Believe the Magic Page 22

“Chew.” He whispered. I never would have guessed that word could be sexy. But the continued flavor and texture of the berry had my mind burning with the images of Quentin and me together. Naked, in a chocolate bath.

  But then the thought froze as he lifted the strawberry to his own mouth and took a bite. I licked my lips, finding more chocolate and juice left behind.

  “Don’t.” He stopped me. Then his lips were on mine and I tasted the way the juice mixed with his natural flavor. My knees weakened. My chest was being pummeled by my reckless heart as it tried to escape.

  My hands slid up Quentin’s chest, driven by some animalistic need. I could feel his reaction, which was as intense as my own. I drew in a ragged breath as he kissed the juice from my chin.

  I ached to feel the rest of him, his hardness against my body. The need was almost frantic. But he resisted me.

  He reclaimed my mouth and plunged his tongue deep inside. I moaned with him and laced my hands in his hair, holding his mouth there as he continued to ignite blazing fires throughout my body. Touch me, my mind screamed at him.

  Instead, he stepped back,

  “What?”

  The light of the brightly decorated bathroom blinded me, killing the mood almost instantly. Quentin’s eyes were half-closed. His chest still heaved, but he blew out a few breaths and raked his hand through his hair.

  “I guess it is true.”

  “What’s true?” I rose on my toes and clenched my fists. No way did I want to hear I was some kind of experiment. That single strawberry had me on the edge, and willing to step off.

  “The way to your heart is through your stomach.”

  He had heard me. The breath was pushed out of my chest as if I’d taken that step and landed flat on my back. “Did you need to know? And—”

  “Yes.”

  “And for your information, the little treat you brought me wasn’t affecting my heart at all. Heart rate maybe, but don’t for one minute confuse lust and love.”

  “Who was talking love here, Ella?”

  I almost wished there had been a sarcastic smirk on his face so I could slap it off. But the look was that of a curious child.

  And my heart was busy jumping up and down with its hand in the air screaming, “Me, me, me.”

  I finally unfroze my vocal chords and explained it to him. “The phrase is supposed to relate to the idea of making a man fall in love with you by showing him what a good wife you’d make, i.e. cooking.”

  His bottom lip protruded and I ached to nibble on it. “Oh.”

  “But what you proved is food can also be a really interesting item for foreplay.”

  He nodded, not taking the hint I was offering myself up in some sad sacrifice. If I couldn’t have his love, I knew I could have his body. And now that was denied me.

  He looked me up and down before turning to leave the room. I could hear him talking. “Cruise like this…make someone mix up love and lust easily enough…”

  I was tempted to pitch the pink lotion bottle on the counter at his back. Not sure why I didn’t. Maybe because it was baby lotion. I squeezed until a dollop fell onto the carpeted floor.

  Baby lotion. Baby. Pregnant. Oh God. With the panic rising in my throat like bile, I followed Quentin back into the main room. Maybe it was true and the runaway hormones were making me see things I shouldn’t. “Hey!”

  He ignored me. He stood in front of the bed and scratched his head.

  I grabbed his arm and spun him around. “Hey,” I repeated. “What are we doing? What should I wear? Where are we going?”

  “We’re on a boat in the heart of the Caribbean, we’re not going far.”

  It was hard to feel dignified in a t-shirt and thong panties. But I ignored the sad state of undress. “No, kidding.” I chewed on the thought. Should I? I opened my big mouth and hurled the question at him before I could swallow it along with my fear. “Can I have some money to go to the drug store?”

  “Why?” I hated the tilt of his eyebrow. I was tempted to shave it off. I was going to do it too, as soon as I got my hands on him.

  “Because I need something.”

  He looked me up and down. “What? What did I forget?”

  The bathroom was stocked better than Tammy Fay Baker’s dressing room. But I highly doubted it had what I needed. And as far as answering him? “You don’t want to know.”

  “Well, finish getting dressed and we’ll take a walk down there.”

  “No.” The word shot out like a misfired bullet. Way to go, Ella, get him suspicious.

  The only thing left to do was get dressed. My hair had naturally dried in the only style it would hold. Straight. Makeup wasn’t necessary for this trip. Chances are I’d ruin it with tears anyway.

  I zipped my jean shorts and slid my feet into sandals that were at least a size too small. I’d need to visit the boutique, too. Maybe trade these in.

  My hand was on the doorknob when he finally spoke again. “Wait.”

  It wasn’t a request. It was an order. Well, la-de-da. I stepped into the hall with my chin a little higher in the air. I could do this alone.

  Of course, finding the dang shop was my first priority. Once around the corner of the room I let my chest deflate a bit. Didn’t want to seem haughty when I had to stoop to ask for directions.

  But I was feeling pretty good. The bath really had revitalized me. And of course, Quentin was there to get the blood flowing. The smell of tanning lotion had to be the single most visible scent there is. Palm trees and soothing surf. White beaches and gentle breezes.

  Crash!

  I sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. The grunt that followed the jumble of breaking glass sounded too familiar. Does disaster just follow me?

  I tried to resist. Really I did. But I had to look back.

  Here I was expecting Quentin and the room service waiter I had just passed tangled together on the carpet with pieces of discarded food and drink dressing them up like a pair of clowns. Nada. That guy had made it past. Quentin had collided with a different waiter. A tray with a plate and a glass lay on the floor. The two men stared at it like they’d never seen spilled…soda before. I squinted, but it was just a dark spot on the floor. The glass had cleanly broken in two pieces.

  Darn it. Nothing dramatic to distract me from making it to my destination. Dread was still alive and living as a tapeworm on my confidence.

  I ignored the sound of my name ricocheting down the hallway. I was intent on getting to the drug store and back and perhaps putting the fear to rest. It consumed me now that I had given in to its ugliness.

  The hand baskets were wicker and painted with the logo of the cruise liner. I felt like a little old lady at the grocery store as I roamed the aisles while it dangled from my arm. I have to say, I was impressed. The selections ranged from generic to top brand name. Of course, all the prices had my heart in my chest. They wanted what for a bottle of aspirin?

  I found the kit I needed. Not that there was much of a choice. Obviously pregnancy tests weren’t high priority on a cruise. Just in case, I bought a box of tampons. Yeah, I wanted to be hopeful and have the checkout girl dying to ask me.

  I was three feet from the counter when I froze. The cold, wet sweat of dread dripped down my back. How was I going to pay for this?

  “Uh, can I just charge this to my room?” I lifted my arm and the basket and tried to look hopeful.

  “I need your card.”

  “My door card?”

  She nodded. Damn. Where was it? I patted the pockets of my shorts. I wanted to drop down and wail with my legs and feet kicking. It was in the room.

  “Looking for this?” Quentin strolled in with the piece of white plastic in his hand.

  “Yep.” I walked over, grabbed it and surged forward. Of course my progress was cut short. I might have stopped dead in my tracks if I’d have thought he’d use magic so blatantly. My forward steps were suddenly reversed.

  “Why are you doing this to me?” I growled when he
released me from the spell.

  “Why are you running? I told you’d I’d…”

  His eyes must have met with the words on the box. “Ella?”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Funny how Quentin’s voice went from accusing to suddenly soft and full of wonder. I had a sudden image of him as a boy, tugging his mother’s sleeve. “When we gonna see it, huh? When?” and then the gasp and “Oooh.”

  I took the opportunity to snatch the card and walk up to the cashier.

  “Ella, use cash.”

  I passed the card back over my shoulder. I closed my fingers when I felt a bill touch them. I wouldn’t, couldn’t look him in the eye. This false brave act would crumble.

  I wrapped the brown sack around itself and tucked it under my arm. My march back to the room was just as purposeful as the one on the initial trip. Maybe even more frantic since he was behind me. And gaining fast.

  He spun me at the door. I was ready for the accusing eyes and third degree. Instead I was folded into a protective hug. “Ella, why didn’t you say anything?”

  The tears fell then. Whatever reserve I had melted in the warmth of his arms.

  When I my eyes were suitably swollen and my nose running, he pulled back to meet my gaze. “What? What is it?”

  “Quentin, I’m so scared.” My body shook. I wanted to run away, away from magic and the long arm of Mr. B and his stupid power. I wanted to be Ella Mansfield, the nobody from nowhere. And if I was, indeed, pregnant, then so be it. It’s not really a rare occurrence anymore.

  “Stop it, Ella.”

  I jerked my eyes open and ran my hand across my nose. “What?”

  “Stop beating yourself up. I am not going to desert you if you’re pregnant.”

  Oh yeah, just what I wanted to hear. “We don’t know anything yet. It could be the stress, the food or lack of, it could be…”

  “Let’s go see.” Quentin took my elbow and led me to the bathroom. Every step was taken as if there were eggshells beneath our feet instead of a forest of carpet fibers.

  “I can’t.”

  “What do you mean, you can’t?”

  “I-I can’t do it with you standing over me. I’ve got to read the instructions.”

  He opened the box and passed it over to me. I sat on the closed toilet seat as if it were a throne. “Please, Quentin. Just give me a minute or two. I mean, how would you feel?”

  “How do you think I feel? It’s not just your baby.”

  No. If it’s there, it’s Mr. B’s. “Please?”

  His hand traced the side of my cheek. For a moment, a brief flitting moment, I thought I saw something deeper in his eyes.

  But he turned and walked out of the room.

  I muttered and moaned and turned the box over and over in my hands. Now what? I mean, I knew I had to go ahead and pee on the stick, but really, then what?

  “Ella? You okay in there?”

  I breathed out and tore the box open. “Just getting started. I’m okay.”

  I couldn’t help but smile when I imagined him pacing. He really was taking this better than I had imagined. But that just made it worse. My rambling mind was getting the best of me. I needed to concentrate.

  Of course, it had to be complicated. I should have known that. I never was one to have the ability to pee on command. I drank at least three tumblers of water in an effort to get the message to my bladder.

  I followed the directions and then put the kit on the back of the toilet and commenced my own pacing. The water finally got through my kidneys and I used the toilet again, keeping my eyes from everything but the indicator.

  Another knock. “Ella? Is everything okay?”

  “Uh, yeah,” I fibbed. “I’m just waiting for the results.”

  “Can I come in and wait with you?”

  “No.”

  Why did I think he would listen? He didn’t bother opening the door. I suppose he knew I’d locked it.

  “Why?”

  He spied the indicator and detoured toward the pink piece of plastic. I scampered over as well. He wasn’t going to know before me. Nope.

  Negative.

  I sighed in relief and looked again. Clearly it stated I was simply late, but not pregnant. I let out a whoop of joy and grabbed Quentin around the neck and started jumping up and down.

  “You’re happy?”

  I nearly fell on the white tile. “What, you wanted me to be pregnant?”

  “I was kind of having fun entertaining the idea of a little tyke who looked like me.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I wasn’t going to. “Get out of here, really?” Hurry up, Ella, push the smile back down into a frown. He’s using this as a ploy toward working on making it for real this time. Can’t you see that?

  I shucked the plastic indicator into the box and dropped them both in the trash. “Ah, well, party’s over. Did you say something about a casino on board?”

  I’d expected to find the carnival atmosphere would work like helium and keep my spirits up. They might have if Quentin’s heavy weight wasn’t dragging me down at the other end. His lackluster “Yeah,” when I asked his opinion on the number of the roulette wheel had me second guessing my choices. I turned to slots. Nickel slots. Cheap, no thought needed. But I couldn’t get him involved.

  Finally I stood up and hit the cash out button. “What’s with you?”

  “Huh?” He looked up, dazed. “Oh, nothing.”

  “Quentin, you’ve been acting bizarre all evening. Are you still hung up on the pregnancy thing?”

  “No. Just have some…other stuff on my mind. The smoke in here is killing my sinuses. Can we head up to fresh air or back to the room?”

  “Yeah.” I followed him. His feet rubbed the carpet as he shuffled along. That little old man with the broom had more spring in his step than Quentin. And he should be ecstatic, he wasn’t bound to me by a child created out of a huge mistake.

  He whirled on me. Before I jerked back I could have sworn his eyes were red and reminiscent of a charging bull. “It wasn’t a mistake, Ella.”

  I’d forgotten he could read my mind. Well, maybe not forgotten, but rather gotten accustomed to the fact he didn’t eavesdrop on my rambling thoughts as often as he used to.

  “Well, it certainly wasn’t planned, Quentin. That is, unless you were in cahoots with Bergestein on that regard as well.”

  Maybe it was the relief of knowing. Maybe it was the pent up hormones that were starting the ritual PMS after a couple weeks delay. I rose to the challenge, devil may care.

  Several people in the hallway gasped and stopped to stare. I ignored the horrified looks and hand-covered mouths I could see out of the corner of my eye and let loose. “I’m just a game to you, Quentin, a stepping stone. You’ve used me from the beginning to get the power you needed. A pawn, that’s all I am, and that’s all our kid would have been. Another pawn, a freaking token you could take to the bargaining table.”

  “Ella, no—”

  “You tricked me, just like you did to get Winzey’s name. You knew Mr. B bargained my freedom for a child, that’s why you set about seducing me every moment you could. To plant your seed.”

  His face fell ashen. The freight train was now a runaway. There was no stopping it now. “You gave me the gem, knowing I could hold it and you’d still control it, because you controlled me.”

  “I didn’t—”

  “Shut up!” I screamed.

  I felt hands on my arms, murmurs in my ear. “How dare you do this to me, Quentin? I trusted you. You’re all I have and you continue to betray me. Why?”

  I sank to my knees, pulling against those who were trying to hold me. I suppose I would have tried to claw his eyes out, or at least scar him for life if I’d been free. The sobs shook my chest, tore through my body like a dull knife. He’d known. I just knew he had been in on it all along. It made sense. Perfect sense.

  The fight faded as quickly as it had come. I felt stupid. Foolish. And not just for my
outburst, but for being strung along the way I had. “I want to go back to my room now.” I told the woman who approached me with the face of an upset school teacher. “I’m sorry.” I turned to all the people behind me. “I’m so sorry you had to witness that.”

  I wasn’t going to apologize to Quentin. But it didn’t matter. He was gone.

  I noticed I was silently escorted by a trailing steward. Guess he needed to make sure I made it back without any more problems. I figured having a referee was a good idea in case I ran into Quentin again.

  He wasn’t in the suite. Nothing indicated he’d been back. Fine, I thought, go out and find yourself one of those bikini clad chicks who was eyeing you up earlier.

  See if I care. I’ll just… I took a gander at the king size bed. Then the lazy-boy. Yep, that’s it. I’ll just see what there is to drink in the bar and drown a few sorrows. Maybe a couple of regrets, too.

  The bottle of vodka was less than half the size of the cans of soda that were its neighbors. But it was my name on the label, plain as could be.

  Of course, it went down with a little more bite than cola, and certainly had me gasping for a drink to sooth my raw throat. Paint thinner is what it was.

  So while my intestines were being cauterized by the straight liquor I gulped half the contents of the red cola can and stumbled back to my chair.

  And I stumbled because I tripped over my shoes. I wasn’t drunk or anything.

  But the chair was nice. I’d have to tell my sister about it. And the room. She wouldn’t believe what first class was like. Chances are neither of us would ever see such a thing in our lives. I tried to memorize each detail. My already fuzzy brain was having trouble committing the details to long term memory, so I closed my eyes. Just for a moment.

  Too bad I’d forgotten a camera. That would have been the ultimate. But who would ever see the pictures? Chances are they’d get left behind just like everything else has been. I still held on to a strand of hope I’d find a way to see my sister and parents again. If only to let them know I was all right.

  Now that was a lie.

  I pried open an eyelid. The room was mimicking the motion of the sea. My stomach decided to chime in.