Page 19 of A Spot of Tea and Sorcery: Vol. 6

Luna pulled her lips in and bit down on them hard. It didn’t matter. She couldn’t bite away the vivid memory of how his mouth had felt against hers. Nor could she forget the timbre in his voice last night when he’d asked if she wanted to come home with him. She’d inquired then if that invitation had included an intention of one of them sleeping behind the counter.

He’d looked her straight in the eye and answered in tones that made the ground beneath her feet tremble:“I think not.”

Of course, it hadn’t meant anything. Not anyonething. Not for certain.

But the possibilities of what itcouldmean had raced through her veins last night. And when he’d taken her in his arms, when he’d pulled her close . . . when his mouth had begun to dance and play with hers in such extraordinary ways . . . those possibilities had seemed far more real and pressing and desperately desirable than she had ever dared imagine. Only to be so hideously dashed by the spiraling chaos of subsequent events.

But did that mean every possibility was gone forever?

Of course it does,a stern voice in the back of her head growled.He’s the Grimshade Lord. There are no ‘possibilities’ to be had with him!

But looking at him now, Luna couldn’t seem to recall that horrible image she’d glimpsed on a few spare occasions: the seven-foot tower of dark-writhing malice. Before her was just Nigel Grimm. Her boss. Sweet and shy and rubbing the back of his neck, afraid to look her in the eye. But she knew now that this shyness was only a very thin crust overlaying something molten in his core.

“I shouldn’t,” she whispered. “I . . . I need to . . .”

He caught her eye more firmly this time. “Please,” he said. “It won’t take a minute.”

Oh, wouldn’t it? Luna frowned. She certainly wasn’t an expert on these sorts of things, having learned everything she knew from Auntie Arabella’s secret stash of racy novels hidden in her darning basket. Still, even in those darning-basket novels, matters such as this generally took a couple of pages at least.

But what did she know? Basically nothing. Nothing except that when Mr. Grimm looked at her like that—with such earnestness and hope and undisguised longing—she would do anything for him.

Forget all good sense.

Forget the 4 am mail train, even now on its way.

Forget everything.

Even as her stomach performed a series of strange loops, Luna attempted one last small protest. “The, um, the flowers. They’re getting hungry.”

“Yes, I’ll take care of all that,” Mr. Grimm answered with a dismissive wave of his hand. Then he turned slightly and indicated the stairwell. “Please, Miss Talbot.”

Luna drew a shivering breath. Ducking her head to hide the absolutely furious red blush staining her cheeks, she stepped past him.

The next moment, she was climbing the stairs.

To his apartment.

She hadn’t been up this stairway more than twice or thrice since her initial arrival at The Arcane Bouquet. First was the day they’d met. The next was a few weeks ago, when he was ill, having caught pneumonia while nursing her. She’d ventured up then to check on him but hadn’t lingered. She’d invaded his shop and quite taken over his kitchen with all her witchy brews, but his apartment was his own. A private space, set apart from their doings down below.

Her knees shook as she made the climb, and her hand gripped the rail with white-knuckled intensity. She feared she’d lose her nerve, but somehow made it to the topmost step. Once there, however, she couldn’t make herself reach out and grasp the door handle. Instead, she pressed her back against the side wall, allowing Mr. Grimm to step in behind her. It was quite a narrow passage and dark, for he’d not flipped on the thaumatic light bulb. Luna found herself suddenly overwhelmed by the lovely smell of him, so close in her nostrils.

His hand reached for the doorknob.

“Wait, Mr. Grimm,” Luna gasped and gripped his forearm.

He looked at her. Standing one step lower, his face was nearly level with her own. She peered into his eyes, but they were so obscured by shadows, she couldn’t discern any expression. He waited for her to speak, but what was she going to say? What was she going to do? A terrible temptation filled her. Temptation to lean forward right here, right now, and close that little distance between them, pressing her mouth to his. But something held her back.

“Pardon me, Miss Talbot,” he murmured and turned the knob. He pushed the door open. It creaked softly. “After you,” he said.

Heart racing, face burning, Luna turned sharply and took the last step into his apartment, over the threshold. She felt as though she was stepping into her fate, and—

She stopped. Short.

Her mouth dropped slowly open.

A little gasp eked up her throat. She tried to speak. Failed. Gasped again.

Then she finally managed, “Oh,Mr. Grimm!”