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  Up for Air

  Maryanne

  “How was the lasagna?” Bryce asked. “It’s my Mom’s secret recipe.”

  Secret? Maryanne had seen the jar of store-bought spaghetti sauce on the counter. When she’d arrived, she’d followed Bryce into the kitchen. She’d brought an apple pie from the bakery and wanted to keep it warm. The kitchen had been a mess. Congealing noodles on the counter, greasy splatter making a ring around a burner on the stove. There was a balled-up towel soggy in the sink, scorched black on one end where it had obviously caught on fire.

  Maryanne smiled. Her father, Skip Hemlock, made the best lasagna. Ever. Bryce Walker? Not so much.

  “It was…special,” she said diplomatically. “Different from what I’m used to.”

  Bryce grinned. “Okay, I know it was crap, but it’s the thought that counts, right?”

  She smiled back. “Definitely.”

  They ate their dessert—the pie was much better than the main course—and Bryce made coffee, which was perfect. They took their coffees to the den, a large, elegant room that managed to be masculine while still boasting Victorian touches. Beautiful dark wainscoting and chair rail circled the room, as did the crown molding at the ceiling. At one end of the room a big desk stood on a Persian rug. At the other end, a couch and two leather club chairs huddled in front of a fireplace. Bryce guided her to the couch where she sat while he set about building a fire.

  She scanned the room while he was preoccupied, taking in the amazing artwork on the walls. She recognized several prints as Tom Thomson’s. The rest looked equally impressive, but she couldn’t have said who the artists were. Visual tour complete, she let her gaze go back to Bryce, watching his powerful back as he worked.

  On impulse, she put her coffee down on the end table and went over to stand beside him just as he put a match to the kindling beneath the wood. “Wow, that fireplace looks old.”

  He glanced up. “Yeah. It’s the original one from when the Walkers first settled here in Mansbridge. It’s safe, though. The chimney’s been relined several times.”

  “Cool.” And it was. The mantle, carved with an intricate design, was painted off-white, but the business part, the fireplace itself, was cast iron.

  Iron. Maryanne shivered despite the growing warmth of the room. This place must be full of it.

  Bryce stood, the action bringing him closer and causing her heart to flutter alarmingly.

  She took a step back. “We should…um…drink our coffee.”

  “Yeah.”

  Face burning, she went back and sat on the oversized sofa, cursing herself all the way. He’d been close enough to touch, close enough to smell, and she’d bolted like a frightened child. Not that she shouldn’t be scared. He was a hunter, after all. A hunter who might know about her. Oddly, that wasn’t what scared her. That flutter had scared her. The thought of touching him…him touching her…

  He sank down beside her on the couch. “Are you okay? You look hot.” He glanced back at the fireplace where his well-laid fire had come to life. “Maybe I shouldn’t have lit the fire.”

  “No, it’s fine. I’m just…I don’t know…just nervous.”

  His forehead creased in a frown. “Are you afraid of me? I mean, being here alone with me?” A flush had begun to rise in his face. “I would never do anything to hurt you, Maryanne. The last thing I want is for you to feel uncomfortable. If you like, we can go somewhere else. I’d have to check on the horses first, but we could go to the mall or—”

  “No,” she said quickly. “I don’t want to go anywhere else.” The words came out so high and thin, she didn’t even sound like herself. And no wonder! Her heart pounded so hard she could barely breathe. But she couldn’t let him think she didn’t want to be close to him. She wanted it so much, it was scary. “Like I told you the other night, I have zero experience at this, and there’s probably a subtler way to do this, but…well, I don’t know what that is. So I’m just going to say it. I was hoping you might want to kiss me again.”

  There. She’d said it.

  And Bryce was sitting there as though he’d turned to stone.

  Oh, crap! She was such an idiot. He probably thought—

  He chuckled. “God, you’re so brave. Here I was trying to figure out how to inch closer and casually get my arm around your shoulders, and you just come out with that.”

  She grimaced and dropped her gaze to the hands folded so tightly in her lap that her knuckles showed white. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” He pried her left hand loose and enclosed it with his. She wondered if he could feel her pulse beating in her fingertips like she could. “I’ve done nothing but think about the last time we kissed and fantasize about doing it again.”

  “Me too.”

  She twisted toward him and he bent to kiss her, but the angle was all wrong and they bumped in the wrong places. They both drew back.

  “Oh, shit. I’m sorry,” he said.

  “It’s okay. I went the wrong way.”

  “No, it’s me.” He raked a hand through his hair. “I wasn’t going to tell you, but I guess I can’t really hide it. I’m not a whole lot more accomplished than you are at this whole thing.”

  She blinked as she tried to process what he was saying. “You’ve never…um …never…?”

  “I’m not a virgin, if that’s what you mean. Seth saw to that.” He drew back. “He put one of his hangers-on up to it.”

  Maryanne bit her lip. “You don’t sound very thrilled about it.”

  “I wasn’t.” His jaw tightened. “Her sights were set on Seth all along. She figured if the path to him was through me, so be it.”

  “And after that?”

  “After that, nothing.”

  “No girlfriends.”

  “Nope.”

  “Why not?” Oh geez, were the females in this town blind? Brain dead? Both?

  “Childhood cancer casts a long shadow.” He rolled his shoulders. “Half of them seem convinced it might rub off on them. The other half figure I’m toast anyway. That my cancer will come back.”

  “No way!”

  He shrugged again. “They’re kinda right. Well, the latter half, anyway. With the aggressive treatment I had, I’m statistically much more likely to die prematurely, either from another primary cancer or from heart attack or stroke. You know, long term effects of chemo and radiation.”

  He looked away.

  Sterility, Maryanne thought. She knew that cancer treatments could affect reproduction. Not exactly what a lot of girls were looking for in a long-term partner. Even the track record of cancer in the family tree might impact the breeding pedigree.

  That seemed incredibly…unfair. Both that he was at increased risk after having survived cancer once, and that people treated him differently because of it.

  “Yeah?” Maryanne put a hand on his arm. “Well, I’m on the short side. That makes me statistically more likely to have a heart problem than a taller person.”

  He widened his eyes. “Really? Then what am I doing wasting my time with a little thing like you if you’re just gonna have a heart attack when you’re seventy?”

  She whacked him and he grabbed her. They dissolved into giggles and then he was kissing her. And everything fit this time. Again and again he brushed his mouth against hers, and what started out playfully grew serious, then urgent. When he put his big hand on her hip, she let her hands fall to his chest so she could touch him as she’d been dying to do. He felt so foreign beneath her hands, hard and warm and male, and she could feel the strong pounding of his heart. And his scent! She wanted to breathe him in. Then his hand was on her chest and she forgot what her hands had been doing. Oh, God, she forgot to breathe! She made a strange, strangling sound that shocked her. It must have shocked him too, because he pulled back.

  “What?” she asked, her voice thick as she tried to get close to him again. “What’s wrong?”

  His chest rose and fell like he’d been running wind sprints and
he held her at bay with hands clasped around her upper arms. “We have to stop.”

  Oh wow, of course. She pulled back and gave him space. Thank God he’d had sense enough to rein himself in. Somehow, she had expected alarm bells to go off in her head if they went too fast and she’d have been the one imploring him to stop.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “For pawing you, you mean?”

  She grinned. “Yeah, that too. But I meant for keeping your head. For having the presence of mind to stop before it got a lot harder to stop.”

  “You’re welcome.” He brushed her hair back from her face. “Did I mention that I love your hair down like this?”

  She smiled shyly. “No.”

  “Well, I do.”

  He took her hand in his again and leaned back on the couch cushions. She watched as their two hands entwined, then watched as he checked out her rings. He righted the dinner ring on her left hand so the gem faced forward again, his finger lingering on the black stone.

  “What’s this?” he asked.

  “The stone?”

  “Yeah. It looks like black obsidian.”

  “Apache Tear, I think it’s called. Someone gave it to me.”

  “Yeah, that’d be black obsidian, then.”

  She lifted an eyebrow. “You know your stones.”

  “The Apache Tear is supposed to aid grieving and comfort you in your sorrow. That kind of thing.”

  Maryanne’s throat tightened. “I’ve heard that.” Her throat tightened with tears she wouldn’t shed. “Sometimes I think…I almost think that I can feel it crying.” Half-embarrassed now, she looked up.

  Bryce smiled down at her. “My grandmother would have loved that. She was into them. Crystals and rocks, I mean. All kinds. She was sort of…spiritual, I guess you’d call it.” He stroked her finger lightly. “She had quite a collection—they’re still upstairs in a trunk—and she used to tell me stories about them. I’ve probably forgotten most of it now, though. She died before I got sick. She used to say—”

  Whatever he was going to say was cut off when the alarm on his watch went off. “Whoops, time to visit the stable. I need to check on the mare—the one you saw foal the other night. Can you spare me for a few minutes?”

  Maryanne pulled in a breath. “Yeah, I think I can.”

  “I’ll only be ten minutes or so.” Bryce kissed her quickly and stood. She bit a smile back as she saw him adjust his jeans. Then he was gone, the door slamming behind him.

  She let her head sink back on the leather sofa and closed her eyes for a moment, enjoying the warmth. And that warmth wasn’t just coming from the fireplace.

  Wow, she was smitten. No two ways about it.

  Then she remembered—this wasn’t just a date. She was here on a mission.

  And she had ten minutes, give or take.

  She exited the den and stole down the hallway to the stairs. Soundlessly, she climbed the carpeted steps. The house was empty with Howard and Hannah Walker away and Bryce in the barn, but still her heart pounded as though someone might see her. Catch her. Somehow know what she was up to, skulking around like this. God, this would be so much easier if she were casting. She was much braver then. Nothing like the mouse she was the rest of the time.

  At the top of the stairs, she turned right. Though she’d never been up these stairs before, she had a good idea which room was Seth’s. She’d been in it before, but the last time she’d been in this house, she’d been in caster form and she’d come through the wall. She glanced down the long hallway. That had to be it, at the end. It was the only door that was closed. It had been so hard for her own father to take down Jason’s crib. It had taken him months before he could undo those screws and bolts and cart that crib away. Yeah, that had to be Seth’s room.

  She entered quickly, closing the door behind her. The room faced the stables—the well-lit stables; Bryce was still in there. She didn’t even think about turning on the overhead light or the bedside lamp, but as soon as she knocked her knee on the solid oak post of the end board, she knew she’d need at least a little light if she was going to find that trinket box Brooke had talked about. She could open the curtain. The moon was full tonight – it would give her at least a little light.

  The curtains slid on silent rods as Maryanne reached up and pushed them aside. She turned to her left and looked around her. Immediately, the articles in the room jumped from black to grey-shadowed and seemed to shift as if half waking. Her eyes were playing tricks on her. The furniture and everything else seemed to draw closer to her as her vision adjusted. Yes, she’d been in the room before, but the circumstances had been dire. They’d been fighting for a fellow caster’s life. Nothing had stayed with her beyond the terrifying sight of Brooke pinned to the floor under that iron poker, her primal scream, and Connie’s cast suddenly joining them.

  Her heart banged in her chest, but she wasn’t sure if the adrenaline was from those memories or from the present fear of being caught. Either way, that fear was her enemy. She needed to quell it so she could ‘feel’ the room. She’d always been able to do that, pick up the vibes of a room. She closed her eyes and concentrated. There was sorrow here. Yes, there was loss. And, there was anger. Seth’s? Had his last hours here been full of that fist-pounding anger?

  The dresser, Maryanne. Find the dresser.

  There it was, directly across from the window, a low, wide, heavy looking piece of furniture. As she crossed quickly to it, she caught her reflection in the mirror that topped it. She looked so pale. A white ghost this time instead of a black caster. It was as if that person in the mirror was detached from her, somehow. She waved a hand and her reflection waved back, but it did little to dispel the weird disconnection.

  She scanned the dresser top for the trinket box Brooke swore she’d find here. Dammit! It wasn’t there. A couple of burned CD’s, a Dean Koontz paperback, a handful of pens sitting on a math test, two lighters, and a pack of rolling papers. But no box. She opened the top drawer—yikes, it squeaked—and rifled through the undershirts and shorts that were there. Nothing! She opened the second and third drawers. Still nothing.

  With a shaky breath, Maryanne stood. Her wide eyes hit the mirror again, but this time she stared beyond her reflection. Past it. There was an armoire in the corner, just to the right of the window. She would have started there had she turned back around the other way after pulling open the curtains. Maryanne scooted around Seth’s bed to the armoire. She swung the small side door open. And there, right in front of her on the top shelf sat the glass-topped box. That had to be it!

  With trembling fingers, Maryanne opened the lid of the box and tipped it so the contents were exposed to the dim light.

  There it was! She touched the skeleton key, her fingertip lingering on the cold, cold iron.

  Me-annnne!!!

  She swung around, searching the dim room.

  Me-anne! Me-anne!

  Oh, God, Jason. Why was he haunting her here? Couldn’t he give her some peace?

  Me-annnne!

  She hung her head with the scream that rang in her ears. And yet, she deserved this. Jason. Her little J-bug! Tormenting her now and always for what she’d done to him. For what she’d allowed to happen.

  “I know,” she whispered, her throat tight. “I know…what I did and I’m so sorry…so very, very—”

  The light snapped on behind her.

  With a gasp, Maryanne whirled yet again, her back pressing against the armoire, her right hand flying to her chest. And stared into the suddenly cool, accusing eyes of Bryce Walker.

  Chapter 14

  Caught

  Brooke

  When Bryce left the barn and headed to the house, Brooke and Alex zoomed closer to the house to check on Maryanne. They were sidling up to the window of the brightly lit den when light spilled down on them from above.

  Alex looked at Brooke, then shot straight upward.

  Brooke pulled up beside Alex a second later. And there Maryanne s
tood in front of Seth’s armoire. Only, she wasn’t just standing, she was shrinking back against the armoire. Brooke followed Maryanne’s gaze to the door, knowing full well what she was going to see. Bryce stood there, huge and imposing, filling the door frame, and his body language was not friendly. Brooke glanced back at Maryanne, who was backing away now. Brooke couldn’t hear a damned thing through the double glazed windows, but the way she held her hands out as though to stave him off told Brooke all she needed to know. Their friend needed them.

  “You bastard! Don’t you touch her!” Brooke yelled, but they couldn’t hear her. Screw this! She was going in. On that thought, she took off her copper bracelet, dropped it to the snow two stories below and started sliding through the wall.

  “Brooke!” Alex yelled. “What are you doing?”

  She ignored Alex and pressed on, gritting her teeth against the pain as she encountered nails on the trip through. The pain was not unexpected, and the nails were no more plentiful than normal. Which meant Bryce or some other Walker hadn’t tried to caster-proof the house the same way he had the shed. A fact he was going to pay for right now.

  Brooke roared the rest of the way through the wall, but neither Maryanne nor Bryce saw her right away.

  Bryce was advancing on Maryanne. “Answer me! What are you doing up here? I mean, if he was still alive, I’d get it. Like I told you tonight, you wouldn’t be the first girl to try to get to him through me.”

  “Oh, no! No, Bryce. It’s nothing like that. I promise you.”

  He advanced and she retreated another step until the back of her legs came up against the bed.

  “No, it’s worse,” he said, his voice thick. “It’s sick. Seth is dead, dammit! If it’s him you wanted, you’re never going to get more than a poor substitute in me.”

  Bryce stepped closer and reached for her arm.

  With a sobbing sound, Maryanne rolled quickly across the bed and popped up on the other side. “No, Bryce. You have to listen!”

  Brooke had heard enough. She dove between Bryce and the bed. Finally seeing her, Bryce scrambled backwards, tripping on an area rug and landing on his ass.