Maximum Witch: That Old Black Magic, Book 3 (5 page)

She took in the obvious love and affection radiating from the trio and was reminded of her own parents. The photo blurred as her eyes became misty and a cramp squeezed just above her rib cage. Even after all these years, she missed her mom and dad with a fierceness that ached in her soul. Although her aunt Aurele had tried her best to make up for the loss of Willa’s parents all these years, nobody could completely fill the void of their absence.

Her mind returned to Max’s startling—and completely erroneous—conclusion about her being anything other than human. She’d had time to think about it and kept circling back to the one damning thing that proved him wrong.

Her parents drowned, her nearly along with them. They hadn’t possessed some miraculous ability to breathe under water.

Neither did she.

A beam of light glanced off the frames and expanded, imprinting the stark silhouette of her head against the wall. Headlights. Her morose musings scattered. She pivoted and spied her Taurus pulling into the driveway. Giving a happy yip, she rushed from the room. She reached the front door the same time Max did. The second he stepped across the threshold, she flung her arms around him. “Thankyouthankyouthankyou.”

Something plunked onto the tiled entry, and an instant later Max’s palms slipped around her back, their heat sinking through the thin cotton of the shirt. His scent enveloped her, heady and fresh as the ocean. She shivered, swimming in sensory overload.

His fingers splayed and tightened in a tempting caress before sliding free. He swallowed, the intriguing flex of his throat muscles working when his Adam’s apple bobbed. “Sorry, I dropped your bag.”

Snapping out of her sensual haze, she lowered her scrutiny to the floor. And gasped. “My purse!” Relief sweeping her, she crouched onto her haunches and hugged the bag to her chest. “Amazing how you don’t realize how much you rely on something until it’s not handy.” She plopped the oversized tote between her feet and rifled through the compartments until she located her spare glasses. After wiping a tiny smudge with the hem of the T-shirt, she tucked the tortoise frames in place and smiled. “Case in point—being able to see clearly again. Hallelujah.”

She looked up and found Max staring at her. He mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like
sexy librarian
, and she blinked. “What?”

He shook his head. “Nothing.” Shoving a hand through his dark, close-cropped hair, he eased the front door shut with the heel of his shoe. “How are you feeling?”

“Okay. A little tired.” Her stomach rumbled, the noise making her blush. “Hungry too, from the sound of it.”

“I could make us something to eat.”

She gaped at him. “You can cook?” A grin tipped the corners of his mouth and she chuckled. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make it sound like you being able to cook was a miraculous feat or something. It’s just that most of the guys I know can barely figure out how to work their microwave.”

“My mom is the executive chef at a restaurant in Galveston. She taught me everything I know.”

Her sigh broke free before she could snuff it. “You’re gorgeous
and
can cook. Please let me have your babies.” No sooner did the statement escape and a pregnant silence blanketed the foyer. Eyes widening, she met Max’s intense gaze. “Could we, uh, pretend I didn’t just say that out loud?” She nibbled her bottom lip, her skin flushing.

His focus drifted to her mouth, lingered there for a moment before he took a deep breath and scratched the back of his neck. “I think we better figure out the food situation.”

The idea of following him into the kitchen and watching him do questionably sexy things, like brown butter or chop onions—shirtless, no less—sounded way too inviting. And risky, considering her mind couldn’t seem to stop conjuring images of them getting busy beneath the sheets. Still, she couldn’t exactly bow out of helping without looking like a spoiled princess who expected to be waited on hand and foot. Biting the bullet, she traipsed after him, trying not to ogle his ass.

Max’s kitchen was a testimony to his obvious passion for the culinary arts. Moss-green granite countertops blended seamlessly with stainless-steel appliances. The crown jewel was a large center island housing a Jenn-Air range. She waited next to the counter, eyeing the delicious selection of oranges piled in a red-and-white speckled colander. The sound of water splashing while Max washed up muffled the resulting grumble of her stomach. She couldn’t understand why she was so damn hungry. Famished, actually. Like it’d been days since she’d last eaten, rather than hours.

“You’re not a vegetarian, are you?”

She glanced at Max, her tummy getting that funny tingle again as she watched him lather up his hands. Okay, there was no reason why she should be so ridiculously turned on by that, for crying out loud. “Nope. Plop a slab of prime rib in front of me and I’m a happy woman.”

“Now you’re talking my language.” He dried his hands with a dish towel before journeying to the fridge. “How about I grill a couple T-bones? And there’s just enough fixings for salad.”

“I can take care of that part, if you want.”

“You’re a guest. My mom would kick my ass if I put you to work.”

She snorted. “You also saved my life today. Pretty sure that trumps social manners.” Before he could balk, she snatched the head of romaine lettuce from his grip and carried it to the sink for rinsing. While he went out onto the deck to light the grill, she rummaged in the crisper drawer and found a cucumber and a container of grape tomatoes. By the time he came back inside she’d managed to toss all the ingredients in a large ceramic bowl she’d discovered in one of the well-stocked cupboards.

“Looks like you found everything easily enough.” Reaching above her head, he snagged a plate. He stood so close, his sweatpants brushed along her thigh in a soft glide. She gulped as a thousand goose bumps cropped across her skin.

Slapping the cupboard door shut, he stepped away.

The breath she’d been holding trickled free, and she turned slightly while he unwrapped a pair of steaks from their butcher paper. Her mind returned to the photo in his office of him receiving some type of award. Curiosity once again gnawed at her. “You mentioned your mom is a professional chef. How about you?”

He shook his head. “Law enforcement.”

“You’re a cop?” No wonder he’d been quick to rescue her. Taking on the role of hero would be natural to him. An intrinsic instinct.

“Sheriff.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Not in the human realm, mind you. My jurisdiction isn’t land based.”

His pronouncement baffled her, until she recalled where he’d found her today. “The
ocean
? I didn’t know there was any law enforcement in place there.”

Max’s smile was lopsided and dangerously endearing. “We’re pretty low profile.”

“What exactly does your job entail? Or can you say?” She wrinkled her nose. “If it’s one of those
I’d tell ya but then I’d have to kill you
deals, I’ll stick with staying in the dark.”

He chuckled. The husky sound slid over her like smooth velvet, bringing a gush of wetness between her thighs and making her nipples pebble.
Oh jeez
. She’d never been more grateful for a baggy shirt.

“No, nothing like that. Basically, I do the same thing a human sheriff does, only in water.” He made a vague gesture with his arm. “Keep the peace. Protect the innocent. Put the hurt on bad guys. Whatever’s required of me.”

She cocked her head. “Like rescue damsels in distress from leviathans?”

“Yeah.” He rubbed a deliciously fragrant seasoning onto the steaks and moved to the sink. Using his elbow to raise the faucet’s handle, he squirted soap into his palm. “Not sure I’ve ever come up against a bigger brute than that sonofabitch, though. Not too proud to say I hope I never do again.”

Having firsthand knowledge of the ugly beasts, she knew precisely what Max had been forced to contend with. The idea that he’d been able to defeat the creature boggled her brain. Granted, he was a huge guy, and generously ripped with a plethora of yummy muscles, but it was hard to believe a small army could take on a leviathan, much less one man.

Then again, Max wasn’t exactly a man. Reminded of that important fact, she looked him over. “I was meaning to ask you something earlier.”

“Hmm?” His expression partly distracted, he shut off the faucet.

“What kind of shifter are you?”

For some strange reason, he grimaced. “Damn, I was hoping you wouldn’t ask.”

“Why?”

“My species has a bad rap.” He coughed before scraping his palm along his jaw. “Some tend to hold that against me.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“Don’t be so sure.” A resigned exhale leaked from him. “I don’t want you to freak or get the wrong impression.”

She frowned. “Uh, you’re kinda freakin’ me out right now.” What was he going to tell her? That he was a seahorse? She automatically visualized one of the teensy creatures and superimposed Max’s head on top. Her giggle threatened to pop free.

“I’m a shark, Willa.”

Her smile froze in place.

“Shit. This is why I didn’t want to mention it.”

Digesting the information, she stared at Max, trying to correlate the image of Jaws with the hunk standing in front of her.

“You’re picturing Jaws right now, aren’t you?” His mouth adopted a sardonic twist when she blinked. “No, I can’t read minds, if that’s what you’re wondering. But I’m well acquainted with your expression. I’ve seen it a time or two on the faces of the men in my own department.” Another hint of that resigned weariness shaded Max’s features. “To put your mind at ease, I’m not nearly as big as that ugly bastard. And I don’t munch on swimmers.”

“Th-that’s good to know.” A thought suddenly occurred to her. “Is Boone a shark too? I mean, are there a lot of you out there? Because I can honestly say, you’re the first I’ve ever met.”

“Nope, Boone’s a seal shifter. To answer your other question, my species is fairly rare. To my knowledge, I’m the only one in all of Georgia.”

“Wow. Doesn’t that make you feel…lonely?”

Rather than answer, he gazed at her for a long moment, the shadow of a dark emotion she knew all too well lurking in his eyes. Returning his attention to the plate of food, he cleared his throat. “Guess I better get these on the grill.”

She watched him walk out the French doors, her heart giving an odd tug. She knew what it meant to be lonely. To ache for someone to come home to every day.

Tamping down her glumness, she searched for napkins and silverware, making herself busy setting the pine farm table for the two of them. Once that task was taken care of, she fidgeted for a few minutes, at a loss for what to do next. Finally she admitted defeat and unlatched the door, joining Max on the deck. In the distance, the moonlit Atlantic rolled in shimmering waves toward the shore. Unable to help it, she shuddered and crossed her arms over her chest. Max eyed her, his gorgeous profile lit with a red glow from the grill’s flickering flames. “If it’s too cold for you out here, feel free to grab the blanket.”

He’d misunderstood the source of her shivers, but playing along with his theory was easier and less painful than revealing the truth. “It’s got to be at least seventy-five degrees. In what world is that considered cold?”

His mouth slid into a half smile. “Sorry. I keep forgetting you’re adapted to walking around in human skin.” He stabbed one of the steaks with a long-handled fork and turned the sizzling meat. “Some of us shifters are occasionally sensitive to temperature.”

It took a moment to catch his meaning. Damn it, he still thought she was something besides human. She planted her hands on her hips, intending to set him straight, but before she could even open her mouth, he lobbed another question at her.

“What made you decide to become a witch?”

She dropped her arms, the unexpected inquiry putting her at a disadvantage. Mulling the question, she plucked at the hem of the oversized shirt. Truthfully, she couldn’t remember a time when the energetic magic coursing through her hadn’t existed. Before she’d joined the witches’ alliance, she’d never known there were others like her out there. Finding out she wasn’t an odd freak of nature had been immensely comforting. “I don’t know. I’ve always just been drawn to it, kind of like a calling, I suppose. Why?”

“Just curious. You said you’ve never met a shark shifter, well, I’ve never met a witch.”

She laughed at the comparison. “Something tells me being a shark is a lot more exciting than being a witch. At least when it comes to me. Pretty much all I do is file papers and take dictation. No kicking bad guy ass for
moi
.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. You did a damn good job swinging your fist at me earlier. Don’t think you’d have any problem holding your own if you had to.”

She groaned. “Please tell me I apologized for that.”

“Yeah, you did. And I’m only teasin’.” He tossed their steaks onto the plate and shut off the grill’s gas. “Feast time.”

Right on cue, her stomach rumbled in approval. They returned to the kitchen and spent the next twenty minutes eating the scrumptious dinner. Hungry as she was, she probably would have been happy scarfing down shoe leather, but no way would it have come close to providing the same fiesta for her taste buds as Max’s cooking. It was a tad embarrassing, the amount of relish she savored her food with, but fortunately Max didn’t appear to mind. If anything, he seemed fascinated. Even as she sank her teeth into the last bite of steak with a lusty groan, his focus remained glued to her mouth. Swallowing, he dropped his napkin into his lap.

She finished chewing before giving him a sheepish glance. “I swear I’m not usually like this. I mean, I’m not going to lie, I love food. But this?” She waved her fork, indicating her empty plate. “Better than an orgasm any day.” The second the words escaped, she wished she could reel them back in. Good grief, would her inner slut never shut up?

Max stilled. His attention drifted to her lips again, his dilated pupils making his eyes look dark and exceedingly sexy. “Then I’d say you haven’t been sharing a bed with the right man. One who’s gonna make damn sure he rocks your Kasbah more than that T-bone.”