Page 53 of Hero & Villain
“Milk chocolate.” I fumbled, looking down because I was thinking of his eyes instead of actual consumables. “I mean thatI like all kinds of chocolate, from dark rich chocolate to lighter blends. White chocolate is an abomination, but I’m not all that particular otherwise, except that it has to be really good.”
He laughed and tugged on a strand of my hair with the arm that wasn’t in a sling. “That doesn’t sound particular at all. Do you prefer Brazilian or German?”
I shrugged, incredibly aware of his hand brushing my cheek as he tucked my hair behind my ear. “I really have no preference.” I preferred his hands.
His smile became pure mischief. “You need to do a scientific survey of all the chocolate in the world until you know for certain what the one thing is that will satisfy you completely.” His voice was low, his eyes more intent and dangerous.
I found it suddenly hard to swallow or know what to say. His mouth was more appetizing than chocolate, and that’s what he tasted like. Chocolate. Had I liked chocolate before I kissed him on top of that tower, or had he started my borderline obsession?
I took a deep breath and pressed my palms to my tangled stomach. “I see. That isn’t very enlightening. If you don’t care about chocolate, why do you taste like it?”
He leaned closer and murmured, “I drank a lot of chocolate schnapps around the time I met you on the tower. You tasted like cherries. Chocolate-covered cherries are like Christmas every day.”
What would Christmas be like with him? What if there were mistletoe? Would he kiss me if I had that to hang over him? I stared at his mouth and leaned a little closer until I brushed his arm, and a flash of pain went through his eyes. Right. He was injured. I stepped away from him, blinking. “What happened to your arm?”
“I sprained it wrestling a bulldog. Back alley brawls are much more likely to turn your back into hamburger.”
“Why did you fight him again?”
He shrugged, then winced and frowned down at his arm. “I’m a fighter. That’s the job, at least it used to be. I’m resenting not being able to handle the tools as well as I’d like. Are you busy after lunch? Could you lend me a hand?”
“I can’t detach it for you, but if you don’t mind using the rest of me as well…”
He scowled, suddenly dark and furious. I’d never seen his eyes so hard before. “Never let anyone use you again. You’re better than that.”
He looked so fierce and unfriendly. I swallowed hard and held up my open hand. “Didn’t you want me to help you?”
He sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry. Sprained arms make me cranky. Could you hold this board for me while I solder on a few pieces?” His eyes went soft and delicious. I couldn’t help smiling at him and sitting on the stool beside him. He smelled good, and every time his arm brushed mine, a small thrill went through me that made my heart race and a bubble of happiness well up in my chest. Yes, see? Seduction. Now I’d casually ask him where he kept all his good tech stuff. Actually, I spent half an hour with him on the edge of hyperventilating while he told me what to do to fix some tech thing. It was impossible to focus because every time he brushed his arm against me, I died, and the other night came flooding back to me. Not the panic attack, the pre-panic haze of happiness. What would Christmas be like with him?
Christmas with Clint had been more public than private, his family party and mine interrupting our normal scheduling. Christmas morning was breakfast somewhere very expensive and an exchange of presents that involved Thursday wear or gear. I never wanted to see another whip or leather corset again.
“What are your Christmas traditions?” I asked, tipping the green board while he attached tiny metal pieces.
“Stockings and Christmas turkey, mistletoe and presents, plus the Prescott ball, where the proceeds go to some charity or other. Oh, I also attended the Nutcracker ballet every year because my sister was always in it. She was a terrible dancer, but that didn’t stop her.” He shifted the board. “What about you, Pinkie? What are your Christmases like?”
“The smell of mulled cider hangs in the air, along with laughter and music. Handel’s Messiah plays between carolers and Christmas songs on the radio. I love Christmas music. It makes you feel connected even when you’re on the outside looking in.” When I was very small, I remembered a Christmas like that. A small house filled with cello music, my dad’s laughter, my mom’s singing- but the memories were cloudy.
I got off the bench when a wave of sadness swept through me. Was I going to burst into tears? That was an improvement over a panic attack. Maybe. I wasn’t there to feel sentimental, to enjoy Dirk’s warmth and strength, to be close and want to be even closer. After a week I hadn’t begun to seduce him, and I had a limited timetable. Eventually, my grandfather would find me, and then everything would be over.
My chest constricted, and I backed away from him.
“I’ve got to get back to Nix’s office. If you think of any good chocolate places, let me know.” I left quickly while he frowned after me, but I didn’t cry, not one drop. Go supervillain.
After a week spent working, avoiding Dirk and my own dangerous feelings, I got the address for a good chocolate place from Ron, the guard at the compound’s gate.
Prepping for the second biggest race kept everyone occupied. I just did my paperwork and tried to think up a plan to seduce Dirk without freezing up, or bursting into tears, or having a panic attack. Who does that?
On Friday, I pulled up at Jezebel’s house and carried in my precious chocolate, stopping in the vestibule where two otherpairs of shoes sat, both of them sexy heels, one bright floral pair and one a shiny red set.
“Pinkie, get in here! We’re ready to start Girl’s Night!”
I followed Jezebel’s voice down the hall and to the open steel door that I’d put out of my head. I walked in and had to pause for a moment at the villainous lair laid out before me. A petite woman with dark wavy hair was perched on a table with a laptop on her knees while three other screens surrounded her, showing different footage from traffic cams that she couldn’t legally have access to.
“Buenos Dias,” she said with a flirty smile. “I’m Felicia. So glad you could come to Girl’s Night.” Her name probably wasn’t Felicia, but identity was fluid with Jezebel, like morals if she thought hacking was as appropriate as dumping someone unconscious in the desert. Jezebel was definitely a supervillain.
“Hi Dani,” Minx said with a little wave where she leaned against the desk. “Do you want a cupcake?” The redhead was wearing a green print sundress that set off her hair and lipstick beautifully. She looked like Christmas.
Christmas was just after Thanksgiving, and I was no closer to wrapping up Dirk like a present for my grandfather than when I first got here, not that I wanted that kind of Christmas. I wanted music and Toni, her horribly wrapped present, something random that I’d never really want, but priceless because she’d thought of me.
