The Taking (26 page)

Maybe it was good business sense. Put the disposable tourist trap items in front for a quick sale. If anyone bothered to go all the way to the back of the store, where Felix did his readings, they were probably genuinely interested in voodoo, or aspects of voodoo.

Regan liked the back of the store better herself. The herbs smelled pungent, the candles sweet, the altars comforting and beautiful, with all their various offerings of money, perfume, honey, cinnamon, lipstick, depending on the god or goddess, tumbling in front of them. It was quiet, peaceful, as Regan wandered around, no sign of Felix.

Standing in front of Dantor, the goddess who helped women invoke strength in themselves according to the placard in front of her statue, Regan tried to ignore the pounding of a sleep deprivation headache and the anxiety she felt about confronting Felix.

She was reaching for the dragon’s blood ink, curious what it was and what it did, when she heard, “Regan.”

Whirling around, she almost dropped the vial before putting it carefully back on the shelf. “Hi,” she said to Felix, who was standing in front of her, not looking particularly surprised to see her.

His expressions were irritatingly difficult to read. She had no clue if he was pleased to see her, indifferent, annoyed. He was just ... there. Casual, good-looking, in his usual uniform of jeans and a gray T-shirt that showed off his muscular chest.

“How are you?” he asked.

All her years of training to be polite almost had her saying that she was fine, but at the last minute she stopped herself. If her relationship with Beau had taught her anything, it was that she was no longer content to be silent. That if she had feelings or wants or opinions, no one would ever know unless she spoke them.

“I’ve been better,” she told him honestly. “I’m here to see if you’re still planning to be at the party since I haven’t heard from you.”

“Of course I’ll be there.” He was standing a few feet from her, his hands in his front pockets, and the way he said it, like there was never any doubt, irritated Regan.

Adjusting her handbag on her forearm, she crossed her arms over her black sleeveless tank. “Great. I’ll have Jen call you then with the final details. Now maybe you can explain to me why you’ve set up camp outside my house.”

There was still no reaction from him. “I just want to make sure we don’t have a repeat of the other night.”

Of her dangling off the balcony or the sex? It was so hard to believe that her safety was really the sum total of his motivation. “So you’re just going to watch me every night? That’s hardly practical. Or normal.”

He shrugged. “No one has ever accused me of being normal.”

“That doesn’t give you an excuse to behave however you want ”

His head tilted and his voice shifted, went lower, a fissure of anger creeping into it. “Oh, and how would you have me behave, Regan?”

That knocked her off balance. She fought against feeling flustered. Needing to feel in control, she fought to revive her anger, so she wouldn’t crumble. “I would have you call me after we had sex.”

“So that’s what this is about?” he asked, his hands falling out of his pockets as he took a step closer to her. “You didn’t call me either.”

Regan clutched her handbag in front of her, swallowing hard. “You’re right. I didn’t. But first of all, you said you would call me. And when you didn’t, I didn’t know what to say to the man I imagined a snake in front of and then came home to see him sitting outside my house three nights in a row. It made me feel a little insecure and unnerved, and I don’t think that’s just me. Most women would probably feel the same way.”

“Fair enough.” Felix stopped right in front of her and gave her a small smile. “I was going to call you.”

Yeah, right. “Well, now you don’t have to bother because I’m here and we’ve established that you’re still attending the party and that you’re going to stop watching my house every night.”

There. She’d said it. She was in control, she was not going to be passive and hide behind her curtains every night, wondering and worrying what he was doing, what he was thinking.

“I’m not going to stop watching you,” he said. “I need to know you’re alright. Has the sleepwalking happened again?”

Regan bit her lip, not wanting to admit the truth.

“So that’s a yes. Which means I’m going to keep an eye on you whether you like it or not”

“It’s not your responsibility. You need to sleep, you have your own life. You must have better things to do than sit on the sidewalk all night.” She still didn’t know whether to be flattered that he cared about her safety, or completely creeped out.

“Just because it isn’t my responsibility doesn’t mean I won’t.”

My God, he was so stubborn and hard to understand. Regan made a sound of frustration. “So, if you want to make sure I’m okay, why don’t you do it from the inside?”

“From the inside?”

“Yes. Watch me sleep from inside my house. Actually get some sleep yourself. You can put bells on me so you’ll wake up if I get out of bed.” She hadn’t really meant to suggest that he spend the night with her, but now that she’d thrown it out there in irritation, she was going to back it up as a more sensible plan than sidewalk loitering.

“Share your bed? Every night?” Felix reached out and touched her pearl necklace. “Is that what you’re suggesting?”

She shivered, desire already pooling in her inner thighs, shoving her anger aside. “Sure. For a few nights anyway. Until you’re satisfied I’m not going to balcony surf again.”

“I think it’s safer for me to stay outside on the street.”

Rejection smacked her in the face and she stiffened. “Why? What is that supposed to mean exactly?” She was tired of his riddles and half statements, and while her instinct was to retreat, out of his touch, she stood her ground, determined yet again not to be passive anymore.

“It means that if I’m allowed into your bed, to spend all night next to you, I might not want to leave. Ever.”

Oh, my. Regan lost the ability to breathe. She had not expected him to say that. She didn’t know what she’d expected him to say, but it most certainly was not
that.

“It could be dangerous,” he murmured. “To me.”

“I’ve never invoked fear in a man before,” she said, letting her arm and her bag drop down so she could be closer to him.

“I’m very afraid of you ... afraid that you are the one woman who could make me want to stay the night, every night ”

It could be a line. Regan didn’t care. She wanted Felix, regardless of what her friends or her head might tell her about getting involved with a man like him, regardless of whether or not she was capable of having casual sex, or if she was ready to be involved with anyone this soon after her divorce. Her body had experienced a passion she never had before with him, and she wanted it again, for whatever amount of time it was available.

“Confront your fear. Swallow it,” she told him, amazed she’d managed to shove the bold words out of her mouth. “Like you told me to do.”

Felix gave a soft, sexy laugh. “My own advice thrown back in my face. I like it. And you’re right, of course. Why miss the opportunity to lie next to you from the basic primitive emotion of fear? I’m cautious, not stupid.”

He had shifted again subtly as they talked so that they were now standing close, bodies brushing. Regan put her hands on his waist, wanting to feel him. She was tired of always trying to please, of walking the narrow fence of propriety, of putting everyone’s needs ahead of her own. This was her life, and she could live it on her terms, without hurting anyone.

Chances were the only one who would get hurt was her when Felix inevitably pulled the plug, but she was willing to take that risk.

“You are so sexy,” he whispered, lips brushing against her cheek, teeth nibbling her ear.

“Thank you.” She wasn’t sure what else to say to that, and she was concentrating on breathing evenly as his teeth did interesting things to her flesh.

“So I’m staying the night.” He slid his tongue inside her ear, hands moving up and down her sides.

It wasn’t a question. But she still confirmed, “Yes.”

“Come upstairs. I’ll pack a bag.”

He was going with her right then? Her desire kicked into overdrive, but even as her body applauded the idea, she asked, “Don’t you have to stay in the store?” She didn’t want to pull him away from his business.

“I can close whenever I want.” He kissed her neck. “Do you notice any customers in here?”

“No.” Though she couldn’t say she’d really been looking, which was a little disconcerting. She’d never been one for public displays of affection. Though affection was a misnomer for what they were doing.

“Then let’s go upstairs: ” Felix pulled back and started to move to a door she had assumed led to a storage room.

“Aren’t you going to lock up?” It would be really easy for someone to stroll in when they were upstairs and steal hundreds of dollars’ worth of merchandise.

But Felix looked unconcerned. “I suppose I could. Not that it matters.”

“Don’t you care?”

“Not really. It’s only money. And if someone needs a love oil so desperately they’re willing to steal it, I say more power to them and their libido.” But he did move toward the front of the store.

Regan knew Felix didn’t want to be greedy, but there was such a thing as business sense. But it wasn’t her business or her money so she said nothing, even as she thought locking the door against thieves wasn’t exactly a major inconvenience, and she was glad he was going to take the two seconds to do it.

Watching him walk toward the door to lock it, Regan stared at his butt and thought about how it had felt to scrape her nails across that tight muscle when he was thrusting inside her. Blowing her hair out of her eyes, she shifted in her black sandals and said, “Do you have any condoms?”

He paused in the act of flicking the lock over. Then he turned around, that sensual smile he had perfected so well on his face as he moved toward her. “Regan Henry, why would we need condoms? Tell me.”

She knew what he wanted her to say. His words about her black-and-white world popped into her head. Did she want to always play it safe, with a life that coordinated perfectly, everything interchangeable? Or did she want to risk adding something that could throw life off balance, add a splash of color that didn’t fit into her decor?

“So that you can fuck me,” she said.

That was the splash of red, of purple, of citrine, in her neutral palette.

His blue eyes lightened. “That can definitely be arranged.”

Felix watched Regan perch on the end of his bed, looking a little uncomfortable as he packed an overnight bag. His small apartment was cramped and cluttered, but he didn’t think that was what was bothering her. It was both what she had said to him downstairs and the fact that she had discovered his odd little habit of shoving money in random places around his apartment. He’d seen her pull a wad of cash out from where it had been sticking out from the bottom of the mattress, then hastily shove it back.

He didn’t feel compelled to explain it to her. He had already revealed way too much with Regan. He cared about her safety, about her. Despite everything he had learned over the years, she had somehow managed to find a way into the heart he had thought was jaded beyond caring.

It was disconcerting. And it made him angry.

So his life had sucked before she had entered it.

At least it had been even. Calm.

Boring.

Empty.

Damn it. Felix yanked open his dresser and grabbed a pair of boxers and clean socks. He shoved them into the bag.

“Do you rent this apartment and the store?” she asked, her legs crossed in her white cotton skirt, perfectly manicured toes swinging up and down.

“No. I own them.”

“Wow. That’s impressive. We all know it’s not cheap to have a property in the Quarter.”

“I’m not poor,” he said, peeling two twenties off the stack of bills sitting on his dresser and cramming them into his pocket.

“I can see that,” she said. “Since you have money all over your apartment. You probably have a thousand dollars in the ashtray alone.”

“I don’t smoke, so why waste the storage space?” He was being an asshole, he knew it, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. It wasn’t fair that he would feel this way about
her
. It wasn’t fair that of all the women he had encountered in his long lifetime she had to be the one to act like she actually gave a rat’s ass about him.

Why couldn’t it be just any woman? No, it had to be Alcroft’s ex-wife. The woman living in Camille’s house. It wasn’t fair and he was angry that it wasn’t and angry that he cared that it wasn’t.

“It just seems that a bank might be a better option. Especially if you have a guest over who ashes your savings into oblivion.”

“I don’t have guests.” A T-shirt and a fresh pair of jeans went into the bag. He walked the short distance to his bathroom and rooted around for his toothbrush and toothpaste. Screw the razor. He’d go scruffy.