Details of my mother’s murder got into the paper the next day. She’d not been dressed in bondage gear, but it was decently embarrassing. The main house had a series of big, ugly gargoyles around the roof. Apparently one had been in need of repair, as well as the stonework where it perched. The creature had been left on a scaffolding to return it to its spot on the roof. My mother had been on the patio beneath when the scaffolding gave way and the stone beast had fallen on her, stabbing her with its huge penis and crushing her under its weight. Don’t ask me why my mother had gargoyles with giant penises guarding her house. The paper called it a stone protrusion, but I knew the truth. According to the article, the scaffolding had been tampered with, making her death a murder. No wonder the detectives hadn’t wanted to tell me. I’d never have stopped laughing.
I’d barely picked myself up off the floor when my cell rang. Jen.
“Oh my God! Can you believe it? Crushed by a gargoyle and impaled on its penis? Could it be any more perfect? Didn’t she know about safe sex?” She broke into laughter, sobbing with delight. I followed suit. Pretty soon I was back on the floor, holding my ribs and doing that silent laugh thing when you’re out of breath and can’t stop.
After a few minutes, I managed to collect myself. “Do me a favor and call Lorraine and Stacey. I’ve got a meeting in forty-five minutes.”
“Of course. But we’re having dinner tonight to celebrate. You cook. We’ll bring all the fun.”
I agreed and hung up then went to get dressed. I’d been up since five, going for my usual two-hour morning run. Even knowing mother was dead, I felt the need to speed faster with every step. I’d run sixteen miles practically at a sprint until I finally made myself stop. Finally made myself remember that I didn’t need to run out of fear anymore. Maybe I could start running because I liked it. Maybe I could stop doing it altogether.
I put on a gray skirt and a soft green sweater with short sleeves. I picked out a matching pair of heels and added earrings and a necklace. I examined myself in the mirror and then flipped myself off in the mirror before collecting my purse and tote.
I didn’t mind the clothes, but they weren’t my style. I looked like the society types I tended to do business with. I looked like my mother. The uniform of the job. I preferred to dress for comfort.
I reached my appointment exactly at ten. I entered the lobby of the Marcross Hotel and crossed to its exclusive restaurant, The Bronze Raven. Garrett Hornsby the Fifth rose as I came in.
“I’m so very sorry to hear about your mother,” he said, kissing my outstretched hand. He was old-school manners.
Not that he was particularly old. I guessed early thirties with a spare build and a finely chiseled face. His dark hair was combed low over his forehead and across his eyes. His designer suit was black, with a crisp white shirt and a tie that matched my emerald green sweater. He was handsome in a reserved sort of way. He didn’t wind my clock, but I bet he didn’t have any trouble getting laid. No trouble at all.
I sat, setting my tote and purse beside him. “Don’t be sorry,” I said. “I’m not.”
His brows rose, his dark eyes curious. “You have never spoken of her to me.”
“And I don’t mean to start today.”
The waiter approached. “My usual, Andre,” I said with a smile.
“Of course, Miss Wyatt. And you, Master Hornsby?” Andre had lived in the U.S. for years but still sported an English accent and some of the language foibles.
“The same.” He glanced at me. “Better bring plenty of extra bacon. I’m not sharing this morning.”
I stuck my tongue out at him and then shrugged. Bacon deserved its own level on the bottom of the food pyramid, if you asked me. Andre retreated after delivering coffee and orange juice.
“You’d think that you’d order extra bacon instead of stealing mine every time,” Garrett said, stirring cream into his coffee.
“But when I’m ordering, I don’t intend to steal. It’s only when it arrives and smells so divine that I lose my self-control. My breakfast does come with bacon. It’s not like I’m lying in wait for yours.”
“And yet every time, yours is not enough. There should be a lesson there.” He grinned at me.
“Business now or later?” I asked, already reaching for my tote. Neither one of us liked to wait.
“Are you sure you don’t have personal business you need to be doing?” he asked gently.
“Nope.”
He looked taken aback and a little bit hurt. Inwardly I sighed. I considered Garrett a friend. At least as much a friend as I allowed myself to have outside Jen, Stacey, and Lorraine. He and I had been doing business for a number of years, and he had shared a lot of bacon with me. I liked him and I didn’t want to offend him.
I bent forward, looking at him earnestly. “Look, it’s really okay. I wasn’t close to my mom at all. I’d like to say I was, but she and I didn’t get along. At all. It probably sounds horrible, but I really am more relieved she’s gone than anything else.”
He blinked at me and then reached out and took my hand between both of his, his dark eyes warm. “For your sake, I’m glad. I’m sorry that you and your mother didn’t have a better relationship. Family is important.”
I shrugged and drew back. “I wouldn’t know. Now how about we change the subject? Please?” I smiled to take any sting out of the words.
Garrett smiled back, shaking his head. “Anything for you, my darling. But if I can do anything at all, please let me know. You always have my friendship and support.”
I blinked, not quite knowing what to say to that. Garrett always seemed so reserved. His warmth surprised me. “Thanks,” I said finally, smiling. “You’re a gem.”
I pulled a plastic file out of my bag and unlatched it, pulling the contents out. “Here are the pieces I’ve set aside for you, along with all the information on provenance, makers, and the like. There are some very interesting jewelry pieces and a collection of ivory dogs that appear to be at least three hundred years old. Then a list of furniture pieces. I loaded images onto a thumb drive.” I passed it over to him.
He paged through the thick stack, asking questions and making notes on the sheets. Andre brought our breakfasts—crab eggs benedict for me, with four slices of bacon, and an apple German pancake topped with a thick basil cream for Garrett. When Andre set the plate of extra bacon in front of him, Garrett shoved it toward me with his fork.
“The better mood you’re in, the better deal I get,” he said.
Then he was going to take me to the cleaners because I’d just had the best twenty-four hours of my life. I was smart enough not to say that, and not just because I didn’t want to talk about my mother.
“If you wanted a really good deal, you should have ordered me some sausage too.” I flushed, hoping he wouldn’t take that the wrong way. Luckily he didn’t seem to read the penis parallel, so I didn’t have to babble stupidly and apologize.
By the time our brunch was over, we’d negotiated on almost everything. A few pieces I refused to haggle on, and he decided he’d come see them for himself the next day.
“I won’t make it until after seven,” he said again. “You’re sure it won’t interfere with your Friday night plans?”
“No problem at all,” I said. The girls wouldn’t mind me running downstairs for a little while. In fact, as handsome as Garrett was, I wouldn’t be surprised if they joined me to ogle him. Well, maybe not Lorraine. She’d been dating a hot accountant recently. I snorted inwardly. Who was I kidding? Even if she was off the market, that didn’t mean she wouldn’t want to admire the scenery. Garrett might not be my type, but he was easy on the eyes.
“Right. Your mother.”
He took my hand and pulled me into a hug. He smelled amazing and totally edible. My mouth actually watered. His chest was more muscular than I expected. Maybe I could be into him.
He leaned back slightly, his pelvis rubbing into mine unexpectedly. I almost jumped out of my skin.
“I’m so very sorry for your loss.”
Part of me wanted to just snuggle up to him like a kitten, but then he’d think I gave a shit about my mother, and he’d also think I was into him, and I wasn’t going to blow a terrific business relationship for a little nookie. Anyhow, even if I was attracted to him, I wouldn’t do anything about it. Another emotional crippling I could lay at the feet of my mother. I didn’t date. I didn’t get involved with anybody. Not with mom ready to eat them alive. The girls were different. We’d been friends since grade school and even when I tried to push them off to protect them, they’d clung to me like barnacles. Thank God. ’Course, maybe now that I was free, I could figure out how to get involved with someone.
But not with Garrett. I took one more breath of his delicious scent, then pushed away. I smiled. “Thank you, but honestly, I’m fine.”
His hands lingered on my shoulders. “Are you sure? We can postpone all this for a few weeks. I was devastated when my mother died.”
Because his mother wasn’t a demon from hell. I frowned. “Oh my goodness, Garrett. I had no idea.”
He shrugged but I could see old sorrow in his eyes. “It’s been a few years. But, Beck, I’m not in any hurry.”
I shook my head. “Trust me. I’m okay. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
He smiled. “I look forward to it.”
Wow. I’d never noticed his killer smile before. The girls were going to eat him alive and be irritated at me for keeping him a secret for so long.
Garrett left ahead of me. I retreated to the bathroom first and brushed my teeth. I had a couple of stops to make with new estate sale clients and didn’t need to blow bacon breath in all their faces.
I’d parked in the underground garage instead of using the valet parking. I had a thing about other people driving my car. I went outside and down the steps to the second level. When I reached my car, it was blocked by a long black limo. A man leaned casually against the front end, arms crossed. He was dark blond with short hair on the sides and longer on top. He wore a leather jacket and jeans and a pair of boots.
He had a short beard, a brooding forehead, and a strong nose. Mostly he put off that sexy bad boy vibe that had women in a five-block radius wetting themselves and not knowing why.
As I approached, he straightened as if waiting for me.
“You’re blocking me in,” I said. “Do you mind?” I went past him without waiting for an answer.
“Miss Wyatt, I’m Damon Matrovani. My employer would like a word with you. You can ride with me and I’ll return you here later, or I can have someone follow us in your car.”
As if. Nobody drove my 1965 Thunderbird but me. Plus, I didn’t take orders from strangers. Hell, I didn’t take orders.
I opened the trunk, dropped in my tote and purse, and then shut it before turning back around to look at Mr. Sex on a Sandwich. He’d stopped barely a foot away. I could smell him—woodsy and musky and pure male. Better than Garrett by far, except I didn’t want to curl up on this hunk of man like a kitten. I wanted to tear his clothes off and claw his back.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Matrovani, was it? But I have several meetings that I can’t miss. Have your employer contact my office, and I’ll be happy to arrange a meeting.”
“My employer is happy to compensate you for your trouble at whatever you should wish to charge.”
I couldn’t tell what color his eyes were in the gloom of the parking garage, but I could feel them boring through me. Not in any sort of sexual way, which oddly irritated me. It was more like I was being pinned to a foam board like a giant bug.
“Seriously? Throw money at a girl, and what? You expect her to just offer herself up? I’ve got news for you, Mr. Matrovani. I’m not a whore, and you can tell your employer he can stick his head up his ass and see if he can find a brain up there. Now move your car and let me out.”
His nostrils flared. “I didn’t suggest that you are a whore, Miss Wyatt.”
“Sure you did. Now get out of my way.”
I started to brush past him. He blocked my path.
“I did not suggest you are a whore,” he repeated, his gaze furious. “As you say, you are a busy woman, and your time is valuable. I merely indicated that you would be compensated for your time.”
Apparently I’d hit a nerve. I gave my best fake syrupy smile. “My valuable time is spoken for. Call for an appointment.”
I started to pass him again, and once more he blocked me. “I’m afraid I must insist, Miss Wyatt,” Damon Dickhead said in a completely nonapologetic tone that totally contradicted his words.
I let my gaze rove down his body and back up. I took my time, examining the broad sweep of his shoulders, the taut narrowing of his waist, and the roll of his muscular thighs inside his tight jeans. My mouth watered. He was sex on a sin stick. Just the type to get me hot and bothered in a way that polite and reserved Garrett never could. This guy exuded masculine animalism like Fukushima gave off radiation. He had that bad boy careless arrogance thing going on that made me want to rub on him like a cat in a bed of catnip.
God, I was a cliché. Why did women always want to screw the pricks? I bit back a smile. Oh yeah, screwing his prick could be loads of fun. Not that I’d know what to do with him.
My one and only sexual experience had been miserable at best. It had taken place in the backseat of a car with Marco Culver, a jock in my high school. He’d shoved his dick inside me once, and that had hurt like fuck. I hadn’t hung around to see if it got better. The girls said I couldn’t judge by a clumsy ass like him and that sex with someone who knew how to touch a woman was better than a refrigerator full of cheesecake, so I was ready and willing to try again. But not with Damon Dickweed, even if he did look like he was an expert at making a woman scream with pleasure.
“I admit, you’re awfully pretty,” I said finally, taking satisfaction in the red that had risen in his cheeks at my slow perusal. “But I’m not interested in anything you—or your employer—” (I put employer in air quotes) “—have to offer.” I did my best to adopt the snotty-haughty tone my mother had perfected that always reduced people to squirming worms.
He scowled and then stepped forward, leaning into me, his delicious scent curling around me. It was outdoorsy and male. Oh, so male. Dear lord, this ridiculous attraction had to be an aftereffect of mom’s death. With her gone, my hormones were unleashed and had decided to make up for lost time and start slobbering over random men. If I wasn’t careful, I’d end up humping his leg.
His tempting lips were just inches from mine, his stormy blue eyes piercing through me. His voice had dropped into a low growl that made my insides quiver. “Sweetheart, if I wanted you, I’d have you and you’d be begging on your knees for more.”
He straightened, giving me a cool once-over. He clearly was not turned on. “The only thing I want from you is to come with me for a little while and meet my employer.”
And a big bucket of ice water doused my lust. Thank goodness. I flipped my hair over my shoulder. “Insist all you want, but I’ve no intention of going off with a strange man to God knows where for God knows why.”
“I have no intention of hurting you,” he said, looking offended.
I couldn’t help my smile. Another effect of saying bye bye to Mommy Dearest—I didn’t feel like I had to keep myself shut down all the time. I could afford to smile. Laugh even. “I bet Ted Bundy said that to all the women he killed.”
He cracked an appreciative smile, and it was devastating. My knees wobbled and my breath caught in my throat. God, I was way too easy.
He lifted his hands, palms up. “How can I convince you that I mean no harm?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Don’t lie in wait for me in a parking garage, for starters. You do realize how creepy that is, right?” I lifted an eyebrow.
He had the grace to look a little embarrassed. “This is too important to wait, and I wanted to speak to you in private.”
“All right.” I folded my arms. “I’ll bite. What’s so important?”
He grimaced. “I can’t tell you. My employer wishes to speak with you himself.”
“And we’re back to the beginning. I can’t imagine what your employer wants so badly from an estate sale coordinator, but he’ll just have to make an appointment. In public,” I added pointedly. “And during the day.” I glanced at my watch. “I have places to be. You need to move.”
I turned to unlock the Thunderbird, my back prickling with awareness of Damon Handsomepants.
He let out quiet sigh. “I really am sorry, but this really is for your own good.”
A whirl of blue magic circled around me, pinning my arms to my sides. For a second, I was too shocked to react. Aside from my mother, I’d never encountered another person who could do magic. And now that I had, he was trying to kidnap me.
I twisted to look at him. “Are you serious?”
“Don’t be afraid. I promise I won’t hurt you.”
He looked like he really wanted me to believe him. He even looked a little guilty. The asshole reached for me to drag me into the limo.
“I don’t think so,” I said stepping back and shimmying out of the magic binding. It fell to the ground like stretchy Jell-O.
I expected him to look surprised, but he didn’t, which was more unnerving than his doing magic. He tensed, power crackling over his hands as he started to cast another spell at me.
Adrenaline and fear gave me the faster edge. Grasping my own magic in my hands, I whacked him in the chest. I clobbered him so hard, he rolled back over the hood of the limo and tumbled off the other side. That would leave bruises.
Before he could collect himself and come after me again, I looped magic under the front axle of the limo and flipped it backward onto its roof. The crashing sound echoed through the garage and made me jump.
I opened my car door and jumped inside then squealed backward out of the slot, swerving to miss Damon Asswipe, who’d already regained his feet. He staggered, shaking his head as if to clear it. I gunned the Thunderbird and screeched up the ramp and out of sight, leaving behind about half my tires on the pavement.
I pitched out into traffic, swerving to avoid a collision. I was running on instinct. Cars honked, but I put the pedal to the metal and roared down the street, turning quickly to make sure I was out of the line of sight of Damon Nutsack if he managed to pull his shit together and get to the sidewalk before I got away. I wouldn’t put it past him to flatten all my tires with magic or maybe drop my drivetrain.
After I put a few miles behind me, I pulled into the parking lot of the Seventh Day Adventist Church and parked. My hands were shaking, and my heart was racing. I made myself breathe. What in the fuck had just happened? Who were Damon and his employer and what did they want with me? What should I do now?
I couldn’t call the cops. What would I say? That he lassoed me with magic and tried to drag me off to his lair? They’d have me stashed in the looney bin before lunch, and from the way they questioned me, they already thought I killed my mother.
“Maybe he’ll give up,” I muttered. But he wouldn’t. Nothing about the man suggested he was a quitter. He would be coming for me again. At home, in the shop, at a sale—I wasn’t all that hard to find.
Well, let him. I could take care of myself. I’d survived my mother and all the hell she’d thrown at me over the years. Anyway, I’d fought off Mr. Damon Buttplug once. I could damned well do it again. If he wanted to come after me, let him try.