She nodded.
“Doesn’t she have another granddaughter? Her assistant?” Gabrielle asked, thinking of the Mary Perkins clone.
Lauren smiled. “That’s my sister.”
Gabrielle narrowed her gaze. She just didn’t see the resemblance between the two women.
“Don’t tell me. We look nothing alike,” Lauren said, laughing. “I hear it all the time.”
Gabrielle grinned. “You read my mind.”
“Yes, well, my grandmother is expecting me as you can tell by the note on the door. I’d recognize Grandma’s old Smith Corona type anywhere.”
“A typewriter?” Gabrielle asked. “Wow.”
Lauren laughed. “Not many people know what those are anymore.”
“I’m a writer. I’m into research and old things.”
Lauren wrinkled her nose in thought, then snapped her fingers. “Gabrielle Donovan! The author. You’re that Gabrielle Donovan! I’m a huge fan of your work,” she said.
“Well, thank you.” She thought about the notion of someone still using an old typewriter today. “I take it your grandmother isn’t into the computer age?”
Lauren shook her head. “Although it would be easier for her if she was. Arthritis makes it difficult for her to write. I can’t say that typing is much easier, but she says at least it’s more legible. I hope my sister is planning to bring her into the technological age soon. But Gran is very set in her ways, I guess you’d say. It makes her hard to please sometimes,” Lauren confided.
“Who says I’m hard to please? Shame on you for talking about your grandmother that way!”
Both Gabrielle and Lauren turned at the sound of Mary Perkins’s voice.
“Grandma!” Lauren exclaimed, obviously happy to see the older woman and not at all concerned at being caught talking behind her back.
And Mary had obviously not been upset with her, since contrary to her normally restrained demeanor, she held out her arms and pulled her granddaughter into a warm hug.
“How’s your arthritis?” Lauren asked.
“Nothing can keep your grandmother down, you know that,” Mary said.
“Where’s my sister?”
“Running errands for me in town. She left the note for you, but she said to tell you she’ll be back soon.” Mary stepped back from her granddaughter and turned to Gabrielle. “Ms. Donovan, how nice to see you. What brings you by?”
“I’ve been wanting to make an appointment, but Elizabeth said she didn’t know your schedule, so I thought I’d take a chance and stop by.” Gabrielle decided not to mention her upcoming book unless asked. She didn’t want to discourage the other woman from setting up a time to talk. Obviously, since her granddaughter was here to see her, she was too busy now.
“Well, Elizabeth can be overprotective of my time.” She smiled, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. “What did you want to discuss?” Mary asked.
Gabrielle drew herself up straighter. “Actually, I’d like to talk to you about the curse, how it’s affected your family from the original generation on. Whatever you can tell me, I’d love to hear it.”
“For your book?” the mayor asked.
“You’re writing a new book? About what?” Lauren asked.
Gabrielle glanced at the mayor.
“The Corwin Curse,” Mary said.
Lauren shook her head, a skeptical look crossed her face. “Have fun,” she said lightly.
“I take it you don’t believe in it?” Gabrielle asked.
“Oh, no.” Lauren waved away the notion.
Mary frowned.
“Yet Elizabeth does?”
Lauren inclined her head. “My sister and grandmother are cut from the same cloth.”
Mary turned back to Gabrielle. “I’d be happy to discuss my family with you,” she said, surprising Gabrielle. “Let me make the appointment myself.”
She pulled a set of keys from her purse and walked over to the double doors, letting herself into her office. Since she didn’t invite them in, Gabrielle waited where she was, despite her curiosity.
Mary returned with a leather-bound appointment book in her hand. They agreed on a morning appointment during the week and both wrote it down.
Gabrielle glanced at her watch and realized, with a start, how late it had gotten. Derek was expecting her. “I really should be going,” Gabrielle said. “Nice to meet you, Lauren.”
“Same here.” The other woman nodded. “I’m only here for a short time, but hopefully I’ll see you again soon.”
Considering this woman was related to Mary Perkins and could offer insight into her psyche, Gabrielle nodded. “Count on it,” she said, before heading out the door.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
GABRIELLE DIDN’T HAVE TO ring Derek’s doorbell. He flung it open as soon as she set foot on the front porch. Grabbing her wrist, he pulled her inside, locking the dead bolt behind her.
“Where the hell have you been? I’ve been worried sick. I thought maybe something had happened to you!” A muscle throbbed in his left temple.
She winced. “I’m sorry. I got caught up on an errand. Why didn’t you call my cell?”
“I did! Have you checked it lately?”
With a frown, she pulled her phone from her purse. “Did I forget to turn it on?”
He snatched it out of her hand and fumbled with it for a few seconds. “You forgot to charge it,” he muttered. “What kind of errand was so important?”
Considering his mood, she didn’t think he’d appreciate her answer. “I stopped by Mayor Perkins’s office to make an appointment.” She treated him to her sweetest smile, hoping to ease her way back into his good graces.
He shut his eyes and groaned.
Obviously it didn’t work. He stalked toward her, pushing her back until she hit the wall. His eyes were flashing fire but his gaze quickly darkened, his anger shifting to desire.
“I was so damn scared something had happened to you,” he said, his voice husky.
The sound found an answering yearning inside her. Her heart beat faster and her breath quickened. “I’m fine.”
“I didn’t know that.” He placed his palm flush with the wall, his arm bracketing her shoulder.
“I’ll call next time.”
He tipped his head, his lips close to hers. “You’d better.” And then his mouth came down hard against hers.
His touch was electric and welcome.
Today had been stressful and frightening, but she’d held herself together enough to pursue her interview. She hadn’t realized how much she’d needed the emotional connection to Derek until now. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back. A hollow need settled in the pit of her stomach and she knew only he could fill the urgency pulsing inside her.
She wrapped her leg around the back of his thigh and pulled him close, aligning his body with hers. His shirt rasped against her chest. Beneath her tank top, her nipples puckered into rigid peaks and she arched her back so her breasts thrust forward, brushing against the material of both her top and his. Her nipples beaded even tighter, and warm dewy moisture trickled between her thighs.
His hands were everywhere, touching, plucking, caressing her through her clothes until she was beyond thought. Beyond reason.
When he stepped back to undress, she did the same. He didn’t suggest the bedroom and neither did she.
“I’ll be right back.” He darted up the stairs.
She didn’t ask where he was going. She knew. And then he was back, condom in hand.
She took the plastic square packet from him and ripped it open, holding the damp sheath in her fingertips. Slowly and with care, she knelt in front of him and rolled the condom over his turgid length. It was erotic, really, to take control and feel him pulsing in her hand, knowing he’d soon be inside her body.
She glanced up to see him watching her intently. She deliberately prolonged the act until he placed his hand at the top of her head.
“Enough. Unless you want this to be over now.”