Fire and Ice (3 page)

“Well…” He shuffled some papers on his desk. “It seems we're not getting anywhere today. You're distracted — Less expressive than usual. Not yourself.”

Must be one of my other personalities.

“Perhaps we should call it a day.”

My jaw dropped. Call it a day? We never finished early — ever. “But… there's still another half hour…”
What are you doing? Stop talking
.

“I realize that, but I see no use in continuing on this way. Perhaps we should start fresh next week. Agreed?”

It wasn't really a question.

“Oookaaay?”

I got up slowly, and headed for the door. I couldn't shake the idea that he was trying to get rid of me. Not that I minded, I was more than happy to go, but it was weird.

“And, Lorelei, let me offer you one piece of advice. Go, sing your heart out. Put yourself out there at least one more time. Give it another chance. You may be surprised by the results. One episode of performance anxiety is not the end of the world.” He smiled. “Personally, I think your mother might be overreacting. But we can discuss her another time. You have within you the power to do anything you set your mind to — with or without the acceptance of others.” He grinned at me and then winked.

I could only stare at him, my mouth half open. Was this the same man I was talking to?

“You can do it Lorelei, all you have to do is believe.”

I doubted my dark Faerie muse would agree, but I nodded mutely.

“So… until next week then?” I said, still processing.

“Goodbye, Lorelei,” he said, scribbling more notes without looking up.

Pausing, I tried to think of something remotely intelligent to say and then let myself out without another word.

****

The fluorescent lights of the waiting room greeted me like a cold shower. I blinked, unable to focus, and slammed face first into someone. His hand reached out at supernatural speed to steady me.

“Sorry.” The way my cheeks burned meant I had to be blushing.

“Lemon Balm, right?” His velvety voice filled the room.

My eyes swept upwards. Nicely hung, faded blue jeans ripped at the knee, black t-shirt, and a leather coat. Dark hair that fell in soft waves framed the most incredible eyes — the heat of the sun with laser beam intensity. My breath caught in my throat when his gaze locked on mine. It was hard to think with the overpowering aroma of thyme in the air, but at some point in my delirium I recognized him. The mystery guy from the café.

He smiled and my stomach twirled. Everything about him was astonishingly beautiful.

“We met the other night.” He paused, looking at me through impossibly long lashes. “At the café? What are you doing here?”

“Right… I remember.” As if forgetting someone like him was humanly possible.

“You were serving a cheerleader, if I recall correctly.” His mouth quirked into a crooked grin.

“That part, I'd rather forget.” I groaned, jamming my hands into the pockets of my jacket.

“So, you didn't answer my question,” he said.

I frowned, slightly confused.

“What are you doing here?”

“I assumed you were joking.”

“No joke.”

“And who wants to know? What, are you with the press or something?” I replied, sounding sickeningly like my mother.

“Adrius Thanduir.” He stretched out his hand. “Nightly News.”

Wow, he smelled good. Outdoorsy like the forest after it rains, with a hint of cologne. I looked at his hand. It was easier to breathe focusing on that. His nails were well-manicured and his palms slightly stained, like a mechanic who'd been tinkering with engines for decades. Not that he looked old enough to have been doing anything for decades. I guess I stared too long because he withdrew his hand with a crooked grin. “Sorry, axle grease. From my bike,” he said, pulling out a handkerchief from a pocket inside his jacket.

“No, no, it's fine.” I smiled, surprised that a guy would carry something like that. Maybe he was older than he looked. “Ten speed?” I asked suppressing a smile.

“Kawasaki, Ninja 9000,” he replied evenly, matching my smirk.

“Ahh.” A biker guy — noted and filed for future reference.

His perfect face leaned toward me and my heart stopped. He had no concept of personal space.

“I didn't catch your name.”

“That would be because I didn't throw it.” Whoa, what was with the Ice Princess routine? Some small part of me enjoyed the fact that he wanted to know my name, even though common sense told me not to give it to him. He
was
waiting to see a shrink after all.

“You know, you can tell a lot from someone by their name.” He kept watching me. “It's like a window into their soul. Some even believe knowing someone's name is like owning a piece of them.” When he smiled that sexy boyish grin it made my stomach flutter.

I'd never had such a visceral experience looking at someone before. It was an exciting flirtation, innocent with a touch of danger — real or imagined. His gaze held mine expectantly.

I reminded myself to breathe. “So, if I understand correctly, you're asking for a piece of me,” I said, eyebrows arched. That should give him a taste of his own medicine. Let him be the one uncomfortable for a while.

But this guy didn't miss a beat.

He laughed. “Are you offering?” His eyes pinned me in a way that was too intense, too inviting, and too intimate for me not to look away.

Oh, he was good. I bit back a smile and pasted on my untouchable look.

“It's
so
not your lucky day,” I said, my heart beat quickening. “You're not getting either.”

The heavy office door opened and Phyllis came out, four-inch heels clicking on the mahogany floor. “He's ready for you, Adrius. And Lorelei, we can schedule your next session if you'd like.”

Crap
.

Adrius grinned victoriously. “It's
very
nice to meet you… Lorelei.” He threw a wry smile over his shoulder, before disappearing into Greenbalm's office.

Phyllis looked up at me through clumped lashes. “How's next Saturday at nine?”

“Could we make it two?” I really wasn't a morning person. The door to Greenbalm's office clicked shut, leaving the room void of the only eye candy worth looking at. I was tempted to ask when his next appointment was, but then realized that would be ten different kinds of inappropriate.

I took the date card and went to grab my cell — my bag… I'd left it in the office. Phyllis had disappeared again, leaving no other choice but to interrupt them. That or hang out for another hour or more until they were done. My hand was poised, and I fully intended to knock on the metal door right away. Someone violating my doctor-patient confidentiality would tick me off, even if there wasn't anything worth overhearing. The voices behind the door were loud — muffled, but clearly raised in anger. That was especially strange. Greenbalm was known for his maddeningly neutral unemotional responses; getting into a heated discussion with a possible delinquent seemed completely out of character. I leaned closer and paused, my fist suspended in knocking position.

“Perhaps you'd rather I let them take her. Or worse — end up like you!”

The door swung open. I gasped and reeled forward. Golden olive eyes flashed as a hand reached out impossibly fast to keep me from falling — again.

Adrius gave a slow smile. “Forget something, Lorelei?” If everyone said my name like him, I'd walk around with it written on my shirt.

“My, um…” I pointed. “Forgot my bag.”

There it was, innocently betraying me at the foot of the desk. Dr. Greenbalm glanced up briefly. “Come in, Lorelei.”

The room felt warmer than it had a short time ago. And the strange scent of herbs still hung in the air. My face flushed.

“Sorry to interrupt, I didn't mean to…” Adrius looked like he was enjoying my discomfort a little too much. Greenbalm had already forgotten I was in the room. I grabbed my bag and darted for the door. “Sorry, for the interruption,” I muttered, fumbling with the handle. Greenbalm looked up at me perplexed for a moment by my profuse apologizing.

“Lorelei, this is Adrius—” He paused. “My son.” Then he went back to his paperwork.

Son
. That changed things.

Adrius gave me a conspiratorial wink. “We've met,” he said.

I stepped out of Greenbalm's office, feeling more like an idiot than I had last night. Rescuing my cell from its jewel-toned case, I dialed my friend Abby's number and listened to ring after ring. Finally, I got her voice mail.

“
I'm away all weekend. Leave a message. Or don't. It's not like I care. Beeeeep.
”

Right… How did I forget that? So much for my ride.

Mom would have left for the airport by now. No point calling Camilla, she'd tell me to take the bus. And it was after ten, Brigit would be up to her eyes in errands by now. That left a taxi. More good news sneered at me as I stepped outside to discover it was raining. Not the soft spring shower kind, but the teeming, frigid, soak-to-the-skin-even-with-an-umbrella kind. And I didn't have an umbrella.

I took out my phone to call a cab. The screen flashed and then went out. Dead battery. Perfect. This whole morning had been one aggravation after another. Cars sped through the miniature ocean spreading from the gutters, sending surf onto the sidewalk. Jumping aside, I missed one wave only to be drenched by the next one. Icy wetness dripped down my back, plastered my hair to my face. I wanted to cry but what would be the use?

A sleek black Mercedes pulled up next to me.
Get lost creep. I'm so not in the mood
. I picked up the pace, but the car remained parallel. Eggplant tinted windows slowly lowered and I mentally braced myself.

“Lorelei, can I give you a lift?”

I knew that voice. Peering through the streams of water running from my hair into my eyes, I stared into olive eyes. It was Adrius. My mind went into that internal debate mode.
He looks like a bad boy, but he's also a doctor's kid. Although if they're anything like preacher's kids, I'm safer hitchhiking.
And then I remembered my wallet… sitting nicely on my dresser… at home. Buses and cabs were out, and it was an hour's walk in decent weather.

“Well, are you getting in?” he pressed. “Or do you enjoy surfing without a board?”

Seriously, how bad could he possibly be?
“Not so much,” I said tentatively, reaching for the door.

He jumped out and was at my side before I could lift the handle.

“Allow me.” The door swung open as an umbrella popped up over my head, shielding me from the impossibility of getting any wetter and looking more like a drowned raccoon than I already did. He certainly didn't need it, with hair as sexy wet as it was dry.

“I don't want to get your seats soaked.”

He shrugged. “Don't worry about it. Get in.”

My fingers were starting to prune, so I didn't need any more encouragement to slip into the buttery black leather seat — correction —
heated
seat.
Nice
. It still had that new car smell; I had an impulse to ask if it was stolen.
Doctor's kid, remember
. With the rates Greenbalm charged, of course, his kid would drive a posh car. We sat in silence for a while, watching the wipers try futilely to the clear the view.

“I didn't know Dr. Greenbalm had a son.” There were no family photos lining his desk.

Adrius didn't say anything. So I kept up a nervous ramble. “So are you new here? It's a pretty small town, and I don't remember seeing you before.”
Believe me, I'd remember if I had
.

He shifted. “You could say that. I've only been here a few days.”

Well, that explained it. “Where were you before?”

“You wouldn't know it.”

“You're still in high school though, right? Oakland High?” Did
that sound too hopeful?

“No.” He caught me staring at him. “…Drearyton Collegiate.”

“That's where I go.”

“I know.”

It occurred to me to ask how, but he interrupted. “So, what are we doing?” He glanced in my direction and I had the strange inkling he was hinting at more than where I lived.

“Do you know the Venti Terrace Estates?”

He let out a low whistle. “Nice area.”

I cringed. Gran's little two-bedroom cottage by the beach had always felt more like home than Mom's overly demonstrative Victorian. Of course, I'd take it over Camilla's dilapidated shack any day. One of these days she's going to have to trust me enough to stay home on my own.

“Yeah, it's not bad if you like that whole cloned look.”

“Oh, I don't know, black-and-white isn't all that cookie-cutter. Although the red door might turn some heads.”

“I know, but …” My head snapped toward him and the hair on the back of my neck rose. “How do you know my house is black and white? …With a red door?” On my street every house is some indescribable shade of beige… except for ours.

He didn't look at me, but his grip on the steering wheel tightened. For a moment, I didn't think he was going to answer. It was more than a little freakish that he knew where I lived. Inching toward the door handle, I wondered if people really could jump out of a moving car.

Finally, he looked over, seeming embarrassed, he shrugged. “Lucky guess.”

“Right.” I sat back in my seat, rethinking my dramatic escape. It's not that I felt unsafe with him, but I felt something. I just couldn't figure out if that something was a risk.

Staring at the soggy streets, it dawned on me we were only three blocks from the café.

“You know what? I almost forgot. I actually have to put in an extra shift today at the cafe.” I hoped I sounded calmer than I felt. The butterflies in my stomach were slam dancing. Really it was more of an excuse than a direct lie. I was always working and figured a short shift was better than none at all. Being there was relaxing, on most occasions.

He nodded, seeming slightly relieved as well. Moments later we pulled into the parking lot of the Lemon Balm.

I hopped out of the car before he put it into park. “Thanks.” I said, momentarily getting lost in his eyes. “I appreciate the save.”

“Anytime. I'm always at your service.” The engine revved an impatient growl. “Better get inside, where it's safe. You're getting soaked.” He gazed at me, only this time his eyes were empty. Void of any emotion. “I'll see you again soon, I'm sure.” Then he was in reverse, the wheels of his expensive car spitting gravel as he peeled out of the parking lot. My thoughts flickered again and again to the strange things he'd said… and knew. I watched him drive away, my feet drowning inside rain filled shoes, trying to untangle the conflicting emotions.