Page 38 of Made

He saw both confusion and irritation on her beautiful face.

“What are you doing?” she asked. “These are business hours.”

“Some things are more important than business. But if you do no’ agree, consider this a consultation for which I will pay your regular hourly rate.”

Esme scoffed. “I don’t have aregularhourly rate.”

“Good. Then I’ll be keepin’ my money in my pocket.”

Esme wanted to chastise Kagan and verbally punish him for his assumptions and his arrogance, but everything about his take-charge pursuit was thrilling, as was his insistence that they stay together.

“Alright. Keep your money. Say what you want to say then allow me to reopen my store.”

“Very well.”

He grabbed her by the hand and led her to the back, stopping at the exact spot where she’d been standing before they’d been interrupted by a possible sale. He didn’t say what he wanted to say with words. He said what he wanted to say with his body. He pressed himself against her as his mouth fused with hers.

Esme might have wanted to resist, but found it quite impossible since she was in love and all. She greedily accepted greedy kisses, demanding tongue, tender kisses, and the delectable torture of slow burn.Kagan would’ve cried from relief, or shouted for joy, but he was busy making love to the female he’d never dared dream might be his one day. She’d come into his life and given him a taste of bliss. As far as he was concerned, she was his. He was hers. And he wasn’t letting go. The best he could do to celebrate his victory verbally was a series of soft growls. The sound and vibration, almost like a purr, spiked Esme’s excitement. Being part lion, when Kagan smelled her arousal, his own desire accelerated, keeping pace with hers.

Long arm extended, he swiped at the bolts of fabric that were stacked on her workroom table and sent them flying.

She protested. “Wait!”

“No’ on your life,” he said as he lifted her onto the table and joined her there within seconds. “We’re together. And ‘tis the end of it.” He pulled at the sweater she was wearing to bare her shoulder and cover it with kisses. “Say it.” Esme was alternating between panting, gasping, and fumbling with the buttons on Kagan’s shirt, but she forgot all about misplaced folds of whole cloth. He covered both her delicate hands with one of his and stopped her. “Say it!” he commanded.

She searched his eyes and saw that he meant to have her. Not just then. Forever. That was when she realized that station and status were irrelevant. Kagan had chosen her and didn’t care what other magic kind thought about it.

“We’re together,” she said quietly with the commitment he’d been craving when he’d stormed the studio.

With a wicked smile, he freed her hands and helped her out by removing his shirt in an instant.

CHAPTER NINE Solstice Magic

“You outdid yourself this time,” Evie said as she slipped her arm around my waist and squeezed.

My arms encircled her upper body and pulled her closer. I couldn’t stop smiling. The Hallows holiday window would put Bergdorf Goodman or Macy’s to shame. My holiday horse, Thunder, neck arched, one hoof proudly raised, was to-die-for gorgeous, having been surrounded by greenery with red berries and tiny white lights, and smothered in a Kentucky-Derby-style wreath of red and white roses around his neck.

“I’m trying to be humble, but I can’t get there. You’re right. It’s even better than I imagined. Credit where due, though. Thanks for the heavy lifting.”

“It was nothing. And I really mean that.”

“It wasn’t nothing. You came when I called. That’s everything!” We turned to stroll toward Molly’s where we were meeting husbands. She’d just called Diarmuid to join us. “Don’t forget. Diarmuid doesn’t need to know who moved the horse into the window. Now let’s talk about the important stuff. What are you wearing to John David’s party?”

“Ugh! You had to bring it up. It doesn’t matter what I wear. No one will see anything but the giant bulge purporting to be a baby.”

“Evie. Esme is a weaving wizard. She could make a frog look good.” The horrified look on my daughter’s face let me know immediately I’d said the wrong thing. The really, really, really wrong thing. “No. No. No. You know perfectly well that I didn’t mean you look like a frog. You’ve never been morebeautiful, and youhaveto know that. So, come on. Really. What are you wearing?”

“I don’t know.” Evie sounded like the idea of finding something suitable was hopeless.

“Red. I think red.”

“Why?”

“Well, first, you are traffic-stopping stunning in red.”

“Say that three times fast.”

I shook my head. “No. Second, it’s such a bold and festive statement that it’ll distract from the obvious. People will be captivated by your smile and never notice anything else.”

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