Magic Burns

Page 144

 

 

“The one who likes the hurting.” I moved to shake his hand and he reversed it and kissed my fingers instead, singeing me with a look that was pure smolder.

 

I took my hand back. “That woke me up.”

 

He smiled a picture-perfect smile. “Been a while?”

 

For some reason, I felt like answering. “Two years. And if you could tone down that smile, I’d appreciate it. Getting weak in the knees.”

 

Raphael took a step back. His face took on the same concerned look I saw on Doolittle when I assured him I was fine. “Two years? That’s entirely too long. If you want, we can take care of that. After two years, it’s pure therapy.”

 

“No thank you. Curran already offered to help me with that problem, and since I turned him down, I wouldn’t want to cause any friction between you two.” The last thing I needed was to set Curran and the hyenas on a collision course.

 

Raphael backed away with his hands in the air, strategically positioning himself behind Andrea. “No offense.”

 

“None taken.”

 

“Is Curran serious?” Aunt B asked.

 

She wanted to know if she now had to walk on eggshells around me. For once, I was happy to disappoint. “No, he’s just being an asshole. Apparently every time he calls me ‘baby,’ I look like a red-hot poker is stuck up my butt. Causes him no end of fun.” I drank my tea.

 

Aunt B gave me an odd look. “You know,” she said, stirring her tea, “the fastest way to get him off your back is to sleep with him. And tell him you love him. Preferably while in bed.”

 

I smirked and the tea almost came out of my nose. “He’d run like he was on fire.”

 

Raphael rested his hands on Andrea’s shoulders. “Still a bit tense?” His fingers began to gently knead her muscles.

 

“Will you do it?” Aunt B gazed at me over the rim of her cup.

 

“Not while I’m alive, no. Wait, I take it back. That should be ‘hell no.’”

 

“Has he invited you to dinner, dear? Gifts, flowers, the usual?”

 

I had to put my cup down, because my hand was shaking too much. When I stopped laughing, I said, “Curran? He isn’t exactly Mr. Smooth. He handed me a bowl of soup, that’s as far as we got.”

 

“He fed you?” Raphael stopped rubbing Andrea.

 

“How did this happen?” Aunt B stared at me. “Be very precise, this is important.”