JAKrentz - Witchcraft (6 page)

For Pete's sake, come back here." He didn't bother to answer. The golden afterglow of the fire flickered on the sleek planes of his bare back as he bent over briefly to shove his feet into the boots. And then he was at the door, slipping off the chain. "Don't move," he ordered once again as he stepped cautiously outside. He shut the door softly behind himself. "
Cavenaugh
, wait!" She was appealing to an e
mpty
room.

Angrily Kimberly sat up on the chilly floor, hugging her bare knees to her chest as she stared at the door. For what seemed an unbearably long time she continued to sit where she was, visions of the
cowled
figure holding the knife repeating themselves endlessly in her head. Suddenly, startlingly aware of her own near nudity as the icy vinyl finally made its presence known against her backside, she started to get to her feet.

Halfway up she remembered
Cavenaugh's
injunction to stay where she was.

Astonished that she had allowed the force of his command to keep her there on the floor for even a few seconds, Kimberly stood up completely and peered cautiously out the kitchen window. She could see nothing, and the thought that
Cavenaugh
was out there somewhere, facing who knew what on her behalf, finally jolted her into action. Turning away from the window, Kimberly started toward the hall to her bedroom. She needed to find her jeans and some shoes and a shirt before following her guest out into the stormy night. She was nearly across the room when the door opened again and
Cavenaugh
stepped back inside. Whirling, she halted to demand anxiously, "Are you all right? I was terrified!" He stood staring at her, eyes deep and unreadable in the dim glow of the firelight. The rain had dampened his shoulders and hair and the jeans rode low on his hips. Kimberly saw the glistening drops of moisture caught in the curling dark hair on his chest and was violently aware of the lingering hint of anger emanating from him. "I told you to stay down on the floor."
Cavenaugh
fastened the catch on the door and then started toward her. "I decided sitting on a cold vinyl floor wasn't doing anyone much good," Kimberly retorted, injecting a measure of irritation into her words. She found herself increasingly uneasy now and the sense of anxiety wasn't caused by what she had just seen through the window. "You didn't answer my question. I take it you're all right?"

"I'm fine." He stopped beside the couch and pried off his wet boots. "Got a towel? I'm soaked."

"Of course." Grateful for the small diversion, Kimberly reached into the hall closet nearby and yanked down a towel. She stepped forward to hand it to him and then remembered the short T-shirt she was wearing. "Here," she said quickly, tossing him the towel. "I'll go find my robe." She hurried to her bedroom door.

"Did you see anything out there?" Opening the closet she pulled out the red terrycloth robe. "No, I couldn't find a trace of anything or anyone.

Hardly surprising with this rain and wind." His voice came from her bedroom doorway. Startled that he had followed her down the hall, Kimberly fumbled with the robe. The darkness wasn't providing much privacy. She knew the pale length of her legs must be quite visible beneath the incredibly short hem of the T-shirt.
Cavenaugh
stood watching her as though he had a right, idly drying his hair and the back of his neck. "Perhaps in the morning we'll be able to find some signs," she suggested hesitantly, wondering why it was proving so difficult to get into the robe. Her fingers didn't seem to want to function properly. Although she had been quite chilled a few minutes ago her whole body now seemed unnaturally warm. "I doubt it." He didn't move from her doorway and the vividness of his gaze seemed to burn over her.

"Who owned that T-shirt originally?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"I just wondered what man left that T-shirt behind for YOU to wear to bed. Will he be coming back to collect it or you in the near future?" Kimberly felt herself flushing and was glad he couldn't See the change in her skin color here in the darkness. Distractedly she managed to knot the red robe around her waist. "I always sleep in T-shirts. I buy them myself in packages of three. No one left it behind. Now, if you've finished commenting on my lingerie, I suggest we go back to the living room and talk over this situation." He didn't move. Kimberly drew in a deep breath and decided on a firmly aggressive approach. She walked straight toward the door, giving every indication that she fully expected him to step aside. When he didn't, she was forced to halt a foot away. "Excuse me," she said very politely. "You seem to be blocking the door."
Cavenaugh
slowly lowered the hand holding the towel.

"Why didn't you stay on the floor in the kitchen?"

"Because the floor was damn cold!" she exploded. "And because I didn't know what you were doing outside. I was worried,
Cavenaugh
. I've had something of a shock this evening." He searched her face in the darkness, his own gaze brooding and watchful. "Pardon me,
Cavenaugh
, but you really are in the way." She put out a palm, flattened it boldly against his chest and shoved with all her strength. The situation was slipping out of control, and she was woman enough to know it. She might as well have been pushing against a granite wall for all the good it did. Realizing belatedly that the forceful approach wasn't going to have much effect, Kimberly hastily tried to pull back her hand. She didn't move quickly enough; he managed to snag her wrist. "You realize, of course, that what happened tonight clinches tomorrow's plans." He didn't move, just stood there chaining her wrist. "You're coming back to the estate with me in the morning." Kimberly swallowed, violently aware of his strength and the absolute certainty with which he spoke. Her need to rebel was more of an instinct than a reasoned act. After all, she had been literally terrified tonight. Staying alone here in this house was about the last thing she wanted to do at the moment. But giving in to Darius
Cavenaugh
seemed almost as dangerous. "I make my own decisions,
Cavenaugh
. Don't ever forget that," she asserted, lifting her chin defiantly. "I've been doing it a long time and I'm quite good at it."

"From now on," he grated softly as he pulled her closer, "you're going to get used to having a little help in the decision-making department. I'm responsible for you because of what you did for Scott two months ago. I have every intention of carrying out my duty."

"I'm sure you do. You're the kind of man who would always do what was expected of him, aren't you? And you're accustomed to being in charge of other people. But I don't expect you to protect me,
Cavenaugh
, and I most certainly don't intend to take orders from you. I'll handle this in my own way." She was trembling now and not just from anger.
Cavenaugh
was too close, too big, too overwhelming dressed in nothing but a pair of jeans. Her earlier fears of the robed figure holding the dagger were being swamped with a new and altogether different type of trepidation. "Don't be afraid of me, Kim," he said quietly. She narrowed her eyes, angry that he had perceived her new nervousness. "If you don't want to frighten me any more than I've already been frightened this evening, I suggest you release my hand," she ordered coolly. "I might be more willing to do that if I hadn't seen you running around in the firelight dressed in that skimpy little T-shirt,"
Cavenaugh
told her in a husky voice as he dragged her half an inch closer. "And if I hadn't felt you lying half-naked under me Out there on the floor. And if I hadn't just gone hunting for that bastard with the knife." He tugged her another half inch toward him. "Or if I hadn't been wondering off and on for two months what it would be like to take you to bed-"

"No!" But her protest was a breathless squeak of denial that held no real power. Mesmerized by the Sensual tension crackling in the air around them, she found herself crushed against his bare chest, her fingers splayed wildly on his shoulders. "Come here, witch,"
Cavenaugh
growled softly as he lowered his head to find her mouth. "Let's find out just how strong your spells are." Kimberly had an impression of emeralds that gleamed with a thoroughly dangerous fire and then her own eyes closed beneath the impact of
Cavenaugh's
mouth.

The kiss was not a gentle, tasting caress. Her lips were captured and parted; her inner warmth exploded with a hunger that astounded her. As his hands slid down her back, sensing the shape of her through the robe, Kimberly felt a tantalizing heat flare to life in her body. She had been honest with herself earlier this evening when she'd privately admitted the effect his politely controlled desire had on her. She would be less than honest with herself now if she tried to deny that
Cavenaugh's
unleashed passion was devastating. She heard the soft, feral groan deep in his throat and her pulse raced. His mouth was warm and marauding, unbelievably exciting. Kimberly cried out with stifled regret when he finally freed her lips. But almost immediately he was searching out the delicate skin of her throat and his hands slipped around her waist to find the sash of the red robe. "Do you have any idea what you look like in that T-shirt?"
Cavenaugh
demanded hoarsely as he untwisted the knot of the sash. "What you felt like out there on the floor?"

"I felt cold," she tried to say, struggling for some self-control. "You felt soft and warm and silky. Not cold at all. And you feel even warmer now. I knew it was going to be like this. For two months I've known-"

"
Cavenaugh
, wait," she managed on a thread of sound and then she caught her breath as his hands moved inside the parted edges of the robe. "Why should I wait? You want this as much as I do."

The classic male reason provoked her as nothing else could have done.

Kimberly slapped at his hand, trying to step away from his compelling touch. "No, I'm not at all sure I want it. Everything's happening much too fast. I've been through a great deal this evening. I want time to think."

"If I give you time to think, you'll come up with a thousand reasons why you shouldn't get involved with me." Kimberly gasped, both at the accuracy of his muttered analysis and at the feel of his palm as he pushed his hand up under the T-shirt to find her breast. "Ah,
Cavenaugh
, please ... " But the words were on a fine line between surrender and resistance and she knew instinctively that he realized it.

Dimly she tried to tell herself that her strong physical reaction to this man was the result of the scare she'd had. Heaven knew she'd used that rationale often enough to introduce a sex scene in her novels.

After a scene of action or violence adrenaline and excitement were flooding the nervous systems of her characters. It seemed natural to channel it into sex on occasion. But only within the confines of a book, she thought frantically. Surely that sort of thing didn't happen in real life! But how else could she explain her explosive reaction to
Cavenaugh's
touch? And then the electricity was restored without any warning.
Cavenaugh
lifted his head abruptly as lights blazed around him. Kimberly saw the flash of impatience and irritation in his gaze.

"You must have had every light in the house on before you lost the electricity," he complained brusquely. "Another advantage to living alone," Kimberly tossed back a little breathlessly. "There's no one around to lecture me about my electricity bills. Or anything else." But the mood had been broken and they both knew it. Reluctantly,
Cavenaugh
let her slide from his grasp, the emerald fire of his eyes lingering on her flushed face. Kimberly busied herself retying the sash of the robe.

He studied her trembling fingers and understood how shaken she was. A after hesitating a moment he decided to give her the out she needed. If he didn't, matters were going to be a lot more difficult in the morning.

"I shouldn't have assaulted you like that," he told her quietly. "Hell, I was supposed to be the one protecting you, wasn't I?"

"These things happen," she surprised him by saying in a very distant tone. "Do they?"

He controlled the flicker of amusement her words caused. "Oh, yes. I use this sort of scenario all the time in my books. Scenes of action often precipitate scenes of ... of ... "

"Passion?"

"Exactly. All that pent-up adrenaline and stuff. Very useful. I just hadn't realized it worked that way in real life, too." Her smile was rather forced but it was there as she faced him with casual challenge.
Cavenaugh
felt a little stunned. "You've already got the whole thing neatly rationalized, haven't you?" "As I said, it was just one of those things.

Chalk it up to an odd quirk in human nature." He struggled to restrain himself from taking hold of her and tossing her down on the bed.

Cavenaugh
was astonished at the force of the urge he felt to do exactly that. He'd show her the difference between one of her books and real life! Almost immediately, he realized the stupidity of that course of action. He had other, more immediate goals to work toward, he reminded himself grimly. After all, the most important matter at hand was to get her into the car without opposition in the morning. Humoring her now might make that task simpler. He smiled crookedly. "I'll accept your analysis of the situation. From my point of view, I can truly apologize for my actions. I appreciate your understanding." There was an odd look of relief in her eyes as if she knew she had just come perilously close to an infinitely dangerous confrontation. A confrontation with herself or with him,
Cavenaugh
wondered fleetingly. "Yes1 well, it's been a hectic evening, hasn't it?" she remarked condescendingly.
Cavenaugh
wanted to shake her. He'd like to show her just how "hectic" he could make her neat, self-contained world. Instead he said politely, "Yes, it has. I think I'll recheck all your locks before I go back to bed. And it might be a good idea if you left the door of your bedroom open."