Kibs bumped her ankle. She knelt, stroking the cat's thick, warm fur. I'm ready, but I don't want to face Mac. This isn't going to be pleasant.
Kibs gave her wrist a hot, rough lick, then began cleaning his paw.
The message was clear: Get going. Get it over with.
By the time Holly joined Mac in the kitchen, he was pulling a pan out of the oven. It held an omelet, puffed and browned. The kitchen was heavy with the aroma of onions and cheese.
Mac set the pan down on the stove. "So, can I ask what's between you and Caravelli? I get the idea he's a little more than a partner."
Holly felt her face grow hot, wondering again what Mac might have seen in the cemetery. "Why? What does it look like to you?" She eyeballed a bottle of wine he had opened, but decided she needed a clear head.
"From the sharp little edges on your words, I'd say you aren't comfortable with the subject."
"I'm not."
Mac picked up a whisk, examining it as if it were the most interesting invention. "I just want to know if I'm wasting my time here."
"Are you asking if I'm available?" This is too strange.
"Yeah. If you're not, just say so and I'll back off." He put the tool down and met her eyes. They were dark and serious. "Caravelli does seem like a nice guy, for a dead man."
Holly's face flamed. "He is."
"You're together?"
"Yeah."
He lowered his eyes. "Okay."
Holly suddenly felt horrible. Maybe we were wrong. Maybe he is innocent, and all he wants is a girlfriend. "I'm sorry," she said.
Mac gave his fleeting microsmile. "Nan, we still have lunch. No one can take that away from us." He cut the omelet and slid sections onto plates. Steaming cheese oozed out the edges.
Holly set the table and they sat. Mac dug in right away, stopping only to pour the wine. Holly followed suit more slowly, her stomach clenched with tension.
She took a bite. The omelet was airy, melting on her tongue in a kiss of butter and fresh tarragon. OK Goddess!
"Hold still," he said, leaning across the table. He dabbed a bit of cheese from her mouth with a corner of his napkin.
"Thank you." Holly self-consciously licked her lips.
They ate in silence, but she wished she could relax. The food was amazing. Everything seemed normal. There has to have been some mistake. Why would he arrange for an attack one night and feed me like this the next afternoon?
Still, her instincts were sending off flares like an exploding ammunitions dump.
He tilted his head to one side, a flirtatious gesture. "Do you have room for dessert?"
"You are obsessed with food and eating!" she protested, pointing her fork at their half-finished lunch.
Mac blushed, as if she had truly embarrassed him. "Yeah, I seem to have a real appetite lately."
"This is delicious, but—"
"No, no," he said, hopping up to remove their plates. "I made too-large portions. We have to save room."
Holly jumped up to wrest her plate away. It was still full of steamy, delicious eggs, and she wasn't ready to relinquish it. "Give that back!"
He set the plates on the counter and put himself between Holly and her lunch, his face full of mischief. "Too tasty to waste, eh?"
He grabbed her, holding her loosely, playfully. The feel of his hands sent a thrill up her spine, a mix of alarm and involuntary pleasure. Mac was solid and warm, his breath spicy with the scents of wine and tarragon. Holly put her hands on his shoulders, remembering the hot pressure of his lips the night he had cooked her dinner.
"I'm taken," she reminded him, her voice firm.
"So you said, but you're such a good kisser, I was hoping I'd get one for the road."
His hands slid behind Holly's back, pulling her tight. "Hey!" she protested, trying to wrench away.
He kissed her lightly, not on the mouth but everywhere else—eyes, cheeks, throat. The contact was firm but soft, a savoring more than a taking. He pressed into her as if the sheer act of touching were the most important thing in the world.
What's going on here? Holly opened her senses. The flood of his need hit her, filled with uncertainly, loneliness, desperate hunger for human touch.
Holly reeled. "Whoa! Slow down!"
In their squirming, they had turned until her back was against the counter. She could feel the metal rim pressing into her spine, putting an edge of discomfort into the moment. She braced her hands against his shoulders and started to push.
It had no effect. Alarm squeezed her breath, threatening to snowball into panic. As little as she wanted to, she would have to use real force. Holly started to gather her magic, but then his lips met hers. A tingling flowed from her toes up through her belly, making her a lightning rod for ecstatic energy. A feeling of life surged through her, blossoming in her chest and throat and coming to a pinpoint of rapture in their lips.
Delight prickled along her nerves. This was not merely an effusion of lust, though that was an important part of the sensation. There was something more going on.
Oh, Goddess. The charms she had tucked into her clothes were starting to heat up, burning where they touched her flesh.
Demon? That's not possible!
There had to be a mistake. She still didn't want to risk hurting Mac. Holly used her magic gently, just enough to push him away. "What kind of a kiss was that?"
Mac fell back a step. His eyes, already dark and liquid, seemed to be all pupil. They were both breathing hard. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "That was incredible."
"What were you doing?"
"It feels wonderful!" he panted. "You have so much power, and it tastes just like I imagined it would."
Holly braced herself against the counter. "What the hell?"
A slow smile lit Mac's face, reaching his eyes with a mix of pleasure and craftiness. "That was just a sample of what I can do. Say yes and I'll do it all again."
He took her hand, running his fingers down the length of her palm in a slow, erotic glide.
"Omigod," she breathed, trying to banish the sensation of his touch, but failing. His hands felt hot, full of sensuous fever. If he could accomplish this much with hand-holding…
"Yes is good," he murmured. "Yes is everything I can do for you."
For one moment his pull was stronger than the protective magic of the charms. She stepped into his arms, giving an upward slide along his hip as she moved. As he moaned, she felt a surge of that exquisite energy pass between them, turning her belly into a liquid, molten ache.
The moment wavered, poised like a drop of water about to fall. Holly yearned to fall, biblically speaking, right along with it. But even as she unraveled in Mac's expert hands, the power of the house beat against her own, knocking, waking her up. The charms hidden in her clothes burned hot.
Holly shook her head, unscrambling her thoughts. "Stop!"
It came out as much a moan as a command. Mac took a deep breath, his power crawling like static all over her flesh. He has power. When did he get power? But that energy felt so good. Sweet Hecate, it's hard to stop.
She felt the walls of the house pressing down on her, unraveling his hold on her. Like an invisible shell the magic she had put into the wards came flooding back to shield her from harm.
"No," she whispered. "No, no. I have a lover. I told you that."
"But I want to devour you," he whispered back, his words the merest movement of his lips. Holly could hear him fine, though. He was in her head, uninvited. Groping on the counter behind her, she picked up a knife, bringing it around slowly until she pricked his chin. "I'm not part of your gourmet menu."