Light My Fire (2 page)

Sunlight streamed through the tree canopy, turning her cascading curls into a river of molten gold. His head and heart pounded and his cock swelled painfully against the fly of his jeans.

Everything faded to gray. In that moment, fate roared its evil laugh. Because no matter how much this mission was a disaster in the making, he’d never be able to walk away from her.

“Haddie, for the millionth time, stop worrying.” Fighting off the urge to roll her eyes, Dana rearranged the watercolor print on the outdoor display rack before ducking inside the booth. “The oracle isn’t going to be ticked because I’m choosing to ignore its message.”

“I’ve been reading tarot for over fifty years, missy. Trust me, the oracle does
not
like to be ignored.”

Dana swiveled in time to catch Haddie wagging a finger in her direction. “What’s the worst it can do? Send the ghost of Elvis to my bedside to keep me up all night with his a cappella styling’s of ‘Jail House Rock’?”

“Ooh, you are really going to regret that suggestion.” Haddie threw her arms skyward and the elaborate brass bangles around her wrists clanged together musically. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She floated from the booth in a swirl of lavender cape.

“Hey, I have a stockpile of earplugs. I’m covered.” Dana stooped and flipped back the corner of the velvet skirting that hid the storage area beneath the display shelves. She reached for the weatherproof plastic tub that held her spare prints and her boobs inched toward the danger zone. “Oh for Pete’s sake.” Growling, she tugged the burgundy corset firmly in place. “I swear if I had a time machine, I’d travel to the sixteenth century and kick the ass of whoever first envisioned this ridiculous getup.”

“That’d be a damn shame, because you look beautiful.” The low, husky baritone came out of nowhere, making Dana jump.

Clamping a hand against her precariously secured bosom, she tipped her gaze in the direction of the yummy, whiskey-smooth voice.
Holy wowzers
. A bona fide Greek god stood in the booth’s entrance. Seriously, he made Adonis look like a pencil-necked pansy.

Dana moved her attention from the charcoal gray tee shirt clinging to his broad, muscular torso. Roving beyond the stubble darkening his strong jaw, she locked on midnight blue eyes that were a stunning complement to his jet black hair and olive-toned skin. Awareness—hot, heady and sensual—slammed into her, stealing her breath and leaving her dizzy. The sensation was majorly weird.

Another man sauntered into the booth. Dana blinked. “Oh wow…there’s two of you.”
Smooth, Dana. Could you sound more like a moron?

The differences between the two men were subtle. The newcomer kept his hair longer than his brother’s tidier, close-cropped style and she could just make out a faint scar above his right eyebrow. Other than that, their physiques might as well be a matching set.

Hmm, wonder if they’re identical in
every
way.
The naughty thought hit her out of the blue, bringing a warm flush to her face.
Why am I thinking about strange men’s penises?
Giving herself a mental head smack, Dana gestured to the prints arranged on the shelves. “Feel free to browse. If either of you have any questions, just give me a shout.”

Her focus returned to the tub. Heated whispers sounded behind her but she pretended to tune them out. Still, she sent up a silent prayer that the men were arguing over how many dozen prints they should buy.
Dream on, Dana
. Smothering a soft sigh, she grabbed four watercolor prints and wedged the plastic tub underneath the drape of velvet before pushing to her feet. Now wasn’t the time to fixate on the dismal state of her finances. There’d be plenty of opportunity for that later—preferably with a gallon of fudge ripple ice cream close by to deaden the pain.

She swung around and collided with a solid wall of chest. The watercolors fell from her grasp and clunked to the ground. Blinking, she backed up until she bumped into the shelf and stared at the man who’d first walked into the booth. “Uh, call me crazy, but weren’t you standing all the way back there half a second ago?”

“I’m quick on my feet.”

“No kidding. You could give Flash Gordon a run for his money.” She bent for the scattered prints the same instant he did and their heads conked together. “Ow.” Grimacing, she rubbed her skull.

One corner of his mouth lifted in a self-deprecating smile. “Who says I can’t make a great first impression?”

Despite the fact she was on her hands and knees and in serious danger of flashing her boobs again, she couldn’t help laughing. He joined in with a deep chuckle and started to scoop up the prints.

“You don’t have to do that.” Anchoring her corset with one hand, she scrabbled for the remaining pictures.

“Allow me, Dana. It’s the least I can do after bashing into you.”

“Really, it’s o—” Her words rear-ending each other like a five-car pileup, she gaped at him. “How do you know my name?”

He stood and she quickly followed suit, scrabbling to her feet. Gripping the prints in one hand, he snatched a creased piece of paper from the rear pocket of his snug, faded jeans. It took a moment to recognize the flyer she’d taped to the window of Fancies. Her eyes narrowed. “Hey, I left that behind for a reason.”

“I’m sure you did.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, waiting for him to apologize. He didn’t. Instead, his scrutiny drifted to her plumped-up cleavage. The expression on his ruggedly handsome face turned predatory. For some ridiculous reason, it provoked shivers into playing a game of hopscotch along her spine. He lifted his attention from the neckline of her dress. Desire kindled in the depths of his irises, which were blacker than sin.

No man had ever looked at her quite like that, like he wanted to eat her alive, and certainly not five minutes after setting eyes on her. Nervously, she licked her lips. “You can set those watercolors in that bin over there.” She pointed to the crate that contained her wood nymph watercolors.

The stranger dutifully obeyed, giving her a nice view of sculpted muscles shifting beneath his shirt as he carefully settled the prints inside the rack. Dragging her gaze from the distraction of his broad back and tight buns, she glanced toward the other twin and noticed him watching her with an amused grin.

Damn, busted.
She cleared her throat. “Why did you say you were here again?”

A flurry of wind bullied its way inside the booth, bringing with it a small bounty from the nearby maples. Both men ignored the swirl of scarlet leaves pooling around the scuffed toes of their hiking boots. The nearest brother—the one who kept devouring her with his gaze—stepped forward. A muscle ticced in his jaw. “Jace and I are here about the Drakoni contract.”

“Drakoni?” Frowning, Dana let her scrutiny ping-pong between the men. “Sorry, I’m terrible at remembering names. And unfortunately all my records are back at the gallery. What did you commission me to paint?”

Both brothers gave her equally blank looks. The one with the boyishly rumpled hair—Jace—sidled up beside his brother and elbowed him in the ribs. “What the hell is she talking about?”

Ignoring the question, the other man stared at her intently. With each passing second, his large, muscular frame tensed until he resembled a stone statue. A deep exhale gusted from his chest, shattering the illusion. “
Hell
. You have no idea why we’re here.”

A grunt fell from Jace. “Or maybe she just wants us to think that. To throw us off.”

Dana cocked her head to the side. “Throw you off? From what?”

Contemplation gleamed in Jace’s eyes. “Claiming our—” The remainder of his statement was muffled behind the firm clamp of his brother’s hand. Silent warning passed between the two men.

Right about then, unease charted a course through Dana. Just because the brothers were walking poster boys for Hunks-R-Us didn’t mean they didn’t also have a side gig with Psychos Anonymous. God knows, she was a magnet when it came to attracting every freakazoid in the tri-state area.

As if intuiting her concern, the one brother released his hold on his twin and stepped closer. His smile had a strangely hypnotizing effect. “No, you guessed right. We’re here about commissioning a painting.” He extended his hand. “I’m Aiden Fortune. The ugly one behind me is Jace.”

Geez, she’d always been a sucker for a man with a sense of humor. And dimples. Despite the paranoid inner voice shrieking at her not to do it, not to fall for his obvious charms and later become a body stuffed in his basement fridge, she grasped his proffered hand. Strong, powerful fingers enclosed hers. An unbidden image of those fingers caressing her skin, rasping over her suddenly erect nipples, zipped through her mind.

A voice crackled through the fairground’s PA system, announcing that the jousting tournament would be starting in ten minutes. The broadcast provided the perfect impetus to slap her out of her erotic daze. Biting her bottom lip, she broke contact with him and plucked one of her business cards from the small stack on the middle display shelf behind her. She shoved the card at Aiden. “Here. Why don’t you call me at the gallery on Monday, when I won’t be so scatterbrained?”
Or horny
.

Bemusement stamped on his face, Aiden accepted the card. He stared at her for a long moment, as if he wanted to say something. Shaking his head, he scanned the card briefly before tucking it in his pocket. “I’ll do that.” He started to turn away only to stop dead still, his attention fused to something in the far corner of the booth. His jaw tightened, a strange tension buzzing from him.

Baffled by his reaction, she swiveled to see what had captured his consuming focus. Her gaze landed on the print she’d titled
The Sacrifice
and she inwardly groaned. The painting was one of her best—no denying it—but she still couldn’t figure out what the hell possessed her to use herself for the model. Particularly since she was gloriously, decadently naked and tied to an apple tree while a dragon swooped above her, intent on seizing its prize.

She returned her attention to Aiden and knew with all certainty he was cataloging the obvious similarities.
Great, why didn’t I give myself a smaller butt?

Aiden stalked to the watercolor. He crossed his arms over his chest, his body more rigid than a column of marble. “We need to talk about this.
Now
.”

“See that card propped there? It explains my inspiration for the scene.” Well, mostly it did. She’d left out the more steamy parts about her dreamtime dragon, the beast responsible for the painting.

Aiden turned and revealed the annoyance flickering in his eyes. “Very handy, but not what I meant. I was referring to
us
.”

Dana blinked. “Us? As in you and me?”

“And me.” Jace ambled forward. The two brothers exchanged a look, the bizarre tension again crackling in the air.

The whole afternoon was venturing farther and farther into Twilight Zone territory. She opened her mouth but was cut short by the
Bewitched
theme song chirping from her pocket. Scrambling for her cell phone, she glanced at the caller ID and saw the number for La Luna, her aunt’s restaurant. Flipping the phone open, she pressed it to her ear. “Hello?” Her forehead scrunching, she listened to her aunt’s frantic, nearly incoherent blabbering on the other end of the line. At the first pause in Emmaline’s diatribe, Dana jumped in. “Calm down. Isn’t there someone who can cover for Pauline?”

She patiently endured over a minute of hysterical commentary from Emmaline before breaking in again. “Don’t sweat it. I’ll fill in for her. And I’m sure Raul doesn’t look nearly… Really? Who knew they made hot pink fishnets in his size?
Okay
. Give me five minutes to find someone to watch my booth and pack up for me, and then I’ll head over.”

Clicking the phone off, she released a frustrated breath. “Look, this is all very weird.” She waved a hand to indicate Aiden and Jace. “But I have to go deal with a cross-dressing chef before my aunt suffers a nervous breakdown.” Ignoring the twins’ incredulous stares, she raced to Haddie’s booth.

Chapter Three

“Do you think she really doesn’t know?” Jace stroked his chin. “How is that possible? Her parents signed the contract shortly after her birth. Plenty of time since then to fill her in on her fate.”

Aiden watched Dana fling her arms in a tight hug around the purple-haired elderly lady. After a quick peck on the woman’s cheek, Dana rushed toward the distant exit. He met Jace’s baffled expression and grimaced. “If they’ve kept her in the dark all these years, we’ve got one hell of an awkward explanation ahead of us.”

“No shit.” Jace scrubbed a hand across the back of his head. “So do we chase her down and lay it all out for her now?”

“You heard her. She’s got a cross-dressing cook to deal with. Not the best time to drop the bomb on her.” Aiden’s attention journeyed to the painting in the rear of the booth, and the primitive surge of lust that’d earlier gripped him returned full blast. Maybe Dana didn’t consciously realize why they were there, but her creative muse was fully in tune. The realization taunted the primal beast slumbering inside him. His dragon strained at its leash, desperate to pursue and conquer. “Wouldn’t hurt following her to the restaurant.” His inner beast roared in approval.

Jace grinned. “Now that you mention it, I am kind of hungry.”

They both turned and headed toward the front of the booth just as the purple-haired woman strolled inside. She swept them with an assessing glance, a crafty gleam sparkling in her eyes. “Interesting. The cards didn’t mention there’d be two of you.”

Aiden didn’t know what to make of her cryptic statement, but he also didn’t have time to ask her to elaborate. As it was, he and Jace needed to hustle ass and catch up to Dana before she left the parking lot, otherwise they’d never be able to track her down.

“The restaurant is off Baldwin, near the mega mall you passed coming here. Look for the big blue sign that says La Luna.”

Jace’s eyebrows shot upward. “Whoa. How did you—?”

“I’m a psychic, hon, and I can read you two easier than the
Metro Daily
.” She tapped a fingernail against her double chins. “Although…there’s something unusual about both your auras.”

“Yeah, we get that a lot,” Aiden said, his tone dry. He clamped a hand on Jace’s shoulder and steered him from the booth. They sprinted toward the exit, ignoring the curious glances and a few ribald shouts flung their way. By the time they reached the Navigator, they were breathing heavy and drenched with a fresh coat of sweat.

Aiden quirked his lips upward. “Times like this, I really appreciate the ability to fly.”

“No shit. Could you imagine the look on people’s faces if we’d shifted?” Chuckling, Jace leaned across the console and unzipped the duffles. He yanked tee shirts from both, tossing Aiden the black one while he kept the white crewneck for himself. “Hopefully La Luna isn’t a jacket and tie joint.”

Aiden tugged his damp shirt over his head and mopped the sweat from his skin before pulling on the new tee. All things considered, the possibility of getting kicked out of the restaurant for their apparel was the least of their problems. Gunning the Navigator’s engine, he sped from the fairground and backtracked to the freeway. Judging from the GPS, the turnoff for Baldwin was less than a quarter mile.

Sure enough, he spied the enormous Great Lakes shopping complex and an exit ramp. Less than five minutes later, he pulled into La Luna’s crammed lot. He searched for a mouthwatering, green-eyed blonde in a medieval dress but didn’t see Dana anywhere. Hopefully the purple-haired woman hadn’t been blowing smoke up their asses and they were indeed at the right restaurant.

Only one way to find out.

Slamming the Navigator’s door shut, he strode to La Luna’s entrance, Jace trailing close behind. Inside the building, they were greeted by the clatter of silverware and raucous cheering coming from the bar patrons watching football on the large flat screen.

“Hi. Welcome to La Luna’s.” A perky young brunette wearing tan Capri pants and a navy polo top bounced up to the hostess stand, her smile so wide it damn near looked painful. A badge clipped to her shirt boasted the name Tiffany. “Are there just two of you?”

Aiden nodded. Seeing a way to casually fish for information, he peered over the girl’s head. “Would you happen to know if Dana Cooper is working tonight?”

“You know, I thought I saw her sneak in through the kitchen a few minutes ago.” She wound one springy curl around her index finger and batted her heavily mascaraed lashes. “Do you want me to go find her?”

Yeah, that’d go over great. For sure Dana would think they were a couple of stalker nutcases. “Actually, we were planning to surprise her.” He almost grunted at the irony in that statement. His attention returned to the thick cluster of people engrossed in the football game. “Are we able to eat in the bar?”

“Sure.”

Good. That’d solve the potential problem of having Dana wait on them if they sat in the dining room and causing a scene about him and Jace tailing her. It’d also allow them to keep an eye on her. Hopefully appeasing his empty belly would reenergize him enough he could figure out how the hell to explain everything to Dana in a way that wouldn’t make her run screaming from the room.

Right. Like that wasn’t going to happen. It’d be a damn miracle if she didn’t book the first flight she could find to Timbuktu.

He strode into the bar and chose a darkened corner booth that provided an unobstructed view of the main dining area. Jace slid onto the bench seat across from him and reached for the appetizer menu. A frazzled-looking waitress approached and scribbled their order for the sampler platter and two beers before racing off again.

Aiden started to lean against the upholstered back of the bench. The maddening pheromones he’d picked up on earlier tickled his nostrils and he went still, every cell in his body on high alert. Without even spotting Dana, he knew the exact second she entered the dining room. At least her tantalizing scent kept him well apprised of her whereabouts. A strange added bonus he hadn’t counted on. Transfixed, he watched as she rushed toward a crowded table, her hands frantically smoothing the front of her navy polo. She’d pulled her glorious locks into a high ponytail and it bobbed in tandem with her harried jog.

A pint of beer plunked onto the cardboard coaster in front of Aiden, the brew’s foamy head overflowing the glass. He ignored it. The only thing making him salivate at the moment was the delicate arch of Dana’s neck as she slammed to a halt and graced her customers with a welcoming smile. Okay, the soft, bouncing swells of her breasts were also doing a fine job making saliva pool in his mouth.

“Bro, you still in there?”

Aiden tore his gaze from Dana and glanced at Jace. “What?”

“Food’s here. Dig in before I eat it all.” Jace swiped a potato skin loaded with sour cream and bacon bits. He bit into it with an appreciative groan. “Shit, that’s good.”

Distracted, Aiden heeded Jace’s advice and grabbed a chicken strip. Barely registering its taste, he tracked Dana’s progress around the table. Unlike the young girl who’d greeted them, Dana’s broad grin was the genuine article as she stooped to listen to something one of her customers had to say. Her laugh rang free, pouring like warm honey over him, and he shivered in sensory overload.

“What the hell is going on with you?”

His attention returned to Jace and he found his brother staring at him. “Nothing,” he lied. “Why?”

Jace narrowed his eyes before scooting to the edge of the booth and craning his neck to peer around the divider. He swiveled back around, a huge grin stretching his mouth. Aiden gave serious thought to knocking it off Jace’s face. Instead, he growled beneath his breath and reached for his beer.

“For someone who wasn’t too keen on fulfilling the contract, you’re sure looking mighty enraptured of our little Dana.”

“Go fuck yourself.” Lifting his pint, Aiden shot his brother a steely glare of death over the rim. For all the good it did him. Jace only sputtered a laugh in response. Unfortunately, when Jace laughed, the entire world tended to listen. Yeah, he was that damn loud.

Concerned about the curious glances they were beginning to collect from the neighboring diners, Aiden leaned forward, intent on muzzling his brother if necessary. Jace’s scrutiny lowered to the glass clenched in Aiden’s hand and his booming guffaws died a quick, merciless death.

“Holy shit on a stick.” Wearing an expression like someone just brained him with a two-by-four, Jace attempted to yank the glass from Aiden.

“What the hell are you doing?” Aiden jerked his beer out of reach, trying not to slosh it all over the table in the process. He pointed at Jace’s unattended glass. “You’ve got your own. Keep your grubby paws off mine.”

“I don’t want your damn beer, idiot. Look what’s on the front of your glass.”

Knowing what usually got his horndog brother excited, Aiden half expected to see a topless woman emblazoned on the mug. So when he twisted his wrist and an image of two crossed swords piercing a dragon’s wing popped into view, he almost dropped his glass. “What the—” His gaze shot upward and locked with Jace’s.

“Yeah, my thought exactly.”

There had to be a logical explanation. Because there was no goddamn way the official emblem of the Drakoni hunters—scourge of the earth and royal pain in the asses—was etched on the mug in his hand.

Only it was. Wishing otherwise wouldn’t make the ugly thing vanish.

Dread sitting like an elephant on his chest, Aiden moved his attention to the bar, where a burly guy who looked like he could bench press an oil tanker was pouring shots of Jim Beam. The ambient glow from the overhead track lighting tinged the tattoo riding the bartender’s beefy arm a sickly yellow. It didn’t disguise the overall craftsmanship of the inked design—an exact duplicate of the one gracing the beer mugs. Aiden’s attention fell on the man straddling one of the stools, chatting up the bartender. The leather jacket draped on the back of the stool bore the same despised insignia.

Blood pumping against his eardrums, Aiden shifted his focus to the man’s female companion. Sure enough, the letters D and H were stitched in blood red on the center panel of her leather jacket. A quick survey tallied a grand total of nine people sporting some form of the Drakoni hunter’s hallmark.

Aiden resisted the urge to kick his own ass. He’d been so mesmerized by Dana, he hadn’t paid attention to the relevant details—like the fact his sacrifice just led him into the enemy’s lair.