CarnalHealing (2 page)

Chapter Two

Jake’s sports bar was surprisingly crowded for a weekday
night, and Tish had been right about the male-to-female ratio. It was a big
place—three large rooms, each centered around an oversized projection screen
and dotted with many smaller televisions, all tuned to sports channels. Most
showed baseball games, but the Red Sox apparently didn’t have a game that
night, and the commentary was mostly drowned out by jukebox music, which was
piped to all corners of the building. The four bars were all full, as were most
of the tables, and waitstaff scurried by carrying trays laden with burgers,
chicken wings and potato skins.

Perfect. Packed with men, and with too many people for them
to all be regulars. No important ball game on that it would be hard to drag
someone away from. The best kind of place to find what she was looking for
without the complication of questions.

Millie had been accurate about Leonore’s preference for
anonymous lovers. She had the rapacious sexual appetite that was her
birthright, but sometimes got so caught up in her work as a writer and her
research of Leonorean lore and magic that she didn’t take time to satisfy it.
Once her powers were restored, the last thing she needed was some smitten man
hanging around, taking up time she couldn’t afford to give him.

But tonight Leonore was on the hunt and, while she had the
ability to put sex out of her mind while she was working, now that she had
committed to the pursuit, her body thrummed with anticipation. She scanned the
crowd, looking for just the right candidate. He didn’t have to be alone, but he
couldn’t be part of a tight group, one that would try to prevent him from
leaving in a hurry. She spotted an attractive blond man sitting by himself at a
booth, watching one of the big TVs, and sidled closer to size him up, taking a
sip of the martini she carried mostly as a prop. Too drunk, she decided.

She was moving toward the main bar when her progress was
interrupted by a man stepping out of the restroom. Barely avoiding a collision,
she looked up and met his eyes, and a strange thrill ran through her, starting
somewhere in the region of her stomach and spreading outward.

“Excuse me,” he said, and crinkles appeared at the corner of
very blue eyes. “Did I spill your drink?”

“What?” Leonore said stupidly before realizing what he had
asked and looking at her martini glass. “No, not really.” Had some spilled? She
couldn’t remember how full the glass had been before the near miss.

“Yes I did,” he said, reaching out and touching her hand.
“Look it’s dripping all over your fingers. Let me buy you a replacement.”
Before Leonore could react, he had her by the elbow and was steering her toward
the bar.

“Really, it’s not necessary,” she sputtered, unaccustomed to
someone else taking charge.

Ignoring her protests, he reached for a stack of bar
napkins. “Let me dry you off.” He removed the half-full glass from her hand and
set in on the bar, then started mopping her hand and wrist with the napkins.
Again, she felt the current that seemed to flow between them. “I’m not usually
so clumsy.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” she said, trying to regain her
composure. “I was walking one direction and looking another.”

“Apparently, so was I,” he said. “Although if I’d seen you
coming you can be sure I wouldn’t have been looking at anything else. You’re by
far the most beautiful woman here.” He managed to give the impression of
checking her out without actually breaking eye contact and Leonore felt a flush
rise to her cheeks.

What the hell was going on here? Leonore had been flirted
with by a lot of men—hundreds, certainly. Maybe even thousands. But she did
not
blush every time someone paid her a compliment.
She
was supposed to be
the alpha-bitch huntress, stalking through the crowd and deciding on her prey.
Yet she had the very distinct impression she had just been singled out of the
herd.

“Leo, could you get the lady another martini?” The amazing
blue eyes swiveled back toward Leonore. “It was a martini, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” she managed to say. “Yes, a vodka martini, just a
little dirty.”

“Excellent choice. Make it two, Leo, and put in some of
those blue-cheese-stuffed olives.”

Leonore was about to protest—she hated it when men ordered
for her—but blue-cheese-stuffed olives
did
sound nice…

“Let’s sit down and drink them together. Unless…” He scanned
the room behind her. “There’s someone waiting for you at a table.”

“No,” said Leonore, “No, I’m by myself.” She told herself
there was no reason to be reluctant. She had come in here with the express
purpose of picking someone up, after all. This man just wasn’t exactly what she
expected. She sat down on a barstool and appraised him surreptitiously as he
paid the bartender.

Gorgeous, certainly. Tall, dark-haired, blue-eyed and with a
body that was no stranger to a weight room. Physically he was perfect for her
purposes. It was just that she usually liked someone a tad tipsy and not too
bright. Someone easy to manipulate, who could take care of business without a
lot of chatter afterward. Intelligence fairly sprang from this one’s eyes, and
he didn’t look like he’d even been drinking.

Of course, the bartender had just slid an enormous martini
in front of him. Leonore had yet to meet a man she couldn’t drink under the
table. What the hell, after he finished that cocktail he might be just about
ready.

“So, what brings someone as attractive as you out on a
Wednesday night?” he asked, lifting his glass to his lips for a sip.

“I wanted to get laid,” she replied, and was gratified when
he actually spit out some of his martini.
Not as smooth as you look, are
you?

He put the glass down and turned to look at her. “You’re
kidding.”

“Not at all.” She put what she hoped was a sardonic expression
on her face and sipped her own martini, then fished out one of the blue cheese
olives and popped it in her mouth. “Ummm. You’re right, these are good.”

He was still staring at her, if not quite open-mouthed, with
an expression of complete astonishment. “You came out to get laid,” he
repeated.

“That’s right. Interested?”

To Leonore’s annoyance, he threw back his head and laughed.
She felt the flush rising to her cheeks again. This was
not
the reaction
she had been expecting.

“I’m sorry,” he said, still laughing. “You really had me
going for a minute there. I guess I deserved it for asking such a clichéd
question. You’re out on Wednesday night for the same reason I am. Because you
felt like getting out of the house and having a drink.” He raised his glass.
“And maybe talking to someone interesting.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Leonore raised her own glass
and clinked his.
Let him think it’s a joke—for now.
She knew from
experience that if she stayed too quiet, most men would start asking questions
about her—where she lived, where she worked—and she had no intention of giving
out a lot of information when her only purpose here was to have sex.

“Why here?” she asked him. “Do you work nearby?” Not that
she really cared. Not at all. Really.

“It’s between where I work and where I live. I walk on nice
days.”

Or you don’t have a car
, thought Leonore, who was
accustomed to meeting relative losers in bars. Although this guy didn’t look
like any loser she’d ever met. Too well groomed, although she wondered where he
worked that he could dress so casually, in jeans and a UCLA sweatshirt.

“Been in the area long?” she asked quickly, to ward off the
“what about you?” that was sure to come any minute.

“No, just moved here a couple of months ago. From Southern
California. So far, I like Boston a lot, although it’s different from what I’m
used to.”

Ah, a safe topic.
“Are you from Southern California,
then? Ever lived through a real winter?”

“No, just what I’ve seen when I went skiing in the
mountains. I loved the snow and cold, clean air there, though.” He took a
good-sized sip of his martini and Leonore was pleased to see he was drinking
fairly rapidly.

“It’s a lot different when you have to deal with it every
day,” she said. “And the late fall and early spring, when it’s slushy during
the day and icy at night…”

“Yeah, I know. But it’s a great city. I figure it’ll be
worth a little ice.”

“We like to think so.”

“So, you a native?” he asked her, and smiled again.
God,
he’s hot.
Leonore felt a flame of desire lick her all the way to her toes,
and decided she didn’t care if he was too smart and too sober. He was a man,
after all. And when it came down to it, what man was going to turn down hot sex
with an attractive woman?

“Yes,” she said in reply to his question, then drained the
last of her martini. “Look, I know you think I was joking earlier, but I
wasn’t. I came here to find someone to have sex with. I really did. And you…”
She swept her eyes pointedly up and down his body. “You look like you’re up for
the job. So what do you say?”

This time he didn’t spit out his drink or laugh, but his
eyes narrowed slightly. He finished his own drink, never taking his gaze from
hers. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Do you need to?” she asked, not breaking eye contact.

He didn’t hesitate for long. “No,” he said. “No, I guess I
don’t.” He put his glass down on the bar with a resounding click. Getting to
his feet, he asked, “How do we…I mean, where do you want to go?”

“You said you live in walking distance. Any problem with
your place? Roommates? A girlfriend?”

“My place is fine,” he said, and gestured toward the door.
Leonore slid from her stool and walked past him, not turning to make sure he
was following her. She knew he would be.

He caught up with her at the sidewalk. “It’s this way,” he
said, and she fell in beside him. They didn’t talk, but she could feel a
buzzing in the air around them, as if the full knowledge that they were about
to have sex had created a cloud of vibrating pheromones.

Leonore suddenly felt a little panicked at the idea of going
into his home. She never brought anyone to her place—she didn’t want them to
know where she lived—but she usually didn’t have a problem going to their
run-down houses or shabby apartments, which were almost always anonymous,
revealing little about their personalities. The types of men she chose didn’t
hang pictures or do anything that could be called decorating. But she had a
feeling this man was different. He would choose a home that reflected his
character, and she didn’t want to know about his character.

She stopped in front of an alley, and he took a few steps
before he must have realized she wasn’t moving. He turned and spoke.

“What’s up? Change your mind?”

“Right here.”

He looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“I can’t wait any longer.” Leonore gestured toward the
alley. “I want it now. Come on.”

“It’s only a couple more blocks,” he protested. She ignored
him and stepped into the shadows, hoping he would follow.

He did.

A car was parked next to a windowless brick wall, most of it
beyond the wedge of light that spilled in from a streetlight. She put her back
against the vehicle, hoping it didn’t have an alarm triggered by a motion
sensor. “Come on,” she said, for he had hesitated in the mouth of the alley,
causing a long shadow to fall on the pavement before him.

He came to her then, reaching around her with muscled arms
and lowering his head to search for her lips.

She turned her head away. “You don’t have to kiss me.”

“Yes, I do,” he said, reaching one hand up to grab the side
of her face and turn it back toward him.

“No, you—” Her protest was cut off by his mouth, which came
down over hers in a rush of sweet, wet warmth. His tongue slid between her
teeth, and all thoughts of resistance were abruptly swept away as he probed and
explored. He pulled her against his chest and a prickling heat erupted in her
pussy and spread upward and outward.

God, he could kiss. Her arms went around him as the strength
left her legs, but she was leaning back against the hood of the car and his
arms held her upright. She could feel the hardness of his cock stretching
against the front of his jeans and pressing against her belly. She dropped one
hand to support her weight in order to push farther back on the car hood, so
that she could spread her legs and feel it push against where her clit was
already starting to throb.

Yes
, the magic deep in her body said, sensing
imminent renewal and shaking its head to rise from its dormancy.
Yes
¸ her
own female desire answered. As it had happened before, the two needs would be filled
at once. With an effort, she broke away from the kiss.

“I want you in me,” she breathed, and pushed farther back so
that she was sitting entirely on the car, freeing her hands to reach for the
front of his jeans.
Damn button fly.

To her relief, he didn’t protest, but began pulling up the
long silky folds of her full skirt. She wasn’t wearing underwear, and in
moments he had the skirt up and she felt the rush of cool night air against the
soft folds of her cunt, which was starting to gather moisture in anticipation
of what was to come.

“God, you really were ready for this,” he said, sliding an
index finger into her slick opening as his other hand reached around to grab
her ass. Again, his mouth searched for hers and this time she didn’t resist,
and instead sucked greedily at his tongue, even as her fingers finally opened
the last button and her hands pushed down his underwear and grasped his
throbbing cock.

Her eyes, which she hadn’t even realized she had closed when
he kissed her, flew open, and again she broke off the kiss. She had to see what
she held in her hand.