Kiss Me (Fool's Gold #17)(30)

“I need to have my head examined,” she murmured before she could stop herself.

“Why?”

She laughed. “Just on general principal. I’m from Los Angeles. We’re all into that sort of thing.”

* * *

THE SOUND OF Phoebe’s laughter drifted through the night. Funny how it sort of got inside Zane and made parts of him all tight. And not just his crotch, although that was plenty hard right now. There was also a pressure in his chest, and his gut.

“Some lady called and wanted to know if we had hot stone massage,” he said.

Phoebe looked at him and grinned. “What did you tell her?”

“That she was coming to the wrong place. As Frank asked just yesterday, who gets a massage with a rock?”

“They’re very popular. I think it has something to do with the heat. It relaxes the muscles.”

“An LA thing.”

“Most of the best things are.”

“Oh, you’re one of those, are you? A fan of La-La Land.”

She wrinkled her nose. “We don’t call it that anymore. You can make fun all you want, but until you’ve lived there, you’ll never understand the appeal.”

“Living there wouldn’t help.”

She laughed again, which was what he wanted. He liked how the sound cut through him and made him want her more. He felt like one of his bulls, ready to tear through a fence to get at the female of his choice. He liked that he wanted her, even though the wanting was different from any he’d experienced before. Even though it felt dangerous.

What was there about this woman that tapped into such a deep-rooted need? Was it the way she smiled, with an almost innocence? The shape of her face, the scent of her? Was it the sway of her dark hair against her cheekbones as she moved her head? Was it the delight she took in her world? A delight that made him feel as old as dirt?

Even standing here on the porch, he wanted her. His fingers curled into his palms, when what he really wanted to do was touch her cheek. He wanted to trace her profile, feel the silk of her hair, then lower his head and kiss her.

It wouldn’t stop there. One kiss, then another, then his hands would be all over her, tearing at clothes, baring her body, and then he would push her up against the wall of the house and—

He shut down that part of his mind, mentally turning his back on the erotic image. He became aware of the silence, of the night, of the sound of her breathing. Awareness sparked between them. He ignored that, too.

“It’s late,” he told her. “We’ve got an early start.”

She nodded once, then turned toward the house. Before she went inside, though, she looked at him.

“Are you going to be okay?” she asked.

The question stunned him. No one ever bothered to ask. They assumed. He was Zane Nicholson—a man in charge. The man in charge.

“I’ll be fine,” he assured her.

Phoebe offered one of her soft smiles, then stepped into the house. “See you in the morning.”

“’Night.”

He watched her go and knew he would be seeing her again the second he closed his eyes.

* * *

LUCY TURNED ONTO her stomach and shoved the fluffy pillow under her head. It was big—nearly as big as herself. She liked the way it was both squishy and firm. She liked the bed and the sheets and pretty much everything about the room. She and Tommy even had their own bathroom.

“Did you smell the towels?” she asked.

Her brother turned and stared at her. “No.” His expression said he didn’t know why he would want to.

“I did. They smell good. Like flowers, but not ’xactly. Not like the towels there.”

The “there” in question was Mrs. Fortier’s house, but Tommy would know that. There, towels and sheets smelled funny. Not bad like the time a sick cat had crawled under the porch and died, but sort of thick and goopy. Like something old had been wrapped in them for a long time. Plus the towels and sheets weren’t nearly this soft. Lucy rubbed her face against her pillow again. It almost tickled her skin.

“I like this house,” Tommy said. “It’s really big, but nice.”

“Yeah.” She flopped onto her back and stared up at the white ceiling. It was late, and they should be asleep, but everything was too strange.

Tommy turned on his side to face her. Their beds were sort of close together, but not too close. Lucy liked that.

“Zane’s real big,” her brother said.

“Scary.”

Tommy tried to deny it, then nodded quickly, as if he didn’t want to get caught agreeing with her.

“I like Chase,” Lucy said. “He smiles a lot.”

“C.J. said they’re brothers.”

Lucy didn’t want to think about C.J. or what she said about anything. C.J. made her feel all cold and shivery every time she looked at her and Tommy. Thad was different. He seemed to like them, but C.J....she didn’t want them there.

Lucy almost told her brother that, but she knew he wouldn’t believe her. He never believed anything she said about the adults they met. He always said they were nice and kind and looking for kids just like them. Lucy knew better.

“Zane and Chase kinda look like brothers,” she said instead, “but Zane is a lot older. I wonder why.”