Читать книгу Tempting The Dragon - Karen Whiddon - Страница 8
ОглавлениеOnce inside the large house, her mother and her grandmother scattered. One of the other reasons Jade loved her home so much was its size. Not only the various hallways and rooms, but the hidden compartments and tunnels had always ensured the one seeking solitude had a place to hide.
Jade had taken advantage of that when she’d been younger. These days, her younger twin sisters, Pearl and Sapphire, were the ones who often hid from the constant noisiness of the family.
Currently, there was only one man in residence—Sam Burnett, Opal’s husband and Jade’s grandfather. These days, due to his worsening dementia, he mostly stayed in his room with the aide the family had hired to look after him. On his more lucid days, Sam would announce to anyone who would listen that he considered himself lucky. He’d always claimed Opal’s first name, which followed the Burnett tradition of naming their women after gemstones, had been a sign that she was his mate.
He was lucky to find her, the rest of the family had always thought. Lucky to have been one of the few men who’d managed to live in the house. Probably because he’d been born a Burnett. Men who’d married into the Burnett family frequently died an early death or the marriage ended in divorce. Most couldn’t deal with the Burnett women’s amazing beauty. More than one bitter divorce had resulted from a Burnett female attracting far more attention than her husband could handle.
And then there were those, like Jade’s father, who hadn’t even attempted to marry a Burnett.
Her aunt Emerald, never named Guardian, had married and moved out, though she and her husband, Jack, and their daughter still lived in Forestwood. Jade saw her cousin Di often enough, though Di’s brother, Jack Jr., had moved to California as soon as he graduated high school. He’d never returned, not even at Christmas or Thanksgiving.
The only ones who couldn’t leave the house were the Guardians. Or so Jade had been told. Like her mother before her, as long as Jade took care of Libby, if she were to marry, her husband would have to agree to reside here. Jade didn’t know too many men—okay, none, other than her grandfather, who was related—who would agree to live in a rambling old house with a bunch of women.
Travel could be prohibitive for those chosen. Even before she’d officially assumed the title of Guardian, but after Libby had named her Amber’s successor, Jade had only gone away once, back in high school during spring break with her friends. In two days she’d become violently ill, and not from alcohol consumption. Her mother had been dispatched to collect her. Once Jade had arrived back home, she instantly felt better. After that, Jade simply stayed put.
These days it was Pearl and Sapphire who were chafing to go on a grand adventure of their own. They were only seventeen, the same age as Jade when she took her ill-advised spring break trip. Since Libby hadn’t mentioned wanting Jade to pass on the mantle to either of them yet, Jade figured they were safe. At least for now, until Libby decided she needed a new Guardian.
The only thing missing, as far as Jade was concerned, was a dog. Her grandmother claimed to be allergic to all pets, so they’d never had any. The longing for a dog was one of the reasons Jade had opened her business, a doggy day care called Dogs Off Leash. DOL, for short.
Jade headed for the kitchen, which was one of her favorite rooms in the house. Her aunt was visiting and, as she often did because she claimed to enjoy the feel of dough under her hands, she was baking bread. The heavenly smell made Jade’s mouth water. Emerald was one of the few talented cooks in the family. When her husband and kids got on her nerves, she frequently showed up and worked out her frustration by baking. Jade loved to be around when Auntie Em visited.
“Hello, dear.” Her aunt held out her arms, wrapping Jade in a mist of perfume and flour. “Did you ladies have a nice lunch?”
“We did.” Jade smiled. “Do you need any help?” she asked. Auntie Em never did, but simply asking was enough to earn a bit of whatever treat she’d made.
This time was no exception. Beaming, her aunt handed her a slice of fresh-baked bread with a dot of creamy butter. After giving her thanks, Jade carried her prize from the warm kitchen and out to the front porch, where she could enjoy it in peace.
She sat down on the wooden swing—her favorite place to sit and watch the world pass by, and took a bite of bread. Soft and fragrant, the white bread contained hints of cheese, onion and herbs and melted on her tongue. She chewed slowly, wanting to savor every single bite. She might even have let out a quiet moan of pleasure.
“You eat that like you’re making love to it,” a dry, masculine voice drawled.
Instantly, she froze, even though every nerve ending flared to life as his voice and words resonated with her. Him. Just like that, her entire body felt energized and taut. Making love. An ache seized her as she dared to let herself imagine—for a second—what it would be like to make love with him.
Damn.
Refusing to let him see how much he rattled her, she concentrated on her bread and took another bite while she tried to do her best to pretend he hadn’t startled her. She chewed deliberately, ignoring him until she’d swallowed.
Slowly, she let her gaze come up to meet his. Again, she felt the sting of desire, a sharp tug of attraction, immediate and undeniable. Her breath caught in her throat, but she let herself study him, aware she needed to size him up unclouded by memories of those dreams.
And what dreams they had been. Her blood heated as she remembered the sensual and provocative images.
Mouth curling in amusement, he stood there while she let her gaze slowly drift over him, up and down, from the top of his dark and shaggy hair to his worn, faded sneakers. His insolent gray eyes gleamed with amusement, and maybe a hint of desire. He had a craggy, handsome face, rugged and masculine. Muscles rippled under his flannel shirt, making her mouth grow dry. The confidence he wore like a shield gave him a powerful, nonchalant appearance. Despite his quiet manner, he radiated sensuality, making her feel a bit like a helpless moth drawn toward a flame. Even so, she sensed an air of isolation around him.
“Are you done?” he drawled. “Because now it’s my turn.”
Instantly, her face heated. She pretended a sudden interest in taking another bite of bread, chewing and managing to swallow even though she felt his gaze like a whisper-touch on her skin.
Normal, she reminded herself. She had to appear normal.
“You didn’t come up the front path,” she commented once she’d swallowed, her voice overly bright. “There’s no way you could have or I would have seen you.”
“I did, but after I knocked on the front door and got no answer, I went around to the back. The lady baking bread in the kitchen directed me back up front here to find you. And yes, she did let me try a taste of her bread.”
Surprised, she glanced up. As she did, he smiled at her. The masculine power of his smile made her entire body tingle. This struck her momentarily speechless and all she could do was stare.
Luckily, she had a little left of her slice of bread to focus on. She took another bite, a big one, the last one, intending to savor it. Instead, the soft bread stuck to the roof of her mouth when she swallowed and she nearly choked. Still, she managed to get it down.
He quietly watched while she coughed and wiped her eyes.
“Are you all right?” he finally asked, the husky drawl in his voice making her think of the overwhelming heat of Texas summers.
She continued to cough, trying not to snort or hack too much, until she could catch her breath. All she could do was wave her hand at him to wait. Finally, she had herself back under control. Gathering what was left of her shredded dignity around her, she stood and met his gaze. “I swallowed wrong. You can be a bit overwhelming.”
He grinned, making her regret her admission. “Coming from a woman who looks like you, I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Her own lips curled up in the beginning of a smile. “Touché. Now tell me, why are you here?”
“Because you invited me,” he replied.
“Only to keep you from peppering us with questions at lunch,” she countered. She should have been annoyed, but wasn’t. And he knew it, she could tell. The glint in his gray eyes told her he was accustomed to using his charm to get his own way.
“My apologies.” That Southern drawl had a way of reaching inside her and curling around her entire being. “Speaking of lunch, what exactly did you do to make me move?”
Briefly, she considered batting her own eyelashes. Instead, she went for a steady gaze. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You do realize I’m a photojournalist, right? I told you that earlier, didn’t I?”
She nodded.
“Well, when a journalist has questions and everyone stonewalls him, that only intrigues him even more.”
He had a point. Disconcerted, she swallowed. “All right. You said you had questions. What exactly do you need to know?”
“First, start by telling me how you made me move outside of the restaurant. It felt sort of like being pushed by an invisible hand.”
For some reason, she found this amusing. From the intent way he watched her, he’d see if she tried to hide a smile, so she didn’t bother. “Around town, they call me a witch. Maybe now you can understand why.”
“I’ve heard that. Are you? A witch, I mean?”
To his credit, he didn’t sound at all disconcerted.
“Not really,” she finally admitted. “But you know how people talk. I have a few...abilities. Occasionally. Not many, and they’re unreliable, so I can’t really count on them.”
As a shape-shifter, he shouldn’t be surprised. He knew magic existed—otherwise every shape-shifter would be in trouble. But he’d never met a real life witch before.
“I can tell from your aura that you’re a shape-shifter,” she began.
“Ditto.” He narrowed his eyes. “Look, I’ll cut to the chase. I’m here because I’m doing a report on lake monsters. You know, like the Loch Ness monster, but in North America. There have been several reported around the United States and Canada. The one in Forestwood Lake came up several times, so I took a chance and traveled here to find out what I could learn.”
Monsters. Libby despised that word. And for good reason. Resisting the urge to defend her charge, Jade tilted her head, wishing she had one more bit of bread left. She felt confident no one in town would have told him anything. They were all united in protecting Libby. “And what did you find out?”
“Nothing, nada, zip. Like I mentioned at lunch, no one will talk to me. The only response I got was to ask the Burnetts. Which would be you, right?”
“That would be me,” she agreed, flashing her sweetest smile and feeling a swift stab of pleasure in his quick intake of breath. Might as well fight fire with fire. She knew how to use charm, too. “Honestly, though. If I did know anything—and I’m not saying I do—what makes you think I would confide in a total stranger?”
He shook his head, appearing unimpressed. “Honey, answering a question with another question isn’t going to make me forget I asked. If you won’t tell me about your lake monster, can you please point me to one of your relatives who will?”
Ignoring the thrill at his no doubt unintentional endearment—with a Southern accent like that, he probably called everyone honey or sugar or something—she shifted uneasily in her seat. While there wasn’t some kind of rule forbidding talk about Libby, her family also had a kind of tacit understanding the topic was off-limits to strangers.
Which this man, no matter how handsome, was.
“I’m a photojournalist,” he reminded her. “The fact that everyone keeps putting me off just makes me want to dig deeper.”
Nodding, she considered. Since they were both shifters, though she had no idea what he became when he changed, he’d know there were rules governing not revealing anything like this to humans. In other words, he couldn’t do it. As a shape-shifting wolf, she was Pack. The Pack was the largest group of shape-shifters and their wolves outnumbered all the other animals combined.
Pack Protectors policed this policy and the repercussions were severe. Maybe he reported for some internal magazine or newspaper, meant only to be viewed by their own kind. Though she’d never heard of such a thing, it could exist.
Still, she needed to know. “You say you’re a photojournalist. Who do you work for?”
A flash of surprise registered in his handsome face. “You’ve never heard of me?”
Tilting her head, she studied him. “Apparently not. What was your name again?”
“Rance Sleighter.”
“Nope, I haven’t heard of you. Should I have?”
He grinned. “I guess I deserved that. I used to work for National Geographic magazine. These days, I freelance.”
“For the general public?” she persisted.
“If you mean humans, yes. I also have done photo spreads for shifter magazines as well as a few vampire ones. Basically, whoever is willing to pay me.”
“And this story? The reason you’re here? Who is it for?”
A shadow crossed his face, so quickly she might have imagined it. “A friend,” he said. “Someone very close to me.”
Then maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t so bad. Yet shifter or not, she wasn’t sure she wanted to share Libby with outsiders.
“Let me speak with my family,” she said, merely to stall him. She’d have to call a family meeting to figure out how to best deal with this. “Can you come back another day?”
He eyed her. “Tomorrow?”
“I don’t know. I’m not sure I can round everyone up that early.”
At this, he took a step closer. Close enough for her to smell the light masculine scent of whatever soap he used. “You make it sound like you need to call a board meeting. I’m just asking questions about a lake monster, not wanting to purchase stock in the town’s largest business.”
Chin up, she nodded, keeping her tone as dignified as she could, especially with the way her entire body heated every time she looked at him. “I completely understand. But I still need to speak with my family.”
“Fine, but you know what?” He crossed his arms. With his wide-legged stance, he was the picture of virility. “Until now, I pretty much figured this lake monster wasn’t real, like all the rest of them. A legend, a story, something the good people of Forestwood, New York, invented to help with tourism. But the way you—and everyone else in this town—are acting has got me to wondering what exactly you’re hiding.”
To that, she had no reply. “Check back with me tomorrow,” she finally said, even though she had no idea if she could pull together a family meeting by then. “Hopefully I’ll know more.”
Though she’d pretty much dismissed him, he made no move to leave. Instead, he reached into his backpack and pulled out his camera, fiddled with the controls and held it up to his eyes as if testing the light.
“Okay?” she prodded.
He snapped a couple of shots, startling her. Impulsively, she stuck out her tongue, instantly regretting it when she heard the click of the shutter. “Stop,” she ordered. “No more photos. That’s rude, taking my picture without asking.”
Lowering the camera, his intense gaze pierced hers. “I’m sorry. Sometimes I take pictures out of habit. Especially when I see something worth photographing, like you.”
“Compliments don’t work on me,” she declared, even though his words made her feel all warm and fuzzy. “You’ll still need to check back with me tomorrow.”
He grinned, a sexy, savage lift of his mouth that made her insides twist in response. “Since you give me no choice, it’ll have to do. In the meantime, I think I’ll head out to the lake myself and check things out.”
She would have expected no less. “Just be careful,” she said, her standard warning as she turned to head back inside. At least she didn’t have to worry about him seeing anything. Libby always somehow sensed the presence of strangers and remained in the deepest part of the water. The only reason rumors had floated out of town had to be because someone had talked when they shouldn’t have.
Back straight, she walked away. As she did, she felt him watching her. She halfway expected him to stop her and felt faintly disappointed when he didn’t.
Once inside, she barely had time to take a deep breath before her twin baby sisters barreled around the corner. Blond ponytails flying, tall and leggy, they both had the all-American girl look going on. Except Pearl dressed exclusively in black while Sapphire favored vintage seventies attire, the more colorful, the better.
“Who was that?” Pearl demanded, grabbing at Jade’s arm. “He’s rock-god material.”
Amused and secretly in agreement, Jade glanced at Sapphire to see if she’d echo her twin’s sentiment. “He’s pretty cute,” Sapph finally allowed. “Who is he?”
“My new boyfriend?” Jade answered, ruining it by turning what should have been a statement into a question.
“Ewww,” Pearl squealed. “That would mean he’s old.” She shuddered, as if their visitor had taken out his dentures before asking for his cane.
Sapph, always the more thoughtful one, frowned at her sister. “Jade’s not old.”
Pearl shrugged, her expression unconvinced. “Fine. If you want to snag every gorgeous man in town, don’t let me stop you.”
The heavy layer of sarcasm in her voice made Jade smile. “He’s here because of Libby. He wants to do a story on her.”
At her words, both teens’ mouths dropped open. “Seriously?”
“Yep.”
The twins exchanged looks.
“So what are you gonna do?” Pearl finally asked, seeming worried.
Jade made a show of checking her watch. “Call a family meeting. That’s the only thing I can do.”
Family meetings in the Burnett clan were frequent, noisy and fun. Usually a potluck, everyone brought a home-cooked dish or two. Tons of delicious food, free-flowing wine and lots of talk made the meetings occasions to be looked forward to.
Even the twins and their teenage cousins attended without complaint. The abundance of food was enough of a lure.
“A family meeting!” Pearl brightened. “Oh, I so hope Auntie Em brings her fried chicken.”
“Oh, me, too!” The twins hurried off, heads together, planning what they’d eat first.
Watching them go, Jade sighed. Sometimes being around her younger sisters made her feel really old, even though she only had twelve years on their seventeen.
Jade made three calls, which meant those people would make calls of their own until the entire family had been notified. Due to the urgency of the situation, the meeting would be that evening at seven. Unless life-threatening, all previously made plans would be canceled. The family meeting always took precedence.
Opal and Amber took to the kitchen, intent on cooking whatever culinary delights they’d decided to team up and make this time. Jade barely suppressed a shudder. The pair’s creations were legendary, and not in a good way.
Finally, as the hour neared seven, cars pulled up in front of Burnett House and parked. People brought food—some in ice chests, boxes or bags, or casserole dishes they carried in their hands. Redheads outnumbered brunettes and blondes since almost all of the Burnetts and their offspring were gingers. Jade’s flame-colored mane had turned silver immediately after taking on the mantle of Libby’s caregiver. At first, this change had horrified her, making her fret about appearing old. But in the years that had passed, she’d come to love her moonlight tresses. She knew once she passed that task on, her normal color would be restored and the new caregiver would immediately go gray, like what had happened when Amber passed the title on to her.
Wonderful smells drifted out of the formal dining room as Jade made her way downstairs. She could hear the low hum of conversation, which meant the family had already begun to gather.
Stepping into the room, she stopped. It looked like it always did—a packed room, with the long mahogany table groaning under the weight of food that would soon be demolished when everyone descended on it like sharks on a feeding frenzy.
Her eyes watered at the competing smells of the older ladies’ perfumes and the men’s cologne. Jade had tried once to get everyone to agree to attend fragrance free, but she’d been immediately shot down by the elders. Despite the fact that wolves had super-sensitive noses, those ladies loved their scents, so Jade had to let it go. Even though every time she hugged her aunt Agate, Jade’s eyes would water and she’d have to stifle a fit of coughing, the overabundance of scent thrived to this day. Jade countered this by trying to stand as far away from the worst offenders as possible.
Since she’d called the meeting, she would have to do the majority of the talking. She remembered the first family meeting at which she had to speak, immediately after her mother had announced her retirement and Jade had been assigned the chore of looking after Libby, the popular and mysterious lake shape-shifter who resided in Forestwood Lake. Libby despised the term monster. Jade couldn’t blame her.
Since then, Jade had grown accustomed to giving speeches. She found she did better with little or no preparation. Winging it seemed well received.
But first, everyone had to eat. A line had already started forming at one end of the table, where someone had placed two stacks of sturdy paper plates. She watched, amazed even though it was always the same, as relatives took their places at certain dishes, filling their plates as high as they could, before carrying the mound of food over to their respective seats at the table.
Jade waited until just about everyone had gotten what they wanted before going over to check out what remained. Waving at a couple of her cousins on the other side of the room, she stepped in line. As she eyed the half-empty pans of pasta salad and fried chicken, her stomach growled. She made herself a small plate, wondering which dish her mother and grandmother had made. Amber and Opal had been holed up in the kitchen for hours, shooing away anyone who attempted to enter. They’d refused to say what they were making, only claiming it would be the best surprise ever.
Jade only hoped it would be edible. Separately, her grandmother was a good cook, but Amber wasn’t. And together... They ended up competing, each adding just another pinch of something, and the end result always, without exception, turned out terrible.
What astounded Jade was that no one could tell from looking at it. No, it wasn’t until you took the first bite and gagged that you realized what had happened.
Ladling a little bit of everything on her plate, she tried to spot Amber and Opal’s latest concoction. Since she couldn’t, she knew she’d find out once she started to eat.
The desserts had been placed on a side table. There were the usual cakes and pies, and a beautiful peach cobbler. Jade knew which one she’d be having. That is, as long as her mother and grandmother hadn’t made it. Unfortunately, without tasting it, there was no way to tell.
Taking a seat next to her aunt Agate since it was the only one available, Jade hoped the overwhelming scent wouldn’t ruin her taste buds, and dug in. Every single morsel she put in her mouth tasted delicious. Which meant, she realized after she’d cleaned her plate, that one of the desserts would be awful. But which one?
She caught Aunt Agate’s eye, aware she—and just about everyone else in the room—was thinking the exact same thing.
A few people had already gingerly approached the dessert table, selecting two or three things to be on the safe side. Jade did the same, helping herself to a slice of chocolate cake and the peach cobbler. Praying neither of her choices would be the one, she took her seat and dug in. The chocolate cake tasted moist, with just the right amount of airy sweetness.
She polished that off and turned her attention to the cobbler. Just looking at the peach slices swimming in a syrupy glaze and the perfectly browned mixture of crumble made her mouth water. Someone should have taken a photograph of the entire thing when it had been undisturbed. Surely, this couldn’t be the dessert item Amber and Opal had managed to ruin, could it?
Jade glanced up to find Aunt Agate watching her, spoon poised over her own mound of cobbler.
“You first,” her aunt said, grinning.
Taking a deep breath, Jade plunged her spoon down, scooping up a good-size bite. It appeared juicy and moist, and the fragrant steam whet Jade’s appetite. She swallowed, then shoved her entire spoonful into her mouth.
Her taste buds exploded with flavor. Slowly chewing, she let out her breath and swallowed. “It’s good,” she began, letting her relief show in her voice. “I’m not sure who made it, but neither Mom nor Grandma was the cook.”
As she reached for another bite, her tongue began to burn. Eyeing her aunt, who was happily tucking in to her own helping of cobbler, Jade tried to blurt out a warning. Instead, she only managed a croak.
