Indigo Spell (4 page)

Belinda added, “Okay, so you live like a snob but you’re not your mother.”

A grin crossed Tess’ face. “I don’t think there’s anyone who can equal Mom’s personality.”

“Snobbery is not a personality trait. It’s a personality flaw.”

“Have you forgotten that Colleen Montgomery has no flaws? Just ask her.” Tess continued to grin as she began to clean up the kitchen.

“Why don’t you let your maid do that and come for a drive with me? We need to go shopping.”

“For what?”

“You need the perfect outfit for Saturday night.”

One hip against the counter, Tess studied her friend. “Belle, I only invited Mr. Richards over because you paid a helluva lot of my money for him. Remind me to bring that up again later, by the way. Anyway, once dinner is done, he’ll be on his way and I will have fulfilled my portion of this charity auction. So please don’t count on anything happening beyond two adults sharing a cordial meal.”

“You make it sound so exciting.”

Was the flush on her cheeks noticeable? It was getting as steamy in her kitchen as it had been on that damned stage. “It’s not supposed to be exciting. This is something I have to endure. As a lady, I will endure it. In fact I’ve planned a very pleasant evening.”

“Fuck plans. I’ll bet you hadn’t ‘planned’ on him kissing you like that, did you?”

How did anyone plan on a kiss like that? “Well, no, but this time, I’ll be prepared. And besides, that was a fluke. He was showing off for the ladies.” And what a show it had been!

“Uh-huh, but just in case, if I were you, I’d wear long-lasting lipstick. I hear there’s some pretty high-quality stuff out there, supposed to last all evening. But I guess that would depend on what you’re doing with your lips all evening.”

“I can assure you the only thing I’ll be doing with my lips is talking. That is, if Mr. Richards can carry on a conversation without beer and pretzels.”

Belinda winced a little. “You’re generalizing.”

“I’m being careful, Belle. The man looks positively dangerous, like he could fight ten men in a barroom brawl and come out the winner.”

“Only Hercules could do that.”

“Did you see the size of those arms? He could probably give Hercules a run for his money.”

Belinda leaned in closer, her attention captured. “Did you just shiver?”

Had she? Goose bumps littered her arms but she wasn’t about to admit anything without coercion. “Of course not. And even if I did, it was because I felt a draft.”

“Oh, you felt something all right and it had nothing to do with the air conditioning.” Belinda got to her feet and carried her bowl to the kitchen sink. “You’re attracted to Mr. Brawny.”

“I assure you I’m not. Mr. Richards is not my type.”

“If that man isn’t your type, I shudder to think what you would consider your type. I mean, honestly, name one thing wrong with the man.”

“I didn’t say there was anything wrong with him. When I said he wasn’t my type, I only meant that he and I would never be compatible in a social setting.”

“I think that depends on whether you were vertical or horizontal.”

Tess shot her friend a disgusted look. “Will you drag your mind out of the gutter for one minute? I swear since you’ve been here all you’ve done is talk about Jaxon Richards and how fuckable he is!”

“And? I’m searching for the problem.”

Ignoring the comment, Tess swept a crumb off the counter and into her palm. “There was something about him.”

“Now we’re talking.”

“No, I meant something different. When I looked into his eyes, even for a brief second, I saw a flash, a spark.” She carried the crumb to the trashcan and dusted her hands.

“He felt something for you.” Could her friend be any more excited?

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” Tess sighed. “It’s hard to explain but I would swear the man isn’t just your ordinary, everyday building contractor.”

“Ah, the plot thickens. You agreed to Saturday night because you want to find out what’s behind the man. It has nothing to do with the money. God knows, you give more of that away in a week than Ed and I will ever see in a year.” Belinda pressed one hip against the counter. “No, this isn’t about money at all. This is about your own curiosity.”

Tess patted her hair. “You really need to do something about that imagination of yours. Now let’s go.”

“Go where?”

“Shopping.” She suddenly felt a strong desire to find just the perfect little dress.

* * * * *

Jaxon crossed his legs at the ankles and shook his head stubbornly. “I’m not wearing that, Sadie. Harry, you might as well call off your wife. I’m not wearing that…” he pointed with one long, tanned finger toward the outfit adorning his bed, “to a dinner that I don’t intend on staying at for longer than it takes to make it through the first course.”

The lie came out easily enough but he figured it wasn’t anyone’s business if dinner segued into bacon and eggs the next morning.

Sadie, a stalwart woman with bushy blonde hair and laughing green eyes, inserted herself in between her husband and Jaxon, pointing a bony finger square in the center of the latter’s chest. “Now you listen to me, Jaxon Richards, you’re about to spend an evening with a true lady and the last thing you need to do is screw this up.”

Jaxon arched an eyebrow and aimed a look at his best friend, which was a clear warning. Make his wife heel, if that was indeed possible. “Screw what up? A meal? Sadie, I know how to hold a fork and make polite conversation, even if it is with a first-class snob.”
An incredibly beautiful, delicious snob.

“You don’t even know her. How can you classify her as a snob?”

“Well, let me think.” Jaxon snapped his fingers. “Oh yeah, could it possibly have anything to do with her mannerisms, her money and let’s not forget the damned expensive car she drove away from the auction in?” He wondered what she wore underneath that prim suit. Would she be wearing lace or serviceable underwear? Did she have a spark of rebel in her or was she pure class all the way?

“Says he with the sports car that costs more than Harry and I make in ten years,” Sadie returned smartly.

“It was a gift,” Jaxon hedged. Not exactly the entire truth but an easier defense than telling his friends he’d had a little magical help.

Harry’s attention traveled to another part of the conversation as he sidled up closer to his wife. “You watched her leave the auction?”

Good God. Did his friend miss anything? “No. She just happened to be leaving at the same time I was.”

“Hmm.” Harry traded looks with his wife. Looks which irritated Jaxon.

He swept the black trousers from the bed and pushed the blue silk shirt over to the edge before he sat down. “I’ll choose my own clothes, thank you, and for that matter I don’t even know why you’re here, Sadie.”

“Harry called me. Thought you could use a little help with your wardrobe.”

His gaze dropping, Harry fidgeted with his hands. “Well, when you told me you were going to wear jeans and a T-shirt, I just thought Sadie might be able to help.”

Jaxon’s teeth snapped together. “If I had wanted anyone’s help, I certainly would have asked for it. But I’ve been dressing myself for years now and amazingly I’ve managed to make it without drawing too much attention to myself.”

“Honey,” Sadie placed a hand on one muscular forearm, “you’d draw attention no matter what you wore. You’re probably just oblivious to it by now.”

Ignoring the comment, Jaxon strode toward his closet. “If the two of you will excuse me, I have a date to get ready for. A date for which Ms. Montgomery paid good money. I wouldn’t want to let her down.” He gave his friends time to excuse themselves and with a quick brush of his eyes down his long length, he was dressed and ready to go.

Snatching the keys to his car, he headed out into the humid night. To all appearances, he was a normal man en route to a date with a beautiful brunette. But to the glittering silver eyes that followed him, he was playing a dangerous game in a mortal world—a world to which he didn’t belong.

Jaxon didn’t need to look into his rearview mirror to know he was no longer alone in the vehicle. “I didn’t hear you join me.”

The seat rustled beneath the man’s figure. “Perhaps that is because you were too busy concentrating on this woman you are in such a hurry to meet.”

“Perhaps.” Jaxon switched on the radio. The tinny strains of a steel guitar pelted the air.

“You are not going to be able to hide behind this façade you have created for yourself much longer.”

“It’s not a façade. It’s my life.”

A large hand settled over his shoulder, squeezed. “No, it is not and soon, very soon, I am afraid that fact is going to become very much evident.”

Jaxon didn’t take his eyes off the road. “Go back to the others and tell them I’m fine.”

“Your mother worries about you.”

“My mother worries about me when I’m ten feet away from her.”

“You are one of us, Jaxon.”

“I know that.” He sighed. “But for now I need this. Please tell them I need this space. I will return when I am needed there as I promised when I left.”

“And if I were to tell you that you are needed now?”

“I would know you are lying and if there is one thing you are not, it is a liar.” A smile crinkled the corners of Jaxon’s eyes. “I have missed you, Falcon.”

Sparks danced in the air and surrounded Jaxon’s body. “You always know where to find me.”

“And perhaps, after tonight, I will look you up.” Jaxon heard the whisper of the wind and knew he was talking to the air. Falcon had disappeared, gone on an arc of lightning skating across the sky.

* * * * *

At promptly six fifty-five, the doorbell to Tess’ palatial three-story home rang and she began to yank the hot rollers out of her hair with frantic abandon. At approximately six fifty-six, her housekeeper of ten years announced her visitor while the lady of the house was still trying to figure out if she really wanted to wear that dress she’d just bought. Was it too low-cut? Would Mr. Richards think she was trying to seduce him? Damn. When was the last time she’d had a date anyway?

Ten minutes later, she descended the staircase, wearing the dress and a reserved smile, for once nervous in her own home. “Mr. Richards, I apologize for keeping you waiting.” She stopped short at the bottom of the staircase, staring openly at her date for the evening. She could suddenly think of a million and one reasons why she needed to hire a contractor—especially one who looked like Jaxon Richards.

She’d been expecting jeans, maybe a checkered shirt. Her assumptions weren’t fair of course but her mind’s view even had him wearing the tool belt to dinner. She was glad she’d been wrong.

He’d opted for black slacks, black sports coat and a white dress shirt that was open at the collar. His unruly brown hair curled over the top of his collar, windswept and wild. But it was his eyes that captured her attention. That heady combination of silver and gold. Or maybe it was just her imagination because no man had silver and gold eyes. Maybe it was the light playing tricks on her. But she’d seen them on stage. They’d captivated her even then. Held her, warmed her. As they were doing now. But then she couldn’t dwell on his eyes anymore because his sensual lips were tilting, moving upward into a semblance of a smile.