Simply Irresistible (24 page)

“Exactly,” Dex said.

Vivian swallowed. This next was hard. “I have a question—not about you. But it’s about defending myself.”

“Okay.”

“Would you mind turning around so that I can see you?” She missed looking at his face.

Dex turned. His expression was guarded. He apparently couldn’t tell what kind of footing they were on.

“If I get attacked again by that person, or if someone I don’t like enters my mind, can I protect myself?”

“Their mind is as open to you as yours is to them,” Dex said. “If you’re strong enough, you can probably use their own powers against them.”

“Or they can use mine against me.”

“Someone who has that ability,” Dex said, “usually has come into their magic. A person like you is rare, Vivian.”

She was beginning to understand that. She stood up and extended a hand to him.

He stared at her hand as if he didn’t know what to do with it. Then, after a moment, he put his fingers in her palm.

She closed her fingers over his and pulled him close. “Kiss me again, Dex.”

“Viv, I—”

“I know what to expect now,” she said. “Kiss me again.”

He was standing so close to her that she could feel his body’s heat. Yet he wasn’t touching her. “Without barriers?”

“Without barriers,” she said.

He slipped his hands around her waist and pulled her close. She could feel his hesitation and his concern, his fear of losing her after he’d found her.

The walls had disappeared.

She smiled at him, let him feel her reassurance. He smiled back, then bent down. She tilted her head upward at the same time and their lips met.

The kiss was everything she had hoped for—and more. She tasted him, she touched him, she lived inside his mind, inside his soul. He was part of her and she was part of him, and yet they were together—two people who loved each other, becoming one person.

She was dimly aware of him lifting her, holding her against his chest, just like Superman used to do with Lois Lane—just like Vivian had dreamed.

Dex had found that dream in her mind, reacted to it, and was helping her live it.

She found dreams in his mind too, and she smiled because she knew she could fulfill his fantasies like he was fulfilling hers.

He carried her to the bedroom, still kissing her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and let the fantasies begin.

Chapter Eighteen

It had taken Eris a few hours, but she had finally managed to lose her A-team. Sturgis was using the facilities at the local affiliate, puffing himself up with importance as he spoke in front of their cameras. Kronski was lining up stories for the following day, and Suzanne was doing the actual grunt work. Eris had no idea what her camera operators were doing, but she really didn’t care. They’d been busy enough since they’d arrived in Portland.

Hard to believe they’d only been in the city a few hours. It felt like a few days. She’d used more magic than she had planned, and she was tired.

At least Strife was gone for the time being. He had irritated her too much that morning, and she was afraid he’d cause her team to ask too many questions. She had him searching for traces of the Fates near anyplace that could have a cave.

She would rest, just briefly, and then she’d go after Grant herself. Grant and Kineally, who thought themselves invulnerable.

Eris opened the door to her hotel room and flicked on the light. The air felt different. Someone had been in here.

She scanned the large living room, with its high ceiling and built-in fireplace. Her briefcase remained on the antique desk, locked, and her Palm Pilot sat on the coffee table next to the half-full pot of coffee she had ordered when she checked in. Even her empty coffee cup, its interior stained and ringed, remained beside it.

The television was off. She never left the television off. She grabbed the remote, which had been resting on the end table beside the upholstered chair, and clicked on CNN. Talking heads pontificated about some unimportant congressional maneuver and, after a few minutes of scanning, she saw nothing about the disappearing building— even though she knew that CNN had covered the story too.

She muted the sound and went into the bedroom. The bed was still made, with the breakfast room service menu carefully placed on the pillow so that she couldn’t miss it. She peered into the bathroom. Extra towels sat on the edge of the counter.

Eris had forgotten that she had ordered them, as she always did when she arrived in a new hotel. Hotels had gotten stingy with towels in the past decade, and, whether she needed the towels or not, she asked for more.

Better to let the hotel know what kind of customer she would be up front. That way, they were careful with her requests.

So the maid had been here and meticulously shut off both televisions, cleaning up slightly, before leaving the towels as she had been instructed. Waste not, want not—a phrase that had always driven Eris insane.

Eris opened the cabinet that hid the bedroom’s television, pulled the TV’s movable tray out, and clicked on that set with one long red-tipped fingernail. This time, she found KAHS and watched her own talking heads pontificate about the same unimportant congressional hearing.

No wonder cable news station ratings splintered so badly. The stations covered the same stories.

She would have to change that.

After she took care of those Fates.

Eris sat down on the bed and pulled off her high heels, rubbing her nylon-covered feet. Sometimes she thought the torture of proper clothing in this century was worse than the tortures she’d suffered at the hands of the Fates.

Then she would remember those early years and realize nothing could compare. All that organization the Fates had forced upon her had been hideous. Mazes, chess, eventually puzzles—even the music of precision freaks like Bach. Everything in its place and a place for everything. If she moved one small item an iota to the right or left, so that it was just slightly out of place, the Fates would start her punishment all over again.

Eris kicked her shoes, sending them sprawling across the floor. Mess. Glorious mess. It wasn’t the same as chaos proper, but it would do.

What the Fates failed to realize was that Eris’s plan wouldn’t work without their years of torture. She had to learn about order and organization in order to subvert it.

She leaned back on the bed. The meal at Quixotic had been too heavy. She wasn’t used to eating so well without walking back to the office. Manhattan was the perfect place for a civilized person to get exercise.

But the meal at Quixotic had given her a chance to watch Blackstone in his native environment. He used his charm to please his customers and kept his magic subverted. No one in Hicksville suspected that they were home to one of the larger magical communities in the United States, and that their most popular restaurant was the one run by a thousand-year-old mage.

Not that it mattered to her. Soon Blackstone would be unimportant. Eris sighed and stood up. She reached into her overnight bag and removed a pair of blue jeans, a summer sweater, and a pair of Nikes. Time to dress like the natives. Then she had to find out where Dexter Grant lived.

She could probably spell herself there, but that would take away her advantage. Instead, she’d find his house on her own, even though no one had told her where it was.

If she had to, she’d use magic. But first, she’d start like all good reporters did. Or, at least, she’d start like all good reporters used to, before the days of high-speed cable Internet access.

She’d start with the phone book.

If someone had told Vivian she would fall completely and utterly in love with a man she’d known less than twenty-four hours, she would have laughed. She would have said it was impossible to get to know someone well in that short a time.

Yet she knew everything about Dex, everything she needed to know, and more. She had been intimate with him in ways that she hadn’t believed possible.

She was cuddled against him, her bare skin against his. His hand rubbed her back, while her arm was around his chest. He was muscular and strong, his body as beautiful as she had thought it would be, and she had lingered over it, examining all of it, learning everything she could about it, and this side of Dexter Grant.

Their lovemaking had been as phenomenal as the kiss—more phenomenal in its own way. Overwhelming, completing, and yet so unique that she wasn’t sure they would ever be able to achieve this kind of greatness again.

Whenever she felt as if she was about to lose herself, she let Dex know, and then she put up a small barrier inside her mind, just small enough to make her feel safe. It didn’t bother him—and she checked in everyway she could—his emotions, his thoughts, his actions. He seemed fine with her need to remain separate.

He also seemed to enjoy their togetherness.

One light was on beside the bed. Blackout curtains made it seem as if it were the middle of the night, although the alarm clock on the end table said it was barely four o’clock in the afternoon.

The room was lived in, obviously a single man’s space. Clothing covered a chair and a nearby table. A basket of folded laundry bore the marks left by sleeping cats. Tennis shoes covered the floor, as well as books of all types.

His bed was small but comfortable, clearly not a place that he usually shared with anyone but cats. A few of them had crowded on, now that the activity had settled down. The terrier peered into the room, saw Viv, and ran for the door.

“Toto,” Dex said, “it’s okay.”

“Toto?” Vivian asked. That seemed like a mundane name for a terrier, at least from a man who had named his control-freak Siamese after the Big Nurse in Ken Kesey’s
One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest
.

“It’s not my fault,” Dex said. Vivian could feel his voice rumble through his chest as he spoke. The vibration was comforting, just like the steady rhythm of his heart was.

“He’s a stray?”

“They all are,” Dex said. “And he’s particularly sensitive. He’s only been here a few months, and he needs a lot of care.”

“He doesn’t look injured.” Vivian pushed her glasses up her nose and studied the dog. He was cute, but wary of her. He had stopped by the door when Dex had said his name, and seemed to be waiting there, uncertain what to do.

“He’s not injured anymore.” Dex’s hand stopped rubbing her back. Instead he held his palm against her spine, as if he were supporting her.

“What happened?”

“His family was in a car accident. He was along, in the pet carrier. He was the only one who survived.”

“Oh.” Vivian propped herself up on one elbow. Toto sat on the thin gray carpet, watching her warily. “How’d you get him?”

“I went to the vet’s on the wrong day. They were patching him up and looking for someone to take him. They’d already called the number on his tag and found out that the extended family had no interest in him. The vet saw me and knew the minute I walked into the place that the sucker had arrived.”

Dex kissed her shoulder, then rolled over and extended a hand to Toto. The dog came forward as if he weren’t certain he was welcome and licked Dex’s fingers. Dex bent over, grabbed Toto, and set him on the bed, petting him.

“I think it’s great that you take care of animals,” Vivian said.

Dex’s long fingers massaged Toto’s ears. The dog’s tail thumped. Vivian understood the reaction. If she could have, she would have purred with pleasure when those long fingers massaged her.

“I don’t think it’s great,” he said, his head down. Obviously this subject bothered him. “I’m only one person, and there are so many animals in need. And I’m running out of room, not to mention going broke. Besides, animals need personal attention just like people do. I’m going to have to learn how to say no.”

“So that’s why you were relieved when the Fates took the kittens,” Vivian said, reaching across the bed and letting Toto sniff her fingers. His tail continued to wag. He didn’t seem so scared of her now.

“I had no idea how I was going to cram an entire family of cats into this place,” Dex said.

“You trusted the Fates,” Vivian said, “even though they anger you.”

“I’m hoping that they’ll learn a lesson.” Dex sighed, then shook his head. He clearly hadn’t meant to say anything about that.

“A lesson?” Vivian asked, gingerly petting Toto’s back. She could feel ridges where there shouldn’t be any—healing scars. Poor little dog. How traumatic that accident must have been for him.

“Yeah, a lesson.” Dex propped himself on an elbow and looked at Vivian. His right hand continued to massage Toto’s ears. “I wanted them to learn what it felt like to help someone.”

Vivian frowned. “I thought they were your governing body.”

“They’re the judicial branch,” he said. “They mete out punishment, or they did. They had no idea what being a good person is all about.”

“Taking care of kittens is part of that?”

“Of course it is,” he said. “If you see someone in trouble and you have the power to help them, you should help them, right?”

Vivian felt confused. She didn’t understand why that was even an issue. “Yeah.”

“That’s what I said to the Fates. They called me in front of them for using my powers to help humans. I’d see someone in crisis, so I’d spell the crisis away. The Fates said that wasn’t allowed, said I was breaking the law. I argued that I should be able to help people in trouble and they said—oh, forget it.”

His voice shook throughout the entire speech. She knew he was still angry at the Fates, but she hadn’t realized exactly why. Now it was beginning to make sense.

At least, in his anger, he had taken action to help the Fates, even though he had been worried that they were trying to trick him. He hadn’t dithered the way Blackstone and his friends had.

Dex wasn’t going to finish the thought. Vivian pushed a strand of black hair off his forehead. Amazing that they could get to know each other as well as they had and yet still know so little.

The intimate contact let them know the core self, but not the details. Learning the details would be the future—if they had a future.