Bewitched: In Too Deep

“Yes. And I have a friend to contact. They deserve to know that we’re still alive and kicking.”

She rudely shoved him aside to snatch up the phone, and Harry admired the smooth rounded lines of her delectable backside. Nobility was surely a curse.

“I can’t believe I forgot about my sister.” She sent him a grave look of accusation and dialed the phone, muttering how it was his fault for distracting her, leaving off his shirt, showing his bare feet.

His bare feet? Harry shook his head. There was no accounting for her strange twists of reason. “I’ll finish dressing while you make your call.”

She’d barely finished dialing when Harry heard a shouted, frantic “hello” through the earpiece. Her sister had evidently been waiting for the call.

“Jill…I know, and I’m so sorry. I’m fine, really—Jill, I’m fine, I promise. Well, it’s a long story. I met a guy… No, Jill, it’s not that long.” Charlie glared at him, and Harry took the hint. He grabbed the rest of his clothes and left the room with a salute.

As he bounded down the stairs, he could hear the animated conversation, along with the occasional hushed, whispering tones, which he assumed meant the two women were discussing him. He entered the kitchen and because he was distracted, he almost tripped over his cat, Ted, now twisting around his bare ankles. It didn’t matter where Ted might be, if Harry entered the kitchen, Ted showed up.

He smiled down at the cat as he added some fresh food to his dish—always the first order of business. “I wonder how much Charlie will actually tell of our adventure.”

The dogs heard him talking and sauntered in. Harry reached for the back door which led to a tiny yard with a privacy fence. “Hey, why don’t you guys go out and run around a little, maybe give me some privacy?”

Doggy tails wagged, but actual bodies didn’t move.

The cat looked thoroughly indignant at such a suggestion and continued to eat.

“So it rained a little. Don’t you have to go?”

Sooner woofed an agreement and ran out. Grace took a little more coaxing, until she heard Sooner bark again and trotted out to investigate. Ted, with a look of disdain, licked his whiskers clean and leaped up to sit in one of the kitchen chairs.

Harry had the coffee ready, two cups poured, when Charlie came striding in. Harry handed her a cup and motioned for her to sit at the round table. Unfortunately, she tried to sit in Ted’s chair.

Ted could be very theatrical when it suited him. He made a horrid hissing sound, arched his back, fuzzed out his tail and made a general threatening display until Charlie had backed up a good five feet.

“What the hell’s wrong with your cat?”

Harry smiled fondly at his pet. “That’s Ted. He doesn’t like females.”

“Ted? How’d you come up with that name?”

Shrugging, he said, “He’s just Ted. Here, use this chair.”

Cautiously, keeping her gaze on the cat, Charlie circled to the chair Harry held out. “Is he always so mean?”

“With women, yes. He behaves well enough for me. Or maybe I behave well enough to suit him. Whatever, the arrangement works.” Harry smiled at her.

“The dogs don’t bother him?”

“Actually, they all get along fairly well. On his first day here, about a year or so ago, Ted explained things. We haven’t had a real ruckus since.”

“You’ve only had him a year? He looks older.”

“He is. I found him in an alley while I was on a job. He saved me by making a grand distraction when he objected to our invasion of his private space.”

“He threw a hissy like he just did to me?”

“Exactly, which effectively distracted the fellow who’d been holding a gun on me. I was able to…get the upper hand. So I brought Ted home. The vet treated him, despite Ted’s vicious complaints, and as long as I keep him well fed and his litter box clean, he doesn’t destroy my home.”

“A fair enough trade-off, I suppose.” She still eyed the cat warily, but Harry was pleased to see there was no dislike in her eyes. She understood, and he liked that.

“Cream or sugar?”

She snorted at such a suggestion, then took a healthy sip of her black coffee.

Harry scrutinized her as he liberally sweetened his own. “So you drink yours like a trucker, hmm? Now why doesn’t that surprise me?”

After another sip, she asked, “For the same reason that seeing you turn yours into syrup doesn’t surprise me?”

“Your insults are getting sloppier. You must be tired.” He glanced at the clock, saw it was after midnight, and wondered if he should call Dalton after all. He hated to wake the older man if he’d already gone to bed. And Dalton did know Harry could take care of himself, so perhaps he hadn’t been worried at all. “Is your sister appeased by whatever story you told her?”

She frowned at that. “I told her the truth, and yeah, she’s appeased, but far from happy. She told me she’s going to wait up for me.”

Charlie offered that last small tidbit with a wince, which told Harry the night was going to get a whole lot shorter. “I assume this means you want to head home soon?”

“I’m afraid so. Jill is only eighteen, and she worries more than she should.”

That brought out a snort, which appalled him. Good God, he was beginning to pick up her less discriminating habits. Harry cleared his throat. “More than she should? With a sister who muddles into extortion and gets herself kidnapped, I’d say she’s justified.”

Charlie shrugged. “She wants me to give it up, my spying that is, but I’m determined.”

“Charlie—”

“No, before you start any lectures, I have a few questions for you.”

“Please, don’t keep me in suspense.”

“I know you said you wouldn’t want to see me again—”

Before he could correct her, because at this point he had every intention of seeing her, all of her, as many times as was necessary to get the fever out of his system, she held up a hand and continued.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to get clingy. A little hanky-panky would have been…nice. But the night has gotten way too complicated, and I can see why you wouldn’t want to get involved with me beyond the night. I mean, we’re hardly two peas from the same pod.” She tried a smile that looked more like a grimace. “But… Well, I was hoping we could work out a different arrangement.”

Harry leaned back in his seat, positively prostrated. “You think a rendezvous with me would be merely nice?”

She looked startled by his tone. “Very nice,” she clarified, as if that made it better.

He felt smote to his masculine core. Here he’d been dredging up pagan images too erotic to bear, and she’d relegated the possibilities to merely nice. “I’ll have you know—”

“I’d like to hire you, Harry.”

That effectively put the brakes on his righteous diatribe. Hire him? Did she consider him a gigolo? Did she dare think she could afford him if he was for sale? The nerve.

But in a lusty sort of way the idea genuinely appealed to him. His body tensed until his muscles cramped. He was so hard, he could be considered a weapon.