Unruly Magic (7 page)

Gage was a good dancer. Rhythmic, vibrant and with good footwork that told me he had had plenty of dance partners. As the number drew to a close, he picked me up, his hands on my hips and twirled me around before setting me lightly on the floor, my body sliding against his. I wasn’t a genius at man-woman stuff but I recognised a come on when one body slammed me. He smiled down at me and for a moment I thought he was going to kiss me, but instead he took my hand and tugged me outside into the cold night air.

“Let’s get you home.” Gage chatted congenially about the film as we drove back and when we passed the Loup Garou I couldn’t help check out the number of cars and motorbikes in the lot. The lights were on but it seemed quiet inside tonight and then we had flashed by and five minutes later Gage turned onto my drive.

“You’re welcome to come in for a drink, if you like.” I thought about what I might have in my kitchen. “I have wine, or coffee. No beer though, sorry.”

“Wine is fine by me.” Gage cut off the engine and walked around my side to open the door for me. I fumbled in my bag for my keys as we took the steps then unlocked the door and held it open for him.

“Make yourself at home. Put on music if you like. I’ll get the wine.”

Gage took off his jacket and hung it on the rack by the door as I retreated into the kitchen. It felt strange having someone in my house. So far, there had just been me and Annalise. Gage was officially my second guest (I’d decided Chyler didn’t count seeing as she wasn’t invited). I picked up two glasses with long stems and the white wine from my fridge. I hoped he wasn’t a wine snob because otherwise he was going to get a disappointment.

When I went back in the living room, he’d turned on my TV and was looking through my stack of dollar bin DVDs would have been less mortifying if I’d had some more cerebral movies selected. Unfortunately I hadn’t.

“You’re just as bad as my sister,” Gage laughed.

“I like happy movies,” I said, sitting next to him on the sofa, and then started to protest when he took the wine bottle and corkscrew from me, but he just shook his head. I waited until he’d uncorked the bottle then held out the glasses for him to fill. He set the bottle on the floor and clinked his glass lightly against mine.

“What are we drinking to?”

“Bad poker hands and good dates?”

“I’ll drink to that.” Gage smiled and I returned the smile before taking a sip. The wine slid down my throat easily.

“Okay, let’s see if you have anything watchable.”

“I’m going to take offence at that.”

“Most people would take offence at your preferences,” Gage teased as he shuffled through my less than intelligent offerings.

“I’m definitely offended now.”

“Drink your wine. It’ll dull the pain.” I got the pleasure of him yelping as I bashed his arm with a cushion.

“Fine, fine.” Gage paused, holding up a disc box. “You want to watch
A River Runs Through It
? No drooling over Brad Pitt.”

I laughed. “Sure.” I settled back on the sofa as Gage loaded the DVD then sat next to me, legs stretched out, wine glass in hand as the credits rolled. He looked very at home on my sofa. If he was my boyfriend I would have pulled the coverlet folded over the back of the sofa over us and snuggled up to him, but he wasn’t and I wouldn’t. As soon as I thought, if he was Evan, I wiped it from my mind. The rawness had only just begun to heal but every so often, it would tug at me as if to remind me it was still there.

As it happened we didn’t really end up watching much of the movie; instead we talked about them. A line here would remind Gage of something he’d seen and then we’d talk about that. Or maybe a scene would remind me of another film and that would lead on to another topic which would make us laugh. I didn’t even realise that I was flirting at first as my body responded naturally to his. By the time I did realise, I was warm with wine and when Gage flirted with a touch of his hand against mine, or our legs would bump together and neither of us would draw back, I didn’t mind one bit. When, finally, his lips brushed mine, his hand soft against my cheek, I didn’t hesitate to slip my arms around him and pull him in for more. It wasn’t just human contact I craved; it was the warmth of his skin on mine, the feel of
him
on my lips.

Four

My head was swimming as I cranked my eyes open, groaning with discomfort. I could only vaguely remember falling into bed the night before. Kicking off my clothes and climbing under the covers was a distant, hazy memory. In my half-sleepy fuzzy state, I smiled at the memory of us dancing. I remembered Gage coming back to the house with me where we’d shared a bottle of wine and I vaguely remembered opening another. We’d watched another movie and talked and laughed for hours. I knew I hadn’t drunk that much, but I wasn’t a big drinker so the effects of the alcohol didn’t really hit me until I knew I was already very merry. By the time I’d cut out the alcohol, it was too late.

I touched a finger to my lips. We’d kissed.
Oh
... Yes, we’d definitely kissed.

I rolled, stretched and... Jeez! I froze. There was someone in bed with me. The body shuffled and a long arm stretched over me, curling around my body.

“Morning,” came a gruff voice and my eyes widened. I did
not
remember this. I did not remember going to bed with... I tilted my head to one side. No, I did not remember going to bed with Gage. I shuffled, a small, tentative movement and felt the sheets cool against my skin. I wondered if I could peek under the bedclothes to see what I was wearing. I was fairly certain I was wearing something. I’d better be wearing something.

“Um... hi,” I said, flustered. “Um...”

“Um?” Gage mumbled, his hand down my arm to lace his fingers around mine, his thumb rubbing my palm. I untangled our fingers and carefully pushed his hand back over to him before shuffling onto my back. Slowly I turned my head fully. Yep, there he was. Head on my pillow. I raised my head a fraction, just enough to see his clothes on the floor at the foot of my bed.

“Ah... did we... um...” I trailed off, my head thumping.

“No, we didn’t ‘um’.” Gage paused a beat. “You would have remembered if we’d ‘ummed’.”

“I would hope so.”

“You definitely would.”

“Bit full of yourself.”

“Wish you were full of me.”

“Gage!”

“Sorry,” he mumbled into the pillow and I only just heard him say, “Meant it though.”

“Why are you in my bed?” I asked.

“Home was too far away and we just fell asleep.”

“You live right across the street... and you’re not wearing anything.”

“Anything could have happened in the dark. Late night. Lone man...”

I raised my eyebrows at him. I hoped I wasn’t raising a line of day old mascara too.

“I live in hope.”

“You do know Annalise is probably looking outside right now and is seeing your car parked in my driveway and putting two and two together and making thirty five.”

“She might think I just left it here until morning.”

I shook my head. “She will have been at your door offering you coffee or something as soon as it was decent.”

Gage thought about that for a moment then grinned. “Don’t worry I’ll keep our dirty little secret to myself.”

“You do that.” Oh, wait... “There’s no dirty little secret!” I protested.

“Seeing as I’m keeping quiet, my sister will never know that.” Gage looked smug now. He should. Annalise would absolutely surmise the worst... or the best, depending on whose point of she was working from.

“I should probably be cross with you.”

His face fell a bit as he looked at me from the next pillow. “Are you?”

With his morning stubble and the slight curl of his hair, he was a very attractive man to wake up to. If I was a red-blooded female, if I was in my right mind, I would have been taking advantage of this situation. As it was... “No, but you should go home.”

“But I’m warm,” he protested sleepily.

“You can be warm in your own house. It has a heating system that works. Go use it,” I said, probably a touch to harshly as I tried to peek under the covers to see exactly what I was wearing, or if I would have to tug the covers off to wrap around me when I got up. What if Gage was naked under there? I felt my face redden. I couldn’t look. But I kinda wanted to. There was no ‘if’ about it, I
was
a red-blooded female judging by the thoughts surging through my brain. I tried to quell them with a mental sledgehammer.

“What are you doing?” he asked me amused. “If you’re you trying to have a look, I’m not shy.”

I flushed bright red this time. “I. Am. Not! I’m trying to figure out what I’m wearing.”

I probably shouldn’t have said that because that wasn’t my hand trailing over my shoulder and running the length of my body under the covers. “Bra,” murmured Gage, as he slipped a finger under one barely there shoulder strap, then his hand moved lower. He raised his eyebrows. He seemed to be taunting me into telling him to stop. Or goading me into not asking at all as his hand rested against the flat plain of my stomach and then drifted, lightly, lower until he was brushing my thigh. I could feel a familiar pit of excitement swirling inside me, spiralling heat from my core, something I hadn’t felt in a long while. “Something very silky...,” he murmured. I felt his foot rub against mine and he flicked an eyebrow again. “Oh, you took off your socks. Good girl.”

He didn’t move his hand and I didn’t push it away and Gage most certainly took that as a signal as he leaned in to kiss me, his lips softly against mine. The taste of him now slightly bitter, swirled with the memory of the kiss we’d shared last night. I liked him, it was clear. I liked him a lot. Some parts of me liked him a great deal. I could feel a very definite part of him announcing he was very pleased to see me, as he manoeuvred himself on top of me, and I couldn’t help the groan that ebbed from me as I slipped my arms around him and let him press himself against me as I ran my hands down the thick muscular cords of his back. He smelled of grass and pine, earthy, natural things and I inhaled a deep, intoxicating, lungful.

But it was just too soon.

I broke away with a firm push against his chest.

Gage looked down at me, leaning on his elbows so his chest was barely lifted off mine, not with reproach or hurt, but just a calm appraisal. I hoped I didn’t have a bad case of bed head. “I can wait,” he said, his body telling a different story. “I have time.”

“Okay,” I replied slowly, because I didn’t want him to think I was asking anything of him or giving him the great never, ever rebuttal. Truthfully, I was fighting arousal, fighting what my body was calling for, struggling against the voice of reason.

He smiled then slid off me and out of bed, leaving a cold pocket of air between me and the sheets. I was trying to ease into a sitting up position, pulling the covers with me but they wouldn’t give until he got up, releasing them so I got them all in a swoosh that nearly knocked me on my back.

With his back turned I could see he was wearing black shorts, very form fitting which made me bite my lip, and after a brief moment of disappointment – I was human, after all, well, sort of – came relief. He pulled on his jeans and I saw his hands work at the buttons on his shirt. I forced myself to be glad. If he’d turned around, if he’d pressed the point, I might have changed my mind and I couldn’t decide how I felt about that.

“I’ll let myself out,” he said, padding out of my room. I heard his footsteps grow further away then the front door opened and closed gently. A minute or two later and his car engine started up and I guessed he was reversing across the street to his own drive.

I sat, staring at the wall, feeling dizzy. After looking at the clock and seeing how early it was – I just couldn’t get out of the habit of waking early – I hunkered down for another hour and slept peacefully alone. It wasn’t until later, when I was looking thoughtfully at the indentation Gage’s head had left in the pillow next to mine, that I realised that I’d had another nightmare free night.

I ate a very late breakfast in the kitchen – cereal with a big, healthy glass of milk – and the radio turned on to a local station. The annoyingly cheerful host made my head pound. When I heard a shuffling and scraping noise outside, I got up, pulled my cardigan around me, belted it and went to explore. I already knew it was unlikely to be animals rooting through the trash.

“What are you doing?” I asked when I stepped outside the front door, my eyes blinking from the cold glare of the sun high in the cloudless sky. Gage was stood on my porch in jeans, stained with old paint, and a tee, a big swatch of sandpaper in one hand. There was a pile of things on the porch; big tins of paint, brushes and roller trays. He’d laid drop cloths across the porch already to catch any spills.

Gage held up the paintbrush. “Painting your house,” he said, like I hadn’t guessed.

“Why?” I asked, trying not to be awkward because he clearly wasn’t, even though we’d spent the night together. I gulped. Not doing anything, I reminded myself.

“You kept your side of the bet.”

“But you won!” I protested. “The loser is supposed to... lose.”

“I know.”

“You need to get a grasp of the rules, you know.”

“Maybe.”

“You don’t have to do this.”

“I know that too.”

“So ... why are you?”

“Because we’re neighbours and that’s what neighbours do.” Gage turned back to the house and crouched on his heels, turning his attention back to the boards under the window where the paint was flaking the worst.