Chapter Ten

ERIN

The party was pretty much what I’d expected — lots of schmoozing rich folks who didn’t seem to know one another yet pretended they did. By seven o’clock, a line of fancy cars stretched down the side of the road, sleek SUVs alternating with classy sedans and a handful of sports cars. Conversations focused on mutual funds, real estate deals, and how thin/not thin so-and-so looked. Fancy finger food and drinks were served amid the soothing background music of a professional pianist with an impressively long name that made her sound like the great-great-granddaughter of Rachmaninoff, give or take a few syllables.

No magic on display, or even hidden magic, from what I could tell after studying each guest. Only Harlon, who charmed his way around the room.

I endured an hour of mingling and rich people jokes along the lines of “…and then he called my Rocket Espresso a coffee machine!”

Finally, Harlon was pulled aside by two balding businessmen — my chance to sneak upstairs.

I made my way up slowly, pretending to admire the artwork. The door to Harlon’s office opened onto the mezzanine that anyone could see from below, but that side door I’d noticed…

I tiptoed down the hallway, knocked softly, opened the door…and bingo. A marble-lined bathroom opened onto the hallway as well as the room on the other side.

Office, here I come.

With one last, furtive look around, I slipped through the bathroom and into the office, locking both doors behind me.

Let the snooping commence.

My heart was in my throat the whole time, and every few seconds, I swore I would only stay a few more. Because, shit. I really didn’t want to be caught here.

I pictured the dead birds lying beneath the windows. Would I end up among them with my neck brutally twisted to one side? Or did Harlon have another place to dispose of burglars?

By then, the sun had set, and enough moonlight filtered into the room to see. I started at the table with the brochures and map. Using a pen to move things gently around — that’s how burglars avoided leaving fingerprints, right? — I exposed more of the map. There wasn’t anything as damning as a red circle around my property, but the map had been folded back to focus on that area, which was bad enough.

Then I tried the folders. It took me three tries to flip the first one open, only to find brochures with the usual tourist spiel about crystals, Jeep tours, and vortexes. A second folder held a welcome packet from the Sedona Chamber of Commerce. The third…

My breath caught.

The seal of the county assessor’s office graced the top of the first page. Below that was a full report on Painted Rock Ranch, with all previous owners, estimated value, tax assessments, sales history…

The fact that those details were a matter of public record didn’t ease my fears.

Laughter filtered in from downstairs. I looked up, then hurried over to check Harlan’s desk.

Using the pen to pull open drawer after drawer, all I found was stationery and office supplies. Then I flipped the book on Native American rock art open to a page marked with a Post-it note. Then the next and the next. All showed black-and-white photos of rock art, and while each shot contained several adjoining symbols, the common denominator in each was a spiral.

I skimmed the text beneath a close-up from the V-Bar-V Ranch Heritage Site.

Early interpretations of the spiral symbol identified it as a snake, though others interpret it as the path of the sun. Another theory is that such spirals mark water holes, while still others suggest energy fields or even portals to another world.

My arm twitched at the memory of being pushed back by an invisible force. I doubted the portal theory, but energy field certainly fit.

An energy field that could do…what, exactly?

I flipped the book shut and considered Harlon’s laptop. Did I dare?

Just as I let my hand hover near it, a shadow fell over the moonlight behind me.

I whirled to face the windows. A man was hauling himself over the rail of the balcony. Slowly, I backed up. Had he seen me? Could I get away?

And, wait. What was he doing climbing onto the balcony?

I frowned. So far, my fears had all focused on being discovered by Harlon or one of his guests. But this guy…

I stared. Broad shoulders. Quick, silent movements, like a cat — or an assassin. Denim jacket, worn boots…

Nash?

He froze, spotting me. Then he frowned, stalked forward, and motioned to the latch.

I huffed. This was my sneak-in job, not his, dammit.

My blood boiled. Was it not enough for him to ruin my chances of ever piloting solo? Did he have to mess around with my snooping on Harlon, too?

He motioned to the latch a second time.

I folded my arms over my chest. No. Just no.

He stared. One of those uncomprehending male stares that said, You’re not jumping to follow directions? Even when they’re so simple?

I huffed. It was like training a dog. Sometimes men had to learn the hard way.

It was only when he rattled the handle, making a racket, that I gave in and opened the door.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he hissed, stepping in with a waft of cold air.

I went back to my folded-arm pose. “Says the man sneaking in from the balcony.”

“You’re the one in Harlon’s office with the lights off.” Staring at my dress, he frowned. “Wait. You came to his party? Willingly?”

“No, he hypnotized me into coming.”

Nash’s eyes went wide. “I knew it! You noticed what he did to the guests yesterday.”

I stuck my hands on my hips. “Of course I did.”

“And yet you didn’t tell me,” he grunted, then paused. “Wait. Did you think I didn’t notice?”

He sounded so offended, I had to snort. “Hard to tell the difference between a con man and a fool sometimes.”

His eyes blazed. “You mean me?”

I shrugged. “I could add burglar to the list.”

He stalked forward — so close, I had to look up. “I’m not here to steal.”

“Then what are you here for?”

He started to answer, then grabbed my elbow instead, hustling me toward the balcony. “You can’t be here. You have no idea what you’re getting into.”

I yanked my arm away. “Maybe it’s you who doesn’t know.”

“I told you not to come here,” he persisted.

“Clearly, I didn’t listen. Are you starting to notice a pattern?” I jabbed my finger at his chest as I whisper-barked the next few words. “You are not my boss. You do not tell me what to do.”

He shook his head as if I was the unreasonable one, then tried a new tack. “It’s dangerous.”

“For you, Mr. Pink Panther. I have an invitation.”

He motioned around. “Into Harlon’s private office?”

“I lost my way to the ladies’ room.”

“Ha. I’ve never met anyone with a better sense of direction than you.”

I opened my mouth, then closed it, thrown by the indirect compliment.

Nash leaned closer. “You’re here because you know what he’s up to.”

“I’m here because I know he’s up to something, and I want to know what that is.”

Nash raised his eyebrows. “Even if it gets you killed?”

Who knows how long our staring contest might have lasted if the door handle hadn’t turned just then.

We whirled. Shit.

Nash hauled me toward the balcony, but not outside, because there was no time. Instead, he ducked behind the heavy floor-to-ceiling curtains, pulled me in beside him, and stuck a finger in front of his lips.

I glared, making sure he got my message. Not stupid, remember?

He hooked a foot around mine and pulled back so my toes wouldn’t show.

I grimaced. Okay, okay. I wasn’t stupid, but I hadn’t thought of that. But that was because I wasn’t an experienced…burglar? Assassin? What was Nash anyway? He wasn’t just another guy who’d happened to drift through Sedona, that was for sure.

We stood still, listening to the office door open, then close, followed by the steps of one — no, two — people sneaking in.

I did a double take. Wait. Sneaking? What was it with this office?

That did solve one minor mystery, though — the main door hadn’t been locked after all. Not that it mattered at this point.

“Oh, Josh…” a woman murmured.

I blinked. That had to be Harlon’s Groupie Girl Two…or Three. I could tell by the airheaded voice and attitude.

“Cindy…” a man breathed.

“Candy,” she corrected, not at all perturbed.

“Sorry, baby,” the guy said.

Heavy breathing made their mission abundantly clear. A zipper zipped, and a shoe fell to the floor.

“I need you,” Josh breathed. “Right here.” That was followed by a low thump. Him lifting Cindy — er, Candy — to the desk?

“Right here is perfect,” she cooed.

More heavy breathing. I could have screamed. Was this really happening?

Nash checked his watch. Was he on a deadline or something?

Then I cursed — very, very quietly. He might not have a deadline, but I did. Sooner or later, someone would notice I’d slipped away from the party.

Someone like Harlon. Shit.

I eyed the balcony door, which showed in the gap between the curtain and the wall. But unless the young lovers got really absorbed in their…er, hanky-panky, there was no way to slip out unnoticed.

Nash gave me a firm look. We were in for the long haul.

“Oh. Oh. Oh!” Candy moaned.

I didn’t want to imagine what Josh was doing, but I couldn’t help it. Not with the action just two steps away.

“Wait. This way.” Josh stepped toward the curtain. I couldn’t see him, but my sixth sense told me so.

Nash went flat against the wall and pulled me close, my back to his chest. Not the place I wanted to be, but we had no choice.

Another zipper unzipped — Josh’s fly? — and something struck the curtain, then fell away. Candy’s underwear?

“Oh, baby…” Josh groaned.

Pippa liked to joke that sex was like softball — more fun to do than to watch. And while I wasn’t watching, my other senses filled me in on exactly what was going on. The rocking of hips. The muffled slap of Josh’s balls. The scratch of Candy’s talons — er, nails — across his back…

“Oh…Oh…” Candy moaned on.

I couldn’t help wondering. Did Harlon mind sharing? Did he care? Or were these Josh’s last hours of life as a man before he was turned into a toad?

That was one little corner of my mind. The rest went in a totally different direction, and I couldn’t help but get a little…um…warm. Achy. Hungry — for sex. And not with Josh.

With Nash, I was appalled to realize. That was where my mind went.

What would it be like to be on a desk with Nash’s corded arms braced on either side of my head? What would it be like to wrap my legs around him and buck every time he thrust?

I puffed a little air up over my cheeks. It didn’t help. Especially with me pancaked up against him, my rear to his groin.

I gritted my teeth. I was not interested in anything about Nash. Especially sex.

If only my girl parts would get that message.

“Oh… Oh…” Candy went on, cueing more groans from Josh.

Apparently, they were reaching the climax of their little romp. The sooner, the better. Because another few minutes of this, and I would start twerking against Nash.

“Yes…” Josh breathed.

Nash inched sideways. Shit. It was bad enough that I was getting turned on. Him too?

Crap, crap, crap. How had it come to this?

Finally, the two banging bunnies came. But that only led to throaty sighs, light giggles, and soft touches.

I was not a giggler. And I doubted Nash was a throaty sigher. But soft touches…

Funny how much I yearned for that. My last friend-with-benefits had been quite a while ago now, and although Nash was aggravating, he was also undeniably hot. Really hot, in an off-the-charts, superhuman way.

Which was when it struck me.

Superhuman…

I didn’t have space to turn, but in my mind, I examined him from head to toe. Those sparkling brownish-green eyes — really sparkling, edging over to a glowing bronze color sometimes. Strength that exceeded what even his impressive muscles ought to be able to exert. The cagey, animal-like restlessness…

What if the man I was stuck behind a curtain with wasn’t all human?

An idea I’d come back to later. My brain was already processing too many inputs.

“Baby, you’re beautiful,” Josh murmured.

I tried not to picture Candy splayed out on Harlon’s desk.

“And you’re amazing,” her pigeon-sized brain made her coo.

I wanted to stir the air with my hand and whisper, Get back to the party, guys.

“I guess we ought to get back to the party,” Josh sighed.

I froze. Just a coincidence, right?

“I guess we should,” Candy agreed. Then she brightened. “But this is a big house. We could sneak off again. You know, to the pool…”

“The billiards room…” Josh chimed in.

Anywhere but this office. I pushed the thought in their direction, just as an experiment.

“Anywhere but the back of a car,” Candy chuckled.

I considered. Close enough?

Josh and Candy took their sweet time getting decent again.

“Now, where’s your underwear?” Josh chuckled, groping around.

I went stone-still when his hand brushed my foot. Thank goodness he found the lingerie instead of my toes.

“Here you go,” he said.

Candy giggled. “Only so you can take it off again later.”

I tried not to gag. If I ever had sex with Nash — which I never, ever would — I would certainly not be spouting lines like that.

Josh and Candy finally slipped out the door, but Nash and I remained pressed close behind the curtain for a while.

Just in case someone else comes along, I told myself. Not for any other reason. Not at all.