Werewolf Upstairs (6 page)

This type of lovemaking was different for Konrad. He was truly more interested in his partner’s enjoyment than his own. Correction—his mate’s. Holding back from giving into his feral nature had always been difficult, but for some reason he was content to go slow and make sex last with Roz. It occurred to him that he was making love, not just fucking.
So that’s the difference!

“
What’s the difference, lover?
”

The familiar pressure began to build at the base of his spine. There was no way he could answer her now. This wasn’t the time for a philosophical discussion, especially one that might sound like they were rushing into a serious relationship. He increased his speed again, and Roz rocked faster, staying right with him.

“You’re so tight, so wet and hot. So perfect.”

Her breaths matched his, sharp, shallow, and quick. He bore down on her pelvis and added a grinding motion, knowing she’d enjoy it as much as he.

She moaned louder. With every thrust he built closer to a fevered peak. At the moment her muscles clenched, he spiraled out of control. His orgasm ripped through him like a hurricane. Roz cried out and buried her face in his pillow again. She shook while her muscles milked him dry. They bucked together, each riding the waves of climax to the very last aftershock.

His instinct to mark her kicked in, but it was too soon. He wanted her to want it. Instead, he kissed the sensitive hollow where her neck and shoulder met.

He lifted his head and saw tears shimmering in her eyes.

Concern slapped him back to reality. “Oh, no. Did I hurt you?”

She shook her head and sighed. “That was beautiful.”

Happy that her feelings originated from a deeply emotional place and not pain, he thanked whatever divine power held him back.

***

“Roz?”

She opened her eyes slowly and realized she had drifted into a contented sleep. Konrad lay beside her, propped on his elbow, and traced a line from her cleavage to her bellybutton. A shiver passed through her, and her nipples pebbled.

“I…I’m sorry. I must have fallen asleep.”

“That’s okay. You looked peaceful. It was nice watching you.”

“You were watching me?”

“Uh-huh. But I’m afraid you have to go now.”

“What time is it?”

“I don’t know, but the sun is going down.”

“Oh!” She sat bolt upright. “I must have been out for hours.”

He rested a hand on her thigh. “Don’t worry about it. If it weren’t tonight…I mean, I have stuff to do.”

“That’s right. You work nights.” She glanced down at her nudity and smiled. Then she whispered, “Thank you.”

He smiled, but it quickly faded. “Roz, I want you to know something.”

Uh-oh. Here it comes.

“Here what comes?”

“Oh, nothing. Say whatever you were going to say.”

He hesitated then surprised her by saying, “It might not always be like that. Gentle, I mean. I can get…well, much stronger. More urgent.”

“Oh.”
Whew.
“That’s fine. I’m really not that fragile. I think I’d like…no, I
know
I’d like having sex with you all kinds of ways. I’ve never had wild monkey lovin’.”

“What I mean is, I can get a little rough.”

Her mouth hung open, then she shut it and raised her chin. “I can take it. Hey, who knows, maybe I can get rough too. I’ve never tried that either.”

“This isn’t a matter of trying or not trying something. It’s who I am.” He cocked his head. “What did you think I was going to say?”

“When?”

“When I said I had to tell you something and you responded with, Uh-oh.”

She sighed. “Some speech about not getting tied down to one person. Not to expect—”

“Whoa. That’s not me. I don’t know what kind of guys you’ve been with, but I’m not the love ’em and leave ’em type. In fact, I assumed we’d be exclusive.”

“Already? I mean…yeah!”

“Good. I’m all yours, and you’re not seeing anyone but me. Got it?”

“Naturally. That’s only fair.”

He grinned and rolled out of bed. Extending his hand, Konrad hauled her up. She couldn’t get over how comfortable he was in the nude. Of course, if she had a body to die for, like he did, she would walk around in the nude all the time.

“Get dressed, angel. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Promise?”

“Unless I get arrested again.” He grinned. “I’d call you because you’re my lawyer.”

“You’d better be kidding.”

***

The rest of the week passed slowly. Konrad called Roz every night, but didn’t want to bug her and come off as desperate. Besides, she had to work, so he bode his time, reading one of the many new novels he’d picked up on his last trip to the bookstore. Now that it was Friday, he figured he’d pop downstairs after she got home from work and see if she’d like to go out to dinner. He dressed casually in one of his many black T-shirts and a pair of jeans.

Konrad heard a knock on his door. Wondering if it might be Roz and she got home early, he strode over and opened it wide. To his surprise and slight disappointment, Morgaine stood there.

“Hi, Konrad. Do you have a minute?”

“Uh, sure. Do you need something moved?”

She chuckled. “No, I don’t need your strength this time. I need one of your other skills.”

“Really? What’s that?”

Morgaine lowered her voice. “I need a thief.”

Konrad stiffened and glared at her. When he could speak again, he whispered, “You’d better come inside.”

She entered his apartment, and he shut the door carefully to avoid the loud click. He then whispered, “Is Chad here?”

She asked in a normal tone of voice, “Chad, are you in the room?” She waited a bit and shook her head. “Nope.”

“Whew. I know he can’t blab what he overhears to anyone but you or Gwyneth, but still—”

“I know what you mean.” Glancing at the books lining the walls, she said, “Wow, you must really like to read.”

“Very much. But right now I’m more interested in what you have to say. Take a seat.”

She sat on his brown microfiber couch. “I only know what I overheard a few days ago.”

“You’re just going by what you heard?” Konrad sat in the adjacent overstuffed armchair. “I mean, you’re psychic, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I know absolutely everything.”

“What
do
you know?”

“Just bits and pieces, and I’ve learned it’s better not to jump to conclusions until I double check the information I’m getting.”

“Okay. What do you know, and what do you have to double check?”

“Relax. I know you’re a good man, and I’m quite safe sitting here, talking to you. I know you work nights. And yesterday, I overheard that you were arrested. I was hoping you might be able to help me with something in an ‘It takes a thief’ kind of way.”

“I’m not stealing anything for you.”

“Oh, no.” She laughed. “I didn’t mean that.”

Konrad shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Okay, keep talking.”

“I need your advice to help me with my first job as a medium. I’ve been called in to communicate with the ghost haunting the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum.”

“You’re kidding. The art museum that was robbed several years ago?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s haunted?”

“Yup, so there might actually be an eyewitness.”

“Excellent! I was severely pissed off when I found out about the theft.”

“You and the rest of the world, apparently. But I was down in Maryland then and didn’t hear much about it. The cops don’t want to tell me anything, either. They say it’s so it doesn’t affect the questions I ask the ghost, but I think they want me to prove my abilities as a psychic and medium.”

“Have you talked to the ghost yet?”

“Yes, Gwyneth went with me, but she couldn’t hear him unless I let him use my vocal cords. He said he was there during the robbery. Unfortunately, he’s confusing the hell out of me. What little he tells me doesn’t make any sense.”

“What has he told you?”

“He says the cops did it.”

“That’s because the thieves dressed as cops to get in, then overpowered the guards and tied them up.”

Morgaine threw her hands in the air. “For Goddess’s sake! Why couldn’t the police tell me at least that much? I’ve been going crazy trying to figure out if he was just messing with us.”

“What do you know about this ghost?”

“He’s been there since the thirties. His name is Reginald. He feels very protective of the place. He won’t tell me why. He said he knew the woman who built it.”

“Isabella Stewart Gardener.”

Morgaine shrugged. “I guess so.”

“I know a little bit about her. I can grab a reference book and find more for you, if you like.”

“You’d better not. If I sound like an encyclopedia, they’ll think I looked her up. But in a CliffsNotes version, tell me what you know.”

Konrad sat up straighter. “I love this woman’s story. She wasn’t accepted by the Boston blue bloods because she didn’t live the life of a restrained, Victorian matron. She loved to travel, had a sense of humor, and was vivacious. In other words, she lived large.”

“I like her already.”

“Yeah, I think you two would have gotten along just fine. Naturally she became the subject of scandals. As far as we know, they were unsubstantiated rumors. She was once quoted as saying, ‘Don’t spoil a good story by telling the truth.’”

Morgaine laughed. “I’ll have to remember that one next time someone accuses Gwyneth and me of being lesbian devil worshippers.”

“You’re kidding!”

“Yeah, I am. Well, about the devil worship, that is. Dottie and Ralph thought we were lesbians because of the noises we made being phone-sex actresses.”

Konrad laughed. “Yeah, I heard about that. You’ve been quiet lately, though.”

“Yeah, she threatened to throw us out if we kept up all the racket, even though it paid the rent.”

“Unbelievable.”

“Now if I can crack this case, there’s a nice reward in it for me.”

“I’ll bet. How much?”

“The FBI is offering five million dollars for the recovery of all the stolen goods. A portion less, if only part of it is recovered.”

Konrad whistled.

“Yeah, so it’s a good thing I got this job, and I really want to do it well. I…I have a hard time leaving the apartment building due to my agoraphobia, but a reward like that, and someone going with me…well, it’s worth anything I have to do. Anyway, tell me more about this interesting Isabella.”

“She loved the Red Sox as well as the symphony and made loads of friends in drastically different circles. She became a major patron of the arts and built the combination home and museum in the Fenway area to house her growing collection. She wanted to share it with the average American.”

“I saw a portrait of her at the museum.”

“Oh, yeah. She displayed the portraits of friends like John Singer Sargent and James McNeill Whistler, but also amassed a collection of famous European painters. It’s considered priceless today. She held concerts too. I went to hear a former student of mine play piano there.”

“What a gorgeous setting for a concert. I don’t suppose you’re talking about rock and roll, though.”

Konrad laughed. “No, it’s mostly classical stuff. Maybe some jazz. I can’t picture the calm, serene atmosphere of that atrium being shattered by Aerosmith.”

“Me neither.”

“Did you see the blank spots on the wall where the stolen art had been? The curator left it like that.”

“Yeah. I was almost sick to my stomach when I realized the theft involved some original Rembrandts.”

“The most valuable painting they stole from the Dutch gallery was the Vermeer. There’s only something like thirty-six of them in the world.”

Morgaine leaned forward. “Would you come with me? Maybe because you know a lot about the museum and Mrs. Gardener, Reginald will talk to you through me, and you can make sense of it. Plus, you might know how they got away with it, because of your…you know.”

“My security expertise?”

“Exactly!”

“Sure. I haven’t been there for a while. When were you planning to go?”

“I can go anytime. I just need to call first.”

“Don’t you need privacy to do your medium thing?”

“They let me upstairs into one of the parlors. That’s where Reginald likes to hang out. He’s not crazy about the visitors. Especially if they try to touch things.”

“Is that how they knew he was there? Did he throw a chair at a tourist’s head or something?”

“No. The curator said a couple of people claimed they saw him, and he senses a presence from time to time. That’s why the curator avoids the parlor and told me I might find Reginald there.”

“It sounds like I’ll see the part that’s not open to the public if I go with you.”

“Yup.”

“And we’re going to talk to someone who knew Isabella personally?”

“If he’ll talk to us.”

“If he loved Isabella, he’ll talk. Men always like to talk about the women they loved.”

A few days later, Morgaine took a seat at the only table in the room. She sensed it had been for holding canapés and a floral centerpiece at cocktail parties.
So
not her thing. “Okay, remember how we all held hands at the séance when the medium contacted Chad?”

Konrad nodded.

“Well, if Reginald is going to talk to you
through
me instead of just communicating with me through my mind, I’ll need all the extra energy I can get. Would you mind?”

“Not at all.” Konrad sat opposite Morgaine at the highly polished table and extended his reach.

“Thanks.” Morgaine clasped Konrad’s hands, closed her eyes, and took several deep breaths to clear her energy. The parlor was illuminated only by natural light and one white candle. She hoped Reginald wouldn’t be shy about talking through her to a stranger, but she had prepared him by introducing Konrad as a security expert.

“Reginald, are you willing to speak to my friend through me?” She waited a few moments then sat up ramrod straight, as if a broomstick had been inserted you know where.