Jinx

  Debonair saw me looking at the pages. “The pad was lodged under your arm. It looked like it was making you uncomfortable, so I took the liberty of removing it.”

  “Give it back.” My fingers dug into the silk sheets, twisting them. “Please.”

  Debonair crossed one leg over the other and flipped through the drawings, studying each one.

  “I was just doodling.” Panic colored my voice, even though I was trying to be as nonchalant as possible. “It’s something I do when I’m bored.”

  “Well, you can doodle quite nicely. I particularly like this one.” He pointed to the portrait of his face. “You have some real talent, Bella. Do you draw all the time?”

  “I dabble a bit, that’s all.”

  “Well, you should do it more. And you should let people see your work. It’s quite good. Your strokes are sure and firm, the proportions are spot-on, and your shading is exquisite.”

  His praise pleased me. More than I would have thought possible. Johnny and Grandfather both told me repeatedly that I had talent, that I should show my work to others. So had my father, James, when he’d been alive. But it was quite another thing to hear it coming from a complete stranger—well, almost a complete stranger. And one who stole fine art. Maybe my dream of being an artist wasn’t so far-fetched—if I could muster up the courage to pursue it.

  “Do you really like it? Or are you just being nice?”

  Debonair smiled. “I really like it, Bella. Truly, I do.”

  My heart fluttered, and I didn’t know if it was because of his kind words or incredible smile.

  “In fact, I like it so much I’m going to give it the official Debonair seal of approval.” He snapped his fingers, and a pencil appeared in them. “Do you mind?”

  “No. Please. Go ahead.”

  Debonair scrawled his name across the bottom of the drawing and held it out to me. I scooted off the water bed, took the paper, and squinted.

  “You call that a signature? It looks like a big D with some squiggles after it.”

  Debonair shrugged. “Unfortunately, penmanship is not one of my superpowers. We all have our weaknesses.”

  He held out his hand. “Come. It’s time for dinner. I’ve brought you something a little more substantial than bread and cheese this time.”

  I hesitated, then slipped my hand in his gloved one. It felt better than I thought it would. Almost natural.

  Debonair led me over to the table in the corner of the room. He’d been busy while I’d been asleep. Covered platters sat on the smooth surface, along with several lit candles and a fresh bouquet of roses. A bucket of white wine chilled next to the table, which had been set with fine china and crystal. A perfect romantic scene, like something out of a book or movie. The sight made me uncomfortable.

  Debonair held out a chair. I slid into the seat, while he dropped into the opposite one. The thief took a folded white napkin, whipped it open, and settled it in his lap with an innate grace I envied. If I tried to do that, I’d probably give myself a black eye.

  Then, Debonair took off his leather gloves and laid them aside. I stared at his hands. Maybe it was the artist in me, but I’d always had a thing for hands. His were very nice. Strong and capable-looking, with short, neat nails and just a sprinkling of dark hair across the knuckles.

  “How about some wine?” he asked, holding up the bottle. “Or would you prefer something stronger?”

  I loved wine, but I didn’t drink it that often. Or rather, I couldn’t. Whenever I tried, my luck usually went helter-skelter, and I ended up wearing more of the liquid than I actually drank. I think it was because of my underlying guilt about all the calories. As a result, I usually stuck to low-calorie, vitamin-enhanced water. It didn’t leave as many stains behind on the floor or table or my clothes.

  But I couldn’t be too picky tonight. Debonair had given me so much already. I hated to ask for more, even if I was here against my will. I’d just have to hope my luck wouldn’t decide to make me do something particularly chaotic.

  “White wine is fine.”

  He poured us both some, then snapped his fingers. The covers on the platters disappeared, revealing orange-glazed chicken next to a medley of mixed vegetables, toasted baguettes, and mounds of mashed potatoes covered with butter, sour cream, bacon bits, and cheddar cheese.

  Steam rose up from the chicken and vegetables, overpowering the rosy scent in the room. My stomach rumbled, even though I’d eaten a few hours ago. Or had it been longer? I couldn’t tell.

  “Please. Help yourself. I know you must be hungry after everything you’ve been through,” Debonair said.

  I eyed the food like Fiona would look at a bag of candy bars. Heaven on a plate, despite the heavy carb load. But I figured I’d earned the right to splurge. It wasn’t every day I survived being in the middle of a superhero-ubervillain battle.

  I bit into the tender chicken and sighed as the sweet-and-sour juices filled my mouth. “This is delicious.”

  Debonair raised his wineglass. “Only the best for you, Bella.”

  Normally, I would have been nice and polite and merely picked at my meal, avoiding most of the treacherous bread and potatoes. But I was too hungry to care what Debonair thought of my table manners. Or maybe watching Fiona inhale food like there was no tomorrow had affected me more than I’d realized. Either way, I polished off my meal in a matter of minutes without dropping or spilling anything. My luck kept to a low, steady buzz around me, content not to interfere. For a change.

  “Do you want some more?” Debonair asked.

  “No,” I said, dabbing at my lips with a crisp linen napkin. “That was more than enough, and everything was wonderful.”

  He smiled. “I’m glad you approve. The chicken and vegetables are an old family recipe. My grandmother taught me to make them many years ago.”

  “Your grandmother, is she here?”

  Perhaps if she was, I could appeal to her to help me escape. Or at least get her to let me call my grandfather. Despite Debonair’s obvious charms, I couldn’t let myself think he was anything but my kidnapper. Albeit the nicest kidnapper anyone had probably ever had.

  Debonair shook his head. “She’s still alive, if that’s what you’re asking. But she’s not here. She’s a wonderful woman.”

  “What’s her name?” I asked, hoping to catch him off guard.

  “You know I can’t tell you that, Bella.”

  I didn’t really expect it to work, so I tried another tactic. “You love your grandmother very much, don’t you?”

  He seemed almost insulted by my question. “Of course I love my grandmother. I might be a rake and a thief, but I do have a heart.”

  “So, you can imagine how worried your grandmother would be if you were, say, kidnapped. You’d want to call her and let her know you were all right, wouldn’t you?”

  Debonair sighed. “I can’t let you call your grandfather, Bella. Anything else you want, I’ll freely give to you, but not that.”

  “Why won’t you let me call him? All I want to do is let him know I’m okay.”

  “Because he’s got the whole city looking for you, superheroes included. If I let you call him, odds are he’ll trace it back to me. Call me a coward if you want, but I don’t want to face your grandfather. Or your brother, Johnny. They’re both very powerful men.” A sly smile flitted across his face. “They’d tear me limb from limb for kidnapping you, even if I did so with the best of intentions.”

  I couldn’t argue with him. Family and honor and tradition meant everything to my brother and grandfather. They’d do more than just tear Debonair limb from limb. They’d put him back together and repeat the process. Several times. Then, they’d both probably dress up as Johnny Angel and run him over with their motorcycles. I might want to go home, but I didn’t want to do it at that cost. I might despise heroes and villains, but I couldn’t deny the sexy thief had sort of grown on me. And he’d saved my life. That counted for a lot.

  “Well, have you fi
gured out what Hangman wants with the Star Sapphire?”

  Debonair shook his head. “Not yet. He could want it just to want it, of course. But Hangman’s never been known to be overly greedy, just power hungry. I think someone else hired him to steal the sapphire. What that person plans to do with it, I have no idea. Maybe if I had more resources, I’d be able to discover the answer quicker. But I must confess that I’ve fallen on hard times recently.”

  My eyes flicked around the room, taking in all the rich furnishings, as well as the exquisite meal we’d just eaten. This didn’t look like hard times to me.

  “Well, I can’t stay here forever. I can’t put my grandfather through that. Surely, you can understand?”

  “I do. More than you know. But I can’t risk Hangman coming after you to get to me. He will, you know. He saw me teleport you away. He knows I have the sapphire. He’ll come to you and demand to know where I am, who I am. And when you can’t tell him, he’ll hurt you. Terribly.”

  “I can take care of myself. And I have friends who will help me. Powerful friends.” If I could put aside my dislike of the Fearless Five’s spandex costumes and alter egos long enough to let them help.

  “That won’t be enough. Not against Hangman.” Debonair stared into my eyes. “I don’t want anything to happen to you, Bella. You’re far too important to me.”

  I laughed. “You almost sound like you care about me. Me, a complete stranger!”

  “You’re not a complete stranger to me, Bella. You’re not a stranger at all.”

  Debonair looked like he wanted to bite his tongue the second the words came out. He dropped his eyes to his half-eaten chicken and fiddled with his fork. I couldn’t tell for sure, but I thought I saw a blush creeping up the side of his neck. Debonair? Blushing?

  His confession confused me as well.

  “Do I—Do I know you? The real you?”

  He looked away, and I knew the answer.

  “Who are you?”

  For a moment, Debonair chewed on his lower lip. He looked lost, unsure, and nothing at all like the suave rake he was. Then, his eyes shuttered, and he came back to himself.

  “That’s not important,” he said in a smooth voice. “What is important is keeping you safe. That’s why you’re going to stay here until I can figure out what Hangman is up to.”

  He wasn’t going to let me go. Not anytime soon, at least. My thoughts turned to Grandfather. He’d be worried. He was probably sitting up now, just like I’d done so many nights when my father and brother were out prowling the streets as Johnny Angel. Grandfather would be staring at the phone, praying for it to ring. And afraid that when it did, it would be the police or the Fearless Five on the other end of the line with bad news.

  Frustrated, I threw down my napkin. My power flared, and the cloth landed on top of one of the candles. It immediately caught fire. The candle tipped over, and the flaming cloth hit my half-drunk glass of wine, spilling it. In an instant, hot, hungry flames engulfed the table.

  Not for long, though. Debonair snapped his fingers, and a fire extinguisher popped into his hands. He pulled the pin out of the device and squeezed down on the metal handle. White foam spewed over the table, smothering the red-orange flames, and the fire ended as quickly as it began.

  I just sat there, looking at the remains of the ruined table and watching smoke puff away from the mess.

  The battle, the kidnapping, the Lair of Seduction, not being able to contact Grandfather, Debonair, my jinx. It was too much. It was just too damn much.

  I got to my feet and stalked over to the water bed. I tried to muffle it, but a small sob escaped my lips.

  “Bella . . .”

  “Please just go.” My voice cracked, and I closed my eyes to keep tears from spilling down my face. “Please.”

  Hands settled on my shoulders and gently turned me around. I opened my eyes and found myself looking at the scarlet rose and silver thorn that decorated Debonair’s blue-black leather costume. The thief tipped up my chin so he could see into my face.

  “Don’t cry,” Debonair whispered, wiping away a tear from my cheek. “Please. I can’t stand to see you cry. I’ll find a way to get a message to your grandfather. Somehow.”

  “Promise?”

  “I promise.”

  For some reason, I believed him. Debonair wiped another tear off my face. He stared at me, and I at him. I realized how hot his hand felt on my cheek. Realized how close our bodies were. Realized how much I suddenly wanted him to stay.

  “Bella, do you know how beautiful you are?” he said.

  I forced myself to laugh, even though I trembled inside. “I bet you say that to all the women you bring here.”

  His eyes flared sapphire blue, and his mouth opened, as if he wanted to say something. But he didn’t. Instead, he reached out and rubbed a lock of my frizzy hair between his bare fingers.

  “Soft and smooth, just as I imagined it would be.” Debonair held the strand up to his nose. “It smells like roses. Sweet and delectable.”

  “You’re the one who smells like roses,” I corrected. “That’s just your shampoo I used earlier.”

  Amusement sparkled in his eyes. “You’re very practical, do you know that?”

  “And you’re very impractical, do you know that?” I countered.

  “That’s what makes me so adorable.” He smirked.

  I couldn’t stop myself from laughing.

  “You should do that more often.”

  “What?”

  “Laugh,” Debonair said. “I like the sound of it.”

  I just looked at him. His perfect body. His blue-black suit. His dark, curly hair.

  Debonair stared back, a hungry expression in his blue eyes.

  “Well, it’s been a long day,” I said, nervous. “I suppose this is goodnight.”

  “Goodnight, Bella.” His voice was low and husky.

  “Thank you for dinner. And for agreeing to contact my grandfather. You don’t know how much that means to me.”

  On an impulse, I leaned up on my tiptoes to give him a quick peck on the cheek, but Debonair turned his head, capturing my lips with his.

  Suave. Very, very suave.

  He wound his hand in my hair and pulled me to him, so close that our bodies were flush against each other. His thickening erection pressed into my thigh, making me ache as he probed my mouth with his tongue. He smelled of sultry roses and tasted sweet, like the orange sauce we’d just eaten.

  I ran my fingers up and down his broad chest, marveling at his smooth muscles, wishing I could touch his bare skin. He seemed pleased by my explorations, growling and cupping my ass in his hands.

  Debonair slid the leather jacket from my body, exposing my mostly bare shoulders. He pressed soft kisses to my eyelids and cheeks and nose. Then, his lips moved lower, scorching a path down my chest. His lips closed over my taut nipple, sucking at it through the thin fabric of the shirt. And I was suddenly, extremely, undeniably grateful that underwear hadn’t been part of the ensemble he’d given me earlier.

  I arched my back. My power pulsed and surged around me, static electricity gathering in my hair and on my fingertips. But it was nothing compared to the sensations snapping and popping and sparking through my body like firecrackers one after the other.

  Debonair was on his knees before me. “I’ve wanted you for so long now. Tell me you want me too, Bella. Tell me.”

  I traced his face with my fingers, ignoring the mask that obscured most of it, pretending it wasn’t really there. Instead, I focused on the curve of his chin. His tiny dimple. His straight nose. His thick, perfect lips.

  “I want you too,” I whispered, surprised by the truth of it.

  “You don’t want me to stop?”

  His voice was small and timid, as though he was afraid I was going to reject him. Me. Reject Debonair. The sexiest superhero in the city.

  Debonair might be a seductive rake, but I somehow knew he wouldn’t make me do anything I didn’t want to. He was
still a gentleman at heart, and his shy uncertainty touched me. So, I did something that I never, ever did.

  I gave in.

  “No, I don’t want you to stop.”

  A slow smile spread across his face, like he’d just won the lottery. Debonair retraced his path up my body with his lips. He eased me back, and I sank onto the water bed. Debonair joined me a moment later. I reached for him and pulled him on top of me, reveling in the feel of his body on mine. His warmth. His touch. His sweet, seductive scent.

  Part of my mind screamed at me to stop, to think, to be sensible.

  He was Debonair. A thief, a rake, a notorious playboy, a super-something-or-other.

  I was Bella Bulluci. The woman who liked nice guys and hated superheroes above all else.

  And yet, I still wanted him. Desperately. Totally. Impossibly.

  I didn’t want to be sensible tonight.

  Tonight, I wanted to be free.

  Free of my rules and worries and constant fears.

  Tonight, I wanted Debonair.

  We kissed and kissed, until I was dizzy from the feel of his tongue on mine. His hands moved up my chest, cupping my breasts through the thin shirt. I couldn’t stop the moan that tumbled from my lips.

  “Do you like that?” he asked, staring into my eyes.

  I nodded.

  “So do I. But I think we’ll both like this a lot better.”

  He snapped his fingers, and my shirt disappeared.

  I gasped at the rush of cool air on my skin and pressed my hands over my exposed chest. “You can pop people’s clothes on and off at will?”

  He smiled. “Teleportation has its uses, Bella.”

  He drew my hands away from my breasts and pressed them against the bed. His eyes roamed over me, devouring me from head to toe. The hunger in his gaze startled me.

  “Do you know how beautiful you are, Bella? How much I want you?”

  I shook my head.

  “Well, let me show you.”