Gone With the Witch (14 page)

Aiden grinned. "I love Froot Loops"

"See? We can't go home. While I was giving that piece
of garbage what he deserved, the scents, tastes, and sounds
I associate with your baby became stronger as you came closer."

Aiden felt a little queasy about the possibilities, but
what he'd just witnessed didn't necessarily mean that
he
had a child somewhere. Only that Storm might really hear
babies crying ... like that wasn't
a shocker in itself. Either way, Aiden's resignation was laced with apprehension. What if he did have a kid somewhere?

Walking into
Victoria
's Secret took the edge off his anx
iety, and everything but the thought of Storm's underwear went out of his head.

Since she normally wore black—unless she was a b
ri
desmaid—Aiden expected her to choose black under
wear, so his day got brighter when she chose camis, panties,
V-strings, and any number of sexy little man-hardening
teasers in turquoise, raspberry, peach, ruby, and cinnamon—
all those spinning colors making him dizzy ... happy
dizzy ... as did
th
e
sight of them in sheer, opaque, lace, and
spandex.

"This is like a dream come true," she said.

"You mean that you dreamed you could make me come
just walking me through a linge
ri
e store?"

She elbowed him. "I dreamed I could buy all new underwear."

"Can I help? Can I? Please?"

He'd amused her, as he intended, and she let him choose a couple of one-piece beauties, a bustier and a teddy, which
she needed to identify for him, and which he loved.

She took every dreamy choice to
th
e
register, and when the salesgirl said "Cash or credit?" Aiden handed her his credit card.

Storm gave him a questioning look.

He pulled her aside for a minute. "There are dreams,"
he said, "and there are dreams come
true."

After she bought the underwear, she asked if she could go into the dressing room to change into one of her new purchases.

When she came out, Aiden got up close and personal.
"Which ones are you wearing?" he asked, but she chuckled
and refused to answer.

In the department store, she chose all black items to
bring into the fitting room, but when she sent him back to the racks for different choices, he picked clothes in bright,
outrageous colors
an
d
patterns. He handed them to
th
e
sales
clerk to bring to Storm and was rewarded by her "Curses, McCloud," but she sounded more entertained than angry. He was really surprised when she came out wearing a
sailor-type playsuit with short shorts in red, white, and
blue. She postured and posed as if she was a leggy, overpaid runway model, and he was her million-dollar client.

"This is pure retro," she said. "Wha'd'ya think? Too
Debbie Does the Coast Guard?"

Aiden winked and relaxed in the comfortable chair he'd found outside
th
e
dressing room. "I like
th
e
outfit, but I'm not sharing you with a branch of the armed forces"

In a patchwork jacket, she looked like a mod sixties
refugee, and he gave her a thumbs-down. "Looks like
you've been Dumpster diving."

"Eeyeew."
She turned and marched back into
th
e
dressing room.

She modeled every outrageous outfit he sent in. "Flower
child does a garage sale," she said about a high-waisted
print minidress.

She called the sleeveless red dress with a black T
design, "Middle-aged substitute teacher."

"Thigh-high boots with this skirt," she said, modeling it,
"and I've got a `bad slut/good slut' look going."

While she poked fun at his choices, she did try them on,
and she had a good time doing it. This Storm—the one he was seeing for the first time—was like a kid playing dress-
up, which made him wonder if her goth trappings weren't
a form of camouflage all their own, as if she
meant
to hide the real Storm. Watching her explained why he'd found

her
so charming and enchanting from the moment he
met her.

Did her
goth
alter ego try to make a bad impression, so the world would think she
didn't
care what they thought? If
goth
was
simply a role she played, why?
To protect herself from the world?
Or to protect the world from her?

Will the real Storm Cartwright please stand up?

She'd caught his attention with this unexpected peek,
and he was honored she revealed herself to him. He'd gotten a glimpse at the wedding, but not like this.

Yet another side of her had come out when she caught
the kidnapper, which made him wonder just how many
sides there were to the puzzle called Storm.

He'd been up-front with her by telling her why he was going on this
tr
ip, but because he'd like to see Storm the woman as happy as Storm the hidden child, he almostalmost—wished she wasn't wrong.

If she was right, he had a kid to deal with, but he'd cross
that drawbridge if it ever lowered itself into his path.

More than likely, she'd make a fool of herself, but he'd be there to pick up the pieces, if he could, and protect her from the worst of it.

Funny, he'd never thought of himself as someone who rescued damsels in distress. But if Storm were the damsel, he could pretend to be a knight.

The saleswoman came from the dressing room with her arms full and gave him the mound of clothes Storm had chosen. All black. Not a color among them. He was disap
pointed in a way, because he liked Storm the child, though
Storm the woman was one sexy handful, one he could really fall for.

Where did that thought come from? He was probably light-headed and disoriented from hyperventilating in
Victoria
's Secret. That was it.

"Your wife asked me to give you these to hold. She said
they'd survived the first cut."

"What?
Who?"

"The lady with the blue hair?"

"She's not my wife."

"I apologize," the saleswoman said. "I based my as
sumption on the fact that you're sitting in the husband
chair."

Aiden stood so fast he got a head rush.

He looked in every direction, tossed the black clothes
on the chair, and headed for the closest exit sign.

No way could he be a knight. Not even for a
goth
in col
ored underwear.

She'd have to find another schmuck.

chapter
ninteen

STORM was disappointed to find Aiden gone when she
left the fitting room, but when she checked out, the sales
clerk told her how he'd reacted to "the husband chair."
Hell, he was a man who carried his house around like a turtle. Talk about not wanting to be tied down. No wonder
sitting in a cushy commitment chair scared the stuffing out
of him.

She found him on a hard man bench in the mall
watching a bunch of sugar-shot toddlers in a gated childcare facility.

Since she still couldn't believe that he'd trusted her in
stincts enough to assault a stranger in a mall on her behalf,
she let his defection slide.

Look at him. He might be afraid of the words
husband
and
father,
but if the way he was smiling at those kids' an
tics was any indication, he'd make a great dad—a good
thing, because he was about to become one.

He didn't notice her until she cut off his view of the
kids.

"Get everything you wanted?" he asked.

Not quite, because she was beginning to want him, perish the thought. Sure they'd been playing sexual games for
three weeks, and the body chemistry was off the charts, the
sex mind-blowing, but what was with this
want
thing? “Almost," she said. "The salesgirl said the mall's got a store called Dragon Pearls where I should be able to find the magick supplies 'I need."

"Dragon Pearls?"
Aiden stood, shook his head, and took
her bags. "I'm not sure I'm up to a magick shop"

"If you don't like it, you can leave. You're aces at leaving, Turtle."

"Lead the way, Cruella."

To give him his due, he didn't
so
much as wince at the display of athames and chalices in the window.

In the store, the petite blonde salesgirl in a wispy pink ritual robe, with a rose quartz heart between her breasts,
looked like she must be hiding pointy ears and fairy wings.

"Righteous," the sales fairy said, as Storm perused the crystals beneath the glass counter. "You have a spi
ri
t attached to you."

Storm looked up.
"My baby?
Is it my baby?”

“What baby?" Aiden asked.

Storm came back to her surroundings with a jolt, turning to the clerk for an explanation.

"Not you," the girl clarified. "You," she said, pointing at
Aiden, who stopped breathing and stood dumb as a toadstool.

"Is the spirit attached to him a baby?"
Storm
asked.

"No," the fairy said. "It's a woman.
Red hair, blue eyes, a
paisley scarf.
Jingle jewelry. She's gorgeous, and the way she
looks at you. Love struck. Oh, she's fading, but she's still
with you. She has been for a while. Haven't you sensed her?"

Aiden tried to speak, but no words emerged.

Storm saw the determination it took for him not to turn and run.

"I'd like a witch ball, please," Storm said, changing the
subject. "Black corner candles and white tapers—”

“
Eye of newt?"
Aiden suggested.

"Right," Storm said.
"That, and some mugwort, hemlock, and belladonna for his breakfast cereal."

Aiden was not amused.

Storm perused the shop from where she stood. "You know what else I need?
An angelite crystal."

"I have one, but it's expensive. What did you want it
for? Maybe I can suggest something more reasonable?"

"I'll take the angelite," Storm said. "I need it to enhance
telepathic communication and psychic channeling."

"Righteous. You know what you're doing, then. An
gelite it is."

Storm raised a brow Aiden's way before she turned back
to the girl. "Do you have anything like a travel magick kit?
We left in a hurry."

"Yes, I have a kit with all the basics."

"Good. I'll take that and this essential oils energy spell bath and body basket."

That perked Aiden up, Storm noticed. While her
purchases were being wrapped and rung up, Aiden pointed out the magickal supplies he recognized. He'd taken part in Harmony's midsummer castle cleansing ritual, so he wasn't
new to this, but Storm was glad he was curious enough to ask questions.