Face the Fire (25 page)

S
neaky bastard. No one had managed to get her
so churned up since . . . Well, Mia admitted, no one had managed to get her so churned up since Sam Logan.

And he was better at it now.

Then again, she was better at banking her sexual urges than she’d once been.

She’d had lovers over the years, but they’d been few and far between. As time had passed, she discovered that while she enjoyed the casual flirtation, she very rarely felt satisfied or content after having a man in her bed.

So, she’d stopped at flirtations.

It was something she considered a practical rather than an emotional decision. The energy and power she might have channeled into that area of physicality had gone, instead, into her craft. There was no doubt in her mind that she was a better witch for the period of self-imposed celibacy.

There was no reason whatsoever why she couldn’t apply the same habit now.

Since Sam hadn’t been in her bed for more than two weeks, it seemed the most logical choice.

In any case, she was much too busy to worry about
Sam, or sex, or just why he wasn’t following through on any of that maddening foreplay.

“You didn’t have to come back for this,” she said to Nell as she rearranged the café tables.

“I wanted to come back. I’m as excited about the signing tomorrow as you are. I’ll get the chair for that.”

“No, you won’t. No lifting. Period.” As she set the chairs herself, Mia kicked the one Ripley was slouched in. “You could get off your ass and help.”

“Hey, you don’t pay me. I’m just hanging out here so I don’t have to hang out at home while this male-bonding barbecue ritual is going on. I hope to hell Mac doesn’t blow something up.”

“It’s a charcoal grill,” Nell reminded her. “Charcoal doesn’t explode.”

“You don’t know my guy like I know my guy.”

“Between the three of them, they should be able to get it going and grill some steaks.” The image of Zack grilling burgers on their own deck flashed in Nell’s mind. And made her shudder. “But God help your poor kitchen.”

“Least of my worries.” Ripley crossed her feet at the ankles, legs stretched out, and watched in amusement as Mia continued to change the table arrangement.

“Now that one there?” She jerked her thumb toward Mia. “She’s got plenty of worries. See the line she gets between her eyebrows? Means she’s feeling bitchy.”

“I don’t have a line between my eyebrows.” And vanity had Mia smoothing it out. “Nor am I feeling bitchy. Slightly stressed, perhaps.”

“Which is why the barbecue’s such a good idea.” Nell walked over to the display table and began to toy with a design for the featured author’s book. “You’ll relax, have an evening with friends, and be clearheaded for tomorrow. I’m glad Sam thought of it.”

“He’s always thinking,” Mia concluded, but Ripley and Nell could hear the underlying edge to her statement.

“So, how did you like the concert on the beach the other night?” Ripley asked her.

“It was fine.”

“And the moonlight sail after the fireworks on the Fourth?”

“Dandy.”

“See?” Ripley nodded toward Nell. “Told you she was feeling bitchy.”

“I am
not
feeling bitchy.” Mia set down a chair with an ill-tempered little slap. “Are you looking for a fight?”

“Nope, I’m looking for a beer,” Ripley replied, and sauntered into the café kitchen to help herself.

“It’s going to be a wonderful event, Mia.” Ready to soothe, Nell continued to stack books. “It’ll be beautiful when you get the flowers in here tomorrow. And the refreshments are completely under control. Wait until you see the cake.”

“I’m not worried about the flowers, or the refreshments.”

“When you see how many customers start lining up, you’ll feel better.”

“I’m not worried about the customers, or not any more than I should be.” Mia dropped into a chair. “For once, Ripley is right. I am feeling bitchy.”

“Is that a confession?” Ripley asked as she came out with her beer.

“Oh, shut up.” Mia dragged her hands through her hair. “He’s using sex. Or rather using the lack of sex to keep me edgy. Candlelight picnics. Moonlight sails. Long walks. He sends flowers every couple of days.”

“But no sex?”

Mia leveled a look at Ripley. “There’s considerable foreplay,” Mia snapped. “Then he dumps me at my front
door and walks off. The next day I get flowers. He calls every day. And twice I’ve gone home and found a little gift at the front door. A pot of rosemary trained in the shape of a heart, a little pottery dragon. When we’re out, he’s absolutely charming.”

“The bastard!” Ripley slammed her hand on the table. “Hanging’s too good for him.”

“He’s using sex,” Mia complained.

“No, he’s not.” With a dreamy smile, Nell brushed a hand over Mia’s hair. “Sex has nothing to do with it. He’s using romance. He’s courting you.”

“He is not.”

“Flowers, candlelight, long walks, thoughtful little gifts.” Nell ticked the list off on her fingers. “Time and attention. That spells courtship to me.”

“Sam and I passed by the courtship stage a number of years ago. And that courtship didn’t include flowers and little gifts.”

“Maybe he’s trying to make up for that.”

“He doesn’t have to make up for anything. I don’t
want
him making up for anything.” Jittery, she got to her feet, walked over to shut the terrace doors. “He doesn’t want the traditional package any more than I do. Now. He just wants . . .”

And that was the trouble, Mia realized. She had no clear idea what he wanted this time around either.

“He’s got you scared,” Ripley said quietly.

“He doesn’t. He absolutely does not.”

“He never scared you before. You always had your course plotted.”

“It’s still plotted. I know what I’m doing. I know where I’m going. That hasn’t changed.” Even as she said it, she felt a sly chill whisper over her skin.

“Mia.” There was both sympathy and patience in Nell’s voice. “Are you still in love with him?”

“Do you think I’d risk letting him into my heart again? That I’d risk that not knowing the cost?” Steadier now, Mia crossed over to finish the display. “I know my responsibility to this island, its people, to my gift. Love, for me, is an absolute. I couldn’t survive it again. And I have to survive to fulfill my destiny.”

“And if he
is
your destiny?”

“I thought that once. I was wrong. When the time comes, the circle will hold.”

At the house on the bluff, three men watched the
flames spurt from the charcoal grill with the same intense fascination as the cavemen watched their tribal fire.

“Going good,” Zack commented, and nodded at Sam. “See? I told you we could do it with good old Yankee know-how. We didn’t need any hocus-pocus crap.”

“Good old Yankee know-how,” Sam drawled. “An entire bag of charcoal and a half gallon of lighter fluid.”

“I can’t help it if his grill’s defective.”

“This is a brand-new grill,” Mac protested. “This is its virgin run.”

“Which is why it needs the hot flame. Has to be cured.” Zack tipped back his beer.

Mac looked on sadly as the inside of his shiny red grill blackened. “If this sucker melts, Ripley’s going to kill me.”

“It’s goddamn cast iron.” Zack gave it a little boot with his foot. “Speaking of Rip, where the hell are they?”

“They’re on their way,” Sam replied as Zack frowned at him. “A little hocus-pocus crap. I like knowing where Mia is. Since Mister Science here clued us in on those readings around her house, I’ve been keeping tuned to her.”

“She finds out, she’ll kick
your
ass,” Zack pointed out.

“She won’t find out. She doesn’t see clearly when it comes to me. She doesn’t want to, and it’s damn hard getting Mia to do anything she doesn’t want.”

“How are things, you know, going between you?”

Sam studied Mac as he drank. “Is that personal or professional interest?”

“I guess you could say it’s both.”

“Fair enough. I like the way things are going. Can’t say I mind keeping her guessing. She’s a hell of a lot more complicated than she used to be, and it’s interesting—more than I figured—getting to know all the twists and turns.”

Zack scratched his chin. “You’re not going to start talking about mature relationships and exploring your inner couple or any of that shit, are you?”

“Shh. . . here they come.” Mac gestured toward the slash of headlights on the shell road. “Let’s act like we know what we’re doing.”

Lucy, who’d been sprawled over the deck, leaped to attention and flew down the steps inches ahead of Mulder.

“Pretty women,” Zack said. “A couple of good dogs and some steaks. Damn good deal.”

The steaks were charred, the potatoes slightly
underdone, but appetites were keen enough. They ate on the deck, by the strong glow of candles and the backwash of light from the living room, where music pumped out of the stereo.

When Sam lifted a bottle of wine to fill Mia’s nearly empty glass, she shook her head, laid her hand over the bowl. “No, I’m driving. And I need a clear mind for tomorrow.”

“I’ll come by in the morning, give you a hand with the setup.”

“No need. Most of it’s done, and we have plenty of time tomorrow. I already have thirty-eight pre-sold copies of the hardcover, with orders still coming in, and nearly that many of her backlist set aside. She’s going to be very busy tomorrow. I imagine she’ll . . .”

Mia trailed off as she caught the look on Nell’s face. Her body tensed, and she rose half out of her chair. “Nell.”

“The baby moved.” The expression of shock and astonishment turned to wonder. “I felt the baby. A fluttering inside me.” She laughed, pressed a hand to her belly. “So quick and strong. Zack.” She grabbed his hand, pressed it against her. “Our baby moved.”

“Do you need to lie down?”

“No.” She leaped up, tugged his hand. “I need to dance.”

“You need to dance.”

“Yes! Dance with me.” She threw her arms around his neck. “We’ll dance with Jonah.”

“We don’t know it’s a boy.” Swamped with love, Zack wrapped his arms around her waist, drew her up to her toes and held tight. “Might just as easily be a girl. Then it’s Rebecca.”

“Uh-oh. They’re getting sappy.” Before it rubbed off, Ripley got up, pointed at Mac. “You’re dancing.”

“Somebody’s going to get hurt,” Mac muttered.

Sam watched the entertainment for a moment, then laid a hand on Mia’s. “We used to be good at this.”

“Hmmm?”

She was staring at Nell, her face wistful and so totally unguarded that seeing it was like a fist to his heart. Tears sparkled on her lashes. What he saw in them was love, and longing.

“Dancing.” Holding her hand, he stood. “We used to be good at it. Let’s see if we still are.”

Following impulse, he pulled her down the steps to the
bluff. Then he spun her out to arm’s length, whipped her back.

Her arm hooked smoothly around his neck, her body fit to his.

“Oh, yeah.” He slid his hands down to her hips and began to sway with her. “We’re still good.”

It had been a long time, but she hadn’t forgotten his moves, his rhythm. And she remembered as well the sheer pleasure of moving with him to music. Giving herself to it, she kicked off her shoes. Sand flew under their feet as they turned, dipped, and spun.

Dancing had always been a kind of joyful and somehow innocent mating ritual between them. Bursts of energy. Co-ordination. Anticipation.

She stopped hearing the music with only her ears. She heard it in the quick pressure of his hand on her back, the grip of his fingers on hers, the whirl of her own body.

When he lifted her off her feet, she threw her head back and laughed. Then she linked her arms around his neck, for the first time in more than a decade, in an embrace that was sheer and simple affection.

The applause and whistles exploding from the deck had her shifting her head, leaving her cheek resting against his temple as she caught her breath.

“Told you they were show-offs.” Ripley elbowed Mac, but she was grinning.

“Hey, we don’t have to take this abuse. Come on!” Holding Mia’s hand, Sam dashed down the beach steps so that Mia had to run to keep up.