"Then having us turn on you," Flynn finished. "The zombie twins. Pits us against you. How are you going to trust, much less work with, a couple of guys who try to eat your brains? I've seen the movies," he added. "That's what zombies do."
"He wanted me to feel alone and alienated, and threatened."
"Maybe worse," Jordan added. "If you hadn't yanked yourself out, we might have done some damage. When he tries for you again, he'll be more direct."
"That's okay." Brad picked up his coffee. "So will I."
"I think you need more than your dashing good looks when you're taking on a sorcerer, pal," Flynn pointed out.
Nodding, Brad picked up the knife beside his plate, flipped a thumb over the tip. "Even sorcerers bleed."
"Are you planning on telling Zoe what happened?" Jordan asked.
"Yeah. We stick together on this, until it's done. I thought I'd run by Indulgence this morning."
"She's not going in until afternoon," Flynn told him. "Malory said she had things to take care of at home first."
"Even better."
He finished up a call on his cell phone as he pulled in behind her car, then took a minute to plug in the new appointment on his Palm Pilot. Thinking of the meeting with his architect, the expansion plans, and the changes he wanted to implement in the design, he walked to the front door and knocked.
All of that dropped right out of his head when she answered.
She was wearing jeans ripped at both knees and one of those belly-baring tops. It was the bar today, he noted. That erotic little silver bar glinting in her navel.
Her feet were bare, with toes painted an Easter-egg pink, thin and enormous silver hoops swung at her ears. And she held a rag that smelled strongly of lemon.
"I've been cleaning," she said quickly. "I just finished in the bedroom." As if realizing she held her polishing rag, she stuffed it into her back pocket. "I needed to have some time around here before I went in today."
"Okay." He stepped in, managed to take his eyes off her long enough to look around the living room. Every inch of wood gleamed, every piece of glass sparkled. "You've been busy."
"Cleaning gets my mind going, and I was thinking about the house. That maybe the house is part of it. And if I took the time, paid attention to it, to everything in it, things might—What is it?" Flushing a little under his unblinking stare, she rubbed at her cheek. "Is my face dirty?"
"Your face is perfect. It's the most perfect face I've ever seen."
"That's nice to hear after I've been chasing dust bunnies."
"Simon in school?"
"Yes." Her eyes widened as she recognized the glint in his. "Well, for heaven's—it's almost ten in the morning. Don't you have to work?"
"I do." He stepped forward as she backed up. "But I made a little time because I needed to talk to you. Looks like talk's going to have to wait."
&n
bsp; "We can't just…" Could they?
"I bet we can. Let's try this."
He scooped her right up, and her stomach did a long, lovely roll as he started back toward her bedroom.
"Golly." She couldn't quite stop the nervous giggle. "Just like in a romance novel. Except I'd be wearing something sexier than old jeans."
She smelled of her furniture polish and ripe plums. "There's nothing sexier than old jeans when you're in them."
"Oh, that's good." Delighted, she nuzzled his neck. "That's really good." She nipped at his earlobe. "I've got laundry going. It sort of backed up on me the last few days. So… I'm not wearing anything under these jeans."
He turned his head, looked into her laughing eyes. "Oh, yeah, then talk definitely has to wait."