Page 7 of Entranced
“Because you care. And if there’s a chance—oh, even the slimmest chance—that I’m what I claim to be, you won’t want to risk ignoring it.”
She could feel the heat from his fingers. It seemed to sizzle right through the skin to her bones. It occurred to her that she was afraid. Not physically. It was deeper than that. She was afraid because she’d never felt this kind of power before.
“I work alone.”
“So do I,” he said calmly. “As a rule. We’re going to break the rules.” He reached in, quick as a snake. He wanted one thing, one small thing, to rub her nose in. Finding it, he smiled. “I’ll be in touch very soon. Mary Ellen.”
He had the pleasure of seeing her mouth fall open, of seeing her eyes narrow as she thought back, struggling to remember if Rose had used her full name. But she couldn’t remember, couldn’t be sure. Shaken, she jerked away.
“Don’t waste my time, Donovan. And don’t call me that.” With a toss of her head, she strode to the car. She might not be psychic, but she knew he was grinning.
Chapter 2
Sebastian didn’t go back inside, not even after he had watched the little gray car trail down the ribbon of Highway 1. He stood on the porch, both amused and faintly irritated by the sizzles of anger and frustration Mel had left behind to spark in the air.
Strong-willed, he mused. And just brimming with energy. A woman like that would exhaust a peaceful man. Sebastian considered himself a peaceful man. Not that he wouldn’t mind poking at her a bit, the way a young boy pokes at glowing embers to see how often he can get a flame to shoot up.
It was often worth the risk of a few minor burns to make fire.
At the moment, however, he was just too tired to enjoy it. He was already angry with himself for having agreed to become involved. It was the combination of the two women that had done it to him, he thought now. The one with her face so full of fears and desperate hope, the other so vivid with fury and sneering disbelief. He could have handled one or the other, he thought as he descended the steps. But being caught in the middle of all that conflicting emotion, the sheer depth of it, had defeated him.
So he would look. Though he had promised himself a long, quiet break before taking on another case, he would look. And he would pray to whatever god was listening that he could live with what he might see.
But for now, he would take some time—one long, lazy morning—to heal his fatigued mind and ragged soul.
There was a paddock behind the house, attached to a low, gleaming white stable. Even as he approached, he heard the whicker of greeting. The sound was so ordinary, so simple and welcoming that he smiled.
There they were, the sleek black stallion and the proud white mare, standing so still that he thought of two elegantly carved chess pieces, one ebony, one alabaster. Then the mare flicked her tail in a flirtatious gesture andpranced to the fence.
They could leap it, he knew. Both had done so more than once, with him in the saddle. But there was a trust between them, an understanding that the fence was not a cage but a home.
“There’s a beauty.” Sebastian lifted a hand to stroke her cheek, her long, graceful neck. “Have you been keeping your man in line, Psyche?”
She blew into his hand. In her dark eyes he saw pleasure, and what he liked to think was humor. She whinnied softly when he swung over the fence. Then she stood patiently while he passed his hands over her flanks, down over her swollen belly.
“Only a few more weeks,” he murmured. He could almost feel the life inside her, sleeping. Again he thought of Morgana, though he doubted his cousin would care to be compared to a pregnant horse, even as fine an Arabian as Psyche.
“Has Ana been taking good care of you?” He nuzzled against the mare’s neck, comforted by her quiet good nature. “Of course she has.”
He murmured and stroked for a while, giving her the attention they had both missed while he’d been away. Then he turned and looked at the stallion, who stood alert, his handsome head high.
“And you, Eros, have you been tending to your lady?”
At the sound of his name, the horse reared to paw the air, trumpeting a cry that was rich in power and almost human. The display of pride had Sebastian laughing as he crossed to the stallion.
“You’ve missed me, you gorgeous beast, admit it or not.” Still laughing, Sebastian slapped the gleaming flank and sent Eros dancing around the paddock. On the second trip around, Sebastian grabbed a handful of mane and swung onto the restless mount, giving them what they both wanted. A fast, reckless ride.
As they soared over the fence, Psyche watched them, her eyes as indulgent—and as superior—as a mother watching little boys wrestling.
***
Sebastian felt better by the afternoon. The hollowness he’d brought back from Chicago was gradually being filled. But he continued to avoid the little yellow teddy bear sitting lonely on the long, empty sofa. And he had yet to look at the photograph.
In the library, with its coffered ceiling and its walls of books, he sat at a massive mahogany desk and toyed with some paperwork. At any given time, Sebastian might have between five and ten businesses of which he was either sole owner or majority partner. They were hobbies to him—real estate, import-export firms, magazines, a catfish farm in Mississippi that amused him, and his current pet, a minor-league baseball team in Nebraska.
He was shrewd enough to make a healthy profit, wise enough to leave day-to-day management in the hands of experts, and capricious enough to buy and sell on a whim.
He enjoyed what money could give him, and he often used those profits lavishly. But he had grown up with wealth, and amounts of money that would have startled many were hardly more than numbers on paper to him. The simple game of mathematics, the increasing or decreasing, was a never-ending source of entertainment.
