Jinx (18 page)

Devlin Dash trailed into the room behind her. He wore a classic tuxedo just like Grandfather, although he kept tugging at his tie as if it was strangling him. The gleam from his round glasses made it look like there were two silver coins where his eyes should be.

“Grace,” Bobby said, kissing her hand. “You are truly a vision.”

Grace’s eyes slid down my grandfather’s body in a frank, rather hungry way that startled me. “So are you, Bobby.”

He leaned in and whispered something in her ear. Grace giggled in response. I looked at Devlin, who kept yanking at his tie. He avoided my eyes. Bobby cooed more sweet nothings into Grace’s eager ear.

“Ahem.”

I cleared my throat, reminding them that there were other people in the room. I didn’t want a repeat of yesterday’s couch incident. That image, unfortunately, would be seared into my brain for many,
many
days to come.

“Hello, Bella,” Grace said. “You look wonderful tonight.”

“Grace. So do you. It’s so nice to see you again.” I wanted to add
wearing clothes
, but decided not to.

“And of course you know my grandson, Devlin,” Grace said, stepping aside.

Devlin held out his hand, which I took. He started to raise it to his lips for a chaste kiss but decided against it in midflight. Devlin settled for covering my hand with his other one and squeezing it. His fingers bit into my skin, and I winced at his firm grip.

“Oh! Sorry,” Devlin said in a sheepish tone. He dropped my hand as if it had burned him. “I don’t know my own strength sometimes.”

I grimaced and tried not to wring out my hand in front of him. I wouldn’t have thought he’d have such a strong grip. Devlin didn’t strike me as the athletic type. Strange. Very strange.

I didn’t have time to wonder at Devlin’s sudden show of machismo. Bobby offered Grace his arm and escorted her into the dining room. Devlin did the same for me.

“You look lovely, Bella,” he said in a low voice. “That color really suits you.”

“Thank you, Devlin. You look very handsome as well.”

He surprised me again by not stuttering or stammering. For a change. And then there was the fact he complimented me at all. I’d never known Devlin to pay too much attention to women or what they were wearing. Or for women to pay much attention to him. Most of the ladies on the society circuit fawned and drooled over the suave playboys. Devlin wasn’t one of them. Oh, he was handsome enough in his own right, but he didn’t have the polish of a Sam Sloane or Nate Norris, or the obscene wealth of a Berkley Brighton. In Bigtime, there was rich and handsome, and then there was superrich and superhandsome. Devlin fell into the first two categories.

We entered the dining room, and Devlin pulled out my chair. I flashed back to my time with Debonair and how he’d done the exact same thing. I sat down on the seat.

And then, Devlin shoved me into the table.

It wasn’t completely his fault. My luck decided to pulse at that exact moment, and the chair slid forward a foot more than it should have, pinning me against the table. The heavy wood dug into my breasts, knocking the air out of my lungs.

“Oh! Sorry!” Devlin said.

I scooted my chair back so I could actually breathe. “Don’t worry about it,” I wheezed.

Devlin sat across from me, his cheeks red from his latest social fiasco. Grace settled in a chair next to him, while Bobby took the one beside me.

Bobby wanted to impress Grace, so he’d had dinner catered in from Quicke’s. Several elegant warming platters perched on the table, along with candles encased in hurricane lanterns and a cornucopia stuffed full of fresh fruit and fall leaves.

Bobby removed the tops from the dishes, and I stared at the exposed food in alarm. Chicken Marsala topped with a boat-load of Parmesan cheese, toasted garlic bread, a Caesar salad, fried eggplant and zucchini, broiled tomatoes, three bottles of red wine, and an angel food cake topped with strawberries and chocolate frosting. It was a heart attack waiting to happen, especially for Bobby.

“Grandfather,” I said in a warning tone. “You know what the doctor says about your cholesterol and blood pressure. They’re both far too high for you to eat like this.”

“Bah! Doctors, what do they know?” Bobby waved his hand. “Besides, we’re having guests tonight, Bella. We must make a good impression on them.”

Guests
. My grandfather used this same excuse whenever we had company, no matter who it was. He’d once served the cable guy a three-course meal just for installing a new soccer channel. The next day, when the plumber came, he’d gotten similar treatment. The gardener, the pool guy, the electrician. Every time the doorbell rang, Bobby was waiting with food for everyone—and a substantial serving set aside for himself. Grandfather even insisted that Fiona was still company. He knew it was the only way he could get away with eating all the things he wanted to—none of which were good for him.

I was tempted to use my power to make Bobby drop his fork or even his plate on the floor, but I didn’t want to embarrass him in front of Grace and Devlin. Besides, whenever I tried to use my power like that, I always ended up with egg on my face—literally. So I resisted the urge. But just barely.

Bobby clapped his hands together. “Come! Let’s eat before it gets cold!”

We dug in to the hearty spread. Everything was just as wonderful as it looked. The chicken was fork-tender, the bread seasoned just so, and every bite of the cake was a little bit of heaven in my mouth. I’d have to spend two hours on the elliptical trainer tomorrow to burn off all the fat and calories, but it was worth a little sin tonight. I thought of Debonair. He would have approved of all this. Reveled in it.

Dinner was quite pleasant, especially since I didn’t have to worry about floating wineglasses or other superpowered displays. Grace was as witty and charming as ever, in addition to being a good sport. She responded to my grandfather’s bawdy jokes with some of her own that were even more risqué. Maybe there was a little bit of steel underneath that soft, flowery façade after all.

Devlin stayed quiet for most of the meal, as was his way, I supposed. I tried to engage him in conversation a couple of times, asking about DCQ, his business. He answered my questions in monosyllables and stared at the half-eaten food on his plate. Every once in a while, I thought I saw him sneaking glances at me, but I couldn’t be sure. Besides, it wasn’t like there were a lot of people around the table to look at.

An hour later, we pushed back our chairs. Grace tucked her arm into Bobby’s and whispered something into his ear. It might have been a trick of the light, but I thought my grandfather blushed. And he never did that. If one of them blushed, it should have been Grace. She was the sweet old lady in the relationship. My grandfather was the former hellion.

“If you’ll excuse us, children, I’m going to take Grace on a tour of the house,” Bobby said. “We’ll be back in ten—”

Grace put her heel into his instep.

“Make that twenty minutes,” Bobby corrected. “Give or take a few. These old bones aren’t quite as quick as they used to be. Arthritis, you know.”

I narrowed my eyes. My grandfather hadn’t looked like he was suffering from arthritis yesterday.

Grace gave me an angelic smile, as though she hadn’t just crushed my grandfather’s foot—and wasn’t about to give him a coronary episode with her sexual skills. Maybe the older woman had a little more hellion in her than I’d given her credit for. Maybe a lot more.

The two of them moved down the hall and rounded a corner. A second later, feet pounded away, as though they were running. Probably racing toward Bobby’s bedroom, I thought in a petulant mood. At least someone was going to get lucky tonight. I’d been hoping Debonair would
pop!
into the house again today, but I hadn’t seen—or smelled—the sexy thief.

“They’re quite a pair, aren’t they?” Devlin murmured.

“Yes, they are.”

“It’s good to see Grams so happy.”

“Grams?” I asked.

“It’s my nickname for her.”

“The two of you seem very close.”

Devlin nodded. “My parents died in a boating accident when I was a kid. Grams took me in and raised me.”

I reached over and squeezed his hand. “That must have been rough. My mother died when I was a child too. But I still had my father and grandfather, although my dad passed away earlier this year.”

The pain of my mother’s loss was a familiar, small, dull ache. But it hurt to think about my father. I was still so angry with him for leaving us. For trying to be a hero. For putting that before everything else, including his family.

“I remember,” Devlin said. “I came to the funeral.”

“Did you? I’m sorry, but I don’t really remember that day.”

It had passed in a painful, hazy blur of tears and sobs and sniffles.

“You never called me after that,” he said in a soft voice.

“Excuse me?”

“You never called me, after the funeral.”

I frowned, confused. “Was I supposed to?”

Devlin tugged at his tie. “We went to dinner a couple of days before your father died. You, um, said you’d call me later in the week.”

And I remembered. We’d been finishing up the details of an art auction we’d chaired together, and we’d gone to Quicke’s for dinner afterward. From what I remembered, the evening had been nice enough—until my cell phone rang. My dinner with Devlin hadn’t been a couple of days before my father had died—it had been the night he’d died. The night he’d been murdered.

I’d been out with Devlin when Grandfather called, worried he couldn’t find my father anywhere. For weeks after that, I’d beaten myself up—thinking I should have stayed home. Thinking I might have somehow saved my father or at least kept him from going out as Johnny Angel. That maybe even my luck would have kicked in and spared him.

“I’m so sorry,” I said. “I completely forgot with everything that happened.”

“Forget it,” Devlin said. “It was silly of me to bring it up now.”

We stood there, not quite looking at each other. I glanced at the angel-shaped clock on the wall. We had another seventeen minutes before Grandfather and Grace were supposed to come back from their rendezvous. What were we supposed to talk about until then? Even though we’d had dinner together, I barely knew Devlin. And why would he remind me now that I was supposed to have called him months ago? That was just weird.

Thankfully, the businessman broke the silence.

“Actually, I wanted to give you this before I forgot.” Devlin pulled a check out of the inside of his tuxedo. “Since the one at the benefit fell to pieces.”

I took the piece of paper from him. Our fingers brushed, and a certain sort of warmth traveled up my fingertips that had nothing to do with static electricity or bad luck. At least, I didn’t think it did. I couldn’t be attracted to Devlin Dash, could I? Uncomfortable, I turned my gaze to the check, which had several zeroes on it.

My eyes locked on the signature. I froze, afraid my eyes were playing tricks on me. But they weren’t. Because no matter how many times I blinked, no matter how hard I squinted, it was still there. A big D with an illegible scrawl trailing along behind it. I’d seen that signature only once before. On a drawing I had smoothed out on the desk in my room.

The drawing I’d done of Debonair.

Debonair.

Who was really Devlin Dash.

21

I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t even form a coherent thought. I stared at the check, my eyes not really seeing it anymore.

“Is something wrong?” Devlin asked in a concerned tone. “You look pale. Do you need to sit down?”

“No, no, I’m fine,” I lied, snapping out of my daze. “I was just a little surprised by the, ah, amount of your donation. It’s very generous.”

Devlin shrugged. “Not really. I’m sure twenty-five thousand dollars is just pocket change compared to what you raised at the benefit.”

“Oh no. Not at all. Besides, the museum will need every penny since it was damaged by that awful ubervillain.”

Devlin fiddled with his glasses. “Of course. I read about that in the papers and saw it on SNN. It truly was a tragedy. I hope the police or the Fearless Five manage to catch the villain who’s responsible quickly.”

He’d done more than just read about it or watch it on TV. He’d been there, right alongside me. I opened my mouth to call him on it, to demand some sort of explanation, when a voice wafted down the hall.

“But why do you have to go
now
? I thought we were having a nice time,” Bobby said in a somewhat petulant tone.

Our grandparents appeared. Some of Grace’s hair had come loose from its sleek do, and Bobby’s tie and shirt looked rumpled. I peered at him. Was that pink lipstick on his collar? My grandfather, the seducer. He was getting as bad as Debonair in his old age.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

Grace held up a small cell phone. “I’m afraid I have an emergency. I need to leave immediately.”

“What sort of emergency?” Devlin asked.

She looked at her grandson. “A family emergency. Kelly’s sick and needs someone to come get her from work.”

“What’s wrong with her?” I asked. “I just saw her on the news this afternoon. She looked fine.”

Kelly Caleb had also called me earlier in the day demanding an exclusive interview, along with the other newshounds. I’d refused them all.

“Nothing serious. Just a case of the flu,” Grace said, her blue eyes not quite meeting mine. “But I want to go make sure she’s okay. I’m a bit of a worrier, especially when it comes to Kelly. The station works her to death, and her immune system isn’t what it should be.”

I didn’t understand why Kelly couldn’t just have a cab take her home, but Grace’s plea must have meant something to Devlin, because he nodded his head in understanding. The two of them said their goodbyes and left less than a minute later.

“That was really weird,” I said, shaking my head and locking the door behind them. “Did you do something to upset her?”

Bobby gave me an offended look and loosened his tie the rest of the way. “Of course not. We were having a very stimulating evening, if you must know. We were having a wonderful time—until her cell phone rang.”

I thought of Johnny and Fiona. When the two of them were first dating, my brother used to complain about how Fiona’s cell phone would always ring at the worst possible moment. She always had to rush off to her store to take care of some emergency. Of course, there were no emergencies—not at her store anyway. The flimsy excuses had been part of her cover as Fiera, a member of the Fearless Five, and a way for her teammates to contact her if they needed her help.

I wondered if Grace was doing the same thing. Using the phone as a way of swapping supersecret messages for Devlin—or even herself. I knew Devlin was Debonair, but who on earth could Grace Caleb be masquerading as? She didn’t strike me as the superhero type. Then again, neither had Devlin. And if Grace was a superhero, wouldn’t she be upset her grandson was on the other side of the law? Maybe, maybe not. Maybe she was an ubervillain herself. Or maybe she just didn’t know he was really Debonair. There were just too many
maybes
right now.

I pushed those thoughts away and concentrated on my current crisis. “I’m actually glad they’re gone.”

“Why? Don’t you like Grace?” Bobby’s face fell a little more.

“Grace is just fine. But there’s a problem with her grandson. A big one.”

We went into the kitchen. Bobby sat down and listened while I told him my theory about Devlin Debonair Dash. He glanced at the check, then at the drawing I’d retrieved from my room.

“The signature looks the same,” he admitted. “But are you sure, Bella?”

I let out a long breath. “As sure as I can be right now. I’m going to get Carmen and Lulu to help me verify it in the morning.”

“I see.” Bobby gave me a sidelong glace. “You like him, don’t you?”

“What? Of course not.” I crossed my arms over my chest.

“Bah! You think these eyes are too old to see what’s right in front of them. But they’re not. You like this Debonair, don’t you? There’s no shame in it. From what I’ve seen and heard, he’s a handsome fellow. And Devlin seemed nice enough at dinner.”

I never could get anything past my grandfather. So, I nodded. “In a weird way, I do. But things could never work out between us.”

“Why not?”

I looked at him. “You know why. I don’t like superheroes. I’m certainly not going to date one.”

“Ah, Bella. When are you going to get over this dislike, this prejudice of yours? Superheroes and ubervillains are a part of our lives. They always have been, and they always will be. You should be proud to be a part of it, not ashamed.”

If there was one sore subject between my grandfather and me, this was definitely it.

“I’m not ashamed. I’m just tired of it,” I snapped. “Do you know how many nights I would lie awake and wonder if you and Dad were coming home? If I’d get up the next morning and read in the newspaper about how some ubervillains killed Johnny Angel? Do you know what that did to me? To my mother?”

“Being Johnny Angel was something I had to do. Your father understood, and so did your mother,” Bobby said in a defensive tone.

“Why?” I asked, getting defensive myself. “I never understood
why
you had to do it. You didn’t have any powers. You weren’t even a real superhero.”

Grandfather’s face jerked, as though I’d slapped him. “I wasn’t a superhero, no. I couldn’t do fantastic things just by thinking about them. I wasn’t incredible in any way at all. But I was strong and brave and smart, and I helped people.” His green eyes glittered. “And that was the most important thing.”

“More important than keeping yourself safe for your family?” I snapped, hot tears gathering in my eyes.

“Of course I tried to keep myself safe for you. All of you. But helping others was something I had to do. Something I needed to do to be happy with myself. Someday you’ll understand,” Bobby said in a gentle tone.

I turned my face away and didn’t answer. Grandfather rested his hand on my shoulder. I tensed at his touch.

“Someday you will, Bella,” he repeated. “Someday you’ll understand why I did what I did. Why I became Johnny Angel. Your father too.”

I wiped away my tears. I thought I’d cried all that I could after my father died, but the ghost of Johnny Angel just wouldn’t let me be. Not even now.

Grandfather patted my shoulder. “I don’t know about you, but this old man needs his rest. Goodnight, Bella.”

“Goodnight,” I whispered.

Grandfather went off to sneak a cigar he thought I wouldn’t know about, and I slumped over the table. I let myself wallow in my misery and self-pity for a full minute before pulling myself back together.

My eyes flicked around the kitchen. Dirty dishes and plates from dinner covered the countertops. I really should wash them tonight, especially the bowl with the remains of the Chicken Marsala. Otherwise, the stains would never come out. It was busy work, of course, but I needed something to do. Something else to think about besides Debonair and superheroes and my murdered father.

I reached for the closest dish. My power flared, and the plate slid out of my fingers, clattered off the counter, and crashed onto the floor. The dish didn’t break, but pasta and sauce oozed over the tiles, as red as blood against the white floor.

Normally, I would have hurried to clean up the mess before it soaked in. Pasta sauce can be a real bitch to get out. But the more I stared at the red goop, the angrier I became. It was bad enough the men in my family felt the need to parade around in black leather, but why did they have to involve me in their schemes? I’d never asked to be part of a superhero family, and I’d certainly never asked to be cursed with an uncontrollable power, one that aggravated me at every turn.

So what if the pasta stained the damn floor? It wouldn’t be any worse than all the blood I’d washed out of my father’s clothes over the years. At that cheery thought, my power pulsed again, and more plates flew off the countertops, even though I was nowhere near them. Salad, breadsticks, and a carafe of wine joined the Chicken Marsala on the floor.

But I didn’t care. For once in my life, I was going to do what I wanted to. And right now, I didn’t feel like cleaning up.

I left the growing mess on the kitchen floor and headed for my room, determined to take a hot bath and fall into an oblivious sleep. Maybe tomorrow I’d feel more like my clean-freak self. Maybe tomorrow I could pretend everything was all right again—and not falling to pieces around me.

My bathroom branched off my bedroom and was almost as large. It featured a shower, along with a long counter topped with mirrors, and an old-fashioned claw-foot tub resting on four angel-head feet. I didn’t have quite the selection of assorted body oils and exotic bath scents Debonair did, but there was more than enough to meet my needs.

I ran myself a tub full of rose-scented bubbles and sank down into the steaming water. I sighed, long and loud, and rested my head on a folded towel I’d placed on the rim. I was still sore and bruised from my run-in with Hangman, and all the bumps and falls I’d taken in the past week. Not to mention my fight with Grandfather. It was one we’d had many, many times before, but it always left me feeling drained and upset and worn out. I closed my eyes and sank a little farther into the water.

POP!

Debonair appeared on the edge of the bathtub, and I couldn’t stop myself from shrieking. My power flared, and somehow, despite my towel, I banged my head against the side of the porcelain. Pain shot up the back of my skull, and my eyes rattled around in their sockets.

“Bella! Are you all right?” Debonair asked, helping me sit up.

I touched the back of my head. A bump the size of a golf ball had already formed, throbbing with every breath I took. “I’ll be fine. Eventually.”

Debonair’s gaze was on me, hot and warm. I realized he was staring at my breasts, which had been exposed when I’d sat up. I scooted back down into the tub and scooped mounds of bubbles around me. Debonair looked amused by my attempts to hide my nakedness.

“What?” I snapped. “You’d do the same thing if the situation were reversed.”

Debonair picked up a handful of bubbles and blew them off his leather gloves. “Actually, I wouldn’t. I’d be trying to figure out how to get you to join me in the tub.”

I thought of what we could do in the tub together, and it didn’t involve a rubber ducky. Well, not the traditional kind.

“You shouldn’t hide your body, Bella,” he continued. “It’s quite beautiful.”

His words pleased me, but I still slid a little lower into the water. Me being naked anywhere near Debonair was not good. Even being in the same room with him was pushing it.

“You probably think all women are beautiful—even your grandmother.”

“Everyone is beautiful in their own right. But in your case, my interest is a little more devious than it would be in my grandmothers.” His eyes glowed.

I swallowed hard, trying to ignore a sudden surge that rippled through my body. “How is your grandmother, by the way?”

He frowned in confusion. “She’s fine. Why do you ask?”

Because she left in such a hurry
. That’s what I wanted to say, but I didn’t. I didn’t want to confront Debonair about his real identity as Devlin Dash. Not yet. Not until I had more proof from Carmen and Lulu. There was still a small chance I was wrong, and I was too sensible to take the risk.

We sat there in silence. I kept sneaking peaks at Debonair’s face, comparing it to my memory of Devlin’s. It almost certainly had to be him. Same dark hair. Same nice cheekbones. Same straight nose. I couldn’t tell about the eyes, though. Not with Devlin’s thick glasses on his face. Who would have thought glasses would have been that good of a disguise?

“Well, I suppose I should be on my way. I’ll leave you to your bath.” He turned to go.

“Wait!”

I didn’t want him to go. He was a superhero who’d kept his real identity from me, who’d lied to me. I should hate him, but I didn’t. I just . . . couldn’t. No matter how hard I tried to pretend otherwise, I was attracted to Devlin Debonair Dash. More than I’d been attracted to anyone in a long, long time. Even if he was a damn superhero.

Debonair turned to face me. “Did you want something, Bella?”

I want you
. I bit back the words. I didn’t need to get myself in deeper with the handsome thief. But I didn’t want to be sensible tonight. Didn’t want to play it safe or sane. I wanted to be kissed and held and loved, even if it was by a man whose motives I didn’t understand and probably never would.

“No,” I said. “But why are you leaving? You just popped in a minute ago.”

He stared at me. “Because if I don’t go now, I’m going to try to seduce you. And you said before you don’t want that. I might be a cad on occasion, but I try to respect a lady’s wishes. Every now and then, anyway.”

Sure, that’s what I said when I was alone and could think and be sensible about things. I wasn’t so sure that’s what I wanted when I was face-to-face with the most handsome man I’d ever seen—and slept with. So I made a snap decision. One I was probably going to regret in the morning. But I was sure as hell going to enjoy it now. After the day I’d had, I deserved it.

“So seduce me,” I said, rising to my feet. “Who knows? I just might enjoy it.”