Death and Relaxation (Ordinary Magic #1)(71)

“Rossi?”

Did he sound worried? Startled? Did he sound like someone dangerous who had something to hide?

“Hippy who inherited that big house on the hill and runs yoga classes or crystal detox seminars and all that other woo-woo kind of thing.”

“I know him. Why were you sitting with him?” His voice was even, carefully casual.

Too casual?

“Well, my assistant got a phone call and dumped me. What was the call about?”

“Work.” He shifted his weight a bit, and I watched his body language out of the corner of my eye as I continued to kick at my boot heel to no effect.

“Dammit,” I whispered.

“Need some help?” He knelt and set the box of matches on the little wooden stepladder I used as a nightstand.

“I thought you were busy setting my house on fire.”

“That was one of the things I wanted to set on fire.”

A thrill of heat licked lazily across my skin. I stared down at his bent head, hair tousled from the wind, wide shoulders and back bent to the task of untying my boots.

His strong, steady fingers tugged at the laces on my boots.

Why couldn’t we have this? Why couldn’t we have each other? Just because one vampire thought a person was dangerous didn’t mean he was.

Or did it?

“What kind of work?” I asked. “Problems?”

“I’m in the construction business.” His fingers loosened, pulled. “There’s always problems. They always happen during off-hours, and they are always mine to deal with.”

“Oh. Sorry. Angry client?”

He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I might have to go out of town for a while. I think it can wait until after the rally—so don’t worry about that.” He tipped off first my left boot by grabbing at the heel and tugging smoothly, and then did the same with the right boot.

“So Old Rossi’s a friend of yours?” He set the boots together next to my feet.

Is he an enemy of yours?

“Friend of the family. Bertie picked him out for your replacement.”

That got a small smile out of him. Light and shadow caught in the fine lines at the corners of his eyes. He was still looking down, his fingers slipping into the top of one of my socks and brushing it down my ankle, over my heel. His fingers drifted along the sensitive skin on the inside of my arc. It was almost soft enough to tickle.

“Bertie could take over the state in a week,” he said.

I resisted the urge to run my fingers through his thick, dark hair. To grab hold and gently tip his face up to mine.

“She’s the heart of Ordinary,” I said. “Holds us together.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” He tucked one wadded sock into my boot, then turned his attention to the other foot. “I can’t imagine Ordinary being anything without Delaney Reed. I know I wouldn’t be here.”

I licked my bottom lip. Warmth from his touch was sending little soft electric flares up my skin, starting from my ankles and blooming up my legs.

Sleep was suddenly looking like a less appealing way to get rid of the day’s stress.

“Where would you be instead?”

He finally tipped his head up, his eyes deep with shadow and glowing from candlelight. “Anywhere you were.”

Now it wasn’t just my breath that was caught. It was my heartbeat, and my entire body stilled at his words. His gaze.

How did you tell someone you had been in love with for almost all your life that you cared for them? How did you tell them you had fantasies about what life might be like with them?

How did you tell them you didn’t want to screw this up, and that maybe being a day low on sleep and a lifetime high on rhubarb might be altering your decision-making skills?

And oh, yeah, how did you tell them an immortal vampire hippy thought they might be a dangerous threat?

“I’m going to be in bed,” I heard myself say.

He blinked slowly, and the small smile on his lips told me he approved.

“Good,” he said.

“Good,” I replied. I stood.

He stood. We were so close, I could almost feel his heartbeat fluttering under his T-shirt and flannel.

This is where I say no. This is where I listen to the vampire and turn you away.

He leaned down, lips slightly parted, hand drifting to cup the side of my face with ridiculous tenderness, gaze searching mine.

This is where I listen to my heart.

I reached up and pulled his lips down to mine.

Heat kindled in that kiss, his mouth shifting gently to surround first my top, then my bottom lip, soft, slow, as if he had waited too long to taste me and wanted to make this last. He tasted of coffee and, slightly, oranges, and some other deep note that was wholly him. His tongue pressed gently at the seam of my mouth and I opened gratefully to him, and lost myself to the reality of my fantasy, of kissing him as I’d longed to for almost my entire life.

Eventually, he pulled back, rubbing one thumb over my swollen bottom lip.

“Delaney,” he breathed. He lowered his mouth and kissed me again, longer, and so slowly it ached. I made a needful sound and rubbed my hands up his wide back. I tugged on his soft, short hair, then rubbed my hands back down to his lean hips.

I wanted this to last forever, this slow exploration, but I trembled with the need for more.