The Protectors Christmas Box Set (sexy paranormal romances) (23 page)

“Unless I get myself laid?”

“It was just a suggestion. I could make a few calls. Get you someone you’ll like.”

Horace shook his head. He didn’t get involved with the humans like that anymore. He wouldn’t.

“How about Kara?” Brendan asked. “She’s one of us.”

One of us
. Lately, though, he didn’t feel comfortable around anyone. Not even the foundlings.

“No,” Horace said, pushing away from the desk. He needed to get out of this damned small office. “You and I both know I don’t do casual sex.”

Not anymore.

He felt Brendan using his psychic powers probing his thoughts. But it didn’t matter. The reason for his celibacy had been buried deep. It wasn’t something he thought about. He doubted he could even if he wanted to.

“Then come home with me. Or go to an all-night bowling alley. Please, Horace. Do anything. Just don’t stay here.” Brendan sounded seriously worried, which should have given Horace reason to rethink his plans for the night. But it didn’t.

Instead, Horace’s black mood turned a shade darker. “Perhaps it’s my time.”

That sent Brendan launching out of his chair.

“Dammit, I wouldn’t have gotten a vision if that were true!” Brendan grabbed Horace’s shoulders and shook him. “You saved me once, and I’m sure as hell going to return the favor! I got this vision for a reason, you know. You’re not supposed to die tonight.” Brendan shook Horace again and then smacked him on the center of his forehead. “Get that through your thick skull!”

“Okay. Okay. Let go of me.” Horace peeled Brendan’s fingers from his shoulders. “I won’t let myself be murdered. At least not tonight. You happy?”

Horace probably would have decked anyone else for manhandling him like that. Luckily, for Brendan, he loved the scoundrel like a brother.

“Let me call Cheryl,” Brendan said with a sigh of relief. “You’ll like her. She’s got legs up to—”

“I’m not leaving the club.”

“What? But I thought—”

Horace settled back on the corner of his desk. He crossed his arms and scowled. “You tell me that a gunman is going to come into my club and start shooting. What do you think I’m going to do? Run away? That sure as hell isn’t going to happen.”

Brendan started to protest, but Horace cut him off. “You know I can’t leave, Brendan. Every last human here is my responsibility. How can you expect me to leave here after you tell me that someone is going to get shot—perhaps even killed—tonight?”

Brendan raised his index finger and opened his mouth but quickly closed it. Horace didn’t need to be able to read minds to know that Brendan, perhaps begrudgingly, agreed.

Although no one really knew what they were or why they were on Earth, they called themselves
the Protectors
for a reason. While they looked human, each one of them had unique, inexplicable powers.

And they had one more thing in common, each one of them started out their lives as foundlings. No parents. No family. Horace sometimes wondered if they’d been dropped from the sky as infants.

When his magical powers were newly emerging, Horace had thought he was a god, all-powerful and infallible.

They weren’t gods, though. That had been a hard lesson to learn. They were merely different from the humans, too different to safely involve themselves intimately with any of them…Especially the women.

“Go home to your wife,” he told Brendan.

He didn’t need his friend to hang around all night and worry about his safety. He had powers of his own. To remind Brendan that he wasn’t helpless, Horace held his palm out flat over his desk and, focusing his powers, made the stapler float up into the air.

“We may not know what will happen tonight, but one thing is certain,” he said and closed his fist. The stapler crumpled as easily as foil. It fell back onto the top of the desk with a startling clatter. “I’m more than capable of taking care of myself.”

Although Faith wanted to get to know Horace better, to figure out what was going on in that stubborn head of his, even the terminally optimistic had their limits. She’d tried all night to get close enough to him to start a conversation. Or to dance. Though she’d never seen him dance with anyone, she could tell by the way he moved he would sweep any woman off her feet.

No matter what she did to get close to him though, either an employee stepped in the way or he was distracted with one of the three strangers who had started hovering around him like swarm of gnats a few hours ago.

No problem. She could handle this
.
If the direct approach didn’t work, she’d sneak up on him.

When he emerged from behind the bar, she stalked him like a tigress on the hunt across the dance floor. And then closed in for the kill. She opened her mouth to speak to him. But before she could utter a sound, he stepped into his office, leaving her talking to his closed office door.

When he emerged again, she tried again to talk to him.

And again.

And again.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and huffed. “I’m beginning to get the feeling he’s purposefully avoiding me.”

“What?” her friend Kimmi shouted as she shimmied past, half her body wrapped around a virile hunk of manly flesh.

“Him.” Faith pointed.

At that very moment—
as if he’d heard her
—Horace turned and glared directly at her.

“Who?” Kimmi shouted, oblivious to the sizzling heat in his glare.

Faith tried to answer her friend but felt pressed into place.

All night she’d tried to catch his notice. All night she’d angled for a way to cozy up to him. And now that she’d gotten what she’d come for—his
undivided
attention—her courage fled.

With the same fluid motion that had made her think he’d make a fascinating dance partner, he came directly toward her.

“Go home, Faith,” he said.

“It’s my birthday,” she said and stuck out her chin. She had no idea why she would say something so dumb, but since the words had already spilled out of her mouth, she couldn’t take them back. “Well, it
is
my birthday.”

The tension around his lips eased a little. “Really?” he said, sounding faintly surprised. “Mine, too.”

“We’re both Leos?”

Idiot,
a voice in her head scolded.
Could you get any more cliché? Think. Quick. Say something intelligent. Show him you’re not some mindless dolt.

Her mouth turned dry, which rarely happened. And her mind went blank, and that
never
happened. She never acted nervous around men. Never. All her life, men flocked to
her
. More often than not, they would praise her unerring confidence while doing everything in their power to get into her pants.

She found it a novel—and somewhat frightening—experience to have that darned shoe suddenly on the other foot.
She
was the one trying to get into
Horace’s
pants.

Well, not literally into his pants. Not right away. She wasn’t that kind of girl. But oh, what nice pants.

He wore dark, finely pressed khakis with a cream silk shirt that hung loosely over his broad chest, emphasizing the barely concealed cords of muscles. A dark lock of hair drooped over his brow.

And his midnight blue eyes…She could stare into them forever. The drowning depths in them made her feel as if he could see directly into her soul.

“Umm—umm,” she stuttered.

“Go home, Faith.” He gently cupped her shoulder and turned her toward the door. “It’s late, and you have an early class in the morning.”

“I do.” She should go home…

It
was
late…

“Wait a darn minute!” She swung back around and poked her finger against his chest. “Why do you know when I have to be at the university?”

“I spoke with Tim this afternoon before opening up the club, like I do just about every day. He and I come up with the work schedules.”

“Oh.” That sounded reasonable enough. And didn’t she feel just a little foolish with her finger still pressed against his warm chest?

He didn’t seem to mind. “I also happen to know that you’re working on your Ph.D. in Anthropology and that you have just a few more semesters before you graduate. You’re a good bartender. I’m going to hate to lose you after you graduate.”

He knew all that? So why then did he avoid her? She wanted to ask him, but her pride stepped in the way. “Since you seem to know everything about me, what’s my favorite color?” she demanded instead.

His gaze narrowed. The palm of her hand now completely pressed against his chest. When had that happened? Had he stepped closer to her, or had she leaned in toward him?

The air between them sizzled and sparked.

“Well?” she pressed. “My favorite color?”

He huffed, obviously frustrated by her unwillingness to be intimidated. “I assure you I wouldn’t know.”

“I’d be glad to tell you, if you’d take the time to talk to me. What’s been going on tonight? Every time I’ve tried to introduce myself, I’ve—”

“Horace, I need to have a word with you,” a man dressed in a black suit and with shockingly pale blond hair said.

“—been cut off, interrupted.”
It was like speaking to the air
.

“Sorry, it’s been a busy night.” Horace gave her an apologetic smile. “You’re working tomorrow night, right? I’ll make some time for you to discuss whatever’s bothering you then.” He lifted her hand from his chest and lightly caressed it. “Go home, Faith. Get a good night’s sleep.”

Without knowing why, she found herself nodding in agreement.

He was right…

Why hadn’t she listened to him before?

She glanced at her watch.
Gracious, look at the time
. She should go home. Tomorrow would be a long day. She had an early class to teach, and then a full day at the library researching Incan fertility rituals for a directed studies class. She needed to forget about her birthday. What had possessed her to plan a late night in the middle of the week? She should have known better.

“Good,” he said as he turned and walked away with the other man.

Faith was about to look for Kimmi and tell her friend that they needed to leave when she overheard Horace say, “
Thanks for that
” to his blond-haired friend.

“No problem. You looked like you needed rescuing,” the man replied.

“Probably.” That, she read off Horace’s lips as he glanced back at her.

Horace thought he’d needed rescuing from her, did he? And what was with that tone of his? Did he think she was a child? Someone who didn’t know herself well enough to make her own decisions? Telling her to go home. He had no right to tell her to do anything.

She crossed her arms over her chest and simmered. “That was humiliating.”

“
What
?” Kimmi shouted as she danced by with a new man in her arms, the minx.

“The air sizzled. It had actually sizzled.”

Kimmi whirled around. She pushed her dance partner away, grabbed both of Faith’s hands and started to dance with her. “You mean the air sizzled when you were with that guy?”

“Yeah.”

“I felt it.”

“You also saw afterwards, didn’t you? He nearly ran away from me.”

“So?”

“It was embarrassing.” A fresh wave of heat crept up her neck.

“The air sizzled when he touched you,” Kimmi reminded her. “He wants you.”

“You think?”

Kimmi nodded. A knowing smile brightened her pretty face. “It’s your birthday, sweetie. Don’t waste it dancing with me. Go get yourself a piece of beefcake.”

* * * * *

“You need to stay focused,” Frank Stone reminded Horace. Stone, with his polished looks, was more or less the leader of their motley group of wizards in Chicago. “No distractions. Your actions tonight will determine whether you live to see another day.”

Horace dragged his hand through his wavy hair. “No kidding.”

Brendan had gone home to his wife…without Horace. He hadn’t been happy about it, but short of kidnapping, Horace had no plans to leave his club—not while the threat of danger hung over his and everyone else’s head.

Not twenty minutes later, Frank Stone had showed up with Derrick and Ricker in tow. Stone, an elegant dresser, blended nicely with the trendy look of the club. Black suit. Black shirt. Black tie. Gleaming shoes. His silvery eyes created a stunning contrast to his perfectly pressed dark clothes.

Even though he fit in with the crowd at Club West, Horace couldn’t help but feel insulted that Stone had arrived on the scene to take over, and had brought backup with him. Stone had no right to make those decisions. Stone may be in charge of
the Protectors
, but Club West belonged to Horace. He’d built the club from nothing and took great pride in running it
by himself
.

He’d have been burnt up over Stone edging in on his territory if Faith hadn’t already set his body ablaze with the sight of that newly pierced tongue of hers.

He couldn’t seem to get her, or her sexy tongue, out of his mind.

Something about her teased his libido. Not a stunning beauty, but she had an earthy quality that drew him to her. She had lightly tanned skin. Her gold-streaked hair looked natural as if she spent hours in the sun.

According to Tim, the head bartender at Club West, she did spend hours in the sun. Both her parents were well-respected anthropologists, professors, and researchers who traveled to the far corners of the world studying primitive societies. Growing up, Faith had traveled with her parents and had spent her formative years in desolate, remote regions that must have been unsuitable for a young child. Hell, according to Tim, Faith had been in the Andes weaving woolen clothes and chewing on roots instead of worrying about what she would wear to the prom like a normal teenager. Not that Horace had much experience with normal.

His early years had been spent digging through dumpsters and taking shelter in abandoned buildings. But that had just been the way of things for him. Faith was different. She was human. Most humans didn’t grow up, traveling from one primitive locale to the next. The thought of Faith spending most of her life learning about other cultures had intrigued him. He hadn’t exactly been prying into her background. He’d simply dropped a word here, made a comment there, and then had sat back and listened to Tim and the other bartenders talk about what had quickly turned into Horace’s favorite subject: Faith Summers.