Deception (7 page)

Drifting her fingers across the soft petal of a pale-pink lily, she imagined what it would be like to have all of Quin, to be able to please him the way he'd pleased her . . . twice.

Her stomach flipped as her cheeks ignited, pinching around a giddy grin. Then she chugged her coffee and forced herself from the magical room.

Layla smirked when she stepped from the shower to find a folded pile of clothes on the vanity. Quin had outraced her again.

Marveling at his speed, she grabbed a towel. Then she dried while examining the dress. The long, asymmetrical skirt and v-neck bust were emerald-green, but the empire waist was cinched with black lace that overlaid the bosom and formed the capped sleeves. The entire back was see-through lace, and the neckline would likely expose an ample amount of cleavage. Oh well. She’d given Quin clearance to pick her outfit, so she’d grin and wear it.

She set the dress aside and picked up the underwear, which were like the panties he'd already seen her in – modest, white cotton. She wondered if he got a peek at her more promiscuous panties, and her cheeks grew warm. Not that he’d look for long. He was too candid to secretly fondle her underclothes like a pervert. If he wanted to look at her panties, he’d pull them off her and look.

Aside from the dress and undergarment, he'd brought the necklace she’d gotten as a birthday present from Travis and Phyllis – her friends in Oklahoma. Layla smiled as she picked up the emerald stone swirling with black undertones; it would complement the dress perfectly.

She magically donned the clothes and jewelry then looked in the mirror. Yes, the dress exposed more cleavage than anything she'd previously worn, but the matching necklace drew attention away from her breasts. Still, she couldn’t help but fidget with her neckline as she took a deep breath and entered the bedroom.

Quin sat on the side of the blanketed hill, fresh coffee in hand, and his gaze slowly ran the length of her body before landing on her face. “You’re stunning.”

She cocked an eyebrow and walked forward. “Did you know the neckline would drop this low?”

His innocent look was too cute and one-hundred percent staged. “I thought it would look perfect on you, and it does.” He sobered as he stood and reached for her hand. “I can go get something else if it bothers you.”

“No,” she refused. “If this is what you like, I like it, too.” She pointed to the coffee. “For me?”

“Of course,” he answered, handing her the mug.

While she tried to concentrate on sipping the hot brew, he moved his fingers to the lace stretching over her breasts, dipping them between mounds of ample flesh. Goose bumps erupted, tightening her nipples and warming her veins, and she froze with her lips to her mug.

He sighed then pulled his fingers away. “I’m a blessed man.”

She lowered her mug and took his hand, turning so her back was to his chest. Then she maneuvered his fingers beneath the hem of her neckline.

“Mmm…” he murmured, burying his face in her hair. “And it keeps getting better.”

She relaxed and sipped her coffee, and she wasn't the least bit embarrassed by his touch. In fact, her biggest struggle was staying calm. His hand could easily work her into a frisky frenzy, taking her from zero to sixty with a tap to her gas pedal, but her brakes didn't work as well.

“Do you feel like being around a crowd?” he asked, abandoning her dress.

She pouted and opened her eyes. “Why do you ask?”

“Because our entire family's on the lawn for lunch. All twenty-six of them.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yep.”

“Your dad and the others are better?”

“They're doing much better.”

“That’s wonderful news. I want to see them, but I wasn’t looking forward to seeing them in sickbeds. Lunch on the lawn sounds fantastic.”

“Good. Are you ready now?”

“Not quite.” She sent her mug to a camouflaged nightstand. Then she hovered from the grass and took his cheeks, parting his lips with a deep kiss.

“Wow,” he breathed, blinking open his eyes. “You take me to another world when you do that.”

She laughed as she returned to the floor. “A good one, I hope.”

“Heaven,” he assured, waving a hand, and a window opened, pouring light across the grass floor and midnight walls. “Shall we fly?”

“If I can remember how. I haven’t flown by myself since our trip back from the cliff.”

“You won't ever forget how to fly, no matter how long you go without doing it.”

“Like riding a bike.”

“So they say. I wouldn't know. I've only ridden a bike once.”

“Really?”

“Yep, and while I see the hexless appeal, it’s nothing compared to flying.”

“As someone who’s done both more than once, I agree.” She flashed a grin. Then she leapt forward and dove through the window. “Race you!”

She hit open air, its chilly bite laced with the soothing smell of rain. Then she shot up and over the house, unashamed of the head-start she'd given herself. She glanced at the crowded lawn while magically sealing her skirt to her legs. Then she flipped upright and spun around, smiling as she searched for Quin.

He wasn’t there, and her smile fell as she furrowed her eyebrows, sad he didn’t play her game.

“Hey,” he whispered, his warm breath sweeping across her ear.

She jolted and twirled around. “How did you do that?”

“You're fast,” he laughed, “but you can't beat me yet.”

“But I didn’t see you pass me.”

“I took the window in the spare bathroom,” he revealed, pointing behind her. “I was here when you appeared over the house.”

“Are you really that much faster than me?”

“No. You'll out-fly me as soon you’re comfortable enough to test your limits.”

“Have I seen you fly your fastest?”

He thought for a moment then shook his head. “No. I flew my fastest last night, but you had your face hidden.”

“May I see it now?”

“If you’ll race with me. I need the competition.”

She glanced down. Twenty-eight chairs sat in a haphazard circle – all but two of them occupied. “I don't know,” she mumbled. “You’d probably lap me and that would be embarrassing.”

“There’s no way I’ll lap you. But if it will make you feel better, we can call some people up here you're sure to beat.”

Her face grew warm as she rubbed her neck and clicked her fingernails together.

“What's wrong?” Quin asked, pulling her against him.

“I’m embarrassed,” she answered, “but I don’t know why.”

Quin frowned and touched her hot cheek. “Didn't you participate in group activities in Oklahoma?”

“Yes.”

“What did you do?”

“Lots of things. Sports, dance, choir, theater… student council.”

“That's a long list. Were you embarrassed then?”

“No.”

“Hmm… How long has it been since you performed in front of a crowd?”

She thought back, trying to remember. Then her eyes moistened as her throat tightened. “The day my mom had her stroke. I played a game of softball with a church group.”

“I see,” he whispered, wrapping her in a hug. “That's a long time, love.”

“Mom was always my cheerleader. I guess I lost my go get em' attitude when I lost her.”

“I can understand why that would break your spirit, but you have twenty-seven cheerleaders now.”

“I know.”

“But you're still hesitant.”

“Yes. I feel the way I did before my first dance recital. I was four and scared out of my mind. I didn’t think my flimsy knees would hold me, so I planted my feet backstage. Mom cried because she had to push me onstage.”

“How did it go?”

“I didn't miss a step.”

“Of course you didn't; you're a witch. What I meant was – how did it feel to perform in front of an audience?”

“I don't remember what it felt like, but I remember being excited. I practically flew into my mom's arms afterward. Then she took me out for ice cream.”

He tilted her head back, smiling as he swept a thumb across her lips. “That’s a sweet story. Did you dance onstage again?”

“At least four times a year until I was eighteen.”

“Hmm… I'm not going to make you race, but I think you should. I think you’d enjoy it, and I think you’d want to do it again.”

“I think you're probably right, but the nerves are still there.”

“Then we’ll wait and do it another time.”

“I’m sorry, Quin.”

“Don’t be.” He leaned in for a kiss. Then he grinned and raised his eyebrows. “Hey.”

“Hey back.”

“I have a challenge for you.”

She raised a suspicious eyebrow. “What’s that?”

He smiled and pointed up. “Want to see whose fireball is bigger?”

“Yes,” she answered, eyes widening on the vast sky.

“We have to go at the same time,” he stipulated, “or you'll cheat.”

“Deal,” she laughed.

He took her left hand and moved beside her. “Straight up, on three. Ready?”

She mentally pumped herself up. “Yes.”

They both raised a hand toward granite clouds. Then Quin started the countdown. “One . . . two . . . three.”

Flames shot from their palms – a pair of burning spheres too similar to say which was bigger. Soon after leaving their bodies, the fireballs combined, and Layla gasped as a cluster of flames the size of a small house soared above the lawn. The magic quickly reached a height equal to the tallest timber, so Quin waved a hand and extinguished the spell. Applause and a few whoops rose up from their family, and Layla wiggled with excitement as she found Quin’s eyes.

“I'm calling it a tie,” he decided, pulling her knuckles to his lips, “unless you want to contest my decision and ask the others.”

She shrugged, trying to stifle a smile as she tilted her chin. “I think mine was a bit bigger, but whatever.”

Quin laughed as he poked her in the side, making her flinch and giggle.

“Okay, okay,” she conceded. “They were too close to call.”

“That's probably the last time I'll be able to match you. From now on, you'll kick my ass at my own element.”

“I'll try to kick softly,” she promised, fluttering her lashes.

He grinned as he pulled her under his arm. “How do you feel?”

“The same way I always feel after playing with fire. It’s like taking a shot of adrenaline mixed with happy gas. Screw energy drinks. We should market post-power euphoria.”

He laughed as he rubbed her vibrating shoulder. “So you’re ready for a race?”

She flipped her gaze to his, her mouth falling open as she pointed. “You set me up, and I fell right into it.”

His dimples deepened as he pulled her hand to his heart. “Aren’t you glad you did?”

“Well,” she huffed, searching for an argument, but she didn’t have one. “I can’t deny the boost of confidence I get after performing magic, but that was scandalous and ornery and someday I’ll start catching on to your tricks.”

“So you’re ready for a race?” he repeated, smoothing her wrinkled brow.

She smirked and shook her head. “Count me in.”

“Excellent,” he approved, taking her cheeks.

After giving her a happy kiss, he looked to the family, and Layla looked as well. A few seconds later, her cousins Banning and Brietta, along with Quin’s cousin Skyla, flew to meet them.

“Hey, Layla,” Banning greeted. “You look great.”

“Thanks, Bann.”

“How do you feel?”

“Almost back to normal. Quin fixed me up nicely. How's your dad?”

“Tough as nails is what he'll tell you.”

“I'm glad he's doing better,” Layla offered, floating to Brietta and Skyla for hugs. “How’s your dad, Sky?”

“Much better,” Skyla assured. “What were he and Kearny saying earlier, Bann? Something about how there wasn't a magician alive who could break them?”

“Yeah,” Banning laughed, “as they were getting their bones mended.”

Brietta somersaulted over Quin and grabbed him in a headlock. “So, Mr. Fix It, what did you call us up here for?” She fruitlessly tugged a few times. Then she flipped in front of him and jabbed at his ribs, but he smoothly dodged her dainty fist.

“Ready to get beat in a race?” he asked.

“Excellent,” Banning approved. “Bri's starving for her humble pie.”

Brietta’s long blond hair fluttered behind her as she slid through the air and swept Banning's feet out from under him. Then she laughed and pointed when he tipped sideways. “You're just mad because you can't beat me.”

He straightened and grabbed for her, but missed. “No. I just like to see you get beat.”

“Such a loving brother,” she countered. “What would I do without you?”

“Pick on somebody else,” he answered, swiping at her again, but Brietta was too fast.

“But I like picking on you,” she cooed, swooping in to ruffle his fair hair. “You're my favorite.”