Icing the Puck (New York Empires Book 2) (4 page)

She took her bag from him, careful not to touch him.

“Aren’t you cold?” he asked.

“No.” She couldn’t bring herself to be completely rude. “I
am
sorry. I had a very nice lunch. I just have to go.”

He held up her coat then and she acquiesced, turning so he could help her into it. The gesture put him too close, his hands brushing her shoulders as she shrugged into her coat. She stepped away quickly so he wouldn’t notice how warm she was.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked. “Say something to insult you?”

“Of course not. You’re perfect. But I’m…” Damaged. Dangerous. Broken.

The Devil’s spawn.

She forced that last label from her head. That was her parents talking, and she refused to let their fanaticism define her. But she was damaged. And she was very dangerous.

He took a step closer, too close again, and yet somehow still not crowding her. “I really had a good time today. I’d like to see you again.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” She had to crane her neck back to look him in the eyes. The angle made her feel vulnerable because all she could think was how easy it would be to kiss him. He’d just have to lean down a little bit, she could ease up onto her toes…

She realized she was staring at his mouth when one corner quirked up a little in a half-smile.

“I think seeing you again would be an excellent idea,” he said.

He leaned down, and she did go up onto her toes, until she could feel the warmth of his breath against her lips. The faintest touch of his mouth to hers, a brief brush of temptation…

And the heat in her palms intensified.

She hurried back a step. “I need to go. Thank you for lunch.” She spun and flagged an approaching taxi before he could object.

Maybe it was her desperation, or maybe she just got lucky, but the cab stopped. She climbed in, leaving Brody staring after her, that little crease between his brows deep.

Her guilt and fear settled like a hard ball in her gut all the way to Forest Hills, ruining what had been an excellent meal. She had to talk to Nathalie. She was too early for their appointment, but Ann would wait as long as necessary.

She couldn’t go on like this anymore.

At exactly eight o’clock, Ann went up to Nathalie’s apartment. She hadn’t seen Nathalie enter the building, but she knew from her own building there could be another entrance. She’d waited until the appointed time on a low brick wall across the street from the main door. The night was chilly so she’d huddled in her coat, her skin finally cool enough she felt the autumn weather, but she hadn’t dare go anywhere more pubic.

She could still feel the warning tingles in her palms.

As she knocked on Nathalie’s door, she tried not to let worry overtake her. Worry was as bad as any other emotion. She focused on her breathing, counting slowly each time she breathed in, then reversing the order as she breathed out.

When the door opened, she released a relieved sigh.

“Thank you for meeting me,” she said to the stranger who was her sister.

Nathalie nodded and motioned her inside. She gestured to a small, comfortable couch, waited for Ann to sit, then settled in a beautiful wooden rocking chair.

Ann took a moment to study the apartment. It wasn’t very big, but it was cozy and neat, with clean wooden floors, a few rugs scattered around the living room, and a very interesting set up of candles and incense holders on a low table against one wall. From the couch, Ann couldn’t see into the kitchen, except that a door near the table with the candles led into one, but from this angle it looked like a reasonable sized space for New York. Everything looked so homey and lived in. It was nice.

“So,” Nathalie said without preamble. “I assume you’re a firestarter.”

Ann blinked a few times, her mouth dropping open as she stared at Nathalie.

“Pyrokinesis. Am I wrong? That reference to fire was pretty pointed. You know that’s the reason our mother left my father.”

“What? No. What?”

Nathalie frowned. “OK, maybe we need to backtrack a little. Did I guess right about the pyrokinesis, or is this a more mundane problem?”

Very slowly, Ann said, “You guessed right. But how…?”

“You came to me because you assumed I’d understand, because of things your mother has said.”

“She called you and your father Devil’s spawn.”

Nathalie snorted. “Yeah, heard that before. But she didn’t tell you why exactly she called us that?”

“She said you and your father were devil worshiping pagans.”

Nathalie rolled her eyes. “What a load of crap. I am a solitary green witch. I don’t even believe in her devil.”

The admission took Ann by surprise. “You think you’re a witch?”

Nathalie dropped her chin and gave Ann a deadpan stare. “You’ve heard of the Wiccan religion, right?”

“Well, yes, but…”

“Like that only a little different. It’s my religion. A type of philosophy, if that helps.”

“But you knew what a firestarter was? You believe in…”

Nathalie stared at Ann a moment, then raised her hand. A ball of blue fire burst into life in the center of Nathalie’s palm. She glanced at it a moment, then closed her fist and the fire vanished.

When she meet Ann’s gaze again, she raised a brow. “I understand that particular gift. Though, I’d always assumed it came from my dad’s side of the family. He’s going to get a kick out of knowing it came from my mother.”

“Why do you say that it came from our mother?”

“How else? That’s our only blood tie.”

Ann closed her eyes and shook her head. She felt like an idiot. She was the geneticist. Of course if they shared this trait, it must be inherited from their linked genetics. Ann had gone into the field specifically to look for a genetic cause for her curse…

She paused at that word and looked up at Nathalie again. “You called it a gift. I’ve always considered it a curse.”

“You said you’re in trouble. No one has taught you how to control the fire, have they? That’s why you came to me.”

“You’re very astute.”

Nathalie ignored the compliment. “My grandmother trained me. I was four the first time fire sparked out of my hands. It’s the reason your mother finally abandoned us, why she calls us what she does. She saw the fire and saw Satan and Hell. My grandmother, though Catholic, was a pagan at her core, and saw the fire as just another skill.”

“Did she have it?” Ann was genuinely curious. For the first time in her life, she felt free to discuss things she’d never dared talk about openly before for fear someone would stick her in a psychiatric hospital—or worse, her family would bring in some weird fanatic preacher to try and “beat or burn” the demon out of her. She shivered.

“You OK?” Nathalie asked.

“Yes. Sorry. I’ve just never been able to discuss this without worrying about the reaction. My family… Well, you know. The reaction would have been bad.”

Nathalie snorted a laugh. “Yes. How did you manage to keep it from them?”

“The first time it happened, I was alone. I was almost four and had snuck out of church to play with rocks in the parking lot. I accidentally incinerated a section of dry grass at the edge of the lot. The whole thing scared me so much I ran back into church thinking I was possessed. But crossing into the sacred space didn’t change anything.”

“You’re not possessed. Or cursed. Or any of the other stupid things your mother might have put into your head. It’s just a skill. Like any other skill. Less typical, obviously, but just a talent.”

“A biological impossibility according to all known science.”

“And science knows everything right now? You know as well as I do that a hundred years from now everything we take as fact at the moment will be wrong.”

Ann smiled a little. “You sound more the scientist right now than I do.”

“What science?”

“Genetics.”

“Apropos.”

“Is that why your grandmother could train you? Why you thought the…skill came from your father’s side?”

“No,
Yaya
wasn’t a firestarter. She was just old enough to have learned a lot. And her mind was wide open to a very grand world, so nothing really surprised her. Plus, she has visions like I do, so there’s that.”

“Wait, you have visions, too?” Ann felt a little lightheaded. She leaned back in the couch. This couldn’t be a real conversation. And yet this was exactly why she’d come to Nathalie.

Nathalie waved that away. “Off topic. Sorry. Back to the fire. Does yours get harder to control when your emotions swing?”

“Yes,” Ann breathed. “A lot worse. I shut down emotions not long after discovering what I could do. I was afraid.”

“Of course you were. Shutting down your emotions won’t help long term, though.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“Starting to slip already? Not surprised. OK, let’s start.”

“Wait.” Ann slid to the edge of the couch. “What do you mean, let’s start?”

“You need to learn control. I can teach you. Then everyone will be safe, and you can start feeling things again.”

“Do we need to go somewhere special?”

“We’ll start with the basics here, then I’ll take you to my father’s house for the real control tests. He’s got a cement basement, designed for me, so I wouldn’t burn his house down.”

“He won’t mind? I’m his ex-wife’s child from another man.”

Nathalie rocked gently in her chair. “He’ll see what I see. A young woman in a lot of trouble who needs our help. He’s big on helping those in need.”

“He sounds like a good man. Not what I expected.”

“Yeah, well.” She shrugged. “You need to talk more or do you want to learn how to keep the fire under your control?”

“Control. We can talk later.”

Nathalie smiled. “Good. Let’s go sit on the floor.” She motioned to the low table with candles on it, set against the wall, and with a simple rug on the floor in front of it. “That particular rug is fire proof.”

Ann followed, a strange combination of confusion and relief making her knees wobble. As they settled on the floor for her first lessons, she acknowledged how very grateful she was to have a “Devil’s spawn” half sister. It seemed she didn’t have to hide from every member of her family after all.

Brody wasted no time finding Nathalie the next day after his date with Ann. He had morning practice to get through first, and ended up with his face in the ice a few times because he was distracted—Jahr, Karpov, and Sandberg would never let him live that down. As soon as practice ended, he went right to the physical therapy center.

He had no idea what had happened with Ann, why she’d run away from what he’d thought was a really good date. He’d gone over the conversation again and again. He hadn’t said anything offensive—in fact, there’d been a lull in the conversation just before she’d bolted.

Whatever had happened, he knew he couldn’t let things just end the way they had. He wanted to see her again.

He’d never met anyone quite like Dr. Ann Bell. She was smart, clever, and incredibly interesting. Though she did give him funny looks when he jumped topics, she went with the flow of his conversation better than most people. She even had a lot to say about a lot of the things he brought up. Which was such a nice change of pace. Most people he knew had no interest in all the various things he was interested in. Even his own twin didn’t care to discuss some of the stuff Brody liked to talk about. But Ann was curious and easily discussed everything.

The fact that all that smart curiosity was wrapped up in a sexy little body and adorable face was like frosting on a beautiful cake. And that mouth of hers… So damned kissable.

The thought of her mouth reminded him sharply of their almost kiss, a moment more erotic than any full-on liplock he’d ever experienced. So close, so enticingly close…

Then she’d run.

But for that one instant, he knew she wanted him as much as he did her, and that meant he had a chance with her.

The only problem was she hadn’t given him a way to contact her. He knew she studied genetics at one of the universities in the city, but not which one because he never got back around to asking. Or else she’d avoided telling him, and he hadn’t noticed. Though even if he knew, he had a feeling he wouldn’t win any favors stalking her at work.

Nathalie came out of a back office onto the main therapy floor while he was hunting for her. He made a beeline to her.

“Do you have Ann’s phone number?”

“Huh?” Nathalie looked up at him, blinking in confusion.

He got that a lot. “Ann Bell. She was here yesterday looking for you. Said she was your sister. I need to get in touch with her.”

Nathalie’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“Do you have her phone number?”

“Again, I ask, why?”

“So I can call her.” He gave her a what-else-would-I-want-it-for look.

“Why, Brody?”

“We had a date yesterday, a date that I thought went very well, but she ran off at the end.”

“What did you do?”

“Nothing that I can figure out.” He gave a huff of frustration. “And I’ve thought about it a lot.” He frowned a little. “Actually, she ran off twice. Once from the restaurant when we weren’t even talking.”

“And the second time?”

He grunted. “When I almost kissed her.”

“Hmm.”

“Hey, I wasn’t forcing anything. I didn’t even get a chance to kiss her, but she
was
leaning into me.”

The crease between Nathalie’s brows deepened, but her focus was on a wall not him. He tried to wait her out.

His effort lasted all of forty seconds before he said, “Well? Do you have her number?”

“I do. I want to get her permission first before I give it to you.”

He bit back a growl because he understood why she was hesitating. His frustration was hard to hold in check though. He glanced around the therapy room, looking for a way to work off the irritation at having to wait.

“Tell you what,” he said, “I’ll go for a run. Will that give you time enough to contact her?”

Nathalie snorted. “You are severely lacking in patience, Evans. Fine, I’ll call her while you go for a run. But…” She raised a hand, stopping him when he turned away. “She’s probably at work, so don’t get your hopes up. It might be hours before she calls back.”