The Wicked

“We grew up together in New Orleans.” She could hear the smile in his voice. “She’s more than a friend. She’s like my little sister.”


“I think you guys have a wonderful relationship.” Olivia smiled too. She loved to watch them bicker.

“Looking back,” he said, “I can’t believe we made a go of the company. We did almost everything wrong. At least we learned from our mistakes.”

She walked her fingers up his chest as she said, “And you had to have done more things right than not, because you did make a go of it.”

“Eventually.” He captured her hand and lifted it to kiss her fingers.

Her mind flashed, without her consent, back to Steve’s negative gossip. “Why Jamaica?” she asked. “Why not the Wyr demesne in New York?”

“I respect what Dragos has done for the Wyr,” he said. “I can even see that there is a necessary place for it in the world, but his brand of nationalism bothers me. I prefer a more inclusive approach to life. We hire anybody based on their talents and resources as an individual, regardless of whether or not they are Wyr or some other Elder Race, or if they are human.”

“Like Tony?”

“Yes, exactly. Tony’s human, but he’s a great fighter, he has a little bit of magic, and while he might not be a doctor, he is a damn fine field medic. All of that makes him a strong, versatile member of any crew.” He shrugged, his shoulders shifting fluidly underneath her stroking fingers. “And of course we could have done all of that in New York too. But that’s where the answer to your other question comes in. Sun, warmth, sandy beaches, endless beautiful water. Hell, we based the company in Jamaica just because we could.”

She grinned. “You must get a lot of applicants for job openings.”

“Quite a few,” he said dryly.

“How many people do you employ?”

“Almost a hundred. We’re still technically a small company.”

She blew out a soundless whistle. “It sounds like a big company to me. I had no idea.”

He chuckled. “Sometimes having so many employees is almost like having that many children.” Then he paused. “Don’t tell any of them that I said that.”

“I won’t,” she told him. “Probably.” He bit her forefinger in retaliation, and she laughed. “And anyway, employees and children are nothing alike.”

He sighed. “I’m sure you’re right. At least none of my employees need to be diapered.”

She chuckled, and he rolled her over, reversing their positions, so that she lay on her back and his head rested on her shoulder. Then, lazily, he played with her nipple, and even though they had made love through the night until she had fallen asleep out of sheer exhaustion, she felt arousal stir at his touch.

“How about you?” he asked. His voice had turned very quiet so that she almost couldn’t hear him. “Have you ever considered having them? Children, I mean. Not employees.”

She went still, turning her face into his hair as she listened to the nuances in his question. Then she whispered, “The right relationship never came along, and I never wanted to have children on my own. But if I found the right partner…”

Dare she say it?

She realized that he had gone as still as she had. That he seemed to be holding his breath. That gave her the courage to whisper, “With the right partner, I would adore having children.”

Then he moved and sighed, and pressed a kiss against the side of her breast as he spread one hand over her flat abdomen. “I love children,” he said simply. “And you would make a beautiful mother.”

Luminous emotion filled her as she imagined him with his own children. He would make an incredible father, strong, protective, patient and loving. The image was so compelling, it made her chest ache. She covered his hand with hers and pressed her lips against his forehead.

They fell silent and lay like that for some time, until he stirred and said, “Tell me more about Louisville.”

Thea Harrison's books