Hex Appeal Page 3

  “Okay, Rick and Louis will be the best of friends. How about a drive?” She tossed her keys from one hand to the other.

  Irma covered her nose with her hanky and honked. No delicate sniffs for her.

  “He just let her leave,” Irma sobbed.

  Jazz ignored the fact that she cried buckets when she first saw the movie at the Rialto Theater in 1942.

  “That’s the war for you. Tell you what, let’s cruise the coast. That will cheer you up.” She climbed in the car and started up the engine. A moment later, Irma was in the passenger seat. “Grab some dinner.”

  “You’ll grab some dinner,” Irma grumbled, tucking her hanky in her dress pocket. Her navy print dress looked as freshly pressed as the day she was laid to rest in it. She never forgave her lying, adulterous husband for choosing an unflattering style for her eternity wear. “I’ll just sit in the car like one of those bobbling hula girls people set on the dashboard.”

  “You in a bra top and grass skirt is something I so do not want to picture. Besides, you can leave the car now. Go sit on the beach or something. Find a stick and throw it for the dog to fetch.” She eyed the furry behemoth that lay next to Irma’s chair. “He needs some serious exercise.”

  “What good is my ability to leave the car if I can’t come in with you?” Irma argued.

  “Oh no, not after that day in Taco Bell.” Jazz shuddered at the memory.

  “It wasn’t my fault that ghost-hunting crew was in there having lunch,” Irma huffed. “Or that one of their people sensed me.”

  Jazz knew it wasn’t Irma’s fault, but it didn’t make the insanity of that time or the panicked customers running out of the restaurant when the psychic ghost hunter jumped up with his camera any easier to remember. “Look, I’ll park where you have a great view of the beach,” she promised, activating the remote for the doors then backing down the driveway. “That way if you change your mind you can walk down to the sand and enjoy the sunset.”

  When Jazz reached the street she heard the faint tinny sounds of the carousel’s calliope coming from the boardwalk. She resolutely ignored the lure of the Midway and turned in the opposite direction.

  As she drove toward the Pacific Coast Highway she swore she felt a whisper of a touch along the inside of her leg. The contact was unsettling, since she knew it had nothing to do with the dog.

  ***

  “Assure me this will work,” a low voice echoed against the chamber’s stone walls.

  “My work never fails.”

  “Good, because if it does, you will never leave this room.” The speaker opened the large iron door and left the room.

  The one left behind returned to his task.

  Flickering candlelight highlighted the ancient text etched in parchment lying on the antique oak table. The words written in an arcane language long forgotten by many in the magick world were etched in the blood of its creator’s enemies just as the parchment was crafted from its enemies’ skin. Long fingers ending in similarly long nails polished so brightly that they glowed black in the candlelight traced the lines of text. A low guttural voice repeated the spell over and over, but what made the words even more powerful was the drawing placed next to the text.

  A drawing of Jazz Tremaine that was so lifelike, so exquisitely real, she could have stepped off the paper. Every bare inch of flesh detailed in the drawing was absolutely perfect.

  Chapter 2

  Jazz drove up to Santa Barbara, where she indulged in some shopping, then returned home at a leisurely pace, finally stopping in a small funky coastal town that looked like a movie set straight out of the 1940s. The seafood restaurant she chose sat on stilts overlooking the beach with a bar displaying fishing nets, colorful glass floats, and starfish for decoration. She ignored the looks of frank male interest directed her way as she was seated on the deck with a glass of wine and a perfect view of the sunset.

  The morning’s events had left her feeling uneasy. If Nick hadn’t bitten her, why did it feel so real at the time? And just what in Fates’ sake happened in the tub? Two unsettling dreams in less than twenty-four hours could not be a coincidence.

  She mentally vowed not to use the tub again until she thoroughly cleansed it. And not with Scrubbing Bubbles either.

  She may have been half-asleep at the time, but what touched her in the tub didn’t feel like a dream.

  Meaning…if that was the case, then the same could be said for what happened at Nick’s apartment.

  Meaning…magick.

  She preferred to dismiss that thought because she honestly didn’t want to think someone was casting spells against her. It was bad enough that she now had to find out what happened to Wereweasel Willie before Rex lost his patience and reported the slippers to the Ruling Council. He may have agreed to give her time to find out what happened, but Rex also believed in his own time-table, one that didn’t always agree with anyone else’s.

  Plus for now, she just wanted to relax and enjoy the evening. Her eyes focused on the horizon, admiring the play of gold, orange, and red on the ocean heralding the sunset. The faint silhouette of a porpoise jumping into the air and diving back into the water as the sun finished its descent caused her to smile. The votive candle set on the small round table flickered wildly in the ocean breeze, casting shadows across her face.

  “You know, it’s never a good thing to see a pretty lady sitting alone.”

  Pretty lady? Jazz mentally summed up her unwanted visitor before she turned from the view to see who was interrupting her peace and quiet. One look told her she had it right on the mark.

  The man standing by her chair was about six feet tall with sun-bleached blond hair arranged in a tousled way that said he spent more time on his grooming than she did. His perfectly maintained tan was meant to show off his baby blues, and gym-toned pecs and six-pack abs were visible under a—natch—blue polo shirt tucked into designer jeans. A quick downward glance showed tanned bare feet shoved into Top-Siders that she’d bet her favorite cauldron had never stepped onto a boat deck.

  She smiled. “Sometimes the lady prefers to sit alone.” Go away before I turn you into a gingerbread boy and have you for dessert.

  Not accepting her mental hint, he flashed his bleached pearly whites and took the seat across from her. He set his whiskey glass down on the table.

  “I’m Thad.”

  “Of course you are.” She enjoyed his faint annoyance that his charm wasn’t getting through to her. It would have been so tempting to see what he’d look like as a frog. Or maybe a hermit crab. They were at the beach, after all. But she didn’t think the Witches’ Council would see it as improving his lot and she had that hundred-year’s probation to think about.

  “You’re not local. I would have remembered you.” Thad’s eyes were centered on her breasts. “Where are you from? L.A.?”

  “Yes.” She was always grateful her breasts weren’t centerfold material, but obviously Thad only cared she was female. She didn’t need to be psychic to know that.

  His smile almost glowed bright in the candlelight. “Maybe you’d like some company and after dinner we could have a drink at my place. I’ve got a cozy place just up the beach.” He reached across to touch her hand.

  Okay, she was this close to turning him into a sea urchin, no matter what the Witches’ Council would do to her.

  “Sweetheart, our table is ready.” There was no warning someone stood behind her chair or even a hint of warmth at her back, but she didn’t need either to know who stood there. For a second, she even enjoyed the deer-in-the-headlights look on ole Thad’s face. She lifted her hand, feeling the slide of fingers through hers as Nick rested their clasped hands on her shoulder. “This is Thad, darling,” she purred.

  “Thad,” Nick growled with just enough emphasis to make his point known.

  “I didn’t know.” Thad rose so hastily his drink glass tipped over, spilling whiskey on his jeans. He didn’t appear to care as he walked to the end of the deck and rushed down the st
airs leading to the beach.

  “Well, that was rude.” Jazz looked up. “And don’t you look tall, dark, and dangerous?” Nick did look dark and utterly dangerous in a black silk shirt left open at the throat tucked into black slacks and black loafers she hazarded a guess were Italian made. Probably left over from his wardrobe when working for the Protectorate and their unlimited coffers. The evening breeze ruffled his dark hair and the candlelight etched shadows across his jaw.

  He cocked an eyebrow. “Rude? Me or him?”

  “You for running off my impromptu date. Him for, well, running.” She allowed him to effortlessly pull her to her feet. “I gather you weren’t lying about our table being ready.”

  “Not at all.” He rested a hand against the sweet hollow in the base of her spine as they followed the hostess through the restaurant to a window table.

  Jazz didn’t bother asking Nick how he managed to find her. How he tracked her down had been a gift he’d never shared and she doubted he ever would.

  In record time they gave their orders and were left alone.

  “You do realize I’m sticking you with the check?” She sipped her wine, watching the light from the candle flame play over his face. Judging by the hint of color in his skin, she guessed he’d recently fed, and if she wasn’t mistaken, he’d also made use of the spray tan booth membership she set up for him at a nearby tanning salon. At least he looked more outdoorsy than the tanning bed color Thad sported. Come to think of it, a tanning bed would turn Nick into a crispy critter, which, in her opinion, would be a waste of a perfectly good vampire.

  “So that’s why you ordered the Surf and Turf for yourself and the lobster for me?” He glanced up as the waitress deposited a glass of merlot in front of him. He would drink enough to appear polite while he knew Jazz would also nibble on his food.

  “And I plan to have their Kahlua cheesecake for dessert.” Jazz toyed with the idea of telling him what had happened in the tub, but what would she say? By the way, sweetheart, some specter played touchy-feely with me under the bubbles today. She hadn’t detected any hint of magick in the room, but she refused to believe she’d dreamed it happening or that magick wasn’t involved. No, whatever she felt was as strong as what she’d felt in the early morning hours when she was positive Nick had taken her blood. She refused to believe either was her imagination.

  “Did you do some heavy-duty running to get up here right after sunset, or use another method?” she asked. She’d always been curious about a vampire’s method of transportation other than the usual mortal means, but Nick was close-mouthed about the vampire ways. She pretended only mild curiosity, but damn him, he knew different. The faint grin on his lips told her he saw through her ploy.

  “Do you mean something like ‘Beam me up, Scotty’?”

  “If the bat fits.” She narrowed her eyes, trying to imagine him as a winged creature of the night.

  “Be nice. I saved you from Thad.” He lifted his glass in a silent toast. “He saw you arrive, admired your sexy convertible, and obviously saw you as some bored Hollywood wife who was looking for action he would be only too happy to provide.”

  “Little did he know I’d just use him and abuse him,” she drawled, well used to Nick’s gift of reading minds. She wasn’t surprised that Thad’s mind wasn’t all that difficult to navigate.

  “And he would have loved every minute of it.”

  Jazz stared at the platter set before her. Considering she’d eaten little all day, it was no wonder she was starving. After she eyed Nick’s lobster she knew she would be making short work of the luscious crustacean along with her own meal.

  The things she did for the man.

  ***

  “Just roll me out of here,” Jazz said with a contented sigh as they later exited the restaurant.

  “I could have done something with my lobster,” Nick muttered.

  “My idea was better.” She patted her over-full tummy. “But the cheesecake may have been over the top. You were smart to stick with just coffee.”

  He chuckled. “As if I had a choice.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her around the side of the restaurant. “A walk seems to be in order.”

  “Augh! Carrying me would be more like it.” She bumped her shoulder against his, but tugged off her flip-flops as they trudged through the sand. Nick took her sandals from her and draped an arm around her shoulders.

  “I honestly don’t recall taking your blood.” The salt-tinged evening breeze caught up his quiet words and seemed to blow them out to sea.

  Jazz winced at the memory of how her morning had begun. While she now questioned what she felt or if it was a dream, the faint throbbing in her neck was a vivid memory.

  “It was all so real,” she said softly. “A hot sexy time and then you biting down.” She paused. “I honestly felt as if it happened.” Her fingers absently fluttered toward her neck. “Still feel…” Images flashed before her eyes like a horror movie. Suddenly, her dinner wasn’t settling so well.

  Nick rubbed his hand down her arm in a comforting manner.

  “I need to know what you dreamed. Perhaps I can figure out what happened.”

  “I don’t do well with blood, you know that. I’d need an Alka-Seltzer before even talking about it.”

  “Pretend you’re watching a movie.” He steered her toward an outcropping of rocks and settled her against one that was shaped like a seat.

  “Great, Freddy Krueger time.” She breathed in through her nose. “We were, ah, making love.” That was a memory she could deal with. “And as it got more intense, you took charge the way you like to.” She shot him a look when he opened his mouth. “My story. My way. Simple. You were on top. Your eyes turned red, then you leaned down and tore into my throat. I screamed and wondered why my blood didn’t make you sick. Next thing I knew I was yelling at you and exiting your apartment as fast as I could go.” She flinched when his fingertips moved over the affected area.

  “A dream with pain is nothing unusual,” he murmured, continuing to caress her skin in soothing strokes. “There are those who would pay a fortune to have such a dream. They would welcome such pain.”

  “Well, they can have mine for free.” She stopped, recalling what had happened before the definitive moment. “The last part, that is.”

  “Why do you think you had the dream?”

  “Bad Thai food. Who knows? Maybe a holdover from what happened before.” There was no need to explain her choice of words. They both knew what “before” meant.

  “Magick?”

  She shook her head. “I thought of that, but it doesn’t make sense and it didn’t feel like a magick I’m familiar with. I haven’t pissed off anyone enough to do something like this. Well, I haven’t!” she protested, easily reading his skepticism.

  When the wind picked up Nick stood in front of Jazz, protecting her from the chill. His fingers moved from her throat to her hair, tangling themselves among the heavy strands. The idea of snuggling into his arms and kissing him grew stronger by the moment.

  Jazz gave in to temptation, since Nick was the best kind of temptation. Their tongues tangled as she slid her fingers between the buttons of his shirt, stroking his skin while he palmed her breast through silk and lace.

  “Mmm, even better than chocolate,” she murmured, once she had a chance to take a breath.

  “What’s better than chocolate?” His amusement washed over her.

  “You. Although, I have to say some days I’d go for the chocolate.” She feathered kisses over his face.

  “I’d rather go for you.” He kissed the top of her head and wrapped her tightly in his arms.

  It didn’t take much effort for Nick’s slacks to hang open and Jazz’s to end up around her ankles. He picked her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist as he lowered her onto his erection. She kept her arms around his neck, pressing her cheek against his as he moved his hips in cadence with hers. There was no urgency in their movements, none of the heat of before, but a soft gen
tle loving that brought a big smile to Jazz’s lips and the same with Nick. As her body tightened around his, she breathed his name against his skin. He didn’t lower her back to her seat on the rock for a moment, instead preferring to hold onto her.

  “You sure know how to show a girl a good time, Nick Gregory,” she said, looking as dreamy as she felt.

  “I do my best.” He helped her dress.

  ***

  At the sound of laughter and barking, they turned to see Irma standing at the water’s edge while the dog raced up and down, chasing the incoming waves.

  “Come back before you drown!” Irma shouted to the dog, who ignored her entreaties to return to her.

  “Did she ever name him?” Nick asked.

  Jazz shook her head. “Irma’s tried out names, but so far he doesn’t seem to like what she’s come up with. But then, I wouldn’t want to be called Fluffy or Pooh Bear.”

  Nick winced. “They don’t work for me either.”

  “Oh, I don’t know, I can see you as my l’il Pooh Bear,” she cooed. “Do you want a ride back to the city? Easier than flying back, even if I would like to see you in bat form.”

  He smiled. “Only if I can drive.” He grasped her hands and pulled her to her feet as she called out to Irma to join them at the car.

  “No way I’ll share the passenger seat with Irma, and the bench seat isn’t wide enough for all four of us.”

  “Except if I sit there, she’ll distract you while she’s groping me.” They walked up the sand toward the restaurant parking lot. “I like my idea better.”

  “Better than her complaining that I’m hogging the seat. I’ll have to find a way to get the dog to ride in the trunk. That should be fun since he appears to be afraid of small spaces.” Her laughter floated across the air. “I’m not used to seeing you look so dapper. It’s a nice change from the jeans and Tshirts you seem to live in nowadays.”

  He inclined his head to her compliment. “Thank you.”

  She dug her toes into the sand as she walked. “Yes, very sexy in that dark dangerous way.”