Circle of Fire (Damask Circle 1)

“Something like that.” His dead gaze ran past her for a moment. “That boyfriend of yours is getting mighty friendly with Miss Dumaresq.”

“I don’t care. Let him.” She threw her napkin down on the table and pushed her chair back. Enough was enough.

“Going already?” Hank raised his eyebrows at her, a knowing smile touching the corners of his thin mouth.

“It’s been a long day,” she replied tightly. And it looked as if it was going to be an even longer night.

Jon could take his turn on the sofa tonight—if he even bothered coming back to the room, that was.

“I don’t suppose you’d like company?”

She glanced down sharply at Hank. He smiled blandly back.

“I meant to the door, of course.”

“Of course,” she muttered. “But I’ll be fine, thanks.”

He nodded. “See you tomorrow, Miss Smith.” He gave her a smile that held more than a hint of malice, then added, “Maybe.”

A chill ran down her spine. Perhaps going up to the room alone wasn’t such a good idea. She glanced back at Jon and found his gaze meeting hers. But there was no comfort to be found in the blue of his eyes. He was doing his job, and she was only getting in the way. His expression said as much.

She licked her lips and turned away. Hank’s gaze burned a hole into her back as she walked quickly from the room.

“WHAT ABOUT THAT NIGHTCAP, THEN?” ELEANOR ARCHED an eyebrow at Jon and walked her fingers down his chest.

Jon stopped her hand when it reached his stomach. “You choose. You know the town better than I do.”

“There’s a lovely little bar a couple of blocks away, on Fourth. Hi Tides, it’s called. And the best thing is, it’s only a five-minute walk from my place.”

He raised an eyebrow. “That sounds like an invitation.”

“Play your cards right, and it just might be,” she purred and lightly kissed his ear.

He resisted the temptation to move away from her touch and glanced down the table at Hank. The man was looking far too smug for Jon’s liking. Eleanor’s tongue whisked across his ear. This time he did pull away, smiling when she pouted.

“What about the boyfriend?”

Eleanor raised finely sculptured eyebrows. “What boyfriend?”

Jon nodded toward Hank. “Aren’t you two an item?”

Eleanor’s smile was pure seduction. “Sometimes we are. Sometimes we aren’t.”

Hank appeared to be ignoring them, yet Jon sensed the man knew every move he and Eleanor made. There was some sort of link between them, a tenuous thread of magic that tingled across his skin like electricity. It worried him, and yet at the same time, it told him he was right in suspecting these two.

“So he won’t object to us going out?”

Her smile gained a hint of malice. “Oh, he may object, but I don’t really care.”

Her heart is as cold as her touch is warm, he thought. She looked briefly at Hank, her expression disdainful. At that moment, the electricity surged, a brief but potent charge that made the hair on Jon’s arms stand on end.

Hank rose immediately, bumping into the woman on his left and spilling her wine. He muttered an apology, then quickly walked from the room. The bell chimed as he left the inn.

Tension surged through Jon. He flexed his shoulders, trying to relax. Something had just happened between Eleanor and Hank, and until he found out what, he knew he’d better be more careful.

Eleanor turned, facing him. His gaze was drawn to her ample cleavage. The woman was built, he had to give her that.

“So, what time should we meet?” she continued softly.