Jinx (9 page)

SMACK!

I crashed into someone behind me. The champagne flew up out of my glass, splattering all over Devlin Dash. He took a step back at the jarring impact, his silver glasses teetering on the end of his nose. A golden drop of champagne rolled down one of the lenses and splashed onto my hand. That little plop of pressure was enough to send the glass sliding from my fingers. It hit the marble floor and splintered into at least a hundred pieces.

Every eye in the room turned to the two of us. All conversation stopped. Even the music quit playing.

For a long, horrified moment, I stared at Devlin. I’d just soaked one of the wealthiest men in Bigtime with champagne in front of five hundred people. At my own benefit. Before he could write me a check.

I truly was jinxed.

8

To my credit, I didn’t sputter or stammer or spew out endless apologies. Didn’t cry or scream or run away in horror. Didn’t even blush. Well, not much. I’d long ago grown used to my jinx. Resigned myself to it, actually.

“Wait here,” I told Devlin. “I’ll get you some napkins. Try not to step in the glass.”

I grabbed some white linen cloths from a passing waiter and handed them to Devlin, so he could wipe the alcohol off his smeared lenses. Everyone watched us a minute longer. When they realized Devlin wasn’t going to blow up at me, they returned to their drinks and conversation.

“I really am sorry,” I said. “I’m such a klutz sometimes. I hope this accident won’t change your mind about donating to the museum.”

Devlin pulled a wet sheet of paper out of the inside of his gray space suit costume. He didn’t even have to say anything. I took the check from him, and the soggy mess fell apart in my hands.

Devlin went to the bathroom to wash the champagne off his face, while one of the waiters rushed forward to clean up the shattered glass.

The party wound down soon after that. Joanne was right. I really did know how to clear a room. Despite my earlier embarrassment, I stationed myself by the exit and thanked all the society patrons for their time and generous donations.

My grandfather was among the last to leave. “It was a wonderful evening, Bella. You should be proud of yourself.”

I grimaced, thinking of Devlin Dash and his waterlogged check.

Bobby didn’t notice my sour expression. “Do you want to ride home with me in the limo?”

“No, I’ll catch a cab. I have to stay and take care of a few more things. I’ll see you at home.”

Bobby’s eyes twinkled. “Maybe, maybe not. I have a date tonight.”

“Now?” I checked my silver watch. It was after two in the morning. “With whom?”

“Why, my lady friend, of course.”

“So, are you finally going to tell me who she is?” I asked, scanning the remaining stragglers for a likely suspect. “Or do I have to guess?”

“Now, you know a true gentleman never kisses and tells. She’s a lovely lady and that’s all you need to know. We’ll have dinner one night this week, I promise. Don’t wait up for me, Bella.” Grandfather leaned over and kissed my cheek. “Go home and get some rest. You’ve earned it.”

“Call me later!” I shouted to his retreating back.

Bobby waved his hand at me and walked outside. I sighed. He wouldn’t call me, and I’d spend the rest of the night sitting up and waiting for him to get home. Sometimes, watching after my grandfather was worse than trying to deal with a hormonal teenager.

Even though I was bone-tired, I spent the next hour helping the other volunteers count donations and tally up contributions. In the end, it was worth it. The benefit had raised over five million dollars for the museum, more than enough to pay off the new wing and far beyond my cautious estimates. Grandfather was right. The benefit had been a smashing success, despite my bad-luck run-in with Devlin Dash.

‘This is wonderful, Bella. Just wonderful.‘ Arthur Anders beamed. “The benefit has exceeded all my expectations. We’ve gotten enough donations to keep the museum in tip-top shape for the next three years. I even think we’ll be able to add some pieces I’ve had my eye on.”

“I’m glad I could help,” I said. “You know the museum has always been one of my favorite places—and favorite causes.”

We were in Arthur’s office, and he’d just put the last of the checks into his personal safe. Arthur spun the dial around on the metal door, locking it, and moved over to his executive-style chair. I sat across from him in a similar seat, sipping some bottled water. Hopefully, I could finish it without soaking the papers on Arthur’s antique desk. I sat six feet away from them. Just in case.

“I know, and I appreciate it, now more than ever.” Arthur leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers over his stomach. “So tell me, how is your own art going, Bella? Are you still sketching?”

Of all the things we could talk about, he had to bring up my art. I sank a little lower into my chair. Once, in college, I’d shown Arthur some portraits I’d drawn. Although they were well-done from a mechanics standpoint, he said they didn’t have any real passion or life or enthusiasm in them. Arthur’s comments had been thoughtful and constructive and helpful, but I’d still been devastated. Completely, utterly devastated. My mentor, the man I admired, the person whose opinion mattered the most, had told me my work was adequate. Merely adequate, not spectacular or noteworthy or amazing at all.

That was ego-crushing enough, but that hadn’t been the worst part. I’d foolishly submitted the portraits for inclusion in the senior art show, which was run by Arthur’s teaching assistant, an odious little toad named Terence Torres. I’d thought Terence might have a different opinion of my work, especially since I was sleeping with him at the time. But no. Terence had totally trashed every single piece I’d given him. He’d called my work amateurish and flat and boring and lacking any semblance of artistic merit. Then, he’d put my portraits in the senior show—as an example of what not to do. Terence might as well have just burned the pieces in front of me. Oh, and he dumped me too, claiming that our artistic visions were just too different. I didn’t find out until later that he’d been cheating on me with another student, one with a more suitable vision—and a C cup.

Between Arthur and Terence, I’d never had the heart to show anything else I’d done to anyone outside my family, no matter how good I thought it was.

“Sometimes,” I murmured, answering Arthur’s question. “Not so much since my father died.”

My father had been the one who’d encouraged me the most, the one who thought I had real talent. He was the one who kept telling me not to give up, to keep on drawing and painting and sketching, no matter what. He was also the one who’d threatened to run over Terence and Arthur with his motorcycle. It was one of the many things I missed about him.

Arthur nodded. “Well, I can understand that. But you should keep working. After all, a true artist never gives up, no matter how long it takes to find success.”

What a sugar-coated platitude. I grimaced. “Of course not.”

Arthur got to his feet. “I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to lock up and call it a night.”

“Just let me grab my purse and I’ll be ready to go.”

“I’ll be waiting here to let you out.”

I headed down the hall to the small office where I’d stashed my things this afternoon before the benefit. I put my purse strap across my chest and made sure my pepper spray lay in the top of the bag. Granny Cane might be a superhero, but even she couldn’t stop all the muggers out there. It would be just my luck to run into the one guy she hadn’t carted off to the police station tonight.

I flipped off the lights in the office and headed back to the new wing. I wanted to check on things one more time before I left.

I stopped in the archway and peered inside. The benefit had been over barely an hour, but all the glasses and food and trash had already been cleared away. Kyle Quicke and the rest of Quicke’s staff, along with the museum’s, were nothing if not efficient. All the items seemed to be in their proper places, with the Star Sapphire in the middle of the room, standing guard over everything.

I turned to go back to Arthur’s office, when I felt my luck flare up. I froze.

What was I going to do now? Fall on the slick floor? Knock over one of the statues and shatter it? Get one of the paintings on the wall to burst into flames? But instead of pulling me down or sideways or causing the art to fly around, my power quieted, returning to its usual, steady hum.

I shook my head and took a step forward

POP!

Debonair puffed in front of me. I managed not to scream or fall or otherwise do something stupid. I’d sort of been expecting him to show up. Looking forward to it, actually. Which wasn’t like me at all.

“What are you doing here?” I asked. “Come to steal something else?”

Debonair bowed his head. “Of course not. I came to congratulate you on your success. Your hard work really paid off. Everything went smoothly tonight.”

I thought of Devlin Dash again and grimaced. “Not everything.”

“I take it you’re referring to the champagne you spilled on Mr. Dash? I wouldn’t worry about that. Although, the man did look like a deer blinded by headlights. The whole scene was rather amusing.” Debonair smirked.

“I like Devlin,” I said, defending the awkward businessman. “He’s a nice guy. Unlike you.”

“Don’t you know nice guys finish last?” Debonair flashed me a sexy smile. “And that women, real women, like bad boys better?”

“Bad boys?” I snorted. “Oh, give me a break. Women like to fantasize about bad boys, but no one in her right mind would actually want to have a
real
relationship with one.”

Debonair looked amused. “Really? Why not?”

“One, they’re probably going to cheat on you. Bad boys tend to think rather highly of themselves. Two, the surly attitude and skintight leather get really old after a while. Three, most of them don’t know anything about art or poetry or music or books. All they want to talk about is their car or their motorcycle or their perfectly ripped abs.” I ticked off the points on my fingers. “I want a nice guy. A nice, normal, stable guy who doesn’t think he’s God’s gift to women and that it’s his sworn duty to spread himself around to anyone who’ll have him.”

“You want a nice guy?” Debonair asked.

He stepped closer to me, and my senses kicked into overdrive. I could smell the sweet, musky scent that clung to his skin. See the silver and black rimming his blue eyes. Imagine his hot mouth pressed against mine. My pulse started to throb—along with other parts of my anatomy.

“Of course that’s what I want,” I snapped, pretending I wasn’t the least bit attracted to the sexy thief. “That’s what every woman really wants, deep down inside.”

“And you think I’m a bad boy?”

I eyed his leather costume and perfect body. “In every sense of the word.”

Debonair smiled. “Well, then, I guess I should play the part, shouldn’t I?”

Before I could stop him, Debonair pulled me toward him and lowered his lips to mine.

He smelled sweet, like rose petals. The heady aroma seemed to permeate his skin, his lips, his tongue. I found myself lost in a sensual haze, swept away in a fog of sultry emotions.

And I did something I would never, ever do. At least not before the end of a first date that included dinner
and
a movie. I kissed him back. I wanted to taste him the way he was tasting me. Wanted to lose myself in this moment, this feeling, this bright flare of attraction.

Being on the short side, I had to stand on my tiptoes to weave my fingers through his thick hair. But I did that too, pulling him even closer. Electricity that had nothing to do with my luck rippled against my skin in a most pleasant way.

The kiss went on for quite a while. I enjoyed every second of it. Every playful nip. Every sure flick. Every thrust of our tongues against each other.

Debonair drew away and pressed a kiss to the inside of my shaking wrist. My pulse roared under his lips. He dropped my hand.

“See? I told you bad boys have more fun. But darling, delicious, delectable Bella, I’m afraid I must be on my way.” His voice was as smooth and suave as ever, but his eyes were dim, as if he were troubled by our kiss.

Had I not measured up to his Slaves for Superhero Sex standards? The thought disappointed me, even as I tried not to stagger around like a drunk. The man was intoxicating in every sense of the word, and he could kiss like nobody’s business. No wonder women threw themselves at him.

“I’ve enjoyed our time together, and I bid you a very fond goodnight.” Debonair tipped his head to me, turned toward the door, and walked away.

I admired the view for a moment. Then, my head cleared. He enjoyed our time together? What was I? A hooker he’d paid for an evening’s amusing?

Like hell.

Debonair wasn’t leaving that easily. He wasn’t going to kiss me and walk away like I was another one of the countless women he’d loved and left without a backward glance.

My eyes narrowed, and I ran after him, focused on his retreating form. “Stop right there!”

For once, luck was on my side. Static pulsed around my body, and Debonair’s boots slid out from under him, as if he’d stepped on a patch of ice. His arms flailed about. Then—

POP!

He disappeared. I sprinted forward to the spot where he’d been, right in front of the Star Sapphire. It reminded me of Debonair’s eyes—only not quite as blue.

My power hummed around my body, almost in warning. I turned. Debonair stood behind me. I hadn’t even heard him teleport back into the room.

He stared at the floor, then raised his gaze to me. His eyes were dark now, almost black. “Did you make me do that, Bella? Did you make me fall?”

“Of course not. How could I make you fall?”

We might have just shared a hair-raising kiss, but my power or lack thereof was none of his business.

“I’m not sure, but I find the possibility very interesting,” Debonair said in a smooth voice, moving closer to me.

I backed up against the display case that housed the sapphire. My fingers itched. My hair frizzed. Static gathered around my body once more.

And then, the roof shattered.