Jinx

  Dozens of drawings littered the cushioned seat and floor around me, but they weren’t of the garden or the impressive view below. They were of him.

  Debonair.

  I couldn’t get him out of my mind. His voice. His lips. His touch. I might not be in the Lair of Seduction anymore, but in a way, I was still his prisoner—helpless to stop thinking about him. Helpless to stop wondering where he was, what he was doing. So, I’d spent the last two hours doing sketch after sketch, as if that would help me make sense of these strange feelings I’d developed for the sexy thief.

  My nose twitched. The smell of roses filled the air, and I knew he was here. Watching me.

  “Hello, Debonair,” I said in a quiet voice, and put down my pencil.

  He stood in the shadows along one side of the hall, his eyes glowing in the darkness. My eyes traced over his muscled form from head to toe. My power flared, and I remembered all the delicious things he’d done to my body—and I’d done to his. For once, I didn’t mind the static sensation. Or the fact my hair was about two feet tall.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, my heart smashing against my ribs.

  He stepped closer. The moonlight hit his hair, making it gleam. The color of his eyes intensified to the bluest blue I’d ever seen. His gaze was much more powerful than an ubervillain’s laser could ever be.

  “I wanted to make sure you were okay. I’ve been looking for you for hours now.”

  “I was with the Fearless Five,” I explained, hating myself for reassuring him. “They checked me out and made sure everything was all right. There’s nothing wrong with me.”

  He let out a breath, as if he’d been holding it in with worry. “That’s good. I’m glad you’re okay.”

  I didn’t offer up any more information, and he didn’t ask me any more questions. Instead, Debonair shifted on his feet, as if unsure of himself. Gone was the cocky, self-assured thief I’d first encountered. In his place was someone I didn’t quite recognize. Maybe he didn’t know what to make of our night of passion any more than I did. The thought gave me hope.

  His eyes fell on the drawings on the floor, and he picked up one.

  “What’s this?” he asked, his eyes scanning the paper.

  I snatched the drawing away from him, hating the fact he’d seen it. That he knew how much he’d affected me. How much he still affected me. Even now, after everything that had happened, I wanted to reach for him. To press my lips to his. To lose myself in his embrace. Somehow, the thief had stolen away all of my reason, my logic, my sensibilities. And I liked it. More than I would have thought possible.

  But my feelings didn’t change the fact he was one of them—another super-something-or-other who dressed up in leather and roamed the streets. I could never be with him—not again. I could never have a relationship with someone who would eventually get himself killed. I’d gone through that heartbreak with my father. I wasn’t going to go through it again. Not even for someone as sexy as Debonair.

  The thief snapped his fingers, and the drawing popped out of my hand and back into his.

  “That’s not fair,” I muttered, crossing my arms over my chest.

  He gave me a sly smile, seeming a bit more like his rakish, charming self. “Whoever said life was fair?”

  He studied the drawing, then picked up several more from the floor. “What’s not fair is you keeping these to yourself, Bella. You have a remarkable gift. Your work should be in all the museums in Bigtime.”

  “Why? So somebody like you could steal it?”

  He drew nearer. The silver and black rings around his irises shimmered in the faint light. “The only thing I steal, Bella, is kisses. And I find that most of those are freely given.”

  Just the sound of his husky voice made my fingers itch.

  Suddenly, he was holding me, and we were kissing. His lips, his tongue, his touch. He overwhelmed me. I found myself kissing him as frantically as he did me. I moaned as his hands roamed over my body, igniting all sorts of hot feelings that made me want to melt into the floor—and drag him down with me.

  But I couldn’t stop the nagging feeling he was using me. Again.

  “No,” I said, breaking off the kiss and pushing him away. “I don’t want to be just another couple of notches on your belt. Or sex handcuffs or whatever you use to keep track of all the women you’ve slept with.”

  “You’re not another notch to me,” he protested. “I don’t do that sort of thing.”

  I barked out a laugh. “Please. You’re Debonair. One of the most notorious rogues in all of Bigtime. Seducing women is what you do. You’ve practically made it an art form.”

  A sad smile curved his lips. “You don’t understand, Bella. Things aren’t always what they seem.”

  “So you don’t go around kissing random women then?”

  “Oh no. I do that. It’s sort of part of my job.” He didn’t sound the least bit apologetic about it.

  “And, of course, the kissing naturally leads to other things.”

  “Are you jealous, Bella? You have no reason to be. There’s no other woman for me but you.”

  My heart leapt at the words, but I forced myself to be calm. He might have come here tonight to check on me, but he probably thought he could get lucky again too. I knew a thing or two about luck—all kinds of luck.

  “What are you saying?” I asked, trying not to sound too eager or hopeful. “That you want to go steady or something? If so, you’re out of luck.”

  “What about the other night?” he asked, looming over me in the darkness.

  I put a hand on his chest, stopping him from coming any closer. “The other night was an aberration, nothing more. I wasn’t myself, and you were. Let’s just chalk it up as one big mistake. I don’t date superheroes or ubervillains or anyone who wears a leather mask late at night. I’ve told you that before.”

  Debonair arched an eyebrow. “Why not? Most women enjoy that sort of thing. The mystery, the leather, the, ah, superpowers.”

  “You would know, wouldn’t you?” I snapped.

  Debonair looked away and sighed. “How can I get you to believe me when I tell you that I’m not the playboy you think I am? That I do have feelings for you?”

  “Tell me who you really are.”

  His eyes widened. Fear and panic shimmered in the blue depths. “I can’t do that. You know I can’t do that.”

  “Why not? I won’t tell anybody your real identity. I promise. Trust me. I’m good at keeping those kinds of secrets.”

  Fiona and the other members of the Fearless Five could testify to that. Actually, my whole family could back up my statement.

  Debonair mumbled something.

  “What was that?” I asked.

  He stared at me. “I can’t tell you who I really am because you won’t feel the same way about me as you do about Debonair.” Bitterness tinged his voice.

  “How do you know what I’ll think of the real you?”

  He looked away. “I just know.”

  I stared at him. “I do know you, don’t I? I know who you are, the real you. Do you think I’m that shallow? That I won’t like you just because you’re not wearing a sexy costume?”

  He gave me a sad smile. “I know it. And that’s the problem, Bella. I’m not who you think I am. Not really. Not at all actually. This is just a disguise, a show. Nothing else. It’s not the real me, just someone I like to pretend that I am.”

  I wondered at his words. He sounded so alone, so forlorn, I wanted to reach out to him, to tell him it didn’t matter who he was underneath all the leather, that I’d like him anyway. But I couldn’t do that. I had to stick to my rules. Had to be strong. Had to resist the temptation in front of me.

  Debonair pressed a kiss to the inside of my wrist. My pulse thrummed in response. Suddenly, I didn’t want him to go. I wanted him to stay. With me. If only to talk. Or do nothing at all. I opened my mouth to ask him to when—

  POP!

  He teleported away.

/>   Leaving me alone.

  Again.

  20

  The next day, I’d planned to go to the museum to check on the damage. But Bobby didn’t want me to go anywhere because of Hangman, and I agreed to spend one more day at home.

  The doorbell rang around nine o’clock, just as Grandfather and I finished up a late breakfast of whole wheat waffles, low-fat turkey bacon, and fresh grapefruit.

  “Who could that be?” I asked, nervous.

  “Don’t worry, Bella,” Bobby said, getting to his feet. “Hangman wouldn’t be so considerate as to ring the bell.”

  He had a point. Ubervillains didn’t usually knock when they stormed into your house. Superheroes didn’t either. In fact, the front gate still creaked from where Fiera had ripped it off its hinges a few months ago when she’d decided to pay us a visit in the middle of the night.

  Still, I didn’t let Grandfather go to the door alone. I might have been scared of Hangman, but I wasn’t about to let Bobby risk his life defending me.

  Bobby made his way to the front door and reached for the knob.

  “Wait a minute. Aren’t you even going to look out and see who is it?” I asked, coming up behind him and trying to squint through the curtains.

  Bobby gave me an amused look. “You worry too much, Bella. It’s not Hangman. Even if it were, I doubt a simple door would stop him.”

  He had another point, but I wasn’t about to take any chances. So, I grabbed a tall black umbrella from the silver stand by the door and held it out like a sword, ready to shove the heavy point into someone’s stomach. An umbrella wasn’t a traditional weapon, but in my hands, just about anything could be deadly. After all, I was the woman who could make steel pots explode and chandeliers fall just by looking at them. Besides, if the umbrella didn’t scare off Hangman, my out-to-there hair surely would.

  Bobby shook his head and opened the door. To my surprise, Joanne James and Berkley Brighton stood outside.

  “Bella, darling!” Joanne said, swooping on me like a perfumed, couture-clad vulture. “How are you?”

  “I’m fine.” I twitched my nose to keep from sneezing.

  Joanne air kissed both my cheeks and stepped back. Her eyes flicked to the umbrella, then back outside. Sunlight flooded the hall where we stood, warming my toes through my thick wool socks.

  My face flushed, and I stuck the umbrella back in the stand by the door. At least, I tried to. The static crackled around me. Every time I attempted to slide the umbrella back into place, the tip caught on the edge and made a loud, earsplitting clang. The third time I tried, the umbrella popped open and refused to close. Finally, I gave up and tossed the open umbrella outside. The wind picked it up and carried it farther down the driveway. I glared at the hateful thing. The umbrella could stay out there for all I cared, along with those stupid apples I hadn’t been able to find.

  “How are you really, Bella?” Berkley asked in a kind, concerned tone once I’d shut the door. The short businessman came over and gave me a quick hug.

  “I’m really fine, Berkley. But thanks for asking.” I stepped back and smiled at him. “What brings you two here?”

  “Why you, of course,” Joanne said, as if the answer should be obvious.

  I opened my mouth, but Joanne had already gone on the offensive. She moved farther into the house like it was hers instead of ours. I looked at Grandfather. He just grinned and shrugged. Grandfather had always had a thing for strong, take-charge women. Berkley smiled too, amused by his wife’s antics.

  The three of us followed Joanne, who strolled into the downstairs living room. She plopped on the love seat in the corner and patted the cloud-covered cushion next to her. Berkley gracefully took that spot. He put his arm around her shoulders, and Joanne leaned back against his chest.

  Grandfather took a seat on the matching couch—the same couch I’d found him on with Grace Caleb yesterday. I started to sit down, but thought better of it. Instead, I perched on the edge of the coffee table. I wasn’t sitting on that couch again. At least, not until I’d had it reupholstered.

  “Can I get you anything?” I asked the couple. “Coffee? Tea? Juice?”

  “No, thanks,” Joanne said. “We can’t stay long. We have a lunch date.”

  “Oh? With whom?” I asked.

  Joanne looked up into Berkley’s face and smiled. “With each other.”

  She snuggled a little closer to him, and I thought back to the day I’d found them making out in the library. I hoped they weren’t going to give me a repeat show. Otherwise, I’d have to have that love seat reupholstered too. Given how amorous Fiona and Johnny were, I might as well do the whole house while I was at it.

  “We just wanted to come by and see how you were, Bella,” Berkley replied, his blue eyes catching mine. “It couldn’t have been easy for you, being caught between the Fearless Five and Hangman at the museum.”

  “It certainly wasn’t easy for us, realizing the sapphire had been taken,” Joanne added. “I’m just glad my velvet Elvis painting was locked away in the vault. Otherwise, it might have been damaged like so many of the other pieces were.”

  My eyes widened. With everything that had been going on, I’d completely forgotten about Berkley. And the fact he was probably wondering what had happened to his prize possession.

  “I’m so, so sorry. I should have called you. The sapphire—” Berkley waved his hand. “Don’t worry. I’ve already had several conversations with my insurance people. Not that it matters anymore. I got a call this morning from the Fearless Five. They recovered the sapphire and plan on returning it to the museum. So, all’s well that ends well.”

  I let out a quiet sigh of relief. Sam Striker Sloane had probably made the call. At least he’d had the sense to remember to. But there was another question that needed answering.

  “Are you going to leave the gem on display?”

  Berkley opened his mouth, but Joanne cut him off.

  “Well, I think he should have it shipped back to Brilliance where it belongs,” she grumbled. “Where it’ll be safe.”

  Berkley squeezed her arm. “Now, Joanne, you know we can’t do that. The whole point was to let other people see the stone and to raise money for the museum. They’ll need the money now more than ever. Arthur Anders has assured me that he’ll take appropriate measures to increase security. The important thing is that no one was injured. If I’d been there, I would have gladly given Hangman the sapphire to keep him from harming Bella or anyone else.”

  My throat closed up, and I couldn’t speak. Berkley had always been so kind to me. Most men would have been yelling and screaming and demanding their property be returned immediately after the fiasco at the museum. Instead, Berkley was willing to risk the loss of the sapphire again. Of course, it didn’t hurt that Berkley could afford to buy a dozen Star Sapphires. But his generosity still touched me.

  “Thank you, Berkley,” I said, leaning over and squeezing his hand. “I’m sure Arthur appreciates your trust and good faith. I know I do.”

  “No problem, Bella.” Berkley cleared his throat and looked at Bobby. “Although, I have to admit my interest isn’t entirely selfless. I’ve been thinking about adding another motorcycle to my collection—if I can talk your grandfather into building it for me.”

  Bobby winked. “Of course. What are friends for?”

  We all laughed.

  Talk turned to other things, mainly a business deal Berkley wanted to propose to Johnny when he and Fiona got back from their vacation.

  While the others chatted, I stared at Berkley and Joanne. The two of them had sunk into the soft cushions on the love seat, but they didn’t seem to mind. Their hands were entwined, their bodies flush against each other. They were as close as they could be and still have clothes on.

  They looked so happy together, so comfortable, so in love. It was hard to believe Joanne could care about anyone besides herself, but her affection for Berkley was real. I could see it in her eyes every time she looked at h
im. Sense it in the way she hovered close to him. Hear it in her voice when she said his name.

  The sight made me think about Debonair. I wondered if I looked and acted the same way whenever I was around the sexy thief. And I couldn’t help wishing he would gaze at me the same adoring way Berkley did at Joanne.

  “Well, I’m afraid we must be going,” Berkley said, interrupting my thoughts. “Like Joanne said, we do have a lunch date.”

  He brought her hand to his lips and placed a soft kiss on her knuckles. Joanne let out a squeaky noise that sounded suspiciously like a giggle. Joanne James, giggling? I never thought I’d live to hear that.

  The two of them got to their feet. Bobby followed suit, and so did I.

  At least, I tried to.

  Perhaps it was all my thoughts of Debonair. Or maybe it was just time for another round of bad luck. Either way, my power pulsed. I started to get up, but my feet skidded on the shag carpet and slid out from under me. My butt plopped down on the coffee table—hard. The solid wood let out a low groan, the legs shook, and the top split down the middle.

  The table collapsed and splintered into a hundred pieces. Bits of wood shot out everywhere, pinging off the walls and tinkling off the ceiling fan. I knew because I was now flat on my back, staring up at the spinning fan.

  “Bella!” Bobby asked, leaning over me. “Are you all right?”

  “Sure,” I wheezed. “We needed to get a new table anyway.”

  Joanne and Berkley left soon after that. People just never stayed around after I had one of my accidents. It took me over an hour to clean up the remains of the coffee table, then another one to fix the mess I’d made cleaning that up.

  By the time I’d finished, it was lunchtime, and I decided to take a much-needed break. So, I walked out to the orchard behind the house. It wasn’t nearly as big as the acres of gardens out at Sublime, but I admired its quiet beauty just the same. Pear, orange, and other trees towered over me like silent giants. A faint breeze whistled through the grove, rustling the dry leaves and sending them twirling downward like tiny helicopters.