All Fired Up (11 page)

“Sure.” Her gaze stayed locked with Alrik’s for a split second more. She’d tasted that hot mouth not an hour ago.

Matches in hand, Bridget came up beside him. “You have foam on your face.”

He looked down at her, dragging the back of his hand across his mouth. “Is that better?”

She laughed. “Boys are so messy. Want to help me light the candles?”

“I would be honored to assist such a surefooted lass.”

Giggling some more, Bridget led him into the dining room.

Admiring the view of the Viking’s backside, Calleigh missed her aunt’s instructions.

“Calleigh Siobhan! Quit your mooning and get the crumble out of the oven before it burns.”

“I wasn’t mooning.” She slipped her hands into oven mitts before opening the oven door and lifting the bubbling pan onto a hotplate.

“Sure ye weren’t.” Moreen gave her a knowing smile.

“He’s just a friend, really.” Calleigh sighed. Why did her family make such an issue over every man in her life?

“So we’re kissin’ friends now, are we?” Moreen asked.

Calleigh’s heart thudded in her chest. “What are you talking about?” Heat wafted up from the oven, floating the curls around Calleigh’s face and tickling her cheeks.

Moreen stopped ladling the stew into a tureen and parted the kitchen window curtains. She tipped her head toward the glass. An outside light illuminated Calleigh’s Volvo in the driveway right outside.

“So?” Nothing escaped this woman.

“So yer cheeks have gone scarlet as that rhubarb.”

“It’s just the heat from the stove.” Closing the oven door, she hid her face from further inspection.

“Don’t look so stung, lass.” Moreen went back to ladling. “You deserve a good man in your life, and none of us thought Brad was the one for you anyway. I know Jeana introduced you two, but that girl’s not the best judge of character herself. Seamus only invited her because you two seem to pal around. Not that she could be bothered to show up this.” Moreen sniffed. “At least she’s only related on your mother’s side.”

The truth in her aunt’s words made Calleigh want to lash out. “What makes you so sure Brad wasn’t the right one? And what makes you think Alrik is? You don’t even know him.”
I don’t even know him.

Moreen cupped her niece’s cheek with a warm, well-lined palm. “I know this much. Brad didn’t deserve you. You’re too good a woman for the likes of that eejit. Besides, he always seemed shady to me. I know you don’t want to talk about what happened, but if you’re broken up, I’m glad for it.”

“I never said we were broken up. And you can’t judge Alrik on the short time he’s been here.”

“He’s polite, sweet to Bridget, doesn’t seem the least bit shaken by your uncles…doesn’t hurt that he speaks the mother tongue, either.”

“That doesn’t mean a thing. He could be an ax murderer.”

Moreen handed her the soup tureen to carry to the table. “Merciful Joseph, an ax murderer? I doubt that. I will say this, you never looked at Brad the way you look at this one.”

The conversation wore her down. “Shouldn’t we serve this before it gets cold?”

With an understanding smile, her aunt nodded. “Lead the way, love.”

The glow from the candles sparkled off the Galway crystal holders. Muted prisms danced over the Limrick lace tablecloth, caressing the lines of the antique bone china. Calleigh set the tureen of stew in front of Seamus, as befitted the guest of honor.

He was at one end of the table, seated at the head as Moreen had instructed. To his right sat Badu, then an empty seat for Moreen, then Corrigan at the other end. To Seamus’s left sat Alrik, then Bridget, then another empty chair.

Calleigh pursed her lips in mild irritation. She wanted to sit beside Alrik. Bridget’s sudden infatuation with the Viking had been cute for the first five minutes.

“Bridget, mind your manners. Let your cousin sit beside her guest,” Moreen chided her daughter.

“But, Ma, he’s telling us a story about the Viking goddess, Freya.”

Calleigh flashed Alrik a look she hoped he would understand as cease and desist. He ignored it.

“Bridget Clare, do as your mother tells you.” The warning in Corrigan’s voice was plain.

“I will change seats with Bridget.” Alrik stood and pulled out Calleigh’s chair before helping Bridget switch places with him. Moreen smiled like she’d just won something. Calleigh sat, stifling the urge to kick her aunt under the table.

“So, what’s this story you’re telling?” Calleigh asked.

“It’s about Freya’s feather coat and how she used it to transform herself into a bird and fly across the sky,” Bridget chimed in before Alrik could answer.

“She did that in order to find her beloved husband, Odin, who had disappeared.” Alrik mimicked the others and placed his napkin on his lap.

“I promise to tell you the rest of the tale later, Bridget,” he said.

Bridget huffed and Moreen shot her a look. “That’s enough, Bridget. Mind your manners in front of company. Corri, bless the food before it gets cold, will you?”

Corrigan offered a blessing in Gaelic then Seamus started filling plates.

Calleigh was passing bread to Corrigan when Alrik’s hand brushed her thigh as he pulled his chair in, leaving a trail of heat on her skin. She nearly choked on her wine.

“Are you all right, dear?” Moreen looked concerned.

“Fine,” Calleigh sputtered.
If you consider being all warm and tingly fine. Which it is. Just not here.

Alrik leaned over and whispered in her ear. “I did not mean to touch you unbidden.”

“Are you sure, love?” her aunt asked.

“Positive.” Calleigh nodded, slightly disappointed by Alrik’s confession. “Wine just went down the wrong way. Your lamb stew is wonderful, as always.”

“Aye, it is as good as your hospitality is kind.” Alrik slanted a glance at Calleigh. “Tis a clever woman who can warm a man inside and out.”

Moreen blushed. Corrigan dropped his spoon and Seamus crowed with laughter. “You’ve got a smooth talker, there, Calleigh. I daresay I could learn a thing or two from the lad.”

Calleigh smiled politely. So Alrik thought she was a clever woman? Would he still think so when she told him what her first change was?

Chapter Seven

Alrik did not mind Calleigh’s silence on the way home. Riding in the car while it was daylight was bothersome enough. At night, the ride distressed him a great deal more.

Lights came toward them at alarming speeds, blurring like the dancing lights of the Valkyrja that were sometimes visible in the Northern sky. He ducked the first time, but held himself still when she laughed softly at his actions. She would not ask him to kiss her again if she thought him timid as a child.

When she turned the car off, he exhaled the breath he had been holding.

“Riding in cars isn’t really your thing, is it?” The smile on her face was sweet, not mocking.

“Not entirely, nay.”

After they got out, Calleigh pushed a button on the small black box hanging from her keys and the car beeped. “C’mon. Let’s go inside and I’ll make us some hot chocolate.”

He raised his brows.

“Do you know what that is? Have you ever had it?” she asked.

“Aye, I know the drink but I have not had it since I was in England.”

“When were you in England?” Wisps of icy breath spiraled from her mouth.

“In the year 1715. Hot chocolate was very popular. My charge was wealthy, so I had it several times. I liked it very much.” So had his charge.

The spoiled daughter of a wealthy merchant, Amelia Maxwell Sinclair had gotten the talisman from her father. The attempt to please his brat failed miserably when Amelia had desired more from Alrik than the Phoenix was willing to give. Fortunately, he had not shared with Amelia that a Phoenix must do whatever a charge commanded of them. For all her begging and pouting, she had never phrased her words in a proper command.

Calleigh laughed as she unlocked the door to her home. “Always rely on the kindness of strangers, do you?”

“Strangers are rarely kind.” He could not recall the last time one of his charges had regarded him as something more than just a source of good fortune. Most of them treated him as though he were merely one more possession, as though he owed them something. He smiled softly. Calleigh had bought him gifts of clothing. Calleigh had taken him to meet her family.

He shut the door and helped her out of her coat. Inhaling her delicious scent, he leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Did I behave in a manner that pleased you tonight?”

She shivered and the desire to warm her pulsed through him.

“You did just fine,” she answered.

“So perhaps you will reward me?”
With a kiss
. He tossed her coat over the couch.

She pulled away. Her smile did not reach her eyes. “I think now might be a good time to tell you I’m ready to make my first change.

“As you wish.” Alrik’s gaze cooled, his face impassive. He nodded and stood waiting.

“What is your first change?” His tone was matter-of-fact.

She hesitated, unsure how he would react when she told him. “I can change whatever part of my life I want?”

“Aye. The choice is yours.”

Taking a deep breath, Calleigh exhaled slowly. The kiss she’d shared with him had made her heart ache and her family’s unkind words about Brad had only made her feel worse. She knew they were right, but she didn’t want them to be. There was one way to fix everything. One way to make things right.

“I want…I want Brad and I to be together. I want us to be married. And I want the reason for our breakup not to have happened.” She blurted out the words, hoping she wouldn’t have to specifically mention the cheating.

Brad’s cheating aside, she still missed him. Kissing Alrik had raised questions and feelings of guilt. Maybe she shouldn’t love Brad anymore, but she did. Everyone deserved a second chance, didn’t they? If they were married, and the cheating had never happened, they would be happy together. He’d have no reason to cheat.

A second chance for Brad to prove he loved her. To prove that Jeana had been the instigator of the cheating. Her aunt and uncles would see how wrong they’d been about Brad. And this way, no one would know that Brad had cheated on her.

One chance. That was all he was getting. If Brad screwed up this time, they were utterly, completely, without a doubt done.

“This is your desire?” Although Alrik’s voice was emotionless, Calleigh still wanted to defend her decision.

“He still loves me. I know he does. And I still have feelings for him. Yes, this is what I want.”

Alrik nodded, dropping his arms down by his sides. “With the power of the Phoenix, I grant this change.”

The wings of fire Calleigh had only thought she’d glimpsed once before unfurled over his shoulders. The feather-flames crackled and snapped, glazing his skin with a crimson glow.

There was no heat, but she stepped back anyway. The air wavered as the fire wrapped around him. The blazing wings enfolded him until she could no longer see his face.

The inferno flared brighter, intensifying, then snuffed itself out from the floor up, like a burning fuse. The last flickering flames disappeared before her at eye level.

Alrik was gone. A ring of pale ashes marked the spot where he’d been standing.

Was that it? Calleigh stood there, unsure what to do. What happened now? Was she married?

She looked down at her hand. No ring. Nothing seemed different.

Maybe it hadn’t worked. Or maybe it just hadn’t worked yet. She wondered if she should clean up the ashes or leave them. Had he said anything about what to do with them? She couldn’t remember.

Gathering Snickers from around her feet, she did the only thing that made sense. She went to bed.

***

Beep, beep, beep…

Calleigh opened one eye. She didn’t remember changing the setting on her alarm clock from radio to buzzer.

Reaching to swat the annoying thing off, she nearly knocked over a lamp that hadn’t been there last night.

She sat up. That wasn’t her nightstand. These weren’t her sheets. This wasn’t her bedroom.

The pillow next to hers was indented. She could hear the shower running. Someone had slept beside her. She was not alone. Her heart thumped in her chest, cold panic raising the hairs on the back of her neck. Where was she?

From the pale gray walls and exposed-wire halogen lighting to the black leather chair and stainless steel and glass nightstands, every nuance of the place was sleek and modern…and cold.

Slipping out of bed, the stained concrete beneath her feet was warm. Radiant heat. Whoever lived here had money. Tiptoeing to the closest window, she pulled back the gunmetal silk drapes.

The view astounded her. Forget money. Whoever lived here had seriously deep pockets. Central park spread out below, the people walking through its winding paths mere dots of color.

Who
did
live here? She glanced around, looking for some sign. Maybe in the closet.

She stopped short at the sight of herself in the full length mirror. Her hair was straight. Stick straight. She shook her head. Her once curly mop fell back into place like a fringe curtain.

Odder still, she wore a skimpy black nightie trimmed in coffee-colored lace. She plucked at the shiny fabric. Silk.

The shower shut off. Her heart leapt again. She should hide. But where? The closet.

She hurried inside and peered through the crack between door and frame.

Brad walked out of the bathroom wearing a white monogrammed robe. He toweled his hair as he crossed the room.

Dumbstruck, Calleigh glanced down at her left hand. A sparkling solitaire winked back at her. Feeling like a fool, she walked out of the closet.

“I see you’re up.” He kissed her cheek. “Did you make coffee?”

“We’re married,” she whispered.

He playfully smacked her backside on his way into the walk-in. “For a whole week now. Or hasn’t it sunk in yet?”

But this wasn’t Brad’s apartment. Although, it was certainly his taste.

“No…I guess it hasn’t.”
She was married to Brad.

“So, is there coffee?” He buttoned his shirt while he talked to her, his eyes on the mirror.

“Shouldn’t we be on our honeymoon?”

“Cal, you know I’ve got the Layton-Miller estate to finalize. We talked about this. You agreed to wait until I wrapped this up.”

“Oh yeah, I am. Totally.” The black leather belt he buckled reminded her of the one she’d bought for her uncle’s birthday.

“That’s my girl. Now, about that coffee…”

“I just got up, I didn’t make any yet.”

“I’ll just grab a cup at the office then. Try to finish packing your stuff in the next few days. Today would be even better. I need to get the movers in there to empty that place. The realtor already has two prospective buyers lined up.”

“Buyers? What stuff?”

“Where’s your head this morning?” He snapped his watch bracelet closed. “The rest of your Brooklyn stuff.”

“We’re selling my brownstone?” That couldn’t be right. Had she really agreed to that?

“I don’t have time to go through this again. We discussed it, it’s a done deal. I have to go. Walk me out.” He grabbed his briefcase.

Calleigh followed him. The bedroom was one of the few actual rooms in the apartment. The rest of it opened up loft style into a huge concrete and steel space with floor to ceiling windows.

Snatching his overcoat from a twisted metal rack by the doors of what looked like a freight elevator, he hit a button on the wall. The lift hummed as it traveled toward them.

He ran his fingers through her hair. “That Japanese straightening thing really did wonders, didn’t it?”

So that’s what had happened. “Yeah. Wonders.”

“I might be late tonight with all this paperwork to be finished, so if you want to spend some extra time at the gym, feel free.” He pecked her on the mouth as the doors opened behind him.

Gym? What gym? “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“See you later.”

“Bye.” The doors shut and he was gone.

She was married to Brad. Alrik had done everything he’d promised. Amazing.

She walked around the apartment, inspecting the place. Very few things looked familiar to her. By the ivory leather couch, there was a picture of her parents newly framed in black metal. On the kitchen counter she found the Belleek spoon rest that had been her mom’s.

She returned to the bedroom to take a better look in the closet. Her clothes were there. Well, some of them anyway. Most of the stuff on her side she didn’t recognize. The styles and colors didn’t look like things she would’ve bought.

In the bathroom, her bright blue hair dryer and hot pink toothbrush drew the eye like bits of obscene flotsam in the pristine sea of white ceramic and brushed chrome.

After a shower, she found a bathrobe and slipped it on. She wandered around, searching, searching. The apartment was too quiet. The something she was missing was so obvious she couldn’t name it.

Maybe talking it out would help.

“Coffeepot?” No.

“House plants?” No, but they would help.

“Candles?” Another good idea, but not it either.

Why couldn’t she think of it? “For Pete’s sake, just spit it out. What’s wrong? What’s missing? C’mon, think. Cat got your tongue?”

Cat
. “Snickers! Here, baby!”

She called and searched but to no avail. Her fuzzy baby wasn’t here. None of his toys, not his cat bed that he never slept in anyway, no food dishes, nothing, not a cat hair in sight.

Calleigh dialed Brad’s cell phone.

“Hello?”

“Brad, it’s me—“

“Honey, I’m in a meeting, let me call you back—“

“No. Where’s Snickers?”

Brad’s voice lowered to a whisper. “He’s at the groomers, you took him there yesterday. What
is
wrong with you?”