“People don’t talk like that anymore. They certainly don’t use words like ‘moxie,’” she said with a chuckle.
“What can I say, I’ve lived for over a hundred and fifty years, and sometimes I show my age.” His deep, raspy voice tugged at her.
“I think you just did.”
After that, neither of them said a word. If someone had told her she could have a conversation with him without throwing barbs, she would've called them a liar. She’d never been this close to him, and under the glow of the spotlights, she became transfixed by the color of his eyes. They reminded her of the Caribbean Ocean…seven shades of blue. The air snapped with sexual tension.
“Let’s get you that food.” After he finished the last of his scotch, he set his glass on the counter and turned to open the fridge. Picking up a couple of takeout cartons, he turned back around and rubbed the scruff along his jaw. “I’ve got some leftover steak and salad from yesterday’s lunch. Or if you’re in the mood for something lighter, I could make you a grilled cheese sandwich with tomato soup.”
Who knew Mulroney was so domestic? “Thanks, I appreciate the offer, but I’m vegan. We all are at the coven. I keep it a rule not to eat anything with a face.” The bloody image of Salem’s mangled body flashed through her mind and her stomach churned. “You know what, on second thought I think I’d just like to crash.”
Sympathy flashed in his eyes. “I’ll show you to the guest room. I know this isn’t an ideal situation for either of us, but I assure you it’s the only way to keep you safe.”
His words made it clear that he didn’t want her here. Not that she could blame him. They weren’t exactly buddy, buddy, but still…She must’ve misread the vibes he’d been giving off. Setting her glass on the counter, she got to her feet. She was just about to get her suitcase when Mulroney passed her and hauled it up the staircase.
She followed him, glancing at the black and white framed photos of different locales and ancient-looking maps along the wall. Traveling seemed to be one of his hobbies. From the photos, he’d been all over the world. Curious, she wanted to ask him about his travels but decided against it for now.
“Are you always such a gentleman, opening doors and carrying suitcases?” Her eyes moved to his broad shoulders and wide, muscled back, watching them flex as he walked up the stairs. Not that she was complaining. She also got a bird’s eye view of his fine muscled ass.
He glanced at her over his shoulder with a wicked gleam in his eyes. “No. Not always,” he murmured in a sultry voice, and there was no mistaking his innuendo. Every nerve ending in her body zinged to life. A delicious shiver danced along her skin. “But in matters such as this, yes. I’m old school. It comes from living a long time.”
They stopped at the landing. Decorated in the same soft shades of green and creams as the lower level, modern artwork adorned the walls up here. She could only dream about owning a home like this someday.
He walked into the bathroom and turned on the lights, and her jaw dropped. It was massive, practically the size of her entire bedroom, and decked out exactly like the kitchen in white and grey marble. The ginormous glass-enclosed shower called to her.
“It’s a rain shower,” he said, following her gaze. “There’s a soaking tub should you feel the need to indulge.”
At least she didn’t have to share a bathroom. She gulped and wondered ifheindulged in long soaks with the women he brought here. Is that why he had the bathroom designed that way?
A white, terry cloth robe hung on a hook near the shower. How many female guests did he regularly entertain here? She wasn’t sure where this was all coming from, so she redirected the train of her thoughts to what was important—resting so she could replenish her magick and help find Brooke. She took a step back, and a wave of dizziness hit her hard, forcing her to lean against the wall for support. Luckily, Mulroney didn’t notice. Maybe the scotch and lack of food had been a bad idea.
“I’m glad you approve.” Without another word, he walked out of the bathroom and down the hall. She followed him, and he pointed to the room to his left. “You’ll be staying in here.” He extended his hand for her to walk in front of him, and she decided she could get used to his old-fashioned manners. Sadly, none of the men she knew as of late could be coined as gentlemen.
She took another step and swayed. In an instant he appeared at her side, wrapping a strong arm around her waist. She wasn’t sure what unnerved her most, his closeness, or his scent, dancing across her skin with a rush of unexpected tingles.
“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“I got a little woozy for a second. I usually don’t drink on an empty stomach. I’ll be okay. I just need to sleep.”
“I think this is becoming a habit of yours, Miss Howe. Do I make you swoon?” His voice turned husky and vibrated through every cell in her body.
She blinked, and the haze cleared. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
Embarrassed, she pulled away and walked on shaky legs into a gorgeous bedroom. Covered with a white and green duvet and some throw pillows, the queen-sized bed looked inviting. An oversized chair, the same colors as the comforter, looked perfect for curling up with a good book. And speaking of books, there were tons of them. Floor to ceiling shelves were stacked with leather-bound spines, and even some old, rare looking ones.
She walked to the bookcase and thumbed through his collection. Maybe reading might help her sleep. “I’m impressed. You have all the classics. You must read a lot.”
“When I have the time. I’ve collected quite a few over the years.” He wheeled her suitcase to the corner of the room and glanced at the shelves. “Please, help yourself. Losing yourself in a good book, in my opinion, is one of the greatest passions in life.”
“I agree.” She wondered what other things Mulroney was passionate about. What would it be like to be at the center of his passion?
When she came across the three volumes ofPride and Prejudice, her heart skipped a beat. She picked up one of the maroon, leather-bound books, flipped to the first page, and gasped. “This is a first edition?”
“It belonged to my sister. It’s the only thing I still have of hers. I’ve held onto it all these years,” he murmured with a faraway look in his eyes. “Are you an Austen fan?” The question made her nostalgic.
“My mom got an old, worn copy for me when I was a young girl. We moved after my parents divorced, and it got lost. The only thing that seemed to make the new place familiar was my books.”
“How about now, are you still a big reader?” He checked the locks on the windows and then turned back to face her, studying her with a curious expression on his handsome face.
