Cursed by Chemistry (23 page)

“Chicken’s burning.”

Adrian snapped to attention. “Damn it, Kimmy!”

Shauna gasped. She sat—or rather fell—to her backside and wrapped the robe tight around her. Embarrassment already blazed in her cheeks.

“You were supposed to be sleeping.” Adrian let the anger show in his voice. Part for Shauna, part for the stone-hard rod being wedged back into his pants.

Kimmy snorted as she brushed behind him, heading for the sizzling pan. “Yeah, nice try. It’s called chemical desensitization. But you wouldn’t know anything about that.” She moved the pan from the heat and prodded it with a suspicious frown. “Is this lemon?”

She looked over her shoulder when neither Adrian nor Shauna responded. “What?”

Chapter
Nineteen

Pale cords of tension stood out between Richard’s shoulder blades. “I don’t know yet. But if you don’t let me handle this, it won’t work at all.”

O propped himself up with one elbow and scowled at the phone Richard had cradled to his ear. That damn agent
again
?

Richard said he’d never been with a man before. Sounded plausible as far as his technique was concerned, but with as much time as those two spent together…

“I told you. I’ll handle it,” Richard insisted, his voice elevating.

Where had all this purpose and authority come from? O had been too sore to play the Dom, and it seemed a pleasant change to let someone else take control. But that was sex. And it was over.

Richard used his free hand to shift his perch on the edge of the bed. He leaned forward as if to stand. The motion cut short. He flinched in pain. Apparently, thinking better of the idea, he dragged a nest of satin sheets around his naked waist.

That’s right. The man had enough determination to get off, even through the pain of his injuries. But without the drive of his arousal, and a little chocolate incentive, the fair-haired angel couldn’t fly.

Richard ended his call with an exasperated sniff. “He’s not giving me any more time.”

“Quite frankly, neither am I.” O didn’t bother suppressing his irritation. The man served as a common link to the loss of his empire and the loss of Adrian. It’d be better for Richard’s health to remember where his motivation lay.

That old saying about keeping your enemies closer? Maybe the bedroom had been a bit too close. But this tender angel needed a little incentive to remain on his tether.

The act might temporarily blind O’s ability to foretell, but it also forged an alliance the man couldn’t break. Richard would probably give his left nut for the good graces of family and high society, but his first taste of the dirty underground wouldn’t be his last. He’d get hooked. They all did. If he wanted to feed his addiction, he better hand over Adrian’s toy.

“You need to get rid of that agent.”

Richard didn’t respond.

“You can’t kill him,” O prodded. “His buddies will start asking questions.”

“I don’t have the money to pay him off,” Richard muttered.

“Pity. That would be the safer way.” O lay back and laced his fingers together behind his head. Truth was, Richard
had
the money, but he didn’t want to risk the funds being traced back to him.

When a moment of silence stretched through the room, Richard glanced over his shoulder again, his crystal-blue eyes imploring.

O grinned. “What? You want
me
to pay him off? Sorry, I’m not a charity. If you want the anonymity of Nightingale’s for yourself…” And of course, he did.

“We could barter,” Richard suggested.

O stifled a laugh and pretended to consult the neon-blue light waves that played across the ceiling. “What’d you have in mind?” With the number of law enforcement officers already tripping to do O’s bidding, what good was Richard, a piddley, political-official-to-be?

“Favors,” Richard murmured.

O arched a regal brow.

“I’m offering you my services. As often as you’d like.” Richard sat straighter.

Oh, a sex slave, is it?

And who would win there? Not O. He expelled a deep sigh. Damn chocolate. Those Nympho Nibs were more trouble than they were worth.

“I’ve only bartered with one man. I’m afraid you’re just not that good. You have a lot of learning to do in the art of pleasure.” He traced a fingertip down the smooth notches of Richard’s spine. “Not that I’m discarding you by any means.”

Offering a freebie lesson from time to time might quell the looming boredom. His taste would remain pleasant for several months after the powder’s administration. It might take that long for the headstrong apothecary to come around to O’s way of thinking.

O’s mouth flooded with moisture at the thought of the real thing, the real Adrian Sands, here, in his bed. No more fleeting illusions.

He’d kept the last of Adrian’s vision powder for himself, but over time, the aftermath of one over-eager imposter after another only fueled his disappointment. O’s attention veered to Richard. Case in point, just look at that sour expression. Adrian didn’t look at him that way.

Okay, maybe he did.

But Richard should at least have the manners to
play
grateful after the gangly, noodle-fest O had been forced to endure.

“The only way to be rid of Agent Squalinski is to give him what he wants. Shauna.”

O paused. “Watch that feisty tone, young man. That’s not going to happen. You promised me both, and you’ll bring me both.”

An urgent fizz consumed O’s stomach. He couldn’t risk losing the girl. Ensuring his good fortune meant driving a wedge between Adrian and his toy—permanently. It wasn’t easy driving a wedge between moving targets.

Richard lowered his head, his expression unreadable. If O didn’t know any better, he’d say the angel was sulking. “The agent doesn’t want Shauna, silly boy,” O admonished. “He wants my apothecary like everyone else. Adrian’s little toy was given some interesting powers, for sure. But the feds are hunting for the main source.”

“So Squalinski isn’t
just my
problem,” Richard countered under his breath.

“Oh, don’t get ahead of yourself. He’s
definitely
your
problem.”

Richard may have earned a fair amount of trust, but he still needed to prove his loyalty. Making the agent disappear would be a telling chore. Would the fledgling recruit be frantic and messy, or methodical?

His bedroom manner pointed to both. Long awaited plans, then too quick to execute. No willpower. Even less tact.

That delightful vision powder might make him
appear
as Adrian, but Richard’s flaws bled through. O had to turn out the lights before he could even come. That never happened!

“Squalinski doesn’t know about the apothecary yet,” Richard said in warning.

O’s gaze narrowed. “True. And he better never—”

“I won’t tell him,” Richard rushed to assure. “What I’m saying is, you keep Shauna until you get Adrian. Then, let’s hand her over.” He shrugged. “You won’t need her anymore after you have the apothecary.”

O masked his features. “With his toy gone, why will the apothecary do my bidding?”

Richard’s pale brows lowered in confusion. “You can’t keep him happy some other way?”

Happy? Embers of resentment burned deep in O’s mind. Who said anything about happy?

“Every man has his drug of choice. For Adrian, it’s her.”

Sending that toy anywhere but an icy grave meant she could return some day. O couldn’t allow that. He’d cage her, far away from Adrian, or he’d kill her.

Not that Richard needed to know that. The aptly named angel had
feelings
for her. On some minuscule level, he didn’t want to see her hurt. Hence the reason O found him cowering and sobbing like a baby instead of sticking around to watch her flames of carnage.

Richard’s pondering tone stirred O’s attention. “But the powder.” He nodded to the side table, where O’s remaining stash lay tipped on its side. “We could use it on Adrian. We could bring any one of the whores from the club. Your apothecary’d never know the difference.”

“Too risky.” O frowned. “I don’t like it.” O paused. Lifted a finger. “But for the agent…” It just might work. Who cared if the agent’s vision produced Shauna or Ms. December from
Porn Girl Monthly
? Squalinski would see what he wanted, and he’d take it. No questions asked.

“Find a replacement. A decoy. Someone who couldn’t just get up and walk away.”

Richard nodded. “Consider it done.”

****

“First, you hot little love muffins.” Kimmy pivoted from the stove. She moved with such force, tiny bits of chicken took to the air as if they were born again. She staggered to one side, and then righted herself with a you-didn’t-see-that toss of her hair. Kimmy tipped a remaining forkful of chicken to Adrian, then Shauna, and back again. Her meat metronome kept time with her words. “We need to know how far the curse has played out.”

Shauna gave her a flat look. “Curse?” You mean it gets better?

“Yeah, yeah, the star-crossed ass whoopin’ thing.” She looked to Adrian. Her shoulders slumped. “Tell me you’ve explained this to her.”

“I was working on it,” Adrian bit out.

“Looked like
she
was the one doing the work.” Kimmy muttered an off-beat tune. “Work it, girl. Work it, work it, work it, girl.”

Shauna frowned. The sudden morph of her lushly-slut-friend to a mystic know-it-all could have happened at any time. Why now? Why in the middle of her second best sexual encounter in the history of ever?

Even more important, why rub it in?

This wasn’t Kimmy at all. The mystic thing had been a quirky, little seasoning that Kimmy sprinkled on from time to time, not the oozing, sassy snot that seemed to have consumed her. Like the blob or something.

Adrian seemed to reflect the same caution, as he looked from Kimmy to Shauna and back again. “Okay, something’s not right,” he murmured.

Shauna shook her head. “Okay…About the curse thing?”

“The men in Adrian’s family are cursed to find love and tragically lose it.” She waved the fork in circular, magic wand fashion. “Kinda like Romeo and Juliet. It’s a curse on the ancient apothecary who enabled their death.” With the last word, Kimmy emphatically flicked her fork-wand, and the wedge of chicken shot across the room. It disappeared with a wet thud, somewhere opposite the large island counter.

“Oops, sorry.” She returned to the pan. “Anyways, you’ve already met. That’s when it started.” Kimmy sawed away at the meat; her shapely rear end jiggled back and forth from the effort.

Adrian’s stormy-blue gaze rolled heavenward.

“Let her eat,” Shauna murmured. “She’ll talk less with her mouth full. Kimmy, why don’t you take that to the other room?”

“Clearly, you’ve found love.” Kimmy stuffed a forkful of meat into her mouth. Her next words came out muffled and thick. “So the next step is when Shauna bears an heir…mmm, this is good.”

So much for the not talking. Or the leaving.

Adrian pushed out a heavy sigh of annoyance.

“Ugh…Kimmy, what’s
wrong
with you?” Shauna demanded. “A little privacy here?”

Kimmy blinked. “But I have the munchies.”

“She’s in a trance,” Adrian grumbled. “They require a lot of energy to prognosticate.”

Shauna returned his statement with a wide-eyed look of why-the-hell-would-we-want-her-to-do-that?

“Which reminds me,” Kimmy piped up. “You get delivery out here?” She retrieved the phone weighing down her oversized pocket.

“Hey, that’s mine.” Shauna frowned.

“I know.” Kimmy blinked several times as she slid her thumb across the phone’s surface. She murmured to herself. “No. No, that’s not right—who are all these calls from?”

Was Shauna caught somewhere in a fifties sitcom? Did she really have to clutch her hand bag, dance back and forth on a stool, and cry for Adrian to
do something
before he took action? For the love! Drop the gentleman bullshit and kick the mangy goat out of the kitchen!

But Adrian’s stony expression and belligerent arm folding wouldn’t be moved. Probably not short of a raging cat fight to break up.

Fine. If he wanted a catfight, he’d get one. “Kimmy? Out!” She gestured to the door. “And leave my phone.”

Kimmy looked up. Her expression turned serious. “I saw your face when you walked into the house this morning. I know that look. You were getting busy last night. Hell, you almost got busy right here amongst the cooking utensils. You love bunnies can’t keep your hands off each other.”

Shauna’s defenses hardened. “So. As if that’s any of your business…” Not like anything on heaven or earth would ruin
her
appetite.

“
So
, if you get pregnant—or what if you
are
pregnant…”

“Not possible,” Adrian stated, his tone a little too calm for Shauna’s liking.

She adjusted to face Kimmy. “No. It isn’t possible,” she snapped.

“You’re sure,” Kimmy challenged. “How are you sure?”

“Well,” she gestured both hands toward Adrian, “the float-a-condom for starters.”

“Doesn’t count. Look what it did to your face. Obviously it’s defective.” Kimmy set the phone on the counter and angled her nose to a regal height. “Too much risk. I’m still not convinced.”

Shauna tightened her grip on the fluttering ribbon of hope. Pregnant? The thought of white picket fences and backyard family barbeques had been farther from her mind than ever over the last twenty-four hours. But Kimmy’s statement brought it bounding to the forefront of her mind, rattling and jumping around in its neatly wrapped package. “I don’t need you to be convinced.”

“It’s. Not. Possible,” Adrian insisted.

Kimmy snorted. “You’d be surprised—”

A warning rumbled low in Adrian’s chest. “That’s enough.”

“You better tell her,” Kimmy warned.

“Tell me what?” She fired back at Kimmy, Adrian, both of them.

Were they talking about the same thing? She hadn’t
completely
gone barren. Not unless Adrian knew something she didn’t. With his knack for detecting all things biological and beyond…her stomach squeezed in on itself. God, don’t let him be the one to deliver
that
bad news. Anyone but him.