Highlander’s Curse (7 page)

Abby herself stepped out into the night, her figure in sharp relief against the light shining through the opening. She hovered around a massive wooden box that sat just outside her door, moving quickly from one corner to the next, leaving little flickering lights wavering in her wake.

Candles?
It made no sense to him why she’d be needing the poor illumination of the wax pillars when she had access to that fine, bright light shining through her door.

All thoughts of candles fled a moment later, replaced with visions of witchery when she lifted the lid on the great box and clouds of smoke billowed out into the night. Short-lived visions, since her next move robbed him of his ability to think at all, leaving him grateful he was already on his knees.

The fluffy robe she wore opened and fell back, pooling at her feet as if in worship, just as he might have if he were at her side. Under the robe she wore nothing. Or, more accurately, next to nothing. Two brightly colored strips of cloth, hardly enough to cover her most intimate parts.

She paused, looking out over the yard before tilting her head to the side as if she listened for something. Apparently satisfied, she reached inside the door and, with the flip of a switch, the lights went out, leaving her barely visible as she climbed up what looked to be a small ladder before descending into the candle-ringed box.

Though the incident had lasted only seconds, the image was forever imprinted in his mind of Abby standing there, bereft of clothing, snow drifting down around her. It took no effort to imagine the icy flakes coming to rest on her soft skin, melting together to form droplets that would roll down the heated curves and valleys he’d witnessed only moments before.

He wiped a hand over his mouth and onto his chin, more undecided than ever as to how he should proceed. Surely this was some intimate ritual he had no right to interrupt and yet he needed more.

Slowly, he lowered his barriers, allowing the magic to flood his senses. He flinched, his breath catching in his chest as the pain of hundreds of souls cried out their need all around him. Meticulously, he filtered through them, blocking them in great swaths until all that was left was Abby.

Pure and golden, her aura surrounded her, its ragged edges revealing she’d not yet bonded with her Soulmate. The relief he felt was short-lived.

“What do you think yer doing?”

Mairi’s hoarse whisper unnerved him. Intently focused on Abby’s aura, he’d completely missed her approach.

“They’ve a name for this,” she hissed over his shoulder and into his ear. “Peeping Tom is what they’d
call you. And they’d arrest you for it and haul yer arse off to jail. And wouldn’t we be in a fine mess then, trying to explain who you were and where you came from? Come on with you now.”

Reluctantly, he allowed his cousin to lead him away, back down the alleyway and to her automobile, neither of them speaking again until they were seated and she’d started the engine.

“When you said you’d a need to see that woman again, I thought you meant you wanted to speak with her.” There was no missing the accusation in his cousin’s voice.

He’d thought so, too. Had, in fact, had every intention of doing just that. But he’d been wrong. As it turned out, he’d needed only to see her again, to simply reassure himself, after all the dreams, that she was real. Having seen her with his own eyes, he could leave for Wyddecol, satisfied that one day soon they would meet again.

Abby sipped from her glass before sinking down into the relaxing bubbles of the hot tub. This one feature more than any other had convinced her to come up with the extra cash to rent this place last year. Steamy wisps danced up to meet the falling snow, carrying her frustrations with them.

Maybe half an hour in here and a large glass of wine would relax her enough that she might actually get some sleep tonight. Peaceful sleep, uninterrupted by dreams. Or at the very least, uninterrupted by dreams of
him
.

The thought of her mysterious Highlander had her upending the goblet.

What was it about that man? As if it wasn’t bad enough she’d dragged him home with her in the first place, now her subconscious tormented her with visions of him, serving him up in one dream after another, night after night. It had gotten so bad, in fact, she was beginning to expect him to actually show up again.

Expect or hope?

Hope was more like it. Just tonight she could have sworn she’d felt him somewhere nearby. Too bad her weird ability to find things didn’t extend to people.

She lifted the glass to her lips again, only to realize she’d already emptied it.

“Damn.”

Just as well. It was already late and she needed to be at the museum early in the morning to start work on organizing the new Celtic exhibit she hoped to have up and running before she left for her summer on the dig. With barely over three months left to prepare, she hadn’t the time or the energy to waste on anything that wasn’t absolutely essential.

The exhibit this month, meeting with the organizer of the dig next month, and then training her replacement—those were her priorities. She had a million things to do before she was ready to board that plane to Scotland.

A million things, none of which included wasting time on some schoolgirl crush, moping over a gorgeous Highlander who’d walked out of her life as quickly as he’d entered, all without so much as a backward glance.

The next three months couldn’t be busy enough to suit her. The more hectic, the better. Because busy and hectic would surely push Colin MacAlister completely out of her thoughts.

D
ENVER
M
AY
P
RESENT
D
AY

N
ow
this
was the way an evening with a potential Mr. Perfect should go. An elegant dinner in an exclusive dining establishment with a handsome, attentive man sitting across the table. A perfect evening with a perfect man. This was so much better than dragging some stranger home in a fit of drunken amnesia.

Not that this particular man was in the running for The One.

Abby set her crystal goblet back on the table without so much as a taste and smiled briefly at the perfectly handsome man in question before darting her gaze away and around the stylish restaurant. She found herself unable to meet his intense green stare for more than a second or two without the butterflies in her stomach gearing up for their Riverdance impression.

“Is the wine not to your liking?”

“No, it’s lovely, Mr. Flynn, thank you.” She hurriedly caught up her glass again and sipped, trying to back up her false claim with another smile.

Her new boss was likely paying through the nose for the bottle nestled in ice, if the waiter’s reaction to his ordering it was any measure of cost. Certainly it wasn’t Jonathan Flynn’s fault that her tastes tended more toward bottled hops than grapes.

“Jonathan,” he corrected with a smile. “No need for such formality between us, my dear.”

“Jonathan,” she murmured around another bitter sip.

Maybe he didn’t see a need for any kind of formality, but Abby wasn’t so sure.

From the long white limo that had arrived to pick her up tonight to the exquisite rose Jonathan had handed her when he’d introduced himself, the whole evening felt about as far from a work-related experience as she could imagine. It felt, in fact, much more like a first date than a meet-and-greet with her new boss.

An incredibly uncomfortable first date, at that.

“That’s better. After all, we’ll practically be living together in another month.” He flashed a brilliant smile in her direction just as their appetizer arrived.

“Mushrooms stuffed with crabmeat, lightly sprinkled with aged Romano cheese,” their waiter intoned, as if announcing that the president had just entered the room.

Wonderful. Two of Abby’s least favorite foods on the face of the planet, paired for her dining pleasure. There wasn’t enough aged Romano in the entire world to cover that up.

She picked at the food on her plate, washing each bite down with a tiny sip of the wine.

“I never miss an opportunity to visit this restaurant when I’m in Denver.” Jonathan broke the silence that had filled the space between them. “The only thing better than this appetizer is the entrée I’ve arranged. I trust you’re not displeased with my having ordered for both of us? I simply wanted to share my favorites with you.”

“No, it’s fine. Everything’s lovely. Thank you.” Very upscale. Very classy. Definitely an evening fit for the Perfect Date category if she’d ever seen one. Even though it wasn’t a date.

“Good. I take it everything is in order for your departure next week?”

“Absolutely.” This was a topic of discussion she’d have no trouble warming to. “I can hardly wait. I am so excited about the opportunity you’ve given me to be a part of this dig. It’s like a dream come true. I’m really looking forward to meeting the rest of the group.”

“I have no doubt you’ll be a valuable part our team, Abigail. Ah! Here’s our entrée.”

The waiter returned, sweeping plates off a rolling cart and onto their table, once again announcing their food like an honored guest. “Kobe tenderloins on a bed of truffle-laced mashed potatoes, ringed with beluga caviar. Cooked to a perfect one hundred and twenty degrees, just as you requested, Mr. Flynn.”

Abby forced a small smile as the plate came to rest in front of her. She might not be a gourmet herself, but she didn’t need to be to know that the meat on that plate was what she’d consider raw. One cut confirmed her suspicion as bright red stained the potatoes under the steak.

Visions of the cereal she’d be having later tonight
danced in her head with appealing clarity as she forced down her first small bite.

“I wonder, Abigail, would you mind satisfying a point of curiosity for me?” Jonathan smiled again, reaching across the table to brush his fingers across the back of her hand, his touch soft and smooth against her skin.

“If I can.” At least it would keep her from having to take another bite for a little while.

“One of the professors who submitted a letter of recommendation for you to join our team, a Dr. Oldham, indicated that you had an uncanny ability to find whatever you searched for.
Magical
was the word he used, if I remember correctly. Could you tell me more about that?”

Magical? Maybe so. That was what her dad had always said, too. All she knew was that when she searched for any object her mind just sort of connected with it, as if the item spoke to her. No way was she saying something as crazy as that out loud, though. Jonathan Flynn still had a week to cut her from the dig team and she wasn’t taking any chances by making him think he might have chosen some sort of crazy woman for his project.

“Dr. Oldham exaggerated, I’m afraid. Yes, I did have an exceptionally high percentage of finds when I interned under him, but honestly, that was only because I worked very hard and I put in a lot of time. There’s not much magic to that.”

“As you say, perhaps not.”

Jonathan’s eyebrow rose and then that smile returned, an expression that sent a shiver up Abby’s neck. Not a smile, she realized, but a mask of a smile, not once reaching his eyes. Silence reigned once again, stretching out as she toyed with her food, moving small bits around
on her plate. Perhaps it was that uncomfortable lack of conversation between them that sent the frisson of heat dancing over her skin, setting all the hair on her arms to stand on end.

That or guilt over not eating what had to be an amazingly expensive dinner. Even now she fought an intense urge to take another bite, as if her mind tried to force her into doing something her mouth definitely did not want.

She laid her fork across her plate and grasped her water glass, surprised to see how her hand trembled in response to what had to be nothing more than nerves.

“Would you be terribly disappointed if we skipped dessert?”

Abby jerked her eyes from her hand to meet Jonathan’s gaze at his question.

“Not at all.” At the rate this meal was going, she had little desire to see what the officious waiter might deliver to their table next.

“My schedule is rather more hectic for this visit than I would have liked. If it’s acceptable to you, I’ll have my driver see you home.”

“Oh, absolutely. Of course.” The guy was a zillionaire or something. It only made sense he had more business in town than just having dinner with her. “I appreciate your making time for us to meet.”