Читать книгу Goddess, Awakened - Cate Masters - Страница 7

The gold and silver painted pumpkins decorated the foyer hardwood floor, its soft sheen testament to the recent refinishing. The ceramic pheasant her grandmother had given her sat beside the vase of sunflowers on the table below the mirror. Edging the door frame, the garland of yellow and orange fabric leaves twined with white lights provided a welcoming entry for Thanksgiving guests.

After surveying the guest list, Joss walked to the dining room for a last-minute check of tables for correct silverware. As soon as they arrived, she’d light the candles and dim the lights. Everything appeared ready, so why did she have the nagging notion of something left undone?

Needing to busy herself, she went to the kitchen. “What can I do to help?”

“Not a thing. We have it covered.” Annie smiled at her cousin Tammy, hired for the day as a server.

“I don’t know why I’m so nervous.” Her nerves tightened by the minute.

Having finished squirting decorative frosting on a cake, Annie stepped back to admire her work. “It will be great. See? People are arriving right now.”

Outside, three cars queued up beside one another. People exited and approached the inn. Joss untied her apron. “Show time.” Although excited by her expected guests, something else lingered in the air, hidden by their smiling faces and chatter as they approached the house. Larger and more powerful than their pleasantries, yet mingled with them. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, and her apprehension grew.

Distractedly, Joss asked, “You didn’t take any more reservations, did you?”

“No,” Annie said. “Why?”

“No reason.” Except she’d been so sure Eric would accept the invitation, despite his reluctance. No time to worry about it now.

The silver sedan pulling in caught her attention. “Aunt Lydia.”

Standing on tiptoe, Annie strained to see. “Oh, good. Will she be telling fortunes again?”

Tammy gasped in delight. “She’s a fortune teller?”

Joss shot her a sardonic glance. “Not today if I can help it.” Ignoring their disappointed whines, she hurried to the lobby to greet an entering couple, whom she didn’t recognize. Seeing their overnight bags, she checked them in.

Another couple arrived as she directed the first to their rooms. After taking their coats and hanging them on the coat rack, she ushered them to the front room. “Make yourself at home. Dinner will be ready soon.”

When she returned to the foyer, Lydia was stamping her heeled shoes on the carpet. “It’s so cold.” Turning back, her aunt held open the door for the person behind her. “Come sit by the fire.”

The powerful presence hit Joss before she spied her grandmother, who followed Lydia. Her mouth fell open in delight. “Gram.”

“Happy Thanksgiving, dear.” Her grandmother opened her arms.

Joss went to her embrace. “What a lovely surprise. I had no idea you were coming.”

The love in her grandmother’s voice warmed Joss as much as the hug. “The inn looks lovely.”

“Wait till you see the house next year after we paint the outside. And after the lavender’s planted.”

Gram’s eyes crinkled in a smile. “How lovely you’ll carry on the family traditions.”

Not the way her grandmother hoped. “Only your recipes.”

“I’m still pleased.” Gram squeezed her hand. “Your special visitors will be too.”

Her aunt primped in front of the mirror.

Joss moved behind Lydia. “Let’s not mention such things tonight, please. Or anything else out of the ordinary.”

Lydia pecked her cheek. “We wouldn’t dream of it, darling.” Halting outside the front room, her aunt gasped. “Oh, my. How gorgeous! The color’s extraordinary.”

Joss had to admit, it would complement the outside colors nicely. Linking her arm through Gram’s, she led her inside. “Come in and get warm.” After settling her on the loveseat nearest the fireplace, she excused herself when the door opened.

The sight of Eric in the foyer holding a potted flower stopped her.

A wan smile crossed his face. “Happy Thanksgiving.”

“Thank you. I didn’t realize you were coming.”

His nervousness plain, he peered into the dining room. “I neglected to make a dinner reservation. If you don’t have room—”

“We do.” A bit too forceful, she admonished herself.

“Great.” Stiffly, he held out the mums, decorated to look like a turkey. “These are for you.”

“How sweet. You didn’t need to.”

“I wanted to.”

She hadn’t intended to insult him. “They’re lovely.” Her fingers grazed his in accepting them. The small contact zapped his energy through her, sizzling along her nerve endings.

As if aware of it too, he tensed, and somehow loomed taller beside her. His presence seemed to fill the foyer. Her feet anchored in place, concentrating her focus on him. When his gaze dropped to her lips and he eased closer, her grasp on the flowers loosened.

The rattle of the door opening caused him to glance away to the couple entering with overnight bags.

To clear her head, Joss stepped toward them. “Welcome.”

She remembered to tell Eric, “Why don’t you hang up your coat and join the others?”

“Of course.” He stepped into the front room and halted. His fists clenched when Lydia looked up.

Her aunt brightened. “Doctor Hendricks. How wonderful. Come sit beside us. Tell us how you’ve been.”

He shot a tentative glance at Joss.

She cradled the flowers. “Go ahead. It’s safe. My aunt won’t be doing any readings tonight.”

He released a breath, seeming to steel himself before going in.

Maybe it was time to open a bottle of wine. First, she greeted the newcomers. After setting the flowers on the reservation desk, she engaged in small talk with a couple registering for a room, nerves rattling from her encounter with Eric. Would he have kissed her if the visitors hadn’t arrived when they did?

At the foot of the stairs, she directed the people to the second floor. Instinctively, she turned to the front room and immediately met Eric’s gaze. Electricity shocked her, concentrating in her lower belly. Hoping it would subside, she hurried to the kitchen.

The vibration remained steady. “I think I’ll open the wine now. Lydia’s latched onto Doctor Hendricks already.” Joss rummaged in the drawer for the bottle opener.

“Doc Hendricks is here?” Tammy strained to look past her.

“Yes. He brought flowers,” she blurted, then regretted it. Unsure why she mentioned it, Joss’s cheeks burned.

Annie’s brows flew upward. In a knowing tone, she said, “Oh,” and exchanged a sly glance with Tammy.

She should never have said a thing. “It’s a formal gesture from a guest to a host.”

All innocence, Tammy said, “Sure.” She busied herself arranging stuffed mushroom caps on a platter.

Despite the buzz still singing along her veins, Joss kept her voice airy. “They’re cute. Mums shaped like a turkey.”

Too enthusiastically, Annie nodded. “I’ve seen those. They are cute.”

At her placating tone, Joss worked the corkscrew faster. The blessed pop of the cork’s release was a wonderful sound. She poured a glass of Riesling and gulped.

At Annie’s quizzical glance, she swirled the last in her glass. “Had to test it. It’s a new brand. Very good.” She downed the last of it. The tingle working through her subsided, and her muscles relaxed.

Grabbing napkins, Tammy shouldered the tray. “I’ll take these out front.”

Annie opened the oven door. “Twenty minutes, tops, before dinner.”

“Perfect. Hopefully everyone will be here by then.” If only Kyle had the courtesy to arrive early. Joss suspected he’d make a late entrance and an early departure. At least her family would spend the holiday together.

* * * *

The crackling fire and mellow wine eased Eric’s tension. Another last-minute decision, coming here. Because of an emergency call, he’d missed the flight to Denver. Profuse apologies to his sister failed to ease her concern about him spending Thanksgiving alone, eating a microwaved turkey dinner.

“I won’t be. There’s a new inn down the street. I’ll eat there with neighbors.” That placated her, and the idea gained appeal. Why not? He’d hate to miss an old-fashioned turkey dinner. A legendary one. He had almost smiled.

By the time he’d parked outside the inn, his grin had disappeared along with his confidence, and he’d wondered why the hell he’d come. The urge to flee had momentarily overtaken him. He’d slipped the keys back into the ignition. An image in his head had stopped him. Sheree, opening her apartment door, pulling him inside.

Another vehicle parked beside him. He forced himself out of the truck and followed the couple inside.

Luckily, Charlie Fulton’s arrival shifted everyone’s focus to him. He described at length the renovation process, praising Joss and Annie for their hard work. “Especially Mrs. Gibson. She’s a dynamo, always on the move. You know?”

Eric knew too well. Anytime he was near her, his head spun. She was always in motion, always changing things. A whirlwind of energy.

When Joss announced dinner, Eric followed everyone into the dining room. He evaded Lydia and sat near Charlie. Joss, Annie, and Tammy rotated from dining room to kitchen, kitchen to dining room, carrying trays of food.

The buffet style reminded Eric of home, jostling for first place with his sister. It lent a casual atmosphere to the evening. The food itself was another matter. A turkey at his parents’ home seemed bland as flour paste in comparison. Whatever herbs mingled with ingredients in each dish tantalized his taste buds, and his senses. His awareness of the room around him heightened. He was especially sensitive to Joss’s presence. Throughout dinner, he glanced frequently at her whenever she entered the room. Stupidly, he’d imagined her sitting beside him during the meal. She didn’t sit anywhere, unless she’d eaten in the kitchen.

Charlie dominated the conversation, so there was little pressure to contribute much unless asked. Eric wondered whether Charlie’s interest extended beyond the inn. The handyman perked up whenever Joss came by, and went out of his way to speak to her. She graciously stopped at their table, her easy laughter a reminder to Eric of the many hours she’d spent with Charlie. Her glance strayed to Eric many times, each time riveting him further. A curiosity lingered in her gaze. An invitation so compelling, when she stopped to ask if he wanted coffee, he rose from the table.

“You’re not leaving, are you?” she asked.

“No,” he blurted. He couldn’t leave. Embarrassed at his inexplicable reaction, he covered by asking where the rest room was. The warmth—and relief—in her face told him he hadn’t imagined it. Something was happening between them. He had no idea what, yet it overwhelmed him. He found himself in the downstairs bathroom with no recollection of having walked there.

Splashing cold water on his face, he told his mirror image, “Get a grip.”

A long-forgotten urge twisted through him, making his hands fumble the towel onto the rack. You’re getting carried away. Yet he couldn’t deny, something about her beckoned to him on the deepest level, and he didn’t want to stop. He returned to his seat and stared at the apple cranberry cake on the plate. Unadorned of whipped cream, it needed no embellishment. It smelled delicious.

Mr. Appleton inquired about his practice, and, as Eric suspected, wanted free advice on his cat’s condition.

“I couldn’t be sure without taking a look. If you’d like, bring him by tomorrow.” He had nowhere else to be. The thought of spending the day alone used to appeal to him. No harried travel. No inquisitive relatives. Suddenly, his immediate future seemed bleak and pathetic. Nothing like when he visited the inn, always too short a stay.

As he spooned the last of the cake into his mouth, he met the scintillating gaze of the aunt, a knowing smile curling her lips. Surely as she’d emptied a bucket of cold water atop his head, a blast of cool passed over him. The woman gave him the heebie-jeebies. He hoped she’d left her damn tarot cards at home. He flashed a polite smile.

When Charlie announced his interest in going to the front room, Eric quickly said, “Good idea.”

Lydia and the grandmother followed like wraiths, inspecting him with weighty stares.

Most of the others left soon after finishing their desserts. The few overnight guests retired to their rooms, leaving Eric with the aunt, the grandmother, and Charlie.

Lydia stood at the front window. “I don’t believe it. Snow.”

“Snow?” Charlie lumbered to his feet. “The forecasters didn’t call for any.”

“Whether they called for it or not, it’s here. Quite a bit too.”

Strange. The forecast predicted clear skies, yet a layer of white already covered the ground. An odd shiver of awareness passed over Eric when Joss emerged from the kitchen and a smug glance passed between the grandmother and aunt.

Gram sipped her tea like the queen regent. “You did a wonderful job with the renovations. As large as it is, this room has a cozy, inviting atmosphere.”

Leaning against the back of her grandmother’s chair, Joss smiled. “All it needs is a brass cricket for the hearth.”

“A brass cricket?” Eric asked.

Lydia batted her lashes. “For luck, of course.”

Slapping his hands against his knees, Charlie pushed to a stand. “I better be going. I’ll be back soon enough tomorrow. Still have some rooms to paint upstairs.”

A hint of encouragement edged Lydia’s voice when she said, “Good night.” She turned to the older woman. “Shall we get settled in our rooms?”

Gram sighed. “Yes, even a few hours of travel tire me out.”

Annie burst from the kitchen. “Honey, I’m sorry. I have to take Tammy home. She’s sick to her stomach.”

Joss hurried to Annie’s side. “Go, don’t worry about a thing. I’ll finish up.”

Annie hesitated. “If this snow keeps up, I may not be able to come back.”

She gestured her away. “Don’t even try. I can handle it. Go, before the roads get worse.”

Her friend scrambled back to the kitchen. The others scattered in every direction, upstairs and into the kitchen and outside, leaving Eric the sole remaining person. Besides Joss.

For a moment, they stood there uncertainly, the air between them crackling with tension. At a door slamming upstairs, she broke away her gaze. “Excuse me. I have to…” Jerking a thumb backward, she frowned and then hurried to the kitchen.

To appear busy, he poked at the logs in the fireplace. The flames leapt higher, and he crouched to stare into the fire. He should be used to it by now—everyone else had a family to share the holidays with. Everyone except him. And Joss. His awareness of her heightened. Each time he tried to dredge up a memory of Karen, the vivid image of Joss in the kitchen blotted it out. He shouldn’t sit here. He should go home, but if he did, Joss would be left to clean up by herself.

As if in a dream, he moved to the kitchen doorway. “Need any help?”

Dishes and food warmers crowded the counters. She flashed a humorless smile. “No, I’m fine.”

Then why didn’t she sound fine? She sounded upset. He moved closer, needing to do something, anything, to soothe whatever pained her.

She fumbled containers into the fridge. “Why don’t you go relax? You’re welcome to put on a CD, maybe sit by the fire. Before you go home.”

He didn’t want to do any of those things. He stood dangerously close, fighting the urge to touch her hair, run his hands down her back.

With wide eyes, she averted her gaze, her body tense as she moved to the sink, picked up the towel and dried a glass. “It’s supposed to dip into the twenties tonight, so if you need to get going now, then—”

He slipped the towel from her hand. “I live three minutes away.”

“Oh. Right.” She turned toward him, opening to him. To the possibility of him. “The snow…”

Only inches away, the heat from her body cleaned the slate of his mind. He operated on impulse. On need.

In a breathless rush, she asked, “Did you enjoy your meal?”

“Mm hmm.” Every course of the meal brought his taste buds to life as never before. He traced her collar bone with one finger.

“Eric…” She inclined her head toward his hand.

The motion, slight as it was, spurred his pulse faster. At hearing her murmur his name, his heart revved in his chest like a race car engine ready to explode at the starting line. “Don’t send me away. Please.” He touched his lips to her forehead, then her nose.

Her breath smelled of coffee and cranberries, and a hint of lavender. “You’re making it difficult to…”

His mouth hovered near hers, just out of reach. “Don’t say no,” he whispered.

The honey gold of her hair caught the light, and she appeared illuminated from within. Parting her lips enticingly, she searched his face.

It wasn’t a no. It was enough of a maybe that he closed the space between them. He shuddered with tantalizing release as her soft lips and sweet-tasting tongue moved against his. She pressed against him, driving him wild. Years of pent-up need rushed through him, and he crushed her to him, his hands in her hair, then along her waist and thigh, wanting to know every curve, every inch of skin.

At a banging on the door, she jerked away, breathless.

“Mrs. Gibson?” A man stood outside.

Whoever it was, Eric hated him for interrupting.

Extracting herself from his embrace, she smoothed her hair and opened the door. “Yes?”

A strange kind of happiness filled Eric when her voice shook.

The man shifted on the step. “I’m here to pick up the food.”

“The food?” She held a hand to her head.

“Yes. For Second Harvest.”

“In the snow?” She leaned out the door in amazement. “Oh, it’s stopped.”

He frowned. “Flurries never bothered me. Now, the food?”

Flurries? Eric peered out the window. The snow had stopped as mysteriously as it had begun.

“Yes. Sorry, I’ll get them for you.” Joss rushed to the counter, where the half-full aluminum containers sat. “Give me one minute.”

“It’s not ready?” the man whined.

“I’m sorry, dinner ran late and…” Her breath strangled. “Oh, never mind.” She whirled into action.

“I’ll help.” Eric scraped the stuffing into the tin. He maneuvered around her, anticipating her needs by handing her bowls, taking away empty ones. Together, they topped the tin containers with a foil lid and stacked them in a box.

The man grumbled a thank you and left.

With a sigh, she leaned against the counter. “Next year, I’ll know to be ready for him.”

“I hope he doesn’t serve it to the homeless with the same scowl.” He wanted to move closer, back into her arms, but wasn’t sure how to span the distance. “It’s generous of you to donate leftovers.”

Her eyes bright, she sounded breathless. “We’d have been eating turkey sandwiches for weeks otherwise.”

“It’s very nice.” Already said that. Hell.

She turned. “I should finish cleaning up.”

He caught her arm and twirled her, pinning her against him. “Can’t it wait?” He wasn’t sure he could. Once he’d tasted her, his appetite grew ravenous. Maybe he’d never get enough of her. He had to find out.

* * * *

Joss’s arguments fell away. He radiated heat and need, crackling along his skin like an electric storm that sent vibrations to her core.

“Joss.”

His low voice rumbled over her like thunder. The whisper burned along her nerve endings like tequila, at once loosening her inhibitions and tightening her insides. She ran her hand up his neck and into his hair. A dangerous motion, possibly self-destructive, like throwing herself into the fires of Hell. At the moment, she wanted to risk the burn of his fire. The intensity shone in his eyes. Penetrated her skin wherever he touched. Rather than the scorching she expected, his warmth proved surprisingly pleasant, and she wanted to burrow deeper.

She clung with the desperation of one drowning. She gave herself over to the cresting wave crashing over her head. Risky as it was—anyone could have walked downstairs, come through the back door, or seen them through the window—she didn’t protest when he reached beneath her skirt and scooped her up to the counter. In clumsy haste, she unzipped his trousers and wrapped her legs tightly around his thighs, urging his upward thrusts from his tiptoe stance. His urgent whispers, constant murmurs of her name, brought her to a quick climax. Soon after, he clutched her tighter yet, and his body shuddered against hers. Through his dampened shirt, his heart pounded against her chest.

His breaths deepened and slowed. “Are you all right?”

The question—his concern—surprised her. Touched her. “Yes.”

With a shy smile, he caressed her cheek with his thumb. “It was uh, quicker than I would have liked.”

“For me too.”

“We could go to your room.” He eased away to meet her gaze, his intensity concentrated on her. “I’ll try to make it last longer next time.”

Her stomach clenched. Next time. There couldn’t be a next time. There shouldn’t have been a first time. “No, I can’t.” What if they found out? Her head still reeled from trying to absorb all the family history. She couldn’t chance becoming involved with anyone right now.

His hand stilled at her waist, and he drew further back. “Right. You’re probably exhausted.”

“Yes,” she lied. She wouldn’t sleep a wink.

“I could help you finish up.”

Sending him away would be easier if only he would stop acting so nice. One hint at all the strange goings on in her life, and he’d disappear in a hurry. “It’s better if I do it myself.” Less dangerous for him should an Underworld spy lurk outside. And the sooner he left, the less chance her family might spot him too.

When she heaved a strangled breath, his smile faded.

Easing away, he said, “Right, I’ll go.”

She opened her mouth, then closed it. Much as she wanted him to stay, he was safer to leave. With his vibes still so unsettled and chaotic, she doubted he could handle much more. Yet, anyway. Better to take it slow.

He kissed her, brief, warm, and all-enveloping. “I’ll see you.”

Unable to bring herself to repeat the words, she nodded. “Good night.” She fought the urge to call him back when he hesitated at the back door.

Time. She needed time to think. It had happened so quickly, sweeping away her reason. Her sanity, apparently.

With his hands on her skin still vivid in her mind, she went to bed.

* * * *

Driving the short distance to his place, Eric couldn’t stop smiling. He hadn’t planned to make love to Joss. It simply had happened, as naturally as if they’d done it thousands of times before.

In his imagination, they had. He’d never expected to be so lucky as to experience it for real.

Pulling his truck to a stop outside the door, he sat for a moment. Heat washed over him, reliving her touch. He’d never dreamed it would be so amazing. Desire so intense, it burned away any thought except to have her, every bit of her. He couldn’t hold her close enough, get deep enough inside her.

So why had she pushed him away?

Stepping out of the truck, he stood rooted, staring at the inn. He should go back to her, right now. Clear up whatever misunderstanding had upset her.

Turning to the truck door, he ducked when something swooped near his head. “What the—” Each time he attempted to get back in his truck, black creatures flitted close. He waved to drive them off. More and more surged out at him.

“Get away.” He swung harder. Glancing up, ice filled his veins. Their tiny faces resembled Sheree’s. The same upturned nose, the same red lips, the same beady eyes.

Their screeches echoed through the darkness, oddly sounding like laughter. The creatures swarmed, pressing him toward his back door. Tugging his jacket over his head, he crouched and sprinted inside. Wings beat at the glass after the door closed behind him.

“Get lost!” His yell had zero effect. The creatures flew in a chaotic mass, flitting crazily. The black mass of bodies blocked his view of the inn. Not until he moved away from the door did they disband into the night.

Try as he might to conjure the warmth of Joss’s embrace, her beautiful face, the only one who came to mind was Sheree. Frustrated, he went to bed. Each fleeting thought of Joss only brought an angry screech at the window.