Unholy Nights: A Twisted Christmas Anthology (20 page)

"With or without the help of witchcraft."

"Without," she said flatly. "The type of women identified as witches were only women using their brains, and knowledge of the natural world around them, to help people and support themselves."

"So you believe in good witchcraft."

"Exactly. This woman on the Cape who grows the silver bean could be interesting. I haven't met her, but this bean is something I've never seen before. Brenna says the woman has only one small bush and she guards it carefully. But where did it come from? Is it really magical?"

"Some people might not find it benevolent to be forced to do something they don't want to do as a result of a charm."

She shook her head. "Witchcraft doesn't work like that. You can only manipulate a person into doing what they already want to do."

"Then why do spells and potions exist?"

"They help you move the person along the path they already want to tread."

"It's working." He moved closer. "And I'm happy to be bewitched."

"My grandmother in the Bishop line always said we paid for being witches. We might as well practice the craft."

"You're doing really well at it." While she was off-guard, he tossed a snowball. It landed right on top of the pompom on her hat, but so softly that the snow feathered down over her face and she stuck out her tongue to taste the fleeting pleasure.

"God," he muttered, "talk about sexy." He walked over to her, slung his arm around her shoulder and said, "Truce. Tell me the story of the love charm. It's fascinating."

She brushed her hands together to shake off the snow. "There's no incantation. If there are witches abroad, they're safe from me and Brenna."

"If you don't say mysterious words, how do you activate the spell?"

"You can't be taking this seriously?"

"Even I could see there's something special between Joe and Brenna. If I could get some of that, I'd be a happy man. So tell me more about the love charm."

"Fine." She rolled her eyes at him. The more she was drawn to him, the more she wanted to treat everything lightly. She didn't want him to think she might actually be expecting to fall in love with him. "If you get your hands on a love charm, just toss it into a body of water under the light of a full moon, and hope for the best."

"Is that what you did?"

"No, I lost mine." Well, technically, she had thrown it, but she hadn't meant to. And she certainly wasn't about to encourage him to think she was trying to ensnare him.

He clapped a hand to his heart. "Never say so."

"I did, off the ferry."

"Today?"

"Yes."

"Tonight is a full moon. We'd see it if not for the blizzard."

"I think you're supposed to toss it purposefully, not accidentally."

He grinned at her. "How does the magic ingredient know how you tossed it?"

"Is this conversation going somewhere?"

"Tell me," Cabot invited, "what is your favorite flower?"

"Red roses."

"Perfect for Christmas."

"I guess. It's not the most exotic flower, but I've always loved red and the scent of roses is so lovely." She shrugged. "My charm smelled wonderful."

"I think it's working for you right now."

"Okay, Pollyanna. Do you ever have a negative thought?"

"I try not to. What's the point?"

"Sometimes reality bites."

"But it always improves if you maintain a positive attitude."

She laughed. "Someone needs to improve my temperature right now, because the reality is that I'm freezing." The snow that had trickled down her neck had gotten her shirt wet and she was shivering.

He slung his arm around her shoulders. "I know exactly how to warm you up."

"I'll bet."

He held up a hand. "Not what you're thinking, although that would also work."

"What's your second choice?"

"The hot tub, of course."

"You mean the broken hot tub?" She couldn't keep a trace of amusement out of her tone. He was undoubtedly a player, but a charming one.

He grinned down at her. "I just wanted to close it to the public tonight so I could show you some magic of my own. The hot tub and a snowy night—"

"Does that line ever work?"

"I don't know." He gave her a fake leer, his eyes laughing. "I've never tried it before."

The hot tub did sound wonderfully appealing. But the thought of that bedroom he'd placed her in, with all its expectations, was daunting. She didn't want to be a planned seduction.

Chapter 5

The hot tub steamed quietly in the frosty night. Beyond it, Dakota could see the festive glow of the party through a triple set of French doors that opened onto the patio. A few fairy lights twinkled around the patio, giving enough illumination to guide her to the hot tub.

"The storm is catching its breath," Cabot said behind her. "It will blow back fiercer than ever soon."

For now, the flakes fell gently, silently, without the gusting wind that had accompanied them earlier.

"You'll have to take two steps in the snow," Cabot said. He'd given her some Ugg boots and a bathrobe to protect her. "Put everything on the ledge, and climb in."

She shivered. Best to move quickly. Cabot shut the pool house door and followed her.

The worst part was taking off the robe. She kicked off the boots and ventured onto the steps. But what joy when she lowered herself into the water. It lapped around her as she moved over to the side, finding the bench seat that circled the tub.

Cabot followed her in, surprising her when he stretched out beside her, leaving several inches between them. He turned his head to look at her. "Warm enough?"

"Oh, yes, this is wonderful."

His shoulders bunched slightly as he turned toward her. She braced herself for a seductive assault. But all he did was reach around underwater until he found her hand and clasped it in his.

"Tell me about yourself," he said.

Her gaze snapped onto his. He wanted to talk? That was so not what she'd been expecting. But why not? "I've skied in Chile in July," she said, "I love raw squid, and I'm a level 2 certified scuba diver."

"You're adventurous, in other words."

She laughed. "Your turn, banker boy."

"I'm a licensed pilot, I've performed in the Nutcracker, and—" He squeezed her hand. "—I'm not a boy."

"The Nutcracker?" She seized on that oddity to avoid thinking about the implications of his last phrase. Because his "not-a-boy" parts were close enough to reach, and she really wanted to reach for them.

"Elizabeth took ballet lessons for years. One year they needed extras." He shuddered. "My mother dragooned me."

"You know ballet?"

"As well as a tree can."

"A tree."

"That was my part. They quickly realized they didn't want me even pretending to dance. Fortunately, despite my heroic performance as an evergreen, they didn't invite me back the following year."

She giggled. It was impossible to imagine him dancing around on a stage. The pilot thing was more his style. "Do you have a plane?"

"Nothing fancy."

She rolled her eyes. "A private plane,
by definition
, is fancy."

He winked. "I'd love to take you for a ride."

"That line has been used up, put in a casket, and buried."

His leg touched hers. "It was irresistible right then, believe me."

She had to gulp in a breath. His thigh was warm and muscular and rough with hair. She wanted him to lift his leg and place it over hers and pull just enough on the captured leg—

She wiggled a bit on the hard bench. What she really needed was a distraction.

"Why," she asked, "did your friend Rooney call you Gordon Gekko?"

"College nickname. I played with investments at college." He leaned back slightly, as if accepting her desire to dial down the sensual intensity between them. "Also, my real name is Gordon."

"Your real name?"

"In school no one was called by his first name." He shrugged. "Tradition, you could say."

"Boarding school, you mean."

"Gotta do something to liven things up." He grinned at her. "Besides, what about Dakota. That's the name of a state."

"Yeah." Her lips turned down. "My mother was sure we had some Native American blood somewhere."

"She never tracked it down?"

"Details aren't important to her. Artistic license is." Her children weren't important to her, either, but Dakota didn't feel the need to share that.

Cabot's gaze rested on her. "I think Mom was right. The name suits you."

"So hit me with it – what exactly is your full name?"

"It's a mouthful."

"You're stalling."

He laughed. "You seem to read a lot into a name. But here you go – Gordon Cabot Saltonstall, the—"

She held up a hand. "Don't tell me. The one hundredth!"

He shook his head in mock sorrow. "Nope. We're newcomers compared to, let's say, English royalty. I'm only the fourth. My son will be the fifth."

Her heart stopped right there in the bubbling hot tub. She was flirting with a man who was expecting a child? Had she ever asked him if he was in a relationship? Or, worse yet, married. Despite the warmth of the water, chills raced over her. But she had to say something before he wondered why she was upset.

"Right here? You already know that your unborn son will live here on Nantucket?" She couldn't suppress a shudder. So much for her fantasies.

"My family has been here for generations." He peered down at her. "Does that bother you?"

"So you're what they call a townie?" She refused to meet his gaze as her thoughts scurried like a school of fish running from a shark. How would she get herself out of this hot tub and off  this island before she did something really stupid?

"Mostly we summer here." Cabot frowned slightly.

"You did not just use 'summer' as a verb."

He grinned. "Guilty."

She had to just grab her courage and leave, straight out. "I'm sure the island is lovely in the summer," she said. "But right now, I'm getting cold. It's time to go back in the house."

Cabot stopped her half rise with a hand on her arm. "Wait. What happened?"

She sank back into the warm water. It was cold out there, and she couldn't actually leave because Cabot was between her and the steps. She was determined not to make a scene and let him know she had thought he was available.

"Nothing happened." She managed a small laugh. "There's a party going on in your house. Don't you think it would be fun to attend?"

"I'm having more fun out here." He frowned. "Let's see, we talked a bit about ourselves, you asked me about my nickname, I said I liked your name—"

"Never mind all that," she begged. "What could be duller than rehashing our conversation?" She shivered dramatically. "Let's go back in the house."

"Just a second." He snapped his fingers. "I mentioned a son." He started to smile and then looked at her and sobered. "That's it, isn't it?"

"Don't be ridiculous." Dakota wrapped her arms around herself. "You're allowed to have all the sons you want. It's nothing to me."

"It would be something to me," he said slowly, "if you were involved in a serious relationship, and I didn't know it."

"We just met. We don't owe each other anything."

"Are you involved in a relationship?"

"No." She wouldn't ask him, because she didn't care. She could leave any time.

"Just for the record," he said, "neither am I."

The relief she felt was tempered by the knowledge that he could still be a pending father, now split from the mother.

"Nor," he said, tweaking her nose, "is any woman expecting a child of mine."

Her eyes jerked to his face. "It doesn't matter to me."

"Good." He leaned closer. "Can I have a kiss now?"

"No." She felt ridiculous. Like a Victorian spinster. Denying the man a kiss when it was the only thing she wanted.

Somehow, he was closer now, and the magic had returned to the night. The stars wheeled overhead, like diamond chips on black velvet, as cold and frosty as she was hot and burning with passion.

"Just one little kiss," he wheedled. "You shouldn't tempt a man by looking so good in your underwear." He touched her hip, gently, with just his fingertips.

"Underwear!" Her voice squeaked a bit more than she would have liked. "This is a bathing suit!" She'd been wearing a matched set of navy blue bra and panties, and figured that was as good as borrowing one of the bathing suits Cabot had pointed out in the ladies locker room.

"No, it's not." His fingers slid inside her panties at her hip, a neutral spot. "But I'll turn off all the lights if you'll take it off."

"Take it off?" Suddenly, it was the only thing she wanted to do. He'd slide closer to her, and she'd feel his warm skin against her naked skin. Fireworks would erupt, in a dazzling explosion of power and beauty and jewel-bright colors.

Truthfully, her world would explode. She knew it as surely as she knew she was sitting here in a triple embrace of star-strewn night sky, steamy, caressing water, and ever-encroaching, hot male.

"You can't turn off the moon," she said, a little breathlessly.

"I'm counting on that." He edged closer. "You gotta give a guy some fun." His hand on her body moved up her back, to pull her close. "A hot tub is a great place for sex."

"You wouldn't." Her voice was barely a breath of sound.

"I would," he said. "But I don't think you're ready." His lips touched her ear as his deep voice nestled down inside her.

"Not even close," she managed.

"Oh, you're close," he murmured. "But I'll settle for a kiss. I haven't really done even that yet."

"You haven't?"

"Not in private. The way I want to." His arm swept around her, holding her close against the solid wall of his naked chest.

Her brain went fuzzy and she raised her face.

Slowly, taking all the time in the world, he lowered his head, slanting it a bit so that when their mouths finally met, it was perfect. Dakota fell against him, going weak when his tongue touched hers, and he wrapped his other arm around her, holding her firmly against him. Cries of pleasure were trapped in her throat as he opened her mouth wide and tangled with her tongue.