Face the Fire

The candles burned low, and the air was full of fragrance and soft light when she woke. She felt him there almost before she felt herself. The warmth of his hand over hers, the weight of his worry. For an instant only, the years vanished and her heart was light with love. What she'd felt once, what she felt now, collided and dissolved before she could hold either.



"Here, drink this." As he had hours before, he lifted her head, held a cup to her lips. But this time she sniffed speculatively before she sipped. "Hyssop. Good choice."



"How do you feel?"



"Well enough. Better, I'd say, than you. There was no need for you to sit up all night." The cat that had curled beside her now slithered under her hand for stroking. "What time is it?"



"Sunrise." Sam rose now, began to extinguish the candles. "You only had about nine hours. You could probably use more."



"No." She sat up, shook back her hair. "I'm awake. And starving."



He glanced back. She sat in the old bed, her face flushed with sleep, the black cat in her lap. He wanted to slide into bed with her. Just to hold, just to rest. Just to be. "I'll fix you something."



"You'll cook breakfast?"



"I can manage eggs and toast," he answered as he stalked out of the room.



"Cranky," Mia said to Isis. The cat swished her tail, then leaped off the bed to trot out after Sam. He brewed coffee first in hopes that a strong shot of caffeine would clear his head and improve his mood. He didn't question the fact that his tender feelings, his steady concern of the night, had jumped straight to annoyance the minute she'd awakened and looked at him.



A man needed some defense.



While the coffeemaker grumbled, he turned on the cold water tap in the sink and dunked his head under the flow. And rapped his head smartly against the faucet when the cat brushed up against his legs. He saw stars, swore, then smacked the water off and came up dripping. When Mia walked in, he was standing, glaring at the cat, with water running down his face. She picked up a fresh dish towel and passed it to him.



"You're welcome to use the shower if you'd like to do more than soak your head." After exchanging a decidedly female glance with the cat, Mia opened the door to let her out. Rather than trust himself to speak, Sam wrenched open the refrigerator, took out a carton of eggs. Mia reached down to get a skillet out of a cupboard, then held out a hand. "Why don't I take care of this?"



"I said I'd fix some damn eggs, so I'll fix some damn eggs."



"All right." Complacently, she set the skillet on a burner before moving over to get down two mugs. She poured, trying to keep her lips from twitching while Sam slammed around her kitchen. But the first sip of coffee made her eyes water.



"God. Well, this is strong enough to go ten rounds with the champ."



Sam slapped an egg on the side of a bowl. "Any other complaints?"



"No." She decided to be broad-minded and not mention the bits of shell that had gone into the bowl along with the egg. Sipping delicately, she wandered to the back door again, and opened it to the morning air. "It's going to rain."



Barefoot, her white robe billowing, she stepped outside to look at her garden and leave Sam to brood. Wind chimes tinkled as she wound along the paths. There were always surprises. A new bloom just opened, a bud just hazed with color. The blend of continuity and change was one of the great appeals of the garden for her.



She glanced back toward the kitchen. The boy she'd loved was now the man fixing her breakfast. Continuity and change, she thought with a sigh. She supposed, under it all, that was one of Sam Logan's great appeals for her.



And because she remembered he'd held her hand while she slept, she broke off a tightly budded peony. Curving her hand over it, she encouraged the bud to unfurl and free its soft, fragrant pink petals. Brushing it against her cheek, she went back to the house.



He was at the stove, looking wonderfully out of his element. His legs were spread, and the spatula held like a weapon in his hand. He was burning the eggs.



Foolishly moved, she crossed to him and gently turned off the flame. She kissed his cheek, handed him the flower. "Thank you for watching over me."



"You're welcome." He turned away to reach for plates, then simply laid his forehead against the glass doors of her cupboard. "Damn it, Mia. Damn it! Why didn't you tell me what you were going to do?



Why didn't you call me?"



"I've gotten out of the habit of calling you."



He straightened, a mix of anger and hurt enveloping him.



"I don't say that to hurt you." She spread her hands. "I don't. It simply is. I'm used to doing things my way, and on my own."



"Fine. Fine." But it wasn't. He rattled plates as he dragged them out of the cupboard. "When it's you, it's just being who you are and doing what you do. But when it's me, I'm going behind your back."



She opened her mouth. Then was forced to close it again and clear her throat. "You have a point." She walked by him to get jam out of the refrigerator. "However, what you did on your own was step into my territory, risk bodily harm, then call out the troops."



"Your territory isn't exclusive. And you risked bodily harm."



"That's a matter of debate. I didn't do this behind your back, not deliberately. In hindsight, I'll admit your presence in the circle would have been valuable." She set the toast, stone-cold and crisp at the edges, on the table. "You're a better witch than you are a cook."



"You're a hell of a lot cockier than you used to be," he countered. "And you always were cocky."



"Confident," she corrected. "You were cocky."



"A fine distinction." He sat with her, scooping half the eggs onto his plate, half on hers. The peony lay pretty and pink between them. He took his first bite. "These are terrible."



She sampled, tasting scorched egg and bits of shell. "Yes, yes, they are."



When he grinned at her she laughed and went right on eating.



He took her up on the shower and ran the spray hot to ease muscles stiff from the night's vigil. He supposed they'd called a truce, a moratorium of sorts over lousy eggs and cold toast. Maybe, he thought, they'd taken a tentative step toward being friends again.



He'd missed that part of them, too. The easy silences, the shared laughter. He'd known when she was sad, often before she knew it herself. He'd felt the thousand little pinpricks of her hurt whenever her parents had blithely, benevolently, ignored the child they'd made between them. Even before he and she had become lovers they'd been a part of each other. And how could he explain to her that it had been the link, the absolute and unquestioned link in the chain of their destinies, that had driven him to break the tie?



She didn't ask, and he didn't say. He thought that was for the best, at least for now. At least until they were friends again.



The muscles in his belly contracted when she stepped in behind him, slipped her arms around him, pressed her wet body against his back.



"I thought you might share." She nipped playfully at his shoulder. This time, they were fated to reverse the process. Lovers first.



He turned, and fisting his hands in her hair, dragged her with him under the pounding spray.



"You have the water too hot," she told him, turning her head as his mouth rubbed along the side of her throat.



"I needed hot."



She picked up a bottle, squirted some of the pale green liquid over both their heads.



"Wait! What is that? Girl stuff?"



Amused, she reached up to lather it in his hair. God, she'd always loved his hair. So black and thick and untamed. Wet, it fell nearly to his shoulders, a dark rain of silk.



"My own blend. The rosemary promotes hair growth, not that you need it, and smells good. Even for manly men."



He worked it into her hair as well. Sniffed at it. "It's not just rosemary."



"Not just. Some calendula, linden flowers, nasturtium."



"Girl stuff." Suds slid down their bodies, slicking them. "It works on you."



"So do you," she said when his mouth covered hers again.



Steam, fragrant with herbs and flowers, rose as they washed each other. Teased each other. Slippery hands over slippery skin aroused in slow beats that savored each moment, each touch and taste. Long, lazy strokes coaxed the pulses to quicken and low, lingering moans to mix with the sound of drumming water.



Her mouth was wet and warm, and with restless nips and nibbles grew eager under his. She deepened the kiss as her body rubbed and rocked against his. Invitation, demand, delight. And every breath he took was full of her scent.



As the air turned sultry, he turned her so that he could trace kisses over her back, so that he could mold and cup her breasts. His thumbs scraped her nipples, tortured the hard points while her back arched in pleasure.



When his hands skimmed lower, she reached back, hooking her arms around his neck and holding on to him when he sent her flying.



"Now." She turned to him. "Fill me now."



He slid into her, achingly slow. And she felt herself open, and give. She gripped his shoulders while the water sluiced over them, tuned her body to his.



Long, silky strokes so that pleasure was a low, sustained beat. Everything she was focused on the need to prolong, to hold this moment like a jewel. Shining and rich. Her blood pulsed, seemed to sing under her skin until the beauty of it wept inside her.



She crested, an endless, warm wave, and her mouth pressed to his as she rode it. They ended up on the bed again, flat on their backs.



"We never seem to make it here for the first round," Sam managed.



"Be that as it may, round two will have to be postponed on account of working for a living."



"Yeah. I've got an eleven o'clock meeting."



She stirred enough to twist for a look at the clock. "You've got some time yet. Why don't you stay, get a little sleep?"



"Huh."



She rose, raked her fingers through her damp hair. "I'll set the alarm for ten."



He grunted again, and didn't move a muscle.



Nor had he moved when, thirty minutes later, she was groomed and dressed for the day. Obligingly, she



set the alarm clock, tugged the sheet over him.



Then just stood looking at him.



"How did it happen you've ended up sleeping in my bed again?" she wondered aloud. "Does it make me weak, stupid, or just human?"



With no answer, she left him sleeping.



Nell pounced the minute she walked in the door.



"You're all right? I was worried."



"I'm fine."



"Don't look any the worse for wear," Lulu commented after a careful study. All the tension balled in her stomach loosened and smoothed out.



"I told Lu," Nell explained and struggled with the hitch in her conscience. She wasn't being as forthcoming with Mia as she was about her. "I . . . thought I should."



"Of course. Is the coffee up? I'm desperate for a decent cup. And to economize time and effort, we'll go upstairs and have some while I save the two of you the trouble of poking at me about what happened."



"You were so pale." Nell went up the steps first. "Ripley and I were about to pull you back when you came on your own. But you were as white as a sheet."



Guarding her province, Nell hurried behind the counter to pour the coffee. "You were gone for nearly an hour."



"An hour?" Mia was surprised. "I didn't realize. It didn't seem like . . . His power's crafty," she said quietly. "He blocked my sense of time. I wasn't prepared to stay so long, which explains why I was so weak when I came back."



She took the coffee Nell offered, sipped, considered. "It won't do to forget that a second time. You look a little peaked, Lu. Aren't you well?"



"Up late watching a Charles Bronson marathon," Lulu lied glibly, and behind the counter Nell flushed with guilt. "That Logan boy took good care of you?"



"Yes, Lulu. That Logan boy took good care of me. You sound like you're catching a cold."



The surefire way to distract her girl, Lulu knew, was to poke at her. "I didn't see his fancy car in front of the cottage this morning."



"Because it's still parked in my driveway. He sat up all night with me, then fixed me a nearly inedible breakfast this morning, after which I seduced him in the shower. As a result I'm feeling very rested, very serene, and just a little hungry. Nell, how about one of those apple muffins?"



"He sold his condo in New York City," Lulu stated, and had the satisfaction of seeing Mia blink.



"Really?"



"I keep my ear to the ground. Signed the papers on it just yesterday. Got a bunch of stuff going into storage. Doesn't sound like he's planning on going back there anytime soon."



"No, it doesn't." She couldn't think about that, Mia told herself. Not just now. "And as fascinating as that is, we've more immediate concerns than where Sam stores his living room furniture."



"Smart money says he sells it."



"Hmm. In any case," Mia continued, "we have to decide what to do, if anything, about Evan Remington. I don't think the authorities would sanction a coven of witches attempting a casting out on an inmate."



She nibbled her muffin as she considered. "And to be honest, I don't think it would work, not the way it did with Harding last winter. Harding was a pawn, unaware and largely unwilling. Remington isn't unwilling, and my sense is that he knows. He not only accepts, but revels in what comes into him. He welcomes it."



"I could get in to see him." Nell waited for Mia to look back at her. "He would agree to that. I might be able to reach him."



"You couldn't." Mia reached out to squeeze Nell's hand. "You're part of his catalyst. More important, Zack would have my head, and rightly so, if I encouraged you to try. Another face-to-face encounter between you and Remington is too dangerous under any circumstances, but it might be harmful for the baby."



"I wouldn't try to . . ." Nell's eyes went wide. "How did you know about the baby? I took a home pregnancy test at dawn." She pressed a hand to her belly. "I'm going to the doctor this afternoon to back it up. I haven't even told Zack. I want to be sure first."



"Be sure. I felt it when I took your hand." Joy swam into Mia's heart, over her face. "New life. Oh, Nell."



"I knew, the night . . . when I conceived, I knew. I felt a light inside." Tears spilled over. "I was afraid to believe it, to get my hopes up. We're having a baby!" She pressed her hands to her cheeks, spun in a circle. "We're having a baby! I have to tell Zack."



"Go, tell him now. Right now. We can handle things here until you get back, can't we, Lu? Lu?" Mia turned, saw Lulu digging a tissue out of her pocket.



"Got allergies," Lulu announced in a strangled voice. "Go on." She waved a hand at Nell. "Go tell your man he's going to be a daddy."



"A daddy!" Nell danced around the counter, threw her arms around Lulu's neck, then around Mia's.



"Oh, I can't wait to see his face. Oh, oh, and Ripley's! I won't be long. I'll be back." She raced for the stairs, then spun around with her face glowing. "I'm having a baby."



"You'd think no one ever managed to get knocked up before." After a last sniff, Lulu stuffed the tissue



back in her pocket. "Guess I'll have to knit some booties. A blanket." She shrugged. "Somebody has to step in and play grandma."



Mia slid her arm around Lulu's waist, rested her cheek on the older woman's hair. "Let's sit down a minute and have a good cry."



"Yeah." Lulu dragged the tissue back out. "Good idea."



Nothing, Mia was determined, was going to smear this window of joy. Not a three-hundred-year curse, not the inconvenience and confusion brought on by the early stages of expansion. And most certainly not her own prickles of envy.



Whatever had to be done, Nell would have these thrilling days of happiness and discovery. Because of the hammering and the blocked view from what had been the cafe windows, the lunch crowd had dwindled down to the adventurous ones and the diehards. To Mia's way of thinking, the timing couldn't have been better. The smaller crowds allowed Nell a few more hours off a week and the luxury of being distracted.



By the solstice, the bulk of the job would be done. And if the cafe wasn't yet picture perfect, her customers would be able to dine alfresco on her new little terrace. From the sidewalk outside the bookstore, Mia measured the progress. The cantilevered overhang would, when all was said and done, blend well with the rest of her building. She intended to hang baskets of flowers from either end. She'd already ordered the curving ironwork for the banister and had selected the slate for the terrace floor.



She could visualize it completed, decked with cafe tables, pots of summer flowers. And paying customers.



"Coming right along." Zack stopped beside her.



"Better than I could have hoped. We'll try it out during solstice week and be a hundred percent by the July Fourth holiday." She let out a deep, satisfied breath. "How are you, Sheriff Daddy?"



"Couldn't be better. It's been the best year of my life."



"You'll be a good father."



"I'm going to work hard to be."



"You will," she agreed. "But the core of it will just be there. Do you remember when we were kids and I used to come to your house?"



"Sure, if you weren't there with Rip, she was up at your place."



"I always loved coming there, watching your family. Sometimes I'd pretend they were mine." She leaned into him when he stroked her hair. "Just wondering what it would be like to have that kind of focus, I suppose, from my parents. That interest and amusement and pride. All those things that were so much a part of your house."



"I guess they were."



"Oh, Zack, sometimes I'd see your mother look over at you, or Ripley, and just grin. I could hear her thinking, just look at those kids. Aren't they great? And they're mine. Your parents didn't just tend you, didn't just love you. They enjoyed you."



"We were lucky. We enjoyed them right back."



"I know. Lulu gave me that, so much of that. So did my grandmother when she was alive. So I understood what it was. And because I did, my parents' innate disinterest in me was such a puzzle. In some ways it still is."



"Well." Because he thought she needed it, he pressed a kiss to her hair. "There were times growing up when I'd think you were lucky because you could get away with more than I could. You just had Lu running herd on you, and I had two people."



"She did the work of two people," Mia said dryly. "Two sneaky people. She would always let me run right to the end of the tether, then, when I thought I'd get away with it, she'd yank me right back."



"She's still running herd on you."



"Don't I know it. Anyway, to circle back to where we were before this ramble turned around to be about me, I wanted to say you're going to be a terrific father. You come by it naturally."



"There's nothing I won't do to protect Nell and the baby. I need to ask you straight out if anything the three of you plan to do can hurt the baby."



"No." She framed his face with her hands. "No, I promise you. And I'll give you my word, my vow, that I'll protect her child, your child, as I would my own."



"Okay, then. Now I'm going to ask you one more thing. You trust me."



"Zack, I already do."



"No." He curled his fingers around her wrists, surprising her with the sudden intensity. "You trust me to do my job, and that job is to protect the people on my island. You trust me to care about you, to stand for you the same way I would my sister. You trust me to help you when it comes time to finish this. You trust me enough for that."



"For all of that," she told him. "And more. I love you."



Sam stepped onto the curb in time to hear her say it. And hearing it, he felt a twinge in his gut. Not in jealousy - he knew better - but in envy that another man could draw such absolute trust and warmth from her. That another man could hear that quiet and heartfelt declaration, even as a friend. It took all his willpower to work up a sneer. "Greedy son of a bitch." Sam punched Zack lightly on the shoulder. "Haven't you already got a woman?"



"Seems I do." Still, Zack leaned down, kissed Mia on the mouth. "In fact, I think I'll go on up and see what she's up to. Nice kissing you, Ms. Devlin."



"Nice kissing you, Sheriff Todd."



"Looks like I have to do better than nice." To work off some of the frustration, Sam spun her around, caught her up, and gave her a long, sizzling kiss that had a trio of women across the street breaking out in applause.



"Well." Mia caught her breath and tried to uncurl her toes. "I suppose that was a few levels above nice. But then, you always were competitive."



"Take an hour off with me and I'll show you some competition."



"That's such an interesting offer. But - " She put a hand on his chest and eased back. "We're just a little pressed with the remodeling. I've already used up my break kissing the sheriff."



"Why don't you serve me lunch? I thought I'd scope out your menu."



"Your patronage is appreciated. The violet-and-herb salad is getting raves today." She walked to the door and opened it.



"I'm not eating flowers."



"I'm sure Nell has something suitably manly to offer you. Like a raw, meaty bone."



"Phone's for you," Lulu called out as Mia started up the stairs.



"I'll take it in my office." She glanced back at Sam. "You know the way to the cafe."



He did indeed. He settled on the Cajun chicken sandwich and an iced coffee. And watched the workmen.



It had been to his benefit as much as Mia's for him to spring the crew for a few weeks. His season was underway, and the guest rooms already rehabbed were fully occupied. After the Fourth, he intended to put the workers on half days so as not to disturb his guests during the early-morning or early-evening hours.



That would take them into September. And by September, he thought, he'd know what to do with the rest of his life.



She wasn't letting him get any closer. She welcomed him into her bed - but wouldn't sleep in his. She would talk about work, about the island, about magic. But she'd made it clear that an entire decade of their lives was off-limits.



Once or twice he'd tried to bring up his time in New York, but she'd simply closed down, or walked away.



Though they were both aware that everyone on the island knew they were lovers, she wouldn't go out with him. She hadn't had dinner with him in public since that first business meeting. His suggestions that they take an evening on the mainland and have dinner or go to the theater had been brushed away.



The underlying message came through clear enough. She was telling him she would sleep with him, enjoy him, but they weren't a couple.



Brooding over his sandwich, he wondered how many men would celebrate finding themselves in his position. He had an extraordinarily beautiful woman who was willing to share sex with him and expected - indeed permitted - little else. No strings, no expectations, no promises. And he wanted more. That, he admitted, had been the root of the problem from the beginning. He'd wanted more, but he'd been too young, too stupid, too stubborn to see that the more was all Mia. When she sat down across from him, he found his heart was in his throat and ready to spill out. "Mia - "



"I got Caroline Trump." She snatched his iced coffee, drank deep. "I just got off the phone with her publicist. I have her for the second Saturday in July. You should've heard how cool and professional I was on the phone. She'd never have guessed I was turning cartwheels."



"In that dress?"



"Ha ha. Sam." She reached over to take his hands. "I know your influence is largely responsible for this. I'm grateful. I want you to know how much I appreciate you putting in a good word for the store."



"That part was easy. Now don't screw up."



"I won't. I already designed the ad, in anticipation. I have to talk to Nell about food." She started to spring up, then hesitated. "So, do you have any plans for the solstice?"



He met her gaze, kept his voice as casual as hers. Though they both knew she was offering to take another step. One that was, for her, a big one.



"No, no formal plans."



"You do now."