9
Opposites
She handed him a cup of coffee when he slouched into her office/home the next morning, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows in the universal symbol of impending work. (Why did that always look so good? She pondered the question for a second, realized she was ogling his arms, and made herself stop.)
“I know you had other ideas about how to spend your Saturday ...” she said by way of apology.
He snorted as he sank into her couch. “I had other ideas about how to spend the entire semester. You, Daggett, are a monumental distraction.”
“And you’re not?” She grinned at him. “It’s a wonder I’ve gotten any work done with a real, live wizard—”
Oops.
“I mean convincer,” she said, racing to get it out before he could. The tight line of his shoulders softened. “You know, I can’t help wondering ...”
“Yes?” He stared up at her, eyes narrowed.
A lost cause. She jettisoned her question about what he had against “wizard” and found another one that would do instead. “How long have you known Willi?”
“Several years.”
“I like him.”
“Well, there’s no accounting for taste.”
She sat on the couch, realized she was a bit too close to him, contemplated shifting away and decided to stay put. “You like him, too.”
“I don’t like anyone,” Hartgrave said, an assertion undermined by the mischievous twist to his lips.
Merely to needle him, she said, “You spend an awful lot of time with me.”
The twist of his lips now looked suspiciously like a grin.
“You’re thinking of saying that it certainly has been awful, aren’t you,” she said, elbowing him.
“I figured I’d wait and you’d say it for me.”
She laughed. He almost-grinned some more.
What had they been talking about? Oh, yes—his friend. She gave herself a mental shake and said: “Does Willi know your secret? Is he a convincer too?”
She’d never seen a smile vanish as instantaneously as his did.“Daggett.”
Conversations with him were a minefield.
He stuck out his hand and she took it, trying to concentrate on why they were there—not to talk or joke orbe friendly, but to get her problem under control so she didn’t do herself in. His skin prickled hers in an accusing way. Try as she might, she couldn’t get the feeling to subside.
She let silence stumble past, flat-footed, before giving in to temptation. “Why are you helping me?”
“Well, I do admit to some hope that it will mean less work for me in the long run.”
She shook her head. “But today you’re making sure I get home and back. If I die tomorrow, you’ll have less work immediately.”
“Hmm ... true.” He took a thoughtful sip of coffee. “Though why wait for tomorrow when I could simply dispose of you now?”
Of course he was having her on. But she’d already leapt to her feet before her brain caught up with her body.
A zing of painful magic followed.
