Page 21 of A Spot of Tea and Sorcery: Vol. 6
His brow stern and solemn, Nigel concentrated on the task before him. The sounds of rushing water in the pipes alertedhim to the fact that Luna was making use of his shower. He heard when the water stopped running, knew she must even now be styling her hair and applying her makeup and going about all the other little feminine mysteries women employed in the fine art of “fixing up.”
He didnotallow himself to think about the look in her eye when she’d stood beside his bed and turned to him.
He didnotallow himself to feel again that sudden rush of blood, that sudden wondering of . . .maybe?
He shook his head, coming abruptly out of a fog, only to stare down at the counter where some fifteen different corsages lay in various states of creation. Nigel frowned. None of them looked right. None of them looked worthy.
“Never mind?”
“I’m not talking to you,” Nigel snarled, casting his raven a withering glance. “You caused Miss Talbot unnecessary distress. And all for what?”
Debbie glared at him from her skull-pot, looking offended.
“I appreciate the loyalty,” Nigel added in slightly kinder tones, “but I don’t need you fighting my battles for me. Certainly not using such undignified means!”
“Never mind,”she replied snippily, then fluttered across the shop to perch in the front window. There she put her back to him and settled in for a long and somewhat aggressive preen.
Nigel turned his attention back to the corsage he was currently pulling together. It featured several of the double-delight’s loveliest buds, combined with sprays of baby’s breath and a little pink ribbon. Very simple, very sweet. Nothing compared to the more intricate creations Luna had made today. But the simplicity of it might be better suited to that ornate gown and—
“Mr. Grimm?”
Luna’s voice carried down from the stairwell, soft and a little muffled. Nigel fumbled and dropped the flowers in his hand, which scattered on the floor. “Damn,” he whispered. Then, clearing his throat, he called back, “Yes, Miss Talbot?”
“Um. Could I . . . could I get your help with something?”
Nigel frowned. With what could she possibly require his assistance? Makeup? Definitely not. Hair? Gods help him. Maybe the shoes he’d ensorcelled for her out of those two green rose leaves weren’t the right size. Hopefully he’d have enough energy in him to perform a sorcerous resizing if so. But he couldn’t very well let her go to the ball with pinched feet.
“Erm, one moment,” he said. Tossing half-formed bits of corsage to land amongst his other attempts, he slipped out from behind the counter and made for the stairwell. He paused at the base, peered up. The door to his apartment was cracked open, and he could hear sounds of Luna moving about up there. “Coming, Miss Talbot,” he said and climbed the treads. The idea of sharing that small space with her again was simultaneously thrilling and discomfiting. Best to keep all his resolutions of gentlemanliness in mind, bolstered by that recent memory of Ward grabbing the back of her head and dragging her into a possessive kiss. If that image didn’t force him to keep his head on straight, nothing would!
Reaching the top of the stairs, he pushed the door a little farther open and peered inside. “What can I help you with Miss Tal . . .”
His voice vanished.
His eyes widened so much, they threatened to pop from his skull.
She stood before him, freshly showered and wearing the gown. Unlike the last time he’d seen her dolled-up for a date, her makeup was simple, merely a touch of color to highlightthe natural sweetness of her features and to hide the tired shadows under her eyes. Her clean hair was somehow dried and styled via means he could not fathom in a lovely mass of curls, and she’d pinned a pink-and-yellow rose to one side, sweeping those curls off her face and emphasizing the curve of her cheek.
And the gown.
The soft-yellow corset top fitted her torso to perfection, gliding over every curve, accentuating the silken slope of her shoulders, the delectable indentation of her collarbone, the lovely softness of her décolletage. Alluring revelations, tantalizing with promise. Many fluttery, layered skirt frills filled the small square footage of his bedroom floor, even as her beauty and presence of spirit filled up his senses, his world. His entire soul cried out in desperation for more, more,more.
Standing there, Nigel felt the very fabric of reality shift around him. He found himself once more on the rain-washed tiles of his shop floor, sprawled out in a spreading puddle and gazing upon this woman for the very first time. He saw her now as he’d seen her then—wearing her sodden and ill-fitted green suit, her hair plastered to her cheeks beneath a yellow rain hat. This image overlayed the present vision of Luna Talbot, neither one more real than the other. She was, to his eyes, the very embodiment of beauty, no more so now than she had been then. But the added glamour of the present moment brought the truth rushing back to him in a profound wave.
Nigel dragged his gaze up from silent contemplation of her body back to her face, only to find her dark eyes studying him. Her brows drew together slightly, her soft lips parted, and he could not read her expression. Was she offended that he would look at her with such open lechery? Hastily, he shookhis head, blinking hard, and pulled himself together. He could only hope the roaring heat in his face wouldn’t betray him further.
“Erm,” he stammered, swallowing hard. “How may I . . . how may I help you?”
“It’s the, um. It’s the zipper, Mr. Grimm,” Luna answered meekly. “It’s stuck.”
He stared at her blankly.
Then she turned around.
And he nearly expired. Right there. On the spot.
Her back. Her back was almost completely exposed. The gown was quite a modern design, meant for a modern woman, who didn’t need an army of maids to get her ready for her big night. No laces, no hooks. Just that simple zipper. Which was, indeed, stuck more than halfway down the already dangerously low back, exposing all that smooth, delicious skin to his starved gaze.
Nigel stared.
