
There's mud in the middle of the path for the next ten yards or so," he said. "But there's enough dry space on the edges for one person with a few inches to spare. It's only a few dozen yards to the road, but do you want to go on or turn back? Or, since there's no one else out here, we could just translocate across."

"
I can't," she said easily. "I can't summon an image of any kind of destination."

He should
've realized. Translocating without at least an inkling of a visual could cause problems ranging from nothing happening to a mage ending up far from the intended destination. He could translocate them both–

"
We can go on," she decided. "Let me walk behind you with a hand on your shoulder." Hesitantly, she added, "You'll be like an extra cane. If that's okay."

"
Sure. Why wouldn't it be?"

Saying nothing, Caro slid her hand up his arm and across his back, and just that fast, h
e was as rigid as her cane.
Shit.
Good thing she couldn't see it. Because she was still touching him, he tightened his emotional defenses in case she sensed his arousal.

If she noticed, she didn
't comment. "Ready," she said.

They walked the
edge of the track in silence.

A few minutes later, they were past the
mud. Rick stopped so Caro could move back to his side. "It's dry again here, but Caro, why wouldn't it be okay to use me like a cane?"

She bit her lip.
After a moment, she said, "Some people don't...adapt well."

"
Some people are idiots." Like Asshole Jerald, who'd probably inspired her comment. "We all have to lower our expectations when dealing with them."

"
This is true."

Damned if
her bright smile didn't warm him inside the way the sunshine warmed his face.

"
Have dinner with me," he said.

"
I can't tonight." Her reply came fast, abruptly. With no further explanation. Her face around the sunglasses tensed.

He
'd moved too quickly, forgotten her allergy to reporters. Best to regroup and ease back into her good graces. He still had ten days left to file the story. "Some other time, then."

"
Sure."

She sounded relaxed, but he sensed her hesitation.
Her barriers were subtly rising.

"
I'll send back the answers to your questions tonight," she said.

"
Take your time. I don't plan to submit the story until after your demonstration. It'll be a stronger piece when you've proved any doubters wrong."

A
lso, he was afraid the interview questions were the first item on a three-item checklist, with her demonstration being next and cutting him loose coming after that.