I’ve dated only a few guys over the years. As I’ve mentioned ad nauseum, once they figure out that I can bend them to my will like an evil sorceress, they tend to bolt, wondering how much I’d already influenced their behavior.
Answer: none.
But anyway, of course before they figured out my evil ways, we’d kissed. Lots. And done other things. My body always responded, but it wasn’t like it is with Devlin.
Man, I hate to say that.
But it’s true. There’s something about the way his flesh feels on mine that’s just sinfully…right.
Wrong. I’m supposed to say wrong. And I’m supposed to put all thoughts of him away and focus on my new Juke Box Hero, Storm Grayson, inventor extraordinaire.
“I think we’re going to win, Blair!” It’s Storm. He’s smiling and about to hit the ball through the hoop, which he does. “You’re up!” My turn. I grab my mallet and he gives me a thumbs-up. “We can put this one in the bag.”
As I take position, I feel the eyes of not only my family but everyone else on me. They’ve been watching me with Storm, and the fact that he’s being so familiar and comfortable with me earns an approving look from tennis pro Ovie. It also earns a scowl from Cathy and the minion club.
But what it does not earn is any attention from Devlin. He’s still talking with the redhead, deep in conversation, I’d like to add.
What’s the deal? He’s supposed to be helping me, not flirting with his next fling. How could he touch me so scandalously an hour ago (let’s face it, his touch was one degree away from making me feel filthy) and then just ignore me?
It’s maddening, is what it is. Just purely insanely maddening.
As I stand facing the ball and looking at the jiggling and jangling hoop that’s wiggling and bouncing in what most people would probably consider koala-bear cute, all I want to do is yank that sucker out of the ground and stomp on it.
Deep breath, Blair. You’ve got this. You’re heading in the direction that you want to go. Storm is interested in you. You are interested in him. Focus on that.
I pull the mallet back to hit the ball as a peel of laughter rings out from Devlin’s side of the garden.
My head snaps in his direction, and the redhead has her chin up, and she’s laughing. He’s laughing, too.
And then his eyes go black.
Holy shit.
He’s just used my power on her.
Hot rage shatters me, and I swing the mallet in fury. The crack of the ball is loud, like a shotgun exploding.
The next crack is not so deafening. It’s bone crunching. But the scream that follows it is earsplitting.
My blood stops and I whip my head in the direction of the sound. I immediately spot my ball. It’s on the ground, rolling aimlessly through the thick grass, away from Storm’s feet.
My gaze tracks up to his face. Storm’s cupping his nose with both hands. Blood’s spewing through his fingers, and he’s screaming, “My nose!”
The mallet falls from my hands, and all I can do is stare as the crowd rushes to help Storm, the man whose nose I just broke.
14
“Itold you to be yourself, not break his nose,” Devlin says, raking his fingers through his hair.
He’s pacing back and forth in his living room. After I successfully cracked Storm’s nose in two, the garden party disbanded. I tried to apologize, but Storm’s bodyguards surrounded him and escorted him off while he howled in pain.
Pretty sure that for the rest of my life I’ll be haunted with cries of, “My nose! It’s broken! Why me?”
I added in thewhy me.He didn’t really say that, but he might as well have.
I toss my purse onto Devlin’s couch. “For your information, I wasn’t trying to break his nose. I couldn’t concentrate becausesomebodywas using my power on a certain redhead.”
He freezes. “What?”
