"Christ, I could eat a horse," Damon said as we emerged blinking into the golden light of early evening.
"Me, too," I said. Then regretted it. I didn't want him to think I was angling for an invitation.
"That place is..." Damon turned back to look at Cassandra's house.
"Weird? Archaic? Fascinating and terrifying?" I offered.
"I don't know about fascinating," he said, "but yes to the others."
He didn't fool me. The man didn't like magic, but he'd been interested in what we'd been doing. Beyond the horrified curiosity of a techno geek trying to assimilate that a global network could operate without his favorite toys and gadgets. I knew what his face looked like when something caught his attention. Because once upon a time, it was the expression I'd seen when he'd looked at me.
But there I went thinking foolish thoughts again.
"It's definitely lacking in snacks," I joked.
"Yes. I guess they save their money for the books," Damon said. "I wonder where they buy them."
"Some sort of magical dark web?" I said. "Or maybe not the web if Cassandra's aversion to tech is the norm. Maybe those weird little spooky bookstores you see in fantasy films are based on real places."
"I don't know how weird and spooky they'd be," he said. "Those books were old. They can't be cheap. Maybe the magical booksellers are making bank, and that's why Cassandra doesn't have money to digitize the whole thing."
"Maybe she thinks this is safer," I said lightly. "We can't all be billionaire uber-geeks who think tech holds all the answers.”
His mouth twitched, but I couldn't tell if the expression he was hiding was a smile or a wince because he'd put his sunglasses back on.
"You could let the billionaire uber-geek buy you dinner," he said.
What the heck? I opened my mouth to answer and then closed it again as confusion rushed through me. Swiftly followed by a spike of “Yes!” that almost made me step toward him, pulled in his direction by emotions too dumb to know when to quit.
"I’m not sure that would be smart," I said after an awkward pause as I tried to think of a better answer.
"Just dinner," he said. "You have to let me say thank you. You did save my life today."
The first time he'd taken me to dinner, there'd been stupidly good steak and wickedly expensive scotch, and the night had ended in scorching-hot sex. Three things that sounded hard to regret, but I did regret them. Well, not so much the steak and the scotch because I wasn't dumb enough to pass those up when offered, but the sex had been...a beginning all too soon ended. A regret to add to the tally of regrets that had dogged the last year.
That tally wasn’t going to get any higher if there was any way to avoid it.
"That still doesn't make it a good idea. You, me. Together."
"I'm not talking candles and low lighting," he said. "One of the UC professors told me about a great taco truck near the marina where they built that new park."
He knew I liked tacos. Or maybe he'd forgotten and had just picked them at random. My stomach hadn't. It rumbled at the thought, and he grinned.
"That's one yes. What does the rest of you say?"
Tacos weren't sexy, I told myself. And they were fast. I could eat and leave. Get out with my stomach full and my emotions no more ruffled than they already had been today. Simple, right?
"I think Cassandra wouldn’t want us hanging around in the open."
"She wants me to be unpredictable. I don't think anyone is expecting me to go for dinner at a taco truck in Berkeley. I've never been there before. Ji-Lin said they were really good."
Right now the tacos didn't even have to be good. I just needed them to be hot and edible.
"Well?" Damon asked, as though he could sense my resolve crumbling.
"One hour. I have...things to do." Now that I had my magic back, I wanted to take another stab at my client’s problem. See if the solution suddenly leaped out at me.
But I didn’t actually have to do that right away. So, as excuses went, it was weak. But it seemed so was my willpower when it came to Damon. It didn't matter what truth I knew or how much logic I tried to apply to the situation. Not when my heart still wanted to leap when he smiled at me and the scent of him in the warm afternoon air made my mouth water for more than fast food.
So I would indulge myself. To a point. Let myself have an hour to pretend we could perhaps be friends. Friends who ate tacos in the summer twilight and had magic-free lives and no complicated past.
Normal friends.
Since magic had come back into my life, I wasn't sure I even knew what normal was anymore. Didn't I deserve a taste? Even if it was a lie?
"Things?" Damon said.
"Work. I'm sure you do, too."
He nodded. "Yes. But food first. One hour. It's a deal."
Forty-five minutes later, I had a belly full of near perfect fish tacos, a half-drunk so-called Tijuana Iced Tea that I was beginning to suspect featured more tequila than one might expect from a cocktail poured by a business operating on taco truck margins, a sunny spot on the grass near the waterfront, and an increasing reluctance to stick to my own time limit.
Clinging to the illusion of normal was seductive even when I knew exactly what I was doing. I needed to summon some willpower soon and haul my butt out of there.
Trouble was, the sight of Damon lounging on the grass, jacket off, olive skin near golden where he'd pushed up his sleeves, and a lazy smile on his face as he slurped the last of his own drink was apparently my form of personal kryptonite.
He wasn't sitting particularly close to me, and he'd been careful not to touch me as we'd walked from his car to the truck and waited in line to order. He'd kept the conversation light, sticking to safe topics that didn't involve magic or anything that had happened earlier. Weather. Movies. Taco preferences. Apparently he wanted the illusion of normality, too.
Simple everyday small talk. I should have been immune to small talk. But he made even that charming.
I blamed the tequila. I'd started drinking the tea before I'd eaten my tacos, and it had clearly hit me too hard. That was the only reasonable explanation for why I wanted to scoot across the grass and lay my hand over his heart just to feel it beating.
If I hadn't found my powers, then he could be dead right now.
That knowledge stole my breath for a moment.
My fingers flexed, then curled as I fought the need to reassure myself that he was real. And alive. Because he was both. But he still wasn't mine, and I needed to...accept that.
Or just get the hell out before I made a fool of myself all over again.
The chill of acknowledging what we could have lost this morning melted my relaxed mood away. We could temporarily ignore the fact as hard as we liked, but we had a problem on our hands. And eating tacos and letting myself play “if only” in the lingering sunshine wasn't going to solve it. I crumpled the remains of my takeout containers into a ball and stood. "I really need to get home. And you need to figure out where you're going to stay tonight."
I didn't wait for his answer, just started walking across the grass toward the park boundaries and the lot where he'd parked the car.
"Maggie, wait," he called.
I stopped, turned. Damon was on his feet, but he hadn't moved from our picnic spot. I couldn't quite read the expression on his face. Or maybe I could.
No.
I was wrong. There was no reason for him to be looking like that at me. He'd walked away from looking like that at me. Still, I felt my stupid heart speed up a little. "What?"
His mouth twisted. "Nothing."
See. I was right. He wasn't looking at me like that. Stupid girl. "Okay, fine. Then let's move. It's going to get dark soon." I turned away, trying to tell myself there was nothing to feel disappointed about.
"Wait."
I stopped again. Turned back even though I knew it was truly a terrible idea. I'd thought I could do it—spend time with him and not want what I couldn't have. Turned out I couldn't. Because I did want it. And with every little bone he threw me, every smile, every time he made me laugh, or even, really, every time he breathed in my direction, I wanted more. Wished I could turn back time and become the nice uncomplicated nonmagical woman he wanted.
My fingers curled into my palms as we stared at each other. Seriously, this had to be over with fast or I was going to be in a world of hurt. Solve the puzzle, get the hell out of Dodge and away from the man who could shred my heart just by stepping into a room.
"What?" I repeated. "Is something wrong?"
"Not exactly."
I blew out a breath, trying not to let him see my frustration. Because he might just guess what was behind it. The only thing worse than carrying an embarrassing, can't-kill-it-no-matter-what torch for the man would be for him to realize it. "Then let's move."
"It's just—"
"Just what?" I asked when he paused again.
"Hell." He closed the gap between us with two long strides. "Just this." And his mouth came down on mine.
My brain shut down. I couldn't move. Couldn't think. For a moment, some part of me clung to the last dregs of sanity and came up with "This is a really bad idea." The thought flashed through my mind as the taste of him registered on my tongue, and then there was no more thinking as I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him back.
This.
This was what I'd been missing.
In this kiss was the gap in my life that needed to be filled. The lack I hadn't let myself try to fill. The touch and taste of Damon's mouth and the warmth of him against my body and the sheer screaming pleasure of sparking lust and delight.
I'm not sure how long we stayed there kissing like crazed teenagers. A minute. Maybe more.
A delicious span of time that just was. Where there were no demons or curses or trouble. No magic beyond what flared between us due to good old-fashioned chemistry.
But all good things have to come to an end, and somehow we disentangled and sprang apart, watching each other warily like two cats who weren't sure whether to attack or flee the scene.
Damon rubbed a hand over his head. "I'm sorry," he said. "That was...."
"Stupid?" I said, my voice uneven because I was still trying to catch my breath.
"Yeah," he agreed. "Won't happen again." The words sounded sincere, but there was a certain alley cat glint in his eye that told me he wasn't. That maybe he wanted to play a little.
The thought was like a slap of cold water. I stepped back.
"No," I agreed. "It won't."
It was his turn to look surprised. "You didn't like it?"
"Doesn't matter whether I did or not. I'm not in the mood for—" I waved my hand back and forth between us. "—whatever you had in mind."
"I didn't have anything 'in mind,'" he said, sounding indignant.
"And that's the problem," I retorted. I shoved my hands into the pockets of my jeans. "You and I...we were careless last time. We tumbled into bed and played it casual, and well, maybe it started casual, but it didn't finish that way. Not for me."
"You don't do casual?" he said.
I lifted my chin. "I do casual if I want. If I want no strings, well, there are a hundred guys in a hundred bars in the city who would do just fine. I have boobs and long legs, and I know how to use them if I need to scratch an itch." The fact that I hadn't scratched that itch since he'd left me was beside the point. "But I'm not scratching an itch with you. I was careless last time. And it was fast, and yes, maybe there were extenuating circumstances driving us together. But I won't be careless again. And I won't let you be careless with me."
"I—" His jaw snapped shut as his eyes searched my face. Then he straightened his shoulders. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I didn't know how it was going to end."
"I know you didn't," I said softly. It hurt to say it but it was true. Just as it was true that he had hurt me, whether he meant to or not. "Neither of us did. Which is why we should be smarter this time. We can be colleagues. Friends, maybe. But that's all I can give you."
"I guess I'll see you tomorrow," I said as the car stopped. Damon had insisted on driving me home, even though I told him I'd call a ride-share. The short drive had been quiet. Apparently he was all out of small talk. We'd brooded as separately as two people in a car could. Me staring determinedly out the window, and Damon, from what I could see of his profile reflected in the tinted windows, focused doggedly on the road ahead.
I reached for the door handle, eager for the awkwardness to be over. I needed some space. Away from him. Needed to give myself the chance to remember why I had to ignore the echoes of his kiss that still had my body humming softly. I'd told him the truth. I wasn't going to be careless. Wasn't going to let him hurt me again.
But apparently that determination didn't quite translate to me being able to not want him.
"Maggie—" he said, and I held up a hand before he could finish.
"Don't. I'm tired. It's been a day. I just want to go inside, shower, and then fall face-first onto my bed to sleep for about one hundred hours."
"But that would make you late tomorrow morning," he said, one side of his mouth lifting slightly.
The part of me that wasn’t immune to his charms felt that little quirk of his lips like they were pressed against my skin.
"As close to one hundred hours as I can manage, then," I said and pushed the door open. "I'll see you tomorrow."
I climbed out and shut the door fast, the thud of it close to a slam. The sound of safety. Proof of a solid barrier between me and him.
But as I walked a few steps up the drive, the sense of safety vanished, replaced by crawling unease.
I stopped dead, staring up at the house. No movement. No lights. Lizzie must still be at Cassandra's. The outer lights came on, dispelling the twilight shadows that lingered around the foot of the stairs and the front door where the porch roof shaded it. Being able to see that there was clearly nothing there did nothing to chase away the sensation.
Surely I was just jumping at shadows? My datapad would have pinged me and Lizzie if someone had broken in. My computer mojo may have been lacking lately, but our system was rock solid. And it had layers and backups. Unlike Damon, we hadn't had any unexplained power outages recently that would let someone bypass it.
Check the wards. The thought popped into my head in a voice so like Lizzie's that for a moment I wondered if she’d walked up behind me without me noticing. I made myself focus, calling on my magic. It felt sluggish, as though I was pulling it from somewhere sticky. Fair enough. I was exhausted. It made sense my magic would be, too.
But there was a shimmer over the house, as though I was looking at it through a faulty UV filter. I couldn't see any gaps or holes or any variations in the faint rainbow haze. I could see that I was standing outside it. Did that mean only the house was warded?
I looked behind me. There was a matching shimmer along the boundary line where my front lawn met the sidewalk. But it seemed fainter, flickering rather than shimmering.
"Maggie? Is everything okay?" Damon pushed his door open.
I held up my hand again, hoping like hell he'd be smart and stay where he was. I looked back at the wards on the house. I wasn't imagining things. The wards along the boundary line looked different. The crawling sensation had crept up my spine and flowed down my arms, making my hands tingle, a sensation somewhere between an itch and pain that made me want to flex them in readiness.
Readiness to do what exactly?
Protect myself from whatever the hell it was that was freaking my spidey senses out?
"Maggie?" Damon said again.
I turned slowly, still caught between the urge to flee and the fear that I was simply overreacting. After all, I was clueless about what the wards on my lawn were supposed to look like. But even as I stared at it, my bracelet suddenly went hot, and the ward glitched like a video pixelating before it vanished.