Bewitching the Beast Read online

  “You can’t let me go to work? Should be an interesting one to explain to my boss.”

  “I won’t let you go alone.” Ethan caught up and grasped her elbow. “I was responsible for the bump on your head.”

  Her face warmed under his scrutiny. “You’re a bit conceited, don’t you think?” The sex had been incredible. But enough to make her clumsy and stupid?

  The corner of his lips quirked into a smile. The first one she’d seen on him. It looked good. Wow, really good.

  Her cheeks flamed. Oh shit. That’s right. She remembered what he’d said in his apartment. He’d drained her aura, and now she was doomed to have bad luck. She started moving again, way too hot in her wool coat. “You’re following me because you’re superstitious?”

  “Do me a favor. Wear this.” He held out a silver chain with a glassy brown stone pendant.

  “Why?”

  They reached the bottom of the stairwell, and he opened the door, holding it for her. “It’s a good luck charm—an agate stone for protection.”

  “Does it work?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “If I take it, will you go home?”

  “No.”

  She passed through the door. “Keep it.” Accepting pocket stones and charms from Gram was different—Gram had led a spiritual life and had thought herself one with the earth. This guy didn’t believe in any of that stuff. He was grasping at straws to relieve a phobia of some kind. “And the candles in your apartment? Are you pretending to be Wiccan?”

  “I’m willing to try whatever works.”

  She stepped out onto the sidewalk and shivered. Her breath rose in a white cloud as she moved along the quiet street. Only a few tourists were out this morning.

  Ethan fell into step beside her, scanning around them as if to foil an enemy attack.

  He was an odd one. She eyed his left hand, covered by black leather. “Is that why you wear the glove? Is it magical?”

  His jaw tightened. “No.”

  A little testy. Good. Maybe he’d go home.

  Brr. She burrowed deeper into her coat and cast a sidelong glance at Ethan, who appeared completely comfortable in his light leather jacket. “Aren’t you cold? What you have on can’t possibly be warm enough.”

  “I don’t get cold.” His voice held a bitterness she didn’t understand. They reached a crosswalk, and he caught her arm. “Wait.”

  In the two years she’d lived here, she’d learned one thing. “This is New York, Ethan. No one waits for the light to change.”

  His grip on her arm tightened, and he held her there until the sign said “walk.”

  She rolled her eyes and crossed, as her bodyguard looked both ways. Connie’s Café called out to her from up the street. Why not? She was already late. She stepped inside the cozy diner and strode to the counter. “Hey, Connie.”

  “What’s up, Tess?” Connie, a middle-aged blonde with a ready laugh, poured a cup of coffee and delivered it to a table in the corner.

  “Not much, going to work.”

  Connie returned to the counter. “Working on New Year’s Day. Sucks, doesn’t it?”

  “You’ve got that right.”

  “The usual?” Connie asked, her eyes darting to Ethan, as he cased the place for danger.

  “Sounds good.” She could already taste the creamy goodness of a Chai tea latte. Manna of the gods. “And one of those blueberry scones.” She faced Ethan, who stood between her and the door. “You getting anything?”

  Now why did she ask that? She sounded as though she wanted him to join her. Must be her Midwestern nice poking its head up again.

  He shook his head, and she turned toward the counter.

  Connie peeked at Ethan every few seconds. Tess suspected if she wasn’t such a loyal customer, Connie would be pouring on the charm. She should tell her to go for it. Why didn’t she?

  Her goodies in hand, they left the café. Ethan guarded her right side, next to the street. So diligent in his duties. Then again, it was kind of nice to have someone walk to work with her for a change. She broke off a piece of the scone and popped the sweet flaky morsel into her mouth. Mmmm, heaven.

  Ethan watched her for a minute.

  “Are you hungry? We could stop somewhere if you’d like.” She took another bite. “You should have gotten one of these. They’re delicious.”

  A lazy smile touched his lips. “I’m fine. Where do you work?”

  “The Ellison Gallery. It’s a few blocks awayyyyyyyy.” Her arms flailed as she slid on an icy patch at the end of the sidewalk. Tea sloshed from the little hole on the top of her cup. Her heels hit the curb, and her body pitched forward as cars sped by.

  Ethan grasped her coat and yanked her back. Catching her under the arms, he hauled her against his chest.

  Holy crap. Her lungs froze as she gulped in frosty air.

  He held her for a moment, and she welcomed the safety of his arms around her, until she came to her senses. Clearing her throat, she pulled his arms away, and he released her. She turned to face him. “Thanks. That was a close one.”

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah.” She retrieved the napkin she’d stuffed into her pocket and swiped at the droplets of tea clinging to her coat. “Aw. I dropped my scone. It was a good one too.” She picked up the pastry bag, now wet from the snow, and tossed it into a trash can.

  Ethan gave her an I-told-you-so look and crossed his arms.

  “No way. Don’t tell me you think I slipped because of bad luck or negative energy, or whatever.”

  “Is it so hard to believe?”

  “Yes, I think it is.” After a last brush of her coat, she threw the napkin away and crossed the street.

  He stayed close. “Have you ever met a person who complains about everything? They never see the bright side because they’re too stubborn to come out of the dark.”

  She shrugged. “Sure, everyone has.”

  “Think about what it’s like spending time with them. Someone like that sours your mood, makes you feel worn out, maybe even depressed.”

  “Yeah, and all you can think about is how to get away from them.”

  “It’s their negative energy that brings you down. Energy transferred from them to you, affecting your aura and your well-being. And that’s just from one person. We live in New York City, with a population over eight million. How many stressed out, overworked people do you think there are here? Negative energy is everywhere.”

  “Interesting argument. Where did you come up with this theory?”

  “I’ve done a lot of research over the last year. Books, the internet—”

  “You do know you can’t believe everything you read, right?” She spotted the large front windows of the Ellison Gallery up ahead. “How long will you feel the need to ‘protect’ me?”

  “I’m not sure. It’ll take time to build up your positive energy, and even then we’ll need to figure out how to purge the negative.”

  Just great. “So it could be a while.”

  “Maybe. I’ll know when you’re safe.”

  “You will?”

  He steered her around a patch of ice. “I can feel the positive energy inside people.”

  She tugged her arm out of his grasp. She wasn’t a total klutz. “That’s right. You’ve done this before, absorbed someone’s aura.”

  He nodded, his face grim.

  “Do you follow everyone around afterward?”

  His brow furrowed, and he looked away. “Not anymore.”

  “Then why me?”

  Ethan stopped and stared her in the eye. “You’re different.”

  “Different in what way?”

  “In many ways . . . You spoke to me while we were in the cl
oset at the club.”

  Her cheeks burned. Didn’t everyone talk during sex?

  The corner of his mouth twitched. “Maybe that’s a bad example. It’s hard to explain.” He heaved a sigh. “When you touched me, I felt power from your fingertips.”

  She headed toward work again. “You know, this whole alternate reality you’re creating isn’t healthy.”

  “I’m telling the truth.” He held her back with a hand on her arm. “I can prove it.”

  “How?”

  “I saw something.” He shook his head. “When I drew in your aura, I saw a memory, your memory.”

  “Really.” This should be interesting. “What did you see?”

  His gaze softened. “Matt.”

  “What?” The ache that had been blissfully absent these last couple of hours invaded her chest. The pity on his face didn’t help.

  “I saw Matt choking, in your bedroom.”

  Tears blurred her vision as memories of Matt’s death flooded her mind. “I don’t know how you know that, but it’s not funny.”

  “I saw it through your eyes.”

  “That’s not possible.” She started speed-walking. The gallery was less than a block away.

  Ethan kept pace with her. “He was wearing a striped shirt, with a New Jersey Marathon T-shirt underneath.”

  “Stop.” She ran the rest of the way to the gallery.

  “Tess, I’m sorry.” He stood close while she unlocked the door, his body heat shielding her from the cold.

  Opening the door, she raised a hand to stop him from following. “You can’t come in. The gallery doesn’t open until ten.”

  She stepped inside and closed the door. He watched her every move but didn’t force his way in, his expression a mixture of compassion and frustration.

  Footsteps behind her drew her attention away from the door and the freaky guy outside. Tess breathed in the earthy smell of paint and clay she loved so much, and her nerves calmed.

  Holly stepped out of the back room. “Tess. Why didn’t you call me back?” She looked out the window. “Oh, now I understand.” Her uber-white teeth flashed. “Dating the photographer. Good for you.”

  “Photographer? How do you know that?”

  “Wade’s seen him at the New York Times. Ethan Lockwood is a freelance photographer. According to Wade, he’s a good one too.”

  Tess studied Ethan. He checked his watch and stuffed his hand back into his pocket.

  “You can let him in. Dad won’t mind if he’s a friend of yours.”

  Rounding the circular desk, Tess set down her drink. She unbuttoned her soggy coat and hung it on the rack. “I’m not so sure. Your dad is a stickler when it comes to his gallery.”

  “I have friends in all the time.” Holly popped an orange Tic-Tac into her mouth—her favorite food, with less than two calories per tac.

  “That’s different. The daughter of Fredrick Ellison gets a few extra perks. Someday this gallery will be yours.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Besides, he’s not a friend.” Tess took a seat at the desk and started up the computer. “He’s more of a—”

  “Lover?”

  “Lunatic.” Tess drummed her fingers while she waited for the machine to do its thing. “He’s following me around because he believes something bad is going to happen to me, an accident of some kind.”

  Holly took a seat and propped her feet on the edge of an open drawer. “Why would he think that?”

  “Oh yeah, here’s the good part. He thinks he’s absorbed all of my spiritual energy, leaving me helpless.” In a few clicks, she brought up the optical art exhibition brochure on the computer.

  Holly’s feet dropped to the floor. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Nope. He’s an aura-sucker.” Tess stared out the window at Ethan, his back to the door. She shifted in her seat. Not only had she left him out in the cold, she was slamming him behind his back.

  “And how did this aura-sucking happen?”

  Tess’s shoulders sagged. “Never mind.”

  An older couple stopped to talk with Ethan. In less than a minute, they unfolded a map, and all three hovered over the paper.

  Rising from her seat, Holly searched through a pile of sticky notes stuck to the surface of a desk. “I don’t know. Whatever happened between the two of you is probably an interesting story.”

  “Holly.”

  “Fine. We could call the police and get him out of here.”

  “No.” Tess watched Ethan point down the street, and then at the map. “He seems nice enough.”

  Holly stared outside and popped another Tic-Tac. “He’s kind of cute.”

  He was more than cute.

  The couple smiled and walked on, leaving Ethan alone again by the door.

  Tess rubbed her temples. She was losing her mind. No way would she let herself be attracted to him. “He’s a nut job.”

  “A cute nut job. I believe we call guys like him eccentric.”

  Turning away, Tess focused on the computer and the brochure she should be finishing. “He’s not eccentric. He’s delusional.”

  But, he knew about Matt. How could he possibly know? She shook her head. This was crazy. No doubt she’d dreamed about Matt when she’d been in his apartment and talked in her sleep.

  No one had visions. Although Gram mentioned one once, in the letter she’d left for Tess. Poor old Gram must have had a few too many Old Fashioneds when she’d written the thing. What other reason could there be for her odd parting words?

  Beware of The Beast.

  Chapter 4

  Tess unlocked the gallery door at 10:00 a.m. sharp.

  As he strode past her, Ethan’s eyes met hers, his stare determined, as if to say he would “protect” her whether she liked it or not. The thought sent the sweet flutter of swarming gnats inside her chest. The feeling was pleasant, but disturbing.

  He approached the abstract exhibit, his hands still stuffed into his jacket pockets. Guilt niggled at her for making him wait the hour outside, but she’d hoped it would be enough to get him to go home. Guess that had been wishful thinking.

  A dull ache in the back of her skull reminded her what she’d already been through this morning. She raised her chin and returned to her computer. Come on, Tess, think about the new art exhibit.

  She read the heading at the top of the brochure, looking for flaws. The Fredrick Ellison Gallery presents The Magical World of Optical Art.

  The meaning of the words she’d written days ago didn’t register. She peered over her shoulder. Ethan roamed the gallery, studying each painting and sculpture. He glanced at her, and she snapped her attention to the screen.

  “Mooning over the nut job?”

  She turned to Holly. “I’m not mooning over him.”

  “Of course not.” Holly smirked as she rifled through a desk drawer. “How is the brochure coming?”

  She gave Holly a deadpan stare. “I hate you.”

  “How sweet. I hate you too.” Holly laughed, grabbed a box of paper clips, and left the room.

  “I’m not mooning over him,” Tess grumbled, her fingers poised over the keyboard. Determined not to become distracted again, she read, and reread, the text in front of her, adding descriptions for some of the artwork . . . before her computer crashed, losing all the changes she’d made. Dammit. Her head throbbed as she restarted her computer and reentered her work. Grr.

  When she finished the document, she emailed it to Fredrick and checked her watch, although her empty stomach already knew the time. “Lunch?” she asked Holly, who pored over a stack of invoices.

  “I’m meeting Wade. But I doubt your bodyguard over there has plans.”

  Tess swiveled around. Ethan stood before an ac
rylic painting they’d hung days before, staring at it as if it held the world’s secrets.

  Ask him to lunch? She probably shouldn’t encourage him. Of course, he wasn’t going to leave her alone anyway, not until he thought she was “safe.” While the sentiment warmed her pre-women’s lib soft spot, there was no denying he needed help. Professional help. Maybe she could convince him to see someone.

  She logged off her computer and headed toward him as he studied a painting of a dead-end alley between two brick buildings. Heavy strokes of colorful graffiti covered the brick walls and the dumpster positioned in the background. The focal point of the painting was a spray-painted image on the brick, a metal door with light seeping from its edges. Its handle had a real, three-dimensional quality. Tess could almost feel the smooth metal in her hand.

  Ethan didn’t seem to notice her standing beside him. “What do you see when you look at this painting?” she asked, her gaze drawn to the intensity she read in his profile.

  His features relaxed. “The same thing I see when I look at you.” He turned and stared into her eyes. “Hope.”

  Tess’s insides danced, even though they shouldn’t. “Hope?” She shook her head. “How is it you see hope?”

  He frowned. “I don’t know. It’s just a feeling. You’re different, special.”

  If he didn’t sound so sincere, she would have labeled him a smooth talker and walked away. Instead, something inside her melted, and the need to get him some help grew.

  Ethan’s stomach growled.

  “Sounds like you need some lunch.”

  “I’m not leaving. Not without you.”

  “Then I guess I’ll have to take you to lunch before your stomach scares away my customers.” Both of them. Hopefully business would pick up this afternoon.

  “Don’t you need to stay?”

  She led him to her coat. “We have interns who monitor the gallery. They arrived a few minutes ago.”

  “All right. Where to?”

  “Chinese food? The Paper Dragon is a couple of blocks away.”