Chapter Eight

“What’s up with you, Boss? You’ve been in a funk ever since you got back from that Grand Opening. It’s not like you.”

Seb had to agree with Ryan’s observation. It wasn’t like him to succumb to a gloomy mood. As a matter of fact, he worked hard to remain positive at all times, thrived on hard work, and refused to acknowledge discouragement.

But Miss Fenady had him in a spin. He couldn’t say when he’d felt more uncertain.

“Her ice cream, Ry. We’re in for some serious competition.”

Ryan eyed him. They’d worked late after closing—and yes, business had been sparse this afternoon. It was time to go home and get some rest, if he could.

“You always say you’re not scared of competition.”

“I’m not.” But Fen’s Swan Song had been one of the best things his tongue had ever encountered. Almost better than Fen herself. And so many of her other flavors matched his. What if she did those flavors better than he did?

“Her ice cream’s really good, Ry.”

“So’s ours. I’d put it up against anything.”

“Glad to hear it.”

Ryan whapped him on the shoulder. “Get some rest, Boss. It’s been a long haul, getting this place up and running. Maybe you’re just tired.”

“Business was light this afternoon, though.”

“They’ll come back. See you tomorrow.”

Ryan went out, and Seb called to the cat, “Twinkle Toes, walkies?”

Dark had already fallen. Seb loved this time of evening, when the night settled in, soft around the edges. A few lights shone from shops strung along the beachfront, and the ocean, breathing in and out beside him, wore a sheen on its breast. Far out above the water rode a crescent moon, sharp as a shard of ice.

Seb thrust his hands into his pockets and told the cat, “C’mon, buddy.”

He needed to try to calm his mind before he attempted sleep. Ryan was probably right. He’d been working nonstop since last autumn and was just weary.

Plus he hadn’t expected Miss Fenady’s ice cream to be quite so good. Was it better than his?

Nah. Couldn’t be.

He wondered how she did it. A wee spell or two, spoken not over a cauldron but a stainless-steel vat? A sprinkle of magic.

He inhaled the night air, the scent of salt and seaweed, and felt better as he went. He told himself he wouldn’t walk all the way to Fen’s Fancy. He’d turn back before he reached it. He had set out to calm his mind, not in hope of seeing her.

But when he drew near—just as he and the cat were about to turn back—he caught sight of a figure standing on the shore, directly in front of Fen’s Fancy. He recognized her even from a distance. She still wore her apron but had freed her hair to fall wild around her shoulders. Gazing out at the ocean, she hadn’t yet seen him.

Turn back, Seb’s brain cried. His body, though, had other ideas.

He and the cat joined Fen softly, and he said, “Good evening, Miss Fenady.”

She turned her face to him. In the soft light, her eyes looked wide and luminous. Recognizing him, a wry smile curved her lips. “You, again?”

“Me again, just like a bad penny.”

“That’s a big cat. It is a cat, right, and not a panther?”

“That’s Twinkle Toes. You out here talking to the sea?”

“How’d you guess?”

“Not a guess, really. If I’d had a smash Grand Opening like yours, I’d be out here speaking some words of gratitude.”

“You didn’t hold a Grand Opening, did you?”

“Not really. We just propped the doors open and got on with it. You must be happy tonight.”

“It was good.” She gave him another look. “Did you come to congratulate me?”

He could say that, claim he’d come to compliment her on her good fortune. It would be a lie. “I wanted—”

He broke off and quite simply took her in his arms. They reached for each other blindly, hands, mouths, tongues. Hit by a staggering wave of desire, Seb forgot for several moments where he was. Who he was.

She melted into him the way ice cream melts on a hot brownie. She wound her arms around his neck and pulled him impossibly close, and when he came up for air, breathing raggedly, she said, “I want you too.”

“We going to do anything about it?”

“I don’t jump into bed with—just anyone.”

“I’m not just anyone.”

“True. Come on, then. Bring the cat.”

Bring the cat?

They ran hand in hand, and T.T. raced after them, happy to join in the game. Inside her tiny apartment, she didn’t bother with the lights. Only ambient radiance from outside showed her to him as she stripped off her apron and slung it over the back of a chair.

“You have protection?”

Did he? It had been quite a while since he’d needed it. “Think so. Hope so.”

“Better be sure.” Belying the cautionary words, she brought her body up against his and gave him another searing kiss. In the act of extracting his wallet from his pocket, he dropped it, his nerveless fingers going to her hair.

“You’re gorgeous, Fenady Clark. D’you know that?”

“You’re not so bad, either.”

“Let me—just let me—” He never stammered, especially around women. He always had the composure, the charming smile. Now all that had deserted him. He rescued his wallet from the floor and found what he wanted tucked inside.

“Eureka.”

“Thank the goddess. Only one?”

Seb’s mouth went dry. “We going to need more?”

“You never know.”

****

It had been a long day, and a stressful if rewarding one. Fen never expected it to culminate in such an event as this. But Sebastian Bane’s sudden appearance on the shore, where she’d gone to speak words of gratitude and intention, seemed like a gift. One she lacked the strength to refuse.

She wanted it. He wanted it. So what if he was probably the last person she should take into her bed?

He smelled and tasted of deviltry and of magic, and that was just where she wanted him—in her bed. For years, she’d denied her simple wants and desires, giving all toward the goal she’d achieved this very day.

No more denial, not tonight.

“The bed’s in here.” She twined her fingers through his, vaguely aware the cat—that huge creature was a cat, wasn’t it?—had taken up a position on the sofa.

Damn it, why did he only have one condom? A man who looked like Seb Bane, smiled the way he did, should be bristling with them.

One would never do.

In the close confines of the bedroom, she turned and faced him. “Are you—”

She got no further before he drew her tight against him and kissed her. Oh, what kisses the man gave! Tinged with magic, they threatened to scorch her senses. And yes, he did like her hair—the way he buried his fingers in it convinced her of that.

“You. Taste. So. Good,” she told him between hot, hungry kisses.

“Wicked good?” he asked with a laugh in his voice that completely undid her. He followed the laugh with a kiss deep enough to touch Fen’s spirit.

Out of the blazing heat, a thought occurred to her. No going back from this. Did she care?

Not at this moment.

She let go of him, but only long enough to pull her Fen’s Fancy T-shirt over her head. He reached immediately for her breasts, still covered by a woefully utilitarian piece of lingerie. He made short work of the hook, and soon she stood half naked in the cool night air.

“Oh, goddess,” he groaned, and sank to his knees in front of her. Of all the things Fen might imagine, she’d never conceived of this—that Sebastian Bane, bona fide witch, might kneel to her like a man prepared for worship.

But he apparently knew what he wanted, and his position afforded him excellent access to his desire. His hungry mouth connected with her flesh, and oh, he was hungry—must be, judging by the way he feasted on her breasts, one after the other, the heat of his mouth penetrating her in exquisite waves.

When she felt his fingers at the fly of her jeans, her knees went weak. He unzipped them and kissed his way downward, only to stop at her pelvic bone.

“First things first.”

He got to his feet and stripped off his clothing. Enough light came in the narrow window to show her all she’d been longing to see. He had a sinfully beautiful body, hard with lean muscle and sprinkled with black hair. Hard—everywhere.

“Miss Fenady,” he whispered in a voice like pure, deep chocolate, “you sure this is what you want?”

“Oh, I’m sure.” And they tumbled back onto her bed.