Key of Light (Key 1)
“Jesus, I’ve got to get blinds for this place.” He tried the psychological angle of shutting the door. “I don’t mind being the hero, but maybe you should tell me what dragon I slayed.”
“I read your column this morning.”
“Yeah? Usually if somebody likes my column they just say ‘Nice job, Hennessy.’ I like your way better.”
“ ‘It isn’t only the artist holding brush and vision who paints the picture,’ ” she quoted. “ ‘It’s those who look and see the power and the beauty, the strength and the passion, who bring brushstroke and color to life.’ Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Every time I start feeling sorry for myself because I’m not living in Paris and setting the art world on its ear, I’m going to take out your column and remind myself what I’ve got. What I am.”
“I think you’re extraordinary.”
“Today, so do I. I woke up feeling better than I have in days. Amazing what a good night’s sleep will do—or a little blue stone under the pillow.”
“You lost me.”
“It’s not important. Just something Rowena gave me. She joined our little sleepover last night.”
“Yeah? What was she wearing?”
Laughing, she sat on the edge of his desk. “She didn’t stay long enough for the pajama section of the night’s entertainment, but you could say she arrived in the nick. The three of us were fooling around with a Ouija board.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
“No. Zoe had this theory that maybe the three of us were witches but didn’t know it. Which is why we were chosen . . . and really, it made some sense at the time. In any case, things got very strange. Candle flames rising, wind blowing. And Kane, he got in. Rowena said we’d opened a door, like an invitation.”
“Damn it, Malory. Goddamn it! What’re you doing playing around with—with mystical forces? He’s already had a shot at you. You could’ve been hurt.”
He had such a face, she thought. Such a great face. It could change from interested to amused to furious in a split second. “That’s something Rowena made very clear last night. There’s no point in being angry with me about it now.”
“I didn’t have the option of being angry with you before now.”
“True enough.” She grunted when Moe, awakened by the temper in Flynn’s voice, tried to jump in her lap. “You’re absolutely right that we shouldn’t have played with something we didn’t understand. I’m sorry, believe me, and it isn’t something I plan on trying again.”
He reached over to give her hair a quick tug. “I’m trying to have an argument here. The least you could do is cooperate.”
“I’m too happy with you to argue today. Let’s pencil something in for next week. Besides, I just came by to bring you the flowers. I’ve interrupted your day long enough.”
He glanced at the mums—the second bunch of flowers she’d brought to him. “You’re sure cheerful today.”
“Why shouldn’t I be? I’m a woman in love, who’s made what I feel are very good decisions about . . .”
“About?” he prompted when her eyes went blank.
“Choices,” she mumbled. “Moments of decision, moments of truth. Why didn’t I think of that before? Maybe it was your house, but my dream perception of perfection turned it around. Made it all fit. More mine than yours. Or maybe that has nothing to do with it. And it’s just you.”
“What is?”
“The key. I need to search your house. Is that going to be a problem?”
“Ah . . .”
Impatient now, she waved away his hesitation. “Look, if you have anything personal or embarrassing tucked away like skin magazines or adventurous sex toys, I’ll give you a chance to get them out. Or promise to ignore them.”
“The skin mags and adventurous sex toys are all locked in the vault. I’m afraid I can’t give you the combination.”
She moved into him, trailed her hands up his chest. “I know it’s a lot to ask. I wouldn’t like anyone poking through my place when I wasn’t there.”