Sentinel: A Light Mage Wars Novella (The Light Mage Wars) (6 page)

Caro grimaced.
"No pressure, though."

"
There shouldn't be," he said firmly. "Modesty's all well and good, Sunshine, but the one constant in all the press is that the work itself was great. Remember that."

They walked in silence a few more paces.
"The parking lot's just ahead," he said. "Anything else I can do to help you get ready?"

Caro shook her head.
Tugging him to a halt, she asked, "Why are you helping me with this, Rick? Why do you care?"

"
Because I hate injustice." Meaning that emphatically, he let her feel his intensity in the magic. "You got a trainload of it dumped on you."

"
So you're crusading against injustice?"

"
Sometimes." Like with the "Furthermore" column. His royalties and other backup jobs, bartending and construction, produced far more income, but he held onto the column anyway. It was his only chance to be a voice for mages who lacked cushy connections.

But she couldn
't know that now. In a lighter voice, he added, "Not to mention that you look great across a café table."

She pursed her lips, obviously considering, and he asked,
"Why else would you think I'd be doing it?"

So far, he
hadn't outright lied to her about wanting to do a story on her brother. At least not in so many words. He preferred to keep it that way.

"
I just–" Her free hand clenched into a fist. "I don't want anybody feeling sorry for me, that's all."

"
Feel sorry for you?" He shouldn't be shocked by that, not after what he'd overheard Jerkwad Jerald say, but he couldn't hold back a snort. "I don't feel sorry for you. I have no reason to."

#

Rick's voice rang with surprise that had Caro blinking behind her shades.

Before she could muster a reply, he touched her arm gently
. "I'm guessing you grew up in Wesleyan or Idle Hour, some great neighborhood full of beautiful houses, with successful, loving parents who, based on what I saw at the gallery, either have a strong marriage or deserve acting awards. Good schools, art lessons, nice clothes, fun vacations. Yeah, you have impaired vision, but everybody's got some problem. On the overall ledger, you got a boatload more pluses than minuses."

"
I know that," she said. "My parents made certain we–I–knew that."

"
I'm sure you do." Again he touched her elbow gently. "But you asked. So the answer is definitely no, I don't feel sorry for you."

"
Good. I wouldn't want you to, but I'm used to people seeing the white cane and not looking any farther."

His faint image in her mind nodded.
Before he could change the subject, Caro asked, "Where did you grow up, Rick?"

Now his
emotional walls shot up. Under her fingers, his arm tensed. Quietly, he said, "Birmingham. Alabama. It's not something I talk about a lot."

Caro could read a
n emotional
no trespassing
sign as well as the next person, but those rising walls made her curious. What had his childhood been like, to make him shield it so?

Well, it wasn
't really her business. They had no reason to see each other after her demonstration two days from now. Yet her curiosity about his childhood reminded her she had no idea what he looked like. And she wanted to know that. Very much wanted it.

"
Are you ready to walk on?" he asked.

"
Almost." Putting herself out there was tough. This might be her only chance, though. "Rick, we've spent a good bit of time together, but I don't know what you look like. May I touch your face?"

Surprise leaked through his barriers.
After a moment, cautiously, he said, "Okay."

He
turned to her. Caro slid her hands up his arms–muscular, solid arms covered by blue Oxford cloth, the sleeves rolled up on his forearms–across his broad, straight shoulders and then up the sides of his neck. Rick stood like a statue, but his vibe in the magic subtly warmed. Her breath hitched.

Cupping his cheeks in her palms, she brushed
rough stubble. Like Will, Rick must see shaving as optional.

She longed to caress his face
, but that would send a message she wasn't sure she wanted to.

Instead, Caro
made her fingers keep moving, examining his features and building a map in her mind. Golden-brown beard shadow on lean, tanned cheeks. Firm jaw. Wide brow under short bangs the pale brown of vanilla caramel laced with gold. At his temples, his hair was thick. Soft.

Her fingers wanted to explore, even caress, but that was
too personal, and certainly not smart. "How long is your hair?" she asked, feeling slightly breathless.

"
Check for yourself."

Low and warm, that
aged whiskey voice made her fidgety, even eager. Caro slid her hands into his hair. It brushed the tops of his ears on the sides and touched his collar in back.

A tiny shiver rippled through his frame.
He set his hands at her waist.

Caro
's heart beat faster. Touching him felt right, no matter how stupid her common sense screamed that this was.

Gently, she traced his eyebrows–darker brown and level above a straight nose. His mouth was wide and generous, the skin of his lips warm and soft.

How would that mouth feel on her skin?

Way too soon to go there.
If ever.

She forced her hands down, but they somehow came to rest on his shoulders
rather than dropping to her sides. Suddenly, she realized he'd drawn her against him.

The
hard bulge at his crotch pressed into her mound, generating quivers of heat. Caro swallowed a moan.

"
If you want to step back," he began in a husky voice.

"
No," she whispered, sliding her hand up to cup his nape.

"
Thank God," he muttered, and his lips brushed hers. A sensual fog blurred her brain. Then his mouth firmed on hers, giving and demanding and making her dizzy with pleasure.

Caro
gripped his shirt collar as his arms encircled her waist, drawing her firmly against him. His erection prodding her belly caused a sizzle inside that made her press closer. His hands glided up and down her back, and restless yearning churned inside her. Everything about this–about him–felt unbelievably good.

She wanted more.
But she didn't know him very–

His tongue flicked her lips, just once, gently,
yet need shot through her. She gasped, opening for him.

With a groan, Rick deepened the kiss
. His tongue stroked inside her mouth, and echoing flickers of heat lapped at the junction of her thighs. She sucked his tongue, unconsciously rocking against him.

He made a strangled sound
. A moment later, he drew back. Reluctantly, she followed his lead in ending the kiss.

Their harsh, rapid breathing broke the woodland stillness.
She should step clear, remember they hardly knew each other, but surely standing in his embrace a few more seconds wouldn't hurt.

His heart galloped under her palms, its rapid pace companion to her racing pulse.
His fingers slid into her hair, stroking it back from her face.

Resting his forehead against hers, Rick swallowed audibly.
"Damn, you even taste like sunshine."

Caro had to smile.
At least he sounded as breathless as she felt. "What does sunshine taste like?"

"
Sweet and hot." He kissed her again, quickly, as the words wrapped themselves around her heart.

"
If you're going to call me Sunshine, I need a name for you."
Besides Hot Sex Walking.

"
If you'll kiss me like that, I'll answer to pretty much anything." He stroked her hair again, and she longed to feel those lean fingers on her body.

T
hat way lay danger.

Caro made herself step back.
"We should go. I have errands to run." As well as a stern talking-to to give herself about moving fast with men she didn't know. Jerald was the poster boy for unwise, hasty choices.

But Jerald had never made her pulse race and her body, her heart, yearn the way Rick did.

"Sure," Rick agreed.

She gripped his arm, and they headed back to the car.
Soon, the soft dirt under her flats became harder, hotter asphalt reflecting the spring sunlight.

"
One thing," he said. "When your demo is over and the story is done, don't call whatever this is between us done, too. Give us a chance to get to know each other."

She wanted that.
So badly. Enough that the smart move was to slow all this down.

"
I'd like to see where this goes," she admitted, "but I can't make any promises."

"
I'm not asking for any." He patted her fingers on his arm.

"
Then we're good," Caro decided.

This might be only a hot flirtation.
She didn't have to let it become any more than that. Shouldn't let it, not with a man she'd known for such a short time. So they would see what happened. If she could actually trust him...
Too soon for that, too.

Besides, she had a demonstration to plan.
If it didn't go well, the life she was trying to make for herself might be over before she had it truly launched.

Chapter
Six

Come on, Sunshine. You can do this.

Two days after walking with Ca
ro in the woods, Rick stood by the back wall of the gallery where her work hung. He clenched his fists in his pockets and watched her hands move the threads into the pattern
. Over, under, over, under, just like you explained to me.

She
'd started well, with a clear, strong explanation of what she meant to do. But she was becoming more and more nervous, fumbling more, having to backtrack.

He
'd been late, held up by a call from Max Grant's editor about next month's release. Had anyone besides Belinda been here to offer moral support before she started? Caro had convinced her parents not to come, to let her stand on her own, but she was expecting a couple of friends.

Seated in the front row, five ahead of Rick and to his left, Burton McCree looked grim.
Caro must know he was here, but did she know Rick was?

He
glanced back at Jason. He'd set up his camcorder and now merely monitored it via the folding screen. He looked at Rick and gave a slight shake of his head.

Rick
's cell vibrated. Frowning, he pulled it out of his pocket. Stan wanted to talk to him. Hell, Rick had to take this.

He stepped
out of the gallery and tapped
Accept
. "I'm in the middle of something, Stan. Can I call you back?"

"
This won't take long. I got you that embed, you and Jason. You're going with the shire reeves to destroy a ghoul nest tomorrow at dawn. You'll need to be at the Collegium by 3:00 a.m., sharp, to sign the paperwork, get your gear, and so on."

Well, shit.
There went Rick's plan for a late evening with Caro. The Collegium was just over three hours away from Macon, near Brunswick.

"
Why so early?" Rick asked.

"
Like I said, paperwork. Then they have to get to this nest, which is somewhere near the Alabama line. They always attack at sunrise–around seven this time of year–because ghouls are weaker in daylight."

"
I know, Stan. Ex-reporter, remember?" Mentally cursing the ruin of his evening, Rick added, "I'll be there, and thanks for setting this up."

"
I know what reopening your dad's case means to you, Rick. I'll help you if I can, but I gotta have some reason to give the higher-ups."

"
I know." Stan had always been in Rick's corner. He'd dispensed editorial advice, freelance gigs when money was tight, and steady faith in Rick's ability.

"
How's the story going?" Stan asked.

"
I'm working on it."

That little twinge of guilt should just sit down and shut up.
If Caroline and her parents were hiding her brother, Rick had a duty to uncover the truth. If they weren't, she needn't ever know anything about this.

But that would mean
he had no way to clear his father's name. Damn it. Best not to focus on that.

"
Work faster," Stan advised. "You have eight days to file, or the story won't help us any."

"
I know," Rick responded. He needed to return to Caro, to offer her whatever encouragement his presence could give. "I'm on it, Stan."

"
You better be. Even if you don't get anything on Dare from this raid, if you get a solid story out of it, that's a decent fallback. And by the way, they want to restrict you and Greene to the staging area. You know that won't cut it, right?"

"
Right. We'll keep our heads down and ourselves screened and shielded." And, if possible, their butts out of the slings they'd be in if the deputy reeves caught him and Jason breaking the rules.

Stan continued,
"But the Dare story is better. They slid by with barely a glance from the reeves after Griffin went rogue. You and I sure as hell wouldn't have. People have a right to the info they're hiding."

"
We've covered this." Rick let his irritation show.

People filed out of the gallery.
Was Caro finished? Had she quit–no, he couldn't imagine her giving up.

"
Be sure you have your press pass," Stan reminded him. "If the ghouls should catch you, we'll need it to find you. It's–"

"
Bespelled to defeat magical screening, like ghouls use to hide their nests. I know. I always carry it. It's a habit. Now I have to go. I'll call you later." Rick disconnected and hurried back into the gallery.

The loom lay on the table, a quarter inch of brown filled in
along the bottom of the warp, the white, vertical threads that supported the colored ones forming the design.

"
She took a break." Jason offered him a cup of coffee. "Smart of her. The mistakes were piling up."

"
She'll be fine," Rick insisted, giving Jason a nod of thanks for the coffee. Maybe some moral support would help. "I'll be back in a minute."

She was probably in the gallery office.
Rick strolled into the central atrium and, on a guess, picked the hall that should lead behind the room where she was demonstrating. His visits to the gallery had never included the back hallways.

The
narrow corridor was deserted. No prints hung on its stark, white walls. With nothing to draw visitors, he had to be on track for the staff-only areas. Voices came from the cross hall ahead.

He rounded a corner to see Caro
gulping water from a glass. With her stood Belinda Parkhurst and a short, red-haired woman whose freckled face and tip-tilted nose might've looked genial if not for her worried expression.

A tall
, scruffy-looking guy with streaky brown-and-blond hair hovered at Caro's side. He and the redhead both resonated in Rick's magical senses. They were mageborn.

"
It's okay," the guy said. He tugged Caro into a one-armed hug.

Rick
's gut clenched, and an outraged, irrational
Mine
roared through his veins.

What the hell?
Where, exactly, had that come from? He wasn't involved with her. Not seriously. Didn't plan to be.

T
he guy kissed her hair and added, "You were smart to take a break."

Rick
's fists clenched again, but Caro was leaning into the scruffy guy. Shit. Talk about being seriously not needed. Rick took a backward step.

Belinda
Parkhurst's head turned. Her brown eyes widened in surprise. "I'm sorry, Rick, but no media allowed back here today."

"
My mistake." He kept his voice level despite the insane jealousy gnawing at him. "I came to see if Ms. Dare needed any–"

"
Rick?" Caro turned toward him, away from Scruffy.

The joy washing over her face
killed Rick's jealousy. Mostly.

"
I thought you were going to be late," she said, holding out a hand to him.

He hurried to take it.
"I came in while you were explaining. You had a great start, Sunshine."

At the nickname,
Scruffy's pale blue eyes widened, but he said nothing. He damned well better keep his mouth shut.

"
The
Titanic
had a great start, too," Caro said, still holding Rick's hand. Hers felt cold and clammy. "I kept getting worse and worse."

He tighten
ed his grip, rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb. "You'll regroup. Do you need coffee? Maybe more water?"

"
Thanks, no. Let me introduce you."

The petite redhead was an old friend named Mindy Page.
A flash of interest lit her blue eyes when Caro presented him, and Mindy gave him a friendly smile with her handshake.

S
cruffy Guy was Will Davis, who had a very firm handshake. Pointedly firm, actually. "Caro and I grew up together," Davis said easily.

Despite his genial tone, his hard eyes warned Rick to watch himself.
Did Davis have romantic ideas about Caro? His name was familiar, but Rick couldn't place it.

Caro bumped the guy with her elbow.
"Our families go way back."

That ought to squash any romantic ideas Davis might harbor.
The
family friend
label was fatal for seduction.

Not that Rick planned to seduce her.
Doing that for a story would be a bridge too far.

Caro said,
"Belinda, could y'all go out and see what people are saying? Kind of take the crowd's temperature? I'll be fine with Rick."

W
hat people said after mattered more than anything they came up with now. But maybe Caro just wanted to be alone with him. The thought wrapped itself around his heart.

"
Of course," Belinda said, gesturing to Mindy and Davis. They followed her, Davis with a last, warning look at Rick.

Instead of acknowledging the look,
Rick ran his hand down Caro's arm in a gentle caress. "What can I do, Sunshine? Give me a job."

"
Just be there." She blew out a shaky breath and rubbed her hands over her face.

His heart soared, and he
gently brushed her hair back from her temple. "I'm not going anywhere. Except home later to write the story of your triumph."

"
Hah." Rolling her shoulders, Caro said, "I might come out of this with my reputation intact, but it won't be a triumph, not after these screw-ups. I just hate having people stare at me."

"
Hey, a win is a win. McCree will have to eat his words, and that's a triumph."

Her hesitation and doubt
were engraved on her face. Rick kissed her forehead. "I'm the writer here. I know definitions. You're just a damned talented weaver, so leave the word choices to me."

She chuckled at that, though the sound was a bit watery.
"Thank you for coming."

"
Wouldn't have missed it." That was absolute truth, only partly due to his ultimate goal.

"
Just remember," he said, capturing her hand, "all you're here to prove is that you're capable. Being fast isn't necessary."

"
Right." Caro laced her fingers through his. "I've got a nickname for you. Dudley. As in Do-Right."

"
Who?"

"
It's an old cartoon my dad loves. Dudley Do-Right is a Mountie who's always doing the noble thing. Your feelings about injustice would fit him."

"
I could be a Mountie," he agreed, strangely touched, "except I've never been on a horse."

The
click, click
of stiletto heels in the hallway heralded Belinda's approach. She walked around the corner, her level, brown glance assessing.

When
her gaze met his, she gave him an approving nod.

"
Okay, Sunshine?" he asked.

She took a very deep, very slow breath and blew it out.
"I have to be. So yeah. Thanks. Belinda, let's get this done."

Rick kissed her
quickly. "I'll be there."

For the first time, Caro smiled.
"I'm counting on it."

#

"That's two inches of the six on the design, using all four colors."

Rick watched
Caroline straighten in her chair. Her voice rang firmly in the gallery, the tone calm, but her chin had a defiant angle. "Would someone care to check this? Mr. McCree?"

She lifted the loom for inspection.

McCree rose from his front row seat. "I was wrong," he said, "and I'm happy to have been. My column this week will say so. Please accept my apology."

A smile broke across Caro
's face, then widened. As McCree led the room in applause, Rick and Jason exchanged a satisfied glance. Rick was so proud of her that his chest hurt. She'd dug down, gotten past her fear, and shown everyone what she could do. In the end, she and her little loom had kicked ass.

He
hung back while the guests congratulated Caroline. He couldn't wait to show her how happy he was for her.

Smiling, Mindy Page broke away from Caro
's side and walked to Rick. "I'm heading out," she said, offering her hand. "I hope I see you again."

"
I hope so, too," he said as they shook.

Will Davis still stood by Caro like a guard dog.
Rick joined them and waited for her to notice his magical vibe. She was chatting with Belinda and a thin, gray-haired woman who was gushing about Caro's talent.

Damned straight, she was talented.

"So how did you and Caro meet?" Davis asked. Despite his friendly tone, his alert, balanced posture implied Rick was still on his threat index.