โI want you.โ
The suggestive, husky whisper stroked over Zane
Winston with the effect of a soft warm kiss to his spine.
It devastated his senses.
He froze, then clenched hard in reaction, his muscles
tightening, his pulse speeding up. He nearly fell off his
damn stepladder.
The motherboards balanced precariously in his arms started
to drop, but Zane managed to juggle them safely at the
last second.
He didnโt want to look, didnโt want to acknowledge
that soft whisper. He knew without looking who had spoken
to him. Still, as was generally the case where she was
concerned, he couldnโt not look.
His gaze sought her out, and he found her standing a
mere two feet away, her eyes downcast, her waist-length,
witchy black hair partially hiding her face like a thick
ebony curtain.
People shuffled through the small computer store, taking
advantage of the sale prices heโd advertised, grabbing at
clearance items, storing up on disks. Yet no one bumped
into her, no one touched her. Alone in the crowd, she
stood there to the side of his ladder, and Zane could feel
her intense awareness of him. It sparked his own awareness
until his breathing deepened, his skin warmed.
Damn it, but it always happened that way around her โ
which was one reason why he tried to avoid her.
Since she didnโt say anything else, didnโt even bother to
look at him, Zane went back to restocking the shelf.
Perhaps heโd misunderstood. Perhaps heโd even imagined it
all. He hadnโt been sleeping well lately, or rather, heโd
been sleeping too hard, dead to the world and caught up in
erotic, lifelike dreams that left him drained throughout
the day. He felt like a walking zombie โ a horny walking
zombie, because the dreams were based on scorching carnal
activities.
They were based on her.
Zaneโs computer business had done remarkably well the past
year, and it required a lot of his attention. The location
in the small strip mall was ideal. But her antiquated two-
story building stood right next door, only a narrow alley
away, and the scent of her sultry incense often drifted in
through his open door. Worse than that, her tantalizing,
pulse-thrumming music could be heard everywhere, and it
made his heart beat too fast. With her distracting him,
concentrating on software and modems wasnโt always easy no
matter his level of resolve. And now with the damn dreams
plaguing him, his iron control was fractured.
His brothers had taken to heckling him, tauntingly
accusing him of too much carousing. Zane didnโt bother to
correct them. No way would he tell any of his brothers the
truth behind his recent distraction โ that his carousing
had only been in his dreams, and his distraction was a
little gypsy who he didnโt even find appealing.
Especially since he was determined to deny any such
distraction.
The last thing he needed was a personal face-to-face visit
with her.
Though he wasnโt looking at her, Zane felt her inch
closer; he was aware of her all along his length, in his
every pore, even in the air he breathed. The ladder had
him several feet above her, which placed her face โ her
mouth โ parallel with his lap. Damn damn damn. He tensed,
waiting, and more images drifted into his mind.
โI want you,โshe repeated, a little louder but still low
enough that no one seemed to notice.
He hadnโt imagined it!
Anger erupting, Zane glared down at her, this time
catching and holding her mystical dark gaze. Her long,
coal black lashes fluttered, but she didnโt look away from
him. Staring into her eyes, he felt her, her thoughts and
emotions invading his mind. Her nervousness touched him
bone deep, the way she forced herself to remain still. And
that, too, affected him.
How the hell did she manage to toy with him so easily? It
outraged him, left him edgy and hot and resentful. Despite
what some of his female associations might think, he was
always the pursuer, not the pursued. He subtly controlled
every intimate relationship, took only what he needed,
gave only as much as he wanted, and no more.
Zane realized he was breathing too hard, reacting to her
on an innate level, and deliberately he jammed the boxes
of motherboards onto the shelf before climbing down the
ladder.
Facing her, his arms folded over his chest, he did his
best to intimidate her while at the same time hiding his
discomfort. He needed her to leave. He needed to stop
thinking about her.
He was nearly certain his needs didnโt matter to her in
the least.
โWhat do you want?โ He sounded rude to his own ears,
obnoxious and curt. But this was a battle for the upper
hand, and he intended to do his best to win.
Her full lips, painted a shiny dark red, were treated to a
soft, sensual lick of uncertainty. Filled with tenacity,
her gaze wavered, then returned to his. Her chin
lifted. โAs I said, I want... you.โ
God, sheโd said it again! This time straight out, to his
face! Zane braced himself against the lure of her
brazenness and her bold request. She looked like walking
sex, like a male fantasy โ his fantasy โ come to life. He
would not let her suck him in with obvious ploys.
โFor what?โ There, he thought, deal with that Miss Gypsy.
And she was a gypsy, no doubt about it. He almost believed
the signs painted in the front window of her shop,
claiming she could read palms and predict the future. The
signs, backlit by the eerie glow of a red lamp and dozens
of flickering candles from inside, also said she could
cast spells and enlighten your life.
It was the spell-casting part that made Zane most
uncertain. After all, he was familiar with curses
firsthand. And he didnโt like them worth a damn. At least,
not when applied to himself. For his brothers it had
worked out just fine. Better than fine โ for his brothers.
Agitated, she shifted her feet and the tinkling of tiny
bells rose above the din of the crowd. Zane found himself
staring at her small feet beneath the long gauze skirt of
bold colors and geometric designs. The skirt was thin and
would be transparent if she stood in the right light.
Luckily for his peace of mind, they were more in the
shadows than not. But that didnโt stop him from imagining
what he couldnโt see. And it pissed him off that he
visualized her, that he could guess at just how sheโd look.
Twin ankle bracelets of miniature silver bells, worn above
the skinny straps of her sandals, had caused the music
when she moved. More silver circled her painted toes in
dainty rings with intricate designs.
Zane looked at her hands, each finger adorned with a
silver, pewter, or gold ring. A multitude of bracelets
with inlaid colored stones hung on her slender wrists and
jingled when she clasped her hands together.
Around her neck and disappearing into the neckline of her
loose midnight blue peasant blouse, were several strands
of small beads, some jet black, some bright amber, some
ruby red.
He noticed the necklaces, then immediately noticed too
that she wasnโt wearing a bra. Her breasts lay soft and
full beneath her blouse.
An invisible fist squeezed Zaneโs lungs, stealing the
oxygen from his body, making him lightheaded. For God's
sake, they were only breasts, and not all that impressive.
But he could see the faint outline of her nipples beneath
the dark, thin material and it set him on fire.
He wanted to curse, but that would give too much away, so
he refrained.
When he took a deep breath, trying to relieve some of his
tension, that musky, earthy scent of incense filled his
head. He stared at her hard, intent on keeping his gaze on
her face. โIโm waiting.โ
She glanced at the surrounding crowd. Her large eyes were
heavily lined, looking mysterious and sensual. No one paid
any attention to them, and she said low, โI want you for
sex.โ
Her gaze melted into his, touching his soul, dredging up
those hot, taunting dreams that had plagued him nightly.
In his sleep, heโd already taken her every way known to
man. Now she offered to let the dream become reality.
Breathing was too damn difficult, and he nearly panted.
โI want you,โ she boldly continued, fanning the
flames, โto share your body with me, and let me give you
mine.โ
Slowly, hypnotically, she lowered her lashes and added
with a small shrug, โThatโs all.โ
Thatโs all? Thatโs all! Urgency throbbed through his
veins, as if heโd spent hours on leisurely, detailed
foreplay, and Zane wanted to smack her.
Even more than that, he wanted to drag her into the
backroom and lift her long flirty skirt and take the body
she so willingly offered. He wanted to inhale her scent,
wanted to taste her in all her hottest, sweetest places.
And he wanted to bury himself deep inside her.
Damn it all, he had a hard on to end all hard ons, and
here he stood in the middle of his shop with hoards of
people ready to spend money and purchase his wares.
Nostrils flared, and with as much disdain as he could
muster given his acute state of arousal, Zane
growled, โThanks, but no thanks.โ
Her gaze clashed with his, startled, upset. Her lips drew
in, got caught by her teeth, and color scalded her cheeks.
She took two slow breaths, then asked in a wavering
voice, โYouโre certain youโre not interested?โ
He was so damn interested it wouldnโt have taken much more
than a few touches to make him insane. Zane locked his
knees, clenched his fists and hardened his
resolve. โPositive.โ
Her long silky hair hung past her lap as she bowed her
head. For a suspended moment, Zane feared she might
actually cry โ or cast a hideous spell on him. He wasnโt
entirely sure which would be worse. Not that he normally
believed in such things as spells and incantations. But
there was the Winston curse. He believed in it, had seen
its effects on his brothers as one by one theyโd been
caught and married off. Happily, in fact.
One curse per family was more than enough. Little Gypsy
could just take her mesmerizing voice and her intrusive
sexuality and leave him the hell alone. He liked his life
just as it was, just as heโd made it.
Without looking at him again, she turned and left. Her
departure struck him like a punch in the gut. She hadnโt
been crying, he thought with concern, but sheโd been so
silent...
Oh hell, she was always silent, he reminded himself. She
used it as part of her mystique. He refused to be drawn in
by her and her feminine cunning and what amounted to no
more than theatrics to shore up her ruse as a gypsy.
The gentle, enticing sway of her skirts as she slowly
retreated held his attention. She might be leaving, but
her scent remained, circling around him, filling his head
and his heart. Her affect remained, too, keeping him hot
and tight and far too aware of his physical needs. And
that last look on her face remained, making him curse
himself for being such a bastard.
He was good with women, damn it. Great with women, in
fact. He always treated them gently, whether he was
interested or not. So why the hell had he been so rude to
her? Why had he felt compelled to grind her under with his
rejection? Heโd been out to prove... what? That she didnโt
affect him after all?
Zane snorted at that. The tent in his pants proved
otherwise, no matter his behavior toward her.
Now that she was gone, only the essence of her remaining
without the threat of her appeal, he was ashamed of
himself.
A customer touched his arm, causing him to jump. Forcibly,
Zane brought his mind back to the job at hand. Even with
two employees in to help, they were swamped. The line at
the register was long and continuous. People had
questions, and the shelves had to be constantly restocked.
He couldnโt afford to be distracted with his witchy
neighbor. He would run the register โ where he could hide
his arousal behind the counter โ and do his job.
But for the rest of the day, she lingered in his mind, an
unwelcome invasion that kept him jittery and taut, the
same way he felt when heโd gone too long without sex.
He hated what he knew he would have to do.
But since he was resigned to doing it, heโd damn well put
himself in charge. No more letting her toy with him, no
more letting her overwhelm his senses. It was Thursday,
the weekend fast approaching. Heโd have time to spend with
her, and on her. And if anyone would be overwhelmed, itโd
be her.
That thought finally had Zane smiling.
In anticipation.
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