She momentarily seemed to rise a few inches on the sidewalk and then lower down. He blinked. Must have been some kind of optical illusion. Chulah inwardly sighed as he took her arm and slowly led her down the sidewalk toward her place. Seemed he was always rescuing women and children. He’d had a spectacularly crappy day and could use a little rescuing himself. At least April was an interesting diversion; he’d grant her that.
In fact, she was so diverting he’d almost forgotten to quiz her about her warning of evil. Chulah straightened his shoulders. He couldn’t have questioned her with a flock of men hanging around; much better to get her alone. Yeah, that was the only reason he’d scuttled her out of the bar so quickly. It had nothing to do with jealousy.
At the Pixie Land shop door, April fumbled with the keys. Before Chulah could offer assistance, Steven opened the door.
“What’s this?” he asked sharply, nostrils twitching. “You’ve been drinking?” He whisked April inside and frowned at Chulah.
“Only a little.” April’s demure response was ruined by a tiny hiccup.
Her face rose from his chin level to eye level. Just as quickly as before, she slipped down again.
Chulah shook his head to clear it. Last time he’d ever order a double dose of whiskey. He faced Steven and held up a hand. “I didn’t twist her arm. How was I supposed to know she’d never had alcohol before?”
Steven stuck his nose in the air. “Should have chaperoned the likes of you both.” He scowled at April. “I’ll fix you a strong herbal brew. Get you right in no time. Where’s your head at, missy?”
No need to be so gruff. Chulah stepped between them. “I’ll fix her a cup of coffee. Didn’t you say earlier you were about to quit work?”
His scowl deepened. “I’m not leaving until I see she’s good and sober.”
Chulah rubbed his chin. The man seemed entirely too proprietary to be a mere employee. Perhaps a brother? But their coloring and build and mannerisms were so different, that seemed unlikely.
He suppressed his irritation. He barely knew either of them. Yet it didn’t sit well to simply leave April in this condition with such an irritable man. “Go on and fix whatever it is you’re making. We’ll be upstairs.”
Steven opened his mouth as if to object.
“We’ll be fine,” April assured him, patting his shoulder before heading to the back.
Chulah followed, eyeing the myriad glass shelves lined with pastel-colored figurines. There were winged fairies, ballerinas in tutus, mermaids with glistening tails and other magical beings. “You have a sense of whimsy,” he noted.
“They are pretty, aren’t they?” She stopped and traced her fingers over one of the winged fairy statues. “What do you think of this one?”
The fairy sported silver-and-purple hair, alabaster skin, sort of like April. He examined it closer. There were even...yep, a few tiny freckles on the fairy’s nose. “Favors you.”
A mysterious smile blossomed on her lips. “I’d like you to have it.” She lifted it, and Chulah braced his hand under her unsteady ones, afraid she’d send the delicate figurine crashing to the floor.
Her skin was so soft, so delicate and pale above his calloused, dark hand. A sensual ache coursed through his body. He hadn’t felt this way in years about any woman besides Tallulah. He took the sculpture and returned it to the shelf. “We’ll talk about the figurine later. Let’s get you seated while we wait on Steven to bring your tea or whatever it is he’s brewing.”
Her full lower lip pouted a bit, which should have irritated him, but instead, he found it adorable.
They climbed a narrow set of stairs and entered her room. The tiny studio apartment was immaculate, but sparse and utilitarian, featuring a bed, a kitchenette, a leather sofa and two chairs with a coffee table between. None of the whimsical shop figures decorated the room. It had a masculine vibe without a trace of feminine softness. It didn’t fit her at all.
April plopped on the sofa and patted the spot next to her.
“Doesn’t look like you’ve had time to decorate yet,” he said, sitting beside her. “I would have thought you’d have a pink ruffled bedspread at least,” he teased.
She gazed about the room, as if seeing it for the first time. “It’ll do for now.” Her head rested on the back of the sofa and she reached out and placed a hand on his chest.
His heart thundered under her gentle touch. April’s mysterious, womanly smile returned, playing on her lips, desire darkening her indigo eyes. Passion crackled and flowed between his heart and her hand. A moment of tension, of inevitability, sparked the air. As if guided by a magnet, his hand reached up and touched the quicksilver hair that charged like velvet lightning between his fingers.
April was fire and ice. Pale coolness on the outside that burned like dry ice and winter’s frost upon contact.
But a good burn. A very good burn that left him craving more heat. Their lips found their own way to each other, his arms encircled her slim, lithe waist, and his exploring fingers raced up and down her spine.
And he was lost. Nothing existed but skin and heat and the fire of desire that glowed around their fevered bodies like an electrical corona.
Bam bam bam. It took his brain a moment to register that someone—presumably Steven—was pounding on the door. Chulah drew back from April, wondering if his face reflected the stunned surprise in her own. She licked her lips and he was almost a goner once again. Abruptly, Chulah left the couch and went to the door.
“About time.” Steven scowled and held up a steaming mug. “For April.”
An herbal scent wafted upward. “I’ll take it.” He tried to remove the mug from Steven’s hand but the little man held fast.
“Can I trust you—or are you the kind of man who would be taking advantage of an innocent woman’s compromised condition?”
Warmth flooded his cheeks. Had that been where he was heading with April? He’d never been overly impulsive before, had never let passion override his common sense. Hell, he barely knew the woman.
But that kiss.
That mind-blowing-body-lit-up kiss had completely possessed him.
“Who is it?” April called from the den.
Even the sound of her voice sent blood rushing to his loins. Perhaps some distance was in order. He needed to get away and think on all that had happened, unencumbered by lust. “I was just leaving.”
Before he could change his mind, Chulah brushed past Steven and scurried down the stairs, out of the glass menagerie of the shop and into the fresh air outside.
Time for that long motorcycle ride he’d started to take earlier, intending to banish the sting of Tallulah’s rejection. But the image of the dark-haired, fierce Tallulah had been replaced by that of a silver-blonde graced with gentle curves and soft lips.
Who knew way too damn much about him.
*
