The Touch of Magic Series, page 41
Yasmin was too late putting it all together. He'd grabbed a tissue he stashed at his side and sneezed.
"Oh Luke!" What a fool she'd been. "You're allergic."
"Just a touch."
CHAPTER 11
Luke's dreams had wandered into Yasmin's bedroom the night before for a second time. He'd had stable, steady relationships before and he had to admit he liked the camaraderie that went with it. He liked watching TV together and talking about anything and everything. Except he hadn't quite found a real 'anything and everything' yet.
Nicole hadn't liked anything he liked. Except in bed. And Reese had been completely compatible in everything and too competitive at all of it. She applied to be a police officer because he was and lorded every test score she beat him at and fumed or sulked when she didn't. Those had been his longest term relationships.
Though he and Yasmin had started out on shaky ground, they were settling into a rhythm. He was becoming much more at ease with the witchcraft and she was becoming more at ease talking to him about it. He figured it had just taken a handful of days for him to be confident that she wasn't going to give him a tail or turn him into a toad. Though he wasn't at the point where he would lay money on her ability to actually turn him into something else, he wouldn't lay money against it either.
She listened to him when he talked. She took it to heart when he'd scared her about the Del Surs and he felt bad about that still, but staying alive was more important than ignorant bliss.
Her apologies last night about bringing home animals he was allergic to were incredibly sincere. She even volunteered to take them back to the shelter and berated herself for being thoughtless.
He'd grabbed her by her upper arms when she'd about worked herself into tears and made her face him. "It's your house, you can bring in any animals you want. They make medicine for this. I'll just take something."
"I have Benadryl."
He was already grinning but too late he had to fight off another sneeze. Good thing he knew he wasn't going to get anywhere with her—this was not manly. "Can't take it, my job is to be alert."
"I'm so sorry, Luke." Her shoulders sagged and so did her smile.
"I'll be fine by morning." Had she been his girlfriend he would have held her. Kissed her to reassure her. Had she been his girlfriend she probably would have known that he was allergic. So he settled for helping her find a place for the cat litter—the laundry room—and training the cats where it was—not as simple as he would have thought.
Then he sat on the living room rug and played with them regardless of how much his eyes watered.
Yasmin was grinning at him. "You like cats?"
"I like the ones that are friendly. I think if you get them little you can kindof make them that way. Then they're good pets."
She nodded before saying what she'd clearly been thinking. "I figured you for a dog guy. Aren't dogs manlier?"
"Real men don't like cats?"
She nodded. And he reminded himself that she was not his girlfriend, despite the way he'd touched her in his dreams. Despite the way he wanted her even when he was awake.
"Would you rather I ignored them? They're small creatures." He shrugged. "Any creature that needs help defending itself should have someone watching out for it."
As he watched, she seemed to absorb the words. "Like a woman who has a gang after her?"
He couldn't fight the sigh. "Yes. But one day it might be me. Maybe you’ll have to make a forcefield around me and stop a bullet. But while I have the opportunity, I try to stand up where I can." He held the kitten in front of him. It dangled there, looking him in the eyes but not looking uncomfortable.
"That's why you're a cop."
He nodded but changed the subject quickly. "I didn't see this coming. Two kittens. What prompted it?"
She laughed. "I had to stay out of the house this morning. And it was something I always toyed with. You know, 'one day when I get a cat'—that kind of thing." She stroked the silky fur of the still unnamed kitten in her lap. "Then I got there and these two had been returned. They said they didn't know in this case but it happened a lot because someone turned out to be allergic." She looked sheepish at the thought.
"I'll be fine tomorrow." He waved her off. "You don't think it's because they're black?"
Both kittens were inky from their ears to the tip of their tails. "What does that have to do with it?"
Luke stared. How did she not know this? "Black cats are harder to adopt out and more likely to suffer abuse. They are three times as likely to be the victims of violent death at the hand of a sick human."
Her jaw was open. "Why?"
His was almost open, too. He spoke slowly. "Because of their known associations with witches. You're really embracing the stereotype here, Yasmin."
As he watched, she realized what she'd done, and he couldn't help throwing his head back and laughing. Then he couldn't help the sneezing fit that overtook him.
By the time he got himself together, she was laughing, too. And feeling bad for him. He'd taken some medication the second he walked in the door, but it wasn't helping yet. It didn't make things better that he was holding and petting the little fuzzy kittens then rubbing his face every time he sneezed, it was a self-perpetuating cycle. Until Yasmin grabbed both the kittens and put them in her room with the little bed she'd bought. The cat bed held both of them with room to spare.
She found him in the bathroom washing his hands and face and his hands again. As he dried himself off and she apologized yet again for not asking if he was allergic, he thought again that if she was his girlfriend, he'd kiss her now. He would tell her he'd always be allergic to cats, but he'd acclimate to these two and that it would be all right. So when actually she told him he had to take his shirt off his thoughts were somewhere else.
For a second or two he really thought she was starting something. Though his brain told him it was a bad idea, he wasn't able to say no. He started with the top button, working slowly while he tried to figure out what was going on when he hit yet another hiccup with her next words.
"Pants, too. In fact, you should just get out of everything."
He turned away because her words were turning him on. But the next time she spoke it was like cold water.
"I'll grab you something else to put on, and you can just hand all this out to me. I'll de-lint it and get it to the dry-cleaners for you."
Ah, cat hair. She was taking care of him.
That was all.
He reminded himself again that last night had been only a dream, regardless of how clear the memory was. The doorstop had been exactly at the same pencil mark where he'd wedged it again—a block of wood as his protection against witchcraft. Silly though it was, it offered peace of mind.
Yasmin showed up in the doorway once more, this time having changed into tiny sweatpants shorts and a loose top. "I'm trying not to get any cat hair in your room, so I changed before I went in." She laid out his pair of drawstring pajama pants across the sink then closed the door, telling him to just leave his clothing where it fell.
It was an elaborate dance that didn't leave him with any rights he didn't have before. It did leave him shirtless walking past her down the hallway, but her smile was kind, not hot, and the kittens were wailing behind her bedroom door.
In the past, the women he slept with liked his physique, but he was never overly self-confident. Some women liked really buff, ripped guys and he was never going to have the time to achieve that. He was in good shape, but not arrogant—who knew what Yasmin thought was most attractive in a man? He was never going to be that guy that bragged how he was God's gift all the time.
Besides, he was here in a professional capacity. He reminded himself that again. And again. Ignoring what he wanted to do, he put a shirt on. It was harder to ignore the kittens.
She was behind him in the bathroom doorway, carefully rolling one of those tape-thingies over his clothing and picking up enough black kitten fur to make him want to sneeze just looking at it. She caught him staring at her bedroom door, listening to the plaintive wails coming from behind it. "They have to calm down and rest. The lady at the shelter told me they'd likely cry and they could do it early or they could do it while I was trying to get to sleep."
He only nodded. It wasn't the only reason he was looking at her bedroom door.
"Pick something on TV and I'll be out in a minute."
It sounded so domestic that while he waited he imagined it was more than it was. Then he played into it. "I've got that dinner at my Mom's this Sunday night. You should come. You've been forced out of your house enough while I'm out. And my mom's a great cook."
"She won't mind a random person just showing up?"
"You're not random, you're my guest, and trust me, no one will notice an extra mouth. There are so many of us."
Her face scrunched up for a minute and the thought she was going to refuse, instead she asked, "You're all Catholic, right? How big are they on that whole 'thou shalt not suffer a witch to live' thing?"
He laughed. "It has never come up before. But my mother hasn't got a mean bone in her body. It's up to you what you tell her, but worst case scenario, she'll fear for your eternal soul and light a candle for you every day. Then she'll ask me if I've converted. All this will be very dramatic. But that's about it."
"I generally don't bring it up if people don't ask, but if they do, I answer honestly." She looked at him, clearly wondering if this would fly in his big Italian family.
"I got your back. If it gets to be too much, we'll leave."
He spent the rest of the evening beside her on the sofa, eating leftovers from the dinner he'd cooked two nights before. At one point she stood up and bounced on her feet until he got her to confess that she hadn't gone running in over a week.
"Yasmin, we'll go tomorrow morning. You want to run, we run." It wouldn't hurt him any either.
"You don't have to."
Back and forth they went, until they worked it out and wore themselves out. And sometime in the middle of his dreams he turned the knob and let himself into her bedroom again.
This time he slowly stripped her naked before doing the same for himself. He made a leisurely stroll of her body with his hands before using his mouth and when he entered her she moaned his name and he breathed hers. Clinging to him and begging, Yasmin demanded more from him as a lover and he was only too happy to oblige.
This morning he'd woken the same way he had the day before. His alarm went off and he swore he was in her bed, next to her naked body. The sun was on his right as he opened his eyes. But as he blinked, he was in the room she'd assigned him. To his right was not a naked Yasmin reposed in the sunlight that filtered around the blinds, but a computer desk, a note pad and a wall. The sunlight on him came from his left, from the window his bed was nearly under in order to allow any kind of foot traffic in here.
Lifting the covers, he checked to see that he was still wearing his pajama bottoms. Yes, he was.
Brushing aside the dream, he pulled on a t-shirt and running shorts. As the coffee brewed, he went back for his running shoes and met Yasmin in the hallway.
Dressed much the same way he was, she smiled. That sleek hair was pulled up in a ponytail that reached a good ways down her back, but the ends were starting to curl up. Luke cataloged the pink top—tiny and clingy though it was—peeping from under her loose tank. She had on leggings in bright blue that hit her just below the knees and cross-trainers in orange.
He grinned at her, his own colors in white and navy blue, even his shoes were a sedate silver. "What do you think you are? Me?"
It took a moment for the colors to register. "Now is when I want to be seen." She puttered for a few minutes more, setting out food for the kittens, putting them in the litterbox in the laundry room again. She showed them the scratching posts she brought home for them, then told them to be good. Then she thought better of that waved her hand at them and snapped. Both kittens plopped their butts on the ground and watched silently as the two of them went out the door.
Figuring she must have cast some kind of obedience spell, he looked once more at the now docile kittens and followed Yasmin; he was her security detail after all. She had headphones in, which was generally a no-no for a woman running alone in L.A. but she wasn't alone today was she?
No, she had Luke Salzone, officer of the law, running just a handful of steps behind her to keep her safe. Problem was, he kept looking at her ass. The tank top would move and reveal more, since the leggings and the little top were more like a second skin than clothing.
He was supposed to be scanning the area, watching out for the worst guys around. Her home may be hidden, but they were out of the house and she was in her brightest clothes. But a little further down the road and his training would faltered off. He slowly edged into the zone, running, keeping up with the solid pace she set, and the next thing he knew, he was admiring her ass again.
About the third time it happened, he tried to set up a rhythm. Look at her ass, look to the left, look at her shoulder, check the right. He was doing great until her top shifted as they turned a corner and his feet stumbled.
Down he went, barely managing to angle himself across the sidewalk and onto the yard beside him. She'd been deftly hopping up a curb and he should have followed but just then her top had shifted and revealed the small mole on her shoulder blade.
The one he'd kissed the night before in his sleep.
His foot had missed. He'd planted himself in the grass. And Yasmin kept running, earbuds in place. He called to her, but whatever she was listening to, it wasn't him.
Someone in a passing car took pity and waved at Yasmin as they went by. Luke was already on his feet, wiping the grass off and sprinting after her by this point. He couldn't let her get too far ahead. He couldn't fail at the one thing he had to do—the whole point of his being here was to keep her safe.
Ultimately, the day was gorgeous and he had to admit that nothing had happened.
She was looking at him, realizing he'd fallen behind even if she didn't understand that he'd literally fallen, and she plucked out her earbuds. "You should run beside me. Then we can keep better track of each other."
He nodded. Then he wouldn't have to look at that mole. Wouldn't have to think about what it meant.
Trying to lose himself in the music filtering through his one earbud, Luke talked himself out of his original idea—the one that had sent him sprawling. Clearly, he'd seen the mole sometime and his conscious brain hadn't registered it. But his subconscious did and his subconscious dragged those little details back out so that when he remembered his dreams they were alive in full color clarity. Little moles and all.
Last night, he'd sworn there were kittens sleeping on his legs. But that was a detail he'd known even in the daylight, that the kittens were in there.
She was grinning at him as they turned the last corner and he recognized her street even though he still couldn't see her house. Unable to reconcile if that was because of the trees or the spell, he simply followed her lead, walking the last section. Still looking to spot her house, he was unprepared for her to pluck his remaining earbud from where he'd tucked it in his sleeve and start listening.
Her laugh was infectious. "Eighties power ballads?"
"It motivates me."
"To run away from it?" She started singing along to the Scorpions song that was currently coming through his little sound system.
He wanted to make fun of her but she was rocking out—albeit mockingly—and she looked adorable. Luke remembered to look around this time, but the street remained clear. While she opened her mouth wide and sang to what he considered to be a classic, he decided. Monday. If Monday came and nothing had come down the pipeline from the Del Surs, he'd cut her free. And pray that he was right.
Not really wanting to see her celebrate at the thought of her freedom, Luke didn't make a grand announcement. "What are you listening to?"
"Audiobook?"
"Romance novel?" he mocked.
"Nope. Suspense! I'm running from bad guys." She grinned and gave him back his earbud.
Yanking the second one, he bit his tongue and didn't tell her that he was afraid it was more than just her audiobook. But he was standing in front of her house, so he simply ushered her inside where they found that the kittens hadn't chewed any furniture but appeared to be attempting to use each other as playtoys. He could almost see the fur in the air.
Yasmin must have thought the same thing, "Let me shower first. I'll be lightning fast, then we can get out of here with as little cat hair on you as possible."
He checked the whole house, then ate oatmeal while he listened to the water run. The only thing that kept him from playing with the kittens was the thought of having to do his run-downs today with a red nose and bloodshot eyes. No one would assume allergies; not on a cop. Everyone always guessed pot and cocaine. It was not the image the LAPD wanted to project.
As fast as she promised, she was out, her large towel wrapped around her. It shouldn't have turned him on the way it did, but the wet curls springing around her head were as good as gold to him and he couldn't help the smile that formed on his mouth as she told him the shower was all his and turned, flashing him that mole again. He'd made up the one on her hip.
If he saw that, then he'd become concerned. But the doorstop was aligned with the mark and he'd surely seen the mole on her shoulder before. So he grabbed the hanger with today's clothes on it and tugged it into the bathroom with him, giving the set one last steam to get out any wrinkles he'd inadvertently put in it since picking it up at the dry cleaners and he climbed into the shower.
The hot water invigorated his confused muscles. It had been a week since he had run, even though he'd hit the gym during work more than once since then. But the dream sex was leaving him with some satisfied strain in muscles unused in quite a while. The heat stung his shoulders and when he dried off, the towel scraped at his back enough to make him wince and look in the mirror. Fingernail scratches raked each shoulder and Luke's jaw dropped wide open at his image.
