Fortune (27 page)

G
riffen arrived shortly after the movers left, his arms loaded with bags of takeout, a bottle of wine and a bouquet of flowers. He smiled. “I thought you might be getting hungry about now.”

“Actually, I'm starved! Here, let me help you.” She laughed and took the bags from his hands. “It smells fabulous.”

“It's Thai. I hope you like spicy.”

“I love spicy. Thai's my favorite.” She nudged the door open wider with her hip. “Come on in. As you can imagine, I'm in a bit of disarray right now.”

As she led him to the kitchen, she sidestepped one of Moo's huge rawhide bones, then nudged aside a half-emptied box of studio supplies. “I can't thank you enough for getting me this place. I adore it.”

“I was glad to help. It was just sitting here, empty.”

“That's hard to believe. I'd have thought a Prairie style at this price would have been snapped up right away.” She deposited the bags of food on the counter. “There's something you're not telling me, isn't there?”

“Excuse me?”

“Am I going to hear clanking chains and the howls of the dead in the middle of the night?” When he continued to gaze blankly at her, she laughed and shook her head. “You know, ghouls, ghosts and things that go bump in the night.”

“You mean, is it haunted? Not that I know of.” Griffen glanced around. “Where's this Mr. Moo I've heard so much about?”

“Moo! I forgot all about him! I locked him in the bedroom when the movers were here because he kept wanting to help them unload the truck. Excuse me, I'll get him.”

Mr. Moo did not like Griffen. Not one bit, evidenced by the way he hung by Skye, pressed against her legs, glaring at Griffen, growling deep in his throat. Every time Griffen moved, so did Moo's gaze. He never took his eyes off him.

“I don't understand,” Skye said, distressed, holding on to his collar, afraid he might lunge at Griffen. “He's usually so friendly.”

“He's had a few big days,” Griffen said easily. “He's in a new home, the last thing he needs right now is a stranger hanging around.”

“But the movers were just here, and he didn't—” She bit back the words, flushing. “I'll lock him up again.”

“No, don't. He'll hate me forever.”

“He adores fortune cookies,” she said. “Maybe he'll warm to you if you give him one.”

“It's worth a try.” Griffen dug a cookie out of the bag and unwrapped it. Moo's eyes went straight to it; he began to drool.

Skye released this collar. “Okay, boy. You can have the cookie but not the fingers. Gentle…good dog.”

Stupefied, Skye watched as he slinked over to Griffen, took the cookie and dashed right back to her side. She had never seen him act like this. She shook her head. “Maybe I should lock him up, I really have never seen him this way.”

“Give him a few minutes. At the worst, he'll take a chunk out of me, at the best, we'll become friends.”

Skye nodded, appreciating Griffen's willingness to try, though she didn't feel entirely comfortable with her decision. “How about a glass of wine. I'm ready.”

Skye went to one of several boxes marked Kitchen Stuff and dug through it, coming up with a corkscrew. Smiling, she handed it to him. “Success. I think my wineglasses are in that one,” she said, indicating another box.

Sure enough, she located one of the glasses, unwrapped it, then went rummaging for another. “Ow!” She snatched her hand back. Blood streamed from a long cut across the ball of her hand. “I think I found a second glass,” she said weakly, cupping her sliced hand. “Unfortunately, it's broken.”

“Jesus, Skye.” Griffen grabbed her hands and led her to the sink. He flipped on the cold water, then drew her hand under it.

She winced. “That stings.”

“I'm sure it does.” Using a bit of dish-washing liquid, he washed the cut, then gently probed it.

She turned her head away. “How bad is it?”

“It could be worse.”

“I don't…need stitches, do I?”

“I think you're okay without them.” He shut off the water, then patted her hand dry. “Are your first-aid supplies unpacked?”

“Yes, Dr. Monarch.” She laughed shakily. “I did the bathroom first. You know, girls and their essentials. I'll be right back.”

“But I haven't performed the most important part of the treatment.”

He brought her hand to his mouth and gently kissed her cut. Their eyes met. His lips lingered. Her stomach did a funny little something, a lurch or flip-flop. Skye's knees went weak, she went hot then cold.

“You'd better get that bandage.”

She drew her hand away. “Yes, I…yes. Excuse me.”

She practically ran to the bathroom. Shutting the door partway behind her, she crossed to the sink. Leaning against it, she gazed into the mirror, taking in her flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes. What was she going to do? At first she had thought he was simply being nice, but now she wondered if he was…interested in her. No, she didn't wonder. She knew he was.

And how could she keep a professional distance when he looked at her that way—as though she was beautiful, special, exciting? When he kept sweeping her off her feet with take-out food and flowers and endearing little kiss-make-betters?

She couldn't, that was the problem. She squeezed her eyes shut. This was happening too fast. She didn't know him. He didn't know her. He was her employer, for heaven's sake. He—

“Are you all right?”

She opened her eyes. He stood in the doorway, holding a glass of wine, his expression intent. She forced a smile. “I'm fine…thanks. I'm just…it's just that…I feel a little dizzy.”

He held out the wine. “I found another glass.”

“Thanks again.” She took it, brought it to her lips and sipped. The liquid warmed her as it slid down her throat. “I found the bandages.” She set the glass of wine on the edge of the sink. “I'll be out in a minute.”

“You're sure you don't need any help?”

“I'm sure.” She smiled again, anxious for him to leave the bathroom. It felt too small with him in it. “But thanks.”

Ten minutes later Skye emerged from the bathroom to discover that Griffen had found plates and utensils, candles and holders and made them an intimate table on the floor in the middle of her living room.

He lit the candles. “You still hungry?”

“I think so.” She curved her arms around her middle, feeling strange about his having gone through her boxes without asking. She shook the feeling off, telling herself that he had only been being nice.

“Have a seat. I'll bring the food.”

She did as he suggested, noticing Moo for the first time. He hovered near the kitchen doorway, his gaze on Griffen. He looked almost frightened. “Moo's stopped growling, I see.”

At the sound of his name, Moo started toward her, giving Griffen a wide berth.

“He and I had a talk. He's agreed to tolerate me.”

“That's good.” She drew her eyebrows together and stroked her dog's head. “He's acting so strangely. I wonder if he's sick.” She touched the animal's nose to check his temperature, noting that it seemed fine, cool and damp.

Griffen returned with the food. They ate and though it was delicious, Skye couldn't really enjoy it. Her stomach felt funny, jumpy and nervous, and she couldn't seem to stop thinking about the way he had just walked in and taken charge. And the way she had let him.

“God, you're beautiful.”

Her fork slipped from her fingers and clattered to her plate. Her cheeks flooded with heat.

He laughed softly. “You are, Skye.”

She dropped her gaze to her lap, uncomfortable with the way he was looking at her, as if he wanted to swallow her whole.

He reached across the table and touched her hand. “I'm direct, I know. It puts some people off. I would hate to do that to you, though. It's important that I don't scare you off.”

She searched his gaze, looking for something, some clue to what he saw when he looked at her, some clue to why he seemed to want her. In that moment, as she studied him, she thought she knew him—from sometime before, in her distant past. She caught her breath, as in the recesses of her mind a door seemed to open, then quickly shut.

“What's wrong?” he asked, his expression puzzled.

“For a moment, I thought…Could we have ever met before? I mean, sometime…a long time ago? I don't know, for a moment you looked so…familiar.”

“I don't think so.” He curled his fingers around hers. “In fact, I know we haven't. Because no way would I have forgotten it.”

“You're sure, then.” She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, troubled. “I must be more tired than I thought.”

“I have another explanation.”

“You do?”

“Perhaps it's your heart that recognizes me.”

A lump formed in her throat, and she drew her hand away. “I don't think we should do this, Griffen.”

“Do what?”

“You know—” she spread her hands helplessly “—this.”

“What?” His lips lifted. “Wine? Thai? Compliments?”

“You're my employer,” she said, flushing. “It could get complicated—”

“Messy, even.”

“Yes. Messy. And awkward.”

He stood and came around their makeshift table, stopping beside her. He caught her hands and drew her to her feet. He looked her in the eyes, almost with challenge, as if daring her to try to look away.

“Yes, I'm your employer. And yes…I want to be more. Much more.”

He laced their fingers. “I've waited a long time for you, Skye Dearborn. A long time. I know I should go slow, but I'm so…hungry for you.”

The blood rushed to her head. She actually felt faint. She couldn't drag her gaze from his, as much as a part of her wanted to.

He brought their joined hands to his mouth and kissed her fingers, one after the other, lingering over them, feasting as if they were a rare delicacy. He moved on to her knuckles, her palms, the inside of her wrists.

Her knees went weak; she swayed. He caught her and eased her against him. “Do you believe in love at first sight?”

“No…yes.” She shook her head, at the moment uncertain what she believed. “Maybe…I don't know.”

“Well, I do. I believe in love at first sight, because I loved you the moment I saw you.” He cupped her face in his palms and gazed into her eyes, his burning with an almost fevered intensity. “Is that corny? Does that make me less of a man in your eyes? Does it make me weak?”

She couldn't speak. She tried, but no sound came out. She shook her head.

“Good, because I looked at you and I knew, I
knew
you were the one for me. The one I wanted forever.”

“Forever,” she repeated, her voice no more than a throaty whisper. Nobody had ever said things like this to her. Nobody had ever made those kind of promises; nobody had ever wanted her that much.

Forever.

The headache started suddenly, at her temples, taking her by surprise. She fought past it. “But you…you don't know me, Griffen. I don't…know you.”

“I know you, Skye. I do.” He captured her hands again and brought them to his heart. “And you know me. Look deep inside your heart, and I'm there. You've been waiting for me, too.”

She had. She had been waiting for a man who would love her on sight. The man who would love her completely, fiercely. Forever.

“I'll give you everything, make your every dream come true.” He bent his head to hers and caught her mouth, softly at first, then with growing passion. She flattened her hands against his chest, reeling from his words and kiss, reeling from the headache that pressed in on her.

When he lifted his mouth, she could hardly breathe. “I'll wait for you. I'll give you time. But I mean what I say, Skye Dearborn. I intend for you to be mine.”

A
monstrous dark bird stalked her. Hovering, its shadow fell over her, obliterating the sun. Skye ran, but not fast enough. Her breath came in small, desperate gasps; sweat poured from her. She knew she wouldn't be able to keep up this pace for long. A part of her wanted to look back, turn and face the monster at her heels. But she was too afraid. Only by running, she knew, could she escape it.

Yet the faster she ran, the closer it came.

From the corners of her eyes she saw the bird's long, razor-sharp claws. In a moment those claws would close around her. And then, the monster would have her.

“Mom! Help!”

Skye sat bolt upright in bed, her scream still echoing in her dark bedroom. Breathing hard, drenched in sweat, she looked around her, confused, disoriented.

Something moved at the end of the bed, then whimpered. Moo, she realized, shuddering. It was Moo. “Come here, baby,” she whispered, patting the space beside her. “Come on.” He inched up on his belly, then laid his head on her lap.

She bent and buried her face in his fur. Seconds ticked past, becoming minutes. Her heart slowed, her breathing with it. Her head began to clear.

Only a bad dream, she told herself, straightening. Just a nightmare. Nothing to be scared of.

But it had been terrifyingly real. She passed a trembling hand across her forehead. She had all but felt the dark beast's breath on the back of her neck.

She threaded her fingers through Moo's thick fur, comforted by his presence. Where had the nightmare come from? she wondered. She was on top of the world, all her wishes beginning to come true. She had landed the job of a lifetime; she had a great apartment in a fabulous new city. She had a dream-man professing to be head-over-heels in love with her.

Be careful what you wish for…

It just might come true.

The fortune-cookie warning ran through her head, and a nervous laugh bubbled to her lips. She was turning into a silly, superstitious twit. The next thing she knew, she would be planning her day according to the newspaper horoscope and calling 1-900-Fortune before making a decision.

Moo whimpered again, and Skye realized she had him in a choke hold. She relaxed her grip and snuggled down beside him in the bed.

She had been through a tremendous amount of change in the past two weeks, the nightmare was the result of stress. That, or it had been caused by taking the headache tablets just before bed. Everybody had nightmares sometimes.

Sure they did.

But as she lay awake, staring at the ceiling, she couldn't help thinking about wishes and warnings and monstrous dark birds that threatened to swallow her whole.