Marked (2 page)

“Yeah…”  

“Great job with the deco, by the way.”

“Thanks,” Tabitha said.  She knew her friend was trying to distract her from the possibility of a naked romp with her temporary boss.  Too bad it wasn’t working very well.  She even went so far as to consider the ramifications of using her magic to tangle him up so she could have her way with him…or at least get a good look at him naked.

“Dare I ask how you got the balloons into the corners of the twelve-foot ceilings without a ladder?”

Tabitha shrugged and chewed her cheek to hide her smile.  “Nothing a little witchcraft couldn’t handle.”

“I wouldn’t go around advertising that.”  Cera’s voice was flat and held a strong warning that she, as usual, ignored.

“I don’t.  But what’s the point of having a talent if you can’t put it to good use?”  Cera eyed her, but said nothing else about it.  “I mean, I didn’t name the business Magical Moments for nothing, you know…”

Cera continued to ignore her.  “We have more stuff in the van.”

“I’m coming.” With a last wistful glance at the closed hallway door, Tabitha sighed and followed her friend down to collect the serving trays.  Cera admonished her every chance she got for using her talent, but it wasn't as if she was using it to hurt others...quite the opposite.  Very few people in the world knew of her gift, and any effort she made with it was meant solely for the benefit of others.  The last thing she needed was karma coming back to bite her in the ass for squandering her gift. But honestly, if she could snap her fingers and make streamers and fabric fall perfectly, was it really so wrong?  So long as their customers failed to notice her sleight of hand and continued to praise her for a job well done, Cera would just have to get her butt off her shoulders and get the hell over it.

Outside, the afternoon was warm but overcast and sticky, the clouds hanging overhead pregnant with still unshed raindrops.  The grass around her was damp, beads of moisture clinging to their neatly manicured tips.  Tabitha sniffed experimentally, smiling when she smelled the clouds, heavy with their load and just about to burst.  She also smelled something else that completely derailed her...something unusual and wild.  Not necessarily animal…but not entirely human either.

It was then that she noticed something moving just at the tree line behind the house.  It was large and dark, and was running fast enough to let out large puffs of breath.  Tuning in, she listened to the labored breathing as the thing ran, the grunts of exertion under the heavy sound a little too close to human for her comfort.  The sight made her pause, head tilted to one side in confusion, and even Cera stopped to see what had her attention. 

"Tabby...it's just a dog," she said, but Tabitha could hear the waver of uncertainty in her voice.

"That doesn't look like any dog I've ever seen,” she argued, ignoring the name for the time being. “It looks more like a wolf."

"Okay,” sarcasm dripped from Cera’s voice, “so it's a wolf…in the middle of Atlanta.  Now will you stop daydreaming and come on, please?"

Chapter Two: Found

At eight thirty p.m., Tabitha was dressed in her standard uniform—black, high-heeled boots under black tuxedo pants and a white button-down shirt with a black satin bow-tie at her neck—and poised at the door with an antique sterling-silver tray.  Her hair was swept back into a smooth French twist and her bangs brushed to one side.  On the tray were glasses of champagne so expensive that she’d had to get a small business loan to purchase four cases.  Her staff stood around her in a stiff straight line, waiting with their trays of hors d’oeuvres to welcome the guests as the hosts pulled open the ballroom doors.

The sight of Russell in his black-tie finest seemed to draw the air from the room.  He appeared to have grown taller, become broader across the shoulders.  He was, in a word, gorgeous.  And coming straight toward her with a predatory smirk on his lips.  Her hands began to shake.  She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, pulling tendrils of magic around her to steady her arms and her nerves.  It would do her no good to spill her wares.

 “Beautiful work,” he praised, and lifted a glass from her tray.  The temperature in the room seemed to rise in direct proportion to his proximity, but she was determined to ignore it, with or without the fire building in her center.  Tabitha opened her eyes with a smile, tilting her wrist a fraction to accommodate the shift in balance. “I look forward to tonight.”

“I promise I won’t disappoint.”  Ugh…that was pathetic.  Had she really said that out loud?

“Mmm,” he mused as he sipped from his glass, “I expect not.”  He raised one eyebrow, and the burning way his eyes raked over her body as he passed made her feel like a specimen in a Petri dish. He lingered over the swell of her breasts, and her nipples tightened in response.  Tabitha wished he would look somewhere else, because her shirt was tight enough that he would see the effect he had were he so inclined to keep staring.

Then his guests filed in behind him in a steady stream, taking away both his attention and any time she would have needed to consider the innuendo in his comment.  She breathed a sigh of relief and tried to focus on anything but his perfectly shaped ass as he greeted his guests.

Soon, the ballroom was full and bustling, and she was thankful for the distraction of so many people.  Putting on her best hostess face, Tabitha picked up her feet and whisked through the crowd, offering glasses to anyone without, and promising refills for those who were looking empty.  She raised one arm over her head and snapped her fingers, and two young men with fresh bottles of champagne fell into step behind her, refilling and offering dashing smiles.

This was what Tabitha loved about her job.  She enjoyed making others happy.  Mingling with these people, listening to the hushed whispers of approval on the decorations she had chosen for Russell, and feeling pride swell in her chest for her employees was exactly what she needed to distract herself from the dangerously sexy man who kept looking back at her.  Who cared if she didn’t get the credit for the design?  The point was that people were enjoying themselves.

Men and women dressed in the finest evening wear money could buy brushed past Tabitha and her employees as if they were nonexistent unless they had something a particular guest wanted, and she liked it that way.  They were just scenery, after all.

Well, mostly.  Every few moments, Russell’s gaze would drift back in her direction, sliding over her form and leaving a sizzling trail every place it touched.  Even in a room full of people, the emotion in his eyes was oddly intimate, and it only served to heighten her awareness of him more.

A string quartet played a soft, classical melody somewhere in the background.  As people began to dance, she scanned the edges of the room, checking the decorations to make sure everything was still absolutely perfect.  Russell had disappeared into the crowd and she thought about going to find him.  So what if he was the owner of the house and the host of the evening?  She wanted to reassure him that every single scrap of her hard work was perfect. At least, that’s what she told herself.  Tabitha refused to admit, even in her own mind, that she just wanted to look at him again.  And touch him.  And do much, much more.  It seemed that even though she was just the hired help, his personal approval meant more to her than the air she breathed.

He re-entered the room from the far hallway, and she felt him before her eyes ever found him.  He watched her intently as he passed through the crowd, a smile on his lips and a kind word for each person in the room.  He shook hands and kissed cheeks—much to Tabitha’s immense jealousy—and moved around the room with grace and ease that completely defied his imposing size.  Even through the bustle of the expensive-looking partygoers, Tabitha never lost sight of him.  His presence, like a beacon in the dark, commanded the attention of everyone in the room.  He certainly had hers.  And when he moved to the podium near the balcony, everyone turned to face him, expectant.  Even the music filtered to silence.  Lucky for Tabitha, nobody could hear her pulse pounding in the sensitive flesh between her legs.

"Welcome to the Blue Moon Ball," he boomed.  Russell needed no microphone; his voice was loud, clear, and held a sharp, sensual edge that slithered down Tabitha’s spine and seated itself firmly in the pit of her belly.  "It is good to see so many old friends and to greet so many new ones.  As you know, tonight is special to all of us." Murmurs of assent passed through the crowd.  She motioned subtly, and as they had practiced earlier, Tabitha and her staff moved into place around the room.  Everyone had a full glass when he next spoke. "We come together tonight to celebrate our heritage, and to present our future.  I ask you all, please enjoy your night." As he spoke, she noticed that the candles on the table behind him were caught in a draft and sputtering like they would go out.  She was not going to have that.

Tabitha narrowed her eyes and willed the candles to catch again, adding a protective block above and to the side to deflect the draft from the overhead vents.  They flared slightly then continued to burn as if nothing were wrong.  Russell paused for only a second, and from across the room she saw his nose twitch.

Uh-oh…

"The third full moon in this season of four will peak soon, but until that time, let our celebration commence!" His gaze zeroed in on her from across the room as he stepped down from the podium, and Tabitha felt herself drawn to him by some invisible, magnetic force.  He seemed to see no one else in the room, his concentration was so strong.  When he walked, he moved with a sense of purpose unmatched by anyone she'd ever seen before.  She needed to run, to move away and busy herself with some chore that she had invariably missed, but the room seemed to part as if he were Moses standing before the Red Sea, and the path led him directly to her.  She could not make her feet move.

"Fantastic evening," Russell said, another of his predatory smiles curling his lips. His teeth gleamed white under the sparkling light of the ballroom, and they looked very sharp. 

Had his facial hair grown since he entered the room?
  She could have sworn he was mostly clean-shaven this morning. 

"Are you enjoying yourself, Mr. Tennyson?"

"Russell," he corrected, "and yes, I am."  He leaned close to her and inhaled deeply.  Rather than moving away, he lingered for a moment, those sinful eyes locking onto hers in an almost challenge.  What would have been a creepy move on anyone else was absolutely flattering coming from him.  "You smell delectable." 

Tabitha stifled a gasp. "Thank you?"

He chuckled as he righted himself.  "You are very welcome."  He plucked the last glass from her tray and raised it toward her.  "To a beautiful evening, prepared by a beautiful woman."  Tabitha giggled a bit maniacally and took a step backwards, toward the kitchen.  A large, neon sign in her mind pointed to him and blinked the word DANGER over and over again.

"Let me go refill this tray."

"Wait." He caught her wrist to stop her, and his skin nearly burned it was so warm. "Miss Richardson."

"Tabitha."

"Tabitha."  His eyes were mesmerizing...she could easily get lost in them.  "Dance with me first."  He spun her out to the side before she could respond, taking her fingers in the hand that held his glass and curling his other arm around her waist.  She gasped, and he laughed, a deep, rich sound that vibrated all the way to her toes.  They were close enough that her breasts brushed against his chest with each step he took.  The scent of expensive cologne filled the air around her, and she fought not to press her nose to his throat and breathe him in. He smelled good.  He looked good.   She was willing to bet he tasted pretty good too.

Stop that right now!

 He led her around and around to the center of the room, pulling her closer with each turn until she was pressed tightly against him from shoulder to knee.  She felt like she was flying as he twisted and twirled her, that same low rumble of laughter shaking her on her feet, and it would take nothing at all for her to lean forward and press her lips to his…

The serving tray still tucked under her arm slipped, and immediately snapped her out of her fantasy world. 

Out. Of. Your. League. 

Cera’s words rang in her head, clear as a bell.  She withdrew from his arms with a mumbled apology, a little dizzy from the dance—or his nearness, she wasn’t sure which—and started back toward the ballroom doors.  Russell was immediately beside her, catching her by the arm and drawing her to a stop.

“Where are you going?” he asked, as breathless as she.  Good to know she wasn’t the only one affected by their nearness.  But not good as well…knowing his interest only magnified the inappropriateness.  Cocking her hip to the side, she held the tray up between them and raised one eyebrow.

"You do remember that I'm the hired help?" she asked with a sardonic twist to her mouth. 

***

Russell gazed at her steadily, unfazed by the snarky comment.

“Let me remind you that I am the one writing your check at the end of the night,” he said.

“For my services as a caterer and events planner,” she countered.  She was a brazen one.  Had it been any other hired hand standing before him with such a tone, it would have surely cut her throat as well as her paycheck.  “I am here in a professional capacity, Mr. Tennyson.”  The only question was, why was she suddenly so defensive?

“Russell,” he said, correcting her yet again, and felt a mocking smile slide into place. 

“Russell,” she echoed, “I have a lot of work to do before the night is over.  I remind you again, I am only the hired help.”

"You are also the most beautiful thing in this room." 

Her big, green eyes went wide, and her mouth fell into a perfect, little O. "I bet you say that to all of your women."  As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Tabitha cringed.  He let go of her wrist, dropping his hand to his side.  The comment cut deep, and he could tell by the shock in her eyes that his response had killed a witty follow-up to her first zinger, and surprised her into silence. He might have been touted as a playboy by the media, but she had no idea the depth of the personal insult as a result of her blithe comment.