A Tempest In The Night Part 9

She stood as tall as he did with aid from the step. If only she could take it wherever she went. He must love dating women as tall as he was. "You're used to being in charge."

He cupped her face with one hand. "I highly recommend it."

She wanted to curl up in his palm. Then she nudged herself for getting all gushy inside. "I don't follow orders very well."

His face was set in stone one minute, then he managed the barest of smiles. "How about, 'please let me help you'?"

Ilida sat down on the bottom third step. She stuck her leg out holding it under her knee.

He grasped her ankle in one hand. "How long did it take you to get in these?"

"I don't know," she shrugged. "Fifteen minutes maybe."

He smirked. His hypnotic, violet eyes shuttered as he bent over her leg. His pants yawned and stretched. He pulled the boot zipper down in an unhurried manner. Was he savoring the feel of her legs? Like she savored the feel of his hands on her calves? She looked for a sign that said he was feeling her. He could have s.e.x with anyone he wanted. Why her?

"You're calves are too shapely for these boots."

"How did you know?" Okay, Davis, he is touching your leg.

"I looked."

Daedalus clutched the heel of her boot and pulled. It didn't come off. She had a feeling he was holding back his strength.

He found her attractive? "It's hereditary. My mother has great legs from what I remember."

He held her calf. Warmth seeped into her muscles. Those very same hands had been ready to kill to protect his daughter.

"Pull your leg forward as I pull your boot off."

Her boot came off, finally. They did the same with the other, and then he placed both boots on the floating staircase landing.

"When did you look at my legs?"

"When you failed miserably to hail a cab." He stood up to his full height and held out his hand. "I know I wasn't the only one who looked."

"Thanks. For taking my boots off for me, I meannn..." Ilida gained buoyancy by way of him lifting her up off the stairs. Daedalus' capable hands held her waist tight. She held his shoulders to keep her balance. He lowered her down to the floor as if he had all the time in the world.

Ilida's hands slid down his well-built arms to his elbows. Nice muscle tour.

"Make yourself comfortable. I have to run upstairs, then I'll make you tea."

"How did you know I drink tea?"

He tapped his temple as he ran up the stairs.

Not only was she in the home of a man she was falling hard for, but was also a telepath. Her meager ability to block him had proved useless.

Ilida walked into the entertainment room that had two loveseats and a cubed couch. All three pieces of furniture were upholstered in black with red and beige throw pillows. The colors fit his personality; intense one minute, calm the next, like tidewater with an undercurrent of anger.

The walls painted in a gray yellow and the ceiling a sage green gave the impression of calmness. He was seeking tranquility, but she doubted he could find it.

She heard Daedalus around the corner in the kitchen opening up the cabinet doors. There must be an archway under the staircase that leads there she thought, otherwise he would have pa.s.sed by her.

"You're in luck. I have your favorite brand," he called out to her.

She felt her earlobe. She nearly forgot about her annoying earring. Yep, it had fallen off, again. She had to get the clasp fixed.

"Which is my favorite brand?" Ilida bent down and searched the floor for it. The clasp was nearly the same color as the wood flooring.

"Pa.s.sion by Tazo."

She nodded her head at his accurate reading of her thoughts. He sounded so sure of himself. He had a right, too. Tazo was her favorite brand of tea, and Pa.s.sion was her favorite flavor.

She pressed the floor, searching for her runaway earring. d.a.m.n, that was her favorite pair of earrings, too. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted something s.h.i.+ny under the love seat. She reached out, touched it, and felt its sharp edge. Skin on her finger snagged on the sharp edges. Oh Davis, Davis, Davis. This is beyond nosey. There was so much she didn't know about him except he loved his daughter. She pulled the object off the thin fabric under the love seat. It was round with eight points surrounding it. "Throwing stars," she whispered. Hurriedly, she put it back where she'd found it. It wasn't soon enough.

Daedalus' voice startled her. "Find something interesting down there?"

His face held the barest hint of amus.e.m.e.nt. It took guts for her to be nosey. She hated it, but curiosity she hoped wouldn't kill the cat. "You have a star taped under your loveseat."

He nodded. "Yes I do."

"Why?"

He shoved his hands in his pants pockets. Raised veins wrapped over his muscular forearms. "My cheaper version of home security."

He'd said it with a straight face, too. Neither corner of his tempting mouth curled up. "Do you have throwing stars taped under all of your furniture?"

"Daggers, knives, and other weapons."

Ilida reached under the other loveseat and found just what he said; a dagger taped under it. An extreme survivalist. "Are you always on guard?"

"Always."

They stared at each other. His violet gaze traveled over her face, as if he wanted to memorize her features. "You're expecting danger from me tonight?" she asked.

"Every moment I breathe. Not the kind of danger you're thinking about."

G.o.d, he felt it, too-that bubbling in the pit of your stomach, excitement that only comes when you're expecting to unwrap the perfect gift.

The water in the kettle bubbled hitting against the metal walls. The kettle whistled.

"Your tea is ready."

He spun and walked around the corner. Her pulse pounded. He moved swiftly and she couldn't hear his footsteps only the click of a cup landing softly on, she a.s.sumed, a counter.

She followed him, anxious to see the kitchen and what other dangerous objects he may have in there. To her surprise, the room was spotless, and Zenlike. She was expecting the usual bachelor kitchen scene; sink cluttered with dirty dishes and crusty four-day-old sauce on the counter. She was delightfully surprised to find a coffee colored granite countertop and copper backsplash.

He dunked the tea bag in the hot water once, twice. "Do you cook?"

"I know how to cook, but I don't."

"How come?"

"Do you cook?"

"When I have time to."

He smiled enigmatically. His violet eyes twinkled with amus.e.m.e.nt. No, with secrets. Ilida tried again to get a straight answer. "What other weapons do you have?"

He placed the cup of tea in front of her. She hoisted herself up on the stool in front of the bar-island and noted the cus.h.i.+oned seat buffeting her behind. The counter, a gray peach marble, matched the back splash.

"I have a few Samurai swords."

"Really? May I see?"

Okay, so she was over eager. She probably resembled a kid at Six Flags salivating over a mean looking roller coaster ride, but she'd never seen a Samurai sword up close.

"Bring your tea with you."

She hoped off the stool and picked up her cup. He was already striding down the hallway. He took up all the s.p.a.ce in the hallway. He had an easy, confident gait that comes from knowing one's limitations. She was beginning to doubt he had any. He projected a dangerous energy and power she'd never encountered in a man before. It thrilled and frightened her.

Ilida mentally shook it off as she watched him uncover a rack holding three samurai swords. The way his hands and arms moved gave the act solemn dignity.

"You can place your tea on the coffee table. I placed coasters there." She did and walked up behind him. She could feel heat from his back, and he smelled musky and raspberryish.

"I'll teach you how to hold it."

His shoulders were stiff and he rotated his head counter-clockwise as if the thought of showing the sword was taxing his nerves.

"Do you show your friends your swords?"

He hesitated then he answered her. "No," he said as he folded the cloth and placed it neatly on the loveseat. "Do you know the parts of a sword?"

"I don't," she said.

He crossed his arms and s.h.i.+fted his weight to one leg. Did he have to exude s.e.x in that simple pose?

"But you like Samurai swords?"

"Back in the day, I used to watch the martial arts movies every Sat.u.r.day with my brother. It was a requirement."

"What does your brother do?"

"He's an emergency plastic surgeon."

She envied the way his long lashes swept down, blocking her from reading his expression. His eyes were too pretty to be on a man as cold and as hot as Daedalus.

"Stand in front of me."

That made her hesitate. Oh well, she wanted to get a look at her first real live Samurai sword. This was an opportunity she couldn't miss. She slid in front of him.

"This is the scabbard," he said pointing to the black, slim casing.

Her arm muscles protested the sudden weight. "It's heavy."

"Hold the scabbard tightly and straight with both hands."

Ilida did and almost jumped when his hands closed over hers. His breath tickled her earlobe, sent an involuntary s.h.i.+ver through her.

"Hold the tsuka or handle, tightly."

His deep voice rumbled through her chest. She wanted to throw her head back and wallow in the sensations coursing through her body. Instead, she willed her body to remain rigid. "Tsuka?"

"Yes."

"Do you speak fluent j.a.panese?"

She felt his body stiffen around her as if she was treading dangerous ground with her questions. It was strangely alluring to feel his body alive and pulsing so close to her.

"I speak five languages," he said gruffly.

"And they are?"

"Greek and English, obviously. Italian, j.a.panese, and French. Am I being pumped for info?"

"You don't like to talk about yourself."

"I'm a private person."

His shoulders were stiff, posture erect, and brows furrowed. No, he hated talking about all things Daedalus. She didn't have to see him to know. She could feel his angst through her back.

"Pull the sword out straight but gently."

She eased the sword out of the scabbard and noticed the j.a.panese calligraphy on the blade. She stilled her hand. "What does this say?"

"It says Daedalus, the fox. This was a gift from an old friend."

"Was he j.a.panese?"

"He was a Samurai master. Pull the sword out slowly...like how a man pulls his d.i.c.k out of a woman's hole."

Shocked, Ilida blushed. Her ears heated up. She knew what was coming and why she was there. "I can't believe you said that."

"Careful with the sword. This is an uchigatana sword. A battle-ready Katana."

"It's sharp?"

"Look at the tames.h.i.+-mei on the rectangular metal piece that holds the blade to the handle."