New release!

It’s Halloween night:

Disguised as a witch, Darcy is on stakeout at the creepiest bed and no breakfast this side of Bates Motel in Psycho.

Therapist Logan Thompson has his own reasons for being on the streets.

When they meet, sparks fly, and they find more trouble than either of them had bargained for.

It’s now available on Amazon! https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DHSZBTB3

See the series page here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0FRW187ML…

Also available on other fine retailers: https://books2read.com/u/38p55d

#enemiestolovers, #Halloween, #Holidays, #romanticcomedyvibes, #brandygolden, #spankingromance, #femaledetectiveC

Enjoy this first chapter!

Chapter 1

The sweet, salty flavor of the Baby Ruth bite-sized candy bar exploded on Darcy DeAngelo’s tongue like the opening drum roll of Mannheim Steamroller’s Hallelujah Chorus. Honestly, what could compete with milk chocolate, heavenly caramel, and salty peanuts all rolled into one cube of sinful deliciousness? Whoever invented it deserved the Nobel Prize, or a firing squad.

Or both.

She glanced at her watch for the fifteenth time in the last fifteen minutes. It was 9:00 p.m. Lunch was a distant memory, and dinner had been sacrificed on the altar of crappy stakeouts and worse life choices.

She popped another cube in her mouth and squinted at the second-floor window of the rat-trap version of The Bates Motel across the street. Her target—beefy, balding, and reportedly allergic to fidelity—was on the second floor with his current girlfriend. Her client wanted proof in the form of photos that could tank a prenup. No questions asked.

Darcy sighed. “I really need to go back to bartending. Less risk of death by boredom in a back alley.”

A group of sugar-hyped kids ran past her—Superman, a dragon, and what she could only assume was a walking dead cheerleader. She adjusted her Dollar General witch hat and hiked her orange and black striped leggings up further beneath the sparkly black skirt. The top of the leggings was digging into her waist, and her pointy-toed slippers were pinching like a crab on steroids. But hey, commitment to the costume.

Before long, the real monsters would emerge. Drunks, thieves, druggies, and women in fishnets up to their lower cheeks. She wanted to be gone before that happened. Her childish costume had a time limit on plausible deniability.

Her eyes lit up when the light flicked on in the motel window.

Show time.

A curtain swayed, revealing the familiar silhouette of Mr. Beefy and a woman who was in no way Mrs. Beefy. Darcy raised her camera, smirking and snapping pics. She waited impatiently for them to come outside so she could get a few close-ups. These tawdry jobs were beneath the level of PI work that she wanted to do, but she had a love affair going with Baby Ruth and rent.

“Smile for the camera,” she muttered as she stepped out, intending to take a few quick shots of them kissing and feeling each other up. And then—

“Just as I thought! I’ve got you now, young lady!”

The words exploded above her like a bad horror movie, and a firm hand clamped down on her arm. In a blink, she was yanked off the sidewalk and into the alley like a leaking trash bag doomed for the dumpster.

“Hey,” she sputtered, her heart thudding. “Unless you’re the Halloween police, you’d better let go of me.”

But her captor was undeterred—and ridiculously attractive. Tall, broad-shouldered, and built like he could pass for an invading Viking on Halloween. He had the kind of jawline that made intelligent women do dumb things, and dark eyes currently narrowed with disapproval as if she were a thief who had taken his last Baby Ruth.

Forgiveness could be considered in that case.

“I told you what would happen if you came to this neighborhood, Holly. You didn’t believe me, did you? You didn’t think I’d go through with it, did you? Did you?”

He emphasized the last ‘did you’ with a shake of her arm as he stopped in front of some alley steps and scowled down at her, his well-shaped brows drawn together in disapproval.

“I don’t even know you,” she snapped. Her eyes narrowed as she tried to pull away from this back-alley lunatic. He wasn’t trying to tear her clothes off, and he didn’t have a gun demanding her money. Must be something else. “Is this some weird Halloween prank? Or one of those ‘reporter on the street’ scenarios? Because if you aren’t offering cash, chocolate, or wine, I’m not interested.”

“I warned you, Holly,” he continued in a deep timbre that sent tingles up and down her spine. “I told you I’d spank you on the spot if you disobeyed me. When I discovered you weren’t in the area of your house, I came looking for you in your friend’s neighborhood.”

Darcy gaped up at him in astonishment. Did he say spank? And who was Holly?

“What’s the matter, little witch? Cat got your tongue?”

Oh, he did not just say that.

Darcy was preparing a blistering reply when he sat down on the alley steps and yanked her over a pair of muscled, jean-clad thighs as if she weighed no more than the misbehaving cat he just maligned. “I’m not…”

“Don’t bother trying to deny it.”

She wriggled furiously but got nowhere except in a tighter grip. It appeared he was determined to do this, and she had as much of a chance of stopping him as the darned cat. Still, she twisted back to glare at him and tried to think fast when her witch skirt was suddenly flowing down about her ears, and her view of Mr. Heartthrob was blocked. Darcy’s brain finally caught up like a racing freight train. Witches had been running all over the area this evening in all sizes, some little ones with parents, and older ones with friends. It was Halloween, of course, it was expected.

“Wait! You’re mistaking me for…”

“There’s no mistake,” he growled in a tone that suggested he handed out orders over breakfast and expected to be obeyed.

Poor Holly!

When his hand crashed down on her wiggling red and white striped posterior with a force that should be applied only to tight jar lids, she yelled out, “Listen, I’m not…”

He cut her off again. “You are determined to have your own way all the time, but not with me, young lady. That’s part of your problem, too big for your britches these days.” 

He delivered the swats like he had a personal grudge against her butt, and Darcy screeched in protest. “You don’t under…st-stand.”

“Oh, I do, brat,” he growled. “Don’t bother with excuses.”

She flailed and cursed. “I’m…not…. Holly!” Darcy finally managed to bellow out between painful swats. Temper was overcoming shock, and she fought furiously, almost throwing herself off his lap. He had to grab her with both hands, but at least he’d stopped smacking her poor bottom.

“Good try. You don’t think I’m buying that, do you?”

“Let me up this instant,” she demanded hotly, shoving the hanging skirt away from her eyes and glaring back at him. Her bottom was aching and throbbing from the pounding he had already given it. He frowned at her again, and she was heartened to note his sudden confusion.

“I don’t know who Holly is, but you’ve got the wrong witch,” she shouted furiously.

He yanked her upright then, his probing dark eyes searching her face as he held her on his knee by her upper arms.

Darcy stared warily back, her chest heaving and her butt stinging like she was sitting on a hornet’s nest. Not to mention it felt like a fist had slammed into her stomach. How could one man be so darned attractive? Her arms tingled where his hands held her, and her gasping for breath wasn’t all from yelling.

“I think I might have made a mistake,” he admitted after his perusal. You’re not Holly after all.”

“Duh! I’m a private investigator, and you just assaulted me in a public alley. Where’s a cop when you need one?”

A sudden giggle from the sidewalk drew their attention, and Darcy’s head whipped around to see who had witnessed her extreme humiliation.

There would be payback.

Of the three girls dressed in Halloween costumes, the one in the middle locked her gaze. She had the same witch costume as Darcy, but with slightly different makeup.

“Wow, Holly. You never told us your uncle was…. like…radically hot.” This comment came from the bunny rabbit in the not-so-bunny-like costume—more like a Playboy bunny. And her parents let her out of the house in that get-up?

“You wouldn’t think so if he were really your uncle, Denise.” Holly snarked.

“Aww, Holly. I’d take him for a babysitter,” mocked the cat, her painted whiskers wiggling salaciously.

Holly huffed and stared at them disdainfully, her small nose in the air as only a modern teenager can pull off. “What are you doing, Uncle Logan?”  

“It appears I’ve made a mistake,” he replied, his gaze narrowing on Darcy.

He certainly had, and Darcy was in no mood to forgive at the moment. “What is your full name? I’d like to know who I’m pressing charges against.” She tried to shrug his hands off her arms, but he held onto her as he stood up.

“I’m sorry for the mix-up,” he said apologetically.

Darcy’s bottom burned, and despite his apparent contrition, there weren’t enough Baby Ruths to cover the humiliation he’d put her through.

“You should be. Spanking women went out with the women’s lib movement, not to mention that it’s illegal. How does your wife stand you?”

“I’m not married,” he replied, suddenly smiling lazily at her. 

When the megawatt smile came out, Darcy wasn’t prepared for the full effect. Something funny was happening to her knees. They were beginning to tremble as she tried to maintain her righteous glare. 

Forgiveness might be his future.

Perfect white teeth in a tanned face, a square jaw with a noticeable five o’clock shadow, and a burnished black curl hanging down his forehead. Deep gray smoky eyes finished a look that screamed ‘sexy male on board’ and she hated her reaction. Just the same, she couldn’t help it either; her entire body was zinging all over, like every nerve had decided it was party time.

Looking around for her camera, she tried to hide her reaction by bending over to retrieve it. “No surprise there,” she snapped, desperately trying to cover her loss of composure.

“Let me help you.”  Deftly, he scooped up the camera and returned it to her. “Can I give you a lift somewhere? Do you live around here?”

“No…and no.” She took the camera, and their fingers brushed against each other. She jumped like she’d been shocked by a static charge. Heart pounding, she took the camera bag from the pocket in her skirt and placed it inside, then slung it over her shoulder.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“That’s none of your business. Just be thankful I’m not pressing charges.” She moved stiffly away, trying not to let on how sore she was. The board attached to the end of his wrist had done a number on her tender bottom, and she just wanted to get away, go home, and soak away her shame and embarrassment.

But no, once again, her arm was taken in that firm grasp, and she was turned gently to face him. “I insist on seeing you home.”

“Don’t bother.”

He chuckled. It was deep. Rich. Entirely appropriate for a man who had just manhandled a stranger in an alleyway. It could compete with a Baby Ruth reaction.

“It’s no bother.” He took Holly’s arm in his other hand. “Say goodnight to Miss Bunny and Miss Cat, Holly. You’re coming with me.”

“But, Uncle Logan,” Holly protested, trying to pull away. “You’re treating me like a baby, let go of me.”

“Good night, Holly,” her friends chorused as he led her and Holly down the block towards a silver Camaro. They could all hear the other two girls snickering.

“You can’t do this to me, Uncle Logan,” Holly yelped furiously. “I’ll be the laughingstock of my friends now.”

“My car is just around the corner,” Darcy said, trying to pull out of his grasp. “I’ll be fine, just let go of me.”

“Get in,” he ordered, ignoring both of their protests.

Fuming, she obeyed, sitting gingerly on the leather of the front seat while Holly, still complaining, climbed into the back.

Darcy didn’t need the mirror over the visor to know she looked like she’d gone ten rounds with the proverbial cat. Her witch hat was hanging down her back, her hair was a tangled mess, and her dignity had deserted her back there in the alley. To top it all off, she was trapped in a car with a man who clearly thought he was judge, jury, and executioner with that hard hand of his.

She sneaked a surreptitious look at those hands on the steering wheel as he pulled the car into the flow of traffic.

“What’s your name?” He glanced sideways at her as he flicked on the turn signal. “And this time I want an answer.”

His tone brooked no argument, and Darcy grudgingly gave in. “Darcy.”

He lifted his eyebrow and shot her a warning glance.

“Darcy DeAngelo.” She fumed, instinctively knowing what that eyebrow meant and hating herself for responding to his take-charge attitude. “What’s yours?” she asked defiantly. “I’ll need to know when I press charges for assault.” He looked amused, which only annoyed her more.

“It’s Logan Thompson,” he said smoothly. “Holly’s uncle. You’re not actually thinking of reporting this, are you?”

“Maybe.” Her tone was pure defiance, even though she knew she wouldn’t. There was no way she was going to explain this to a cop. She could just imagine the police report now: The victim’s backside was assaulted by mistake. No visible injuries, unless you count pride. She would be the laughingstock of the law enforcement world. Yeah, not happening. But she wasn’t about to let him off the hook either.

“What’s with the whole ‘smack ass’ routine, huh? You get your kicks from playing caveman, or is this your charming personality?”

Holly snorted in the back seat.

Logan didn’t flinch. “Not a caveman. Just a believer in consequences. Call it old-school if you want, but there was a time when accountability meant more than a passive-aggressive text and a blocked number.”

She narrowed her eyes. “And now you’re out here trying to bring back the Dark Ages one swat at a time?”

His eyes were serious. “Some people never stopped living that way. You’d be surprised.”

“Yeah, well, those people probably churn their own butter and call the internet the devil. Not me.” She crossed her arms. “I believe in equality, human rights, and not getting my butt blistered for having an opinion.”

“The world’s a strange place,” he said, unbothered. “One minute you’re climbing the corporate ladder, the next you’re over someone’s knee, rethinking your life choices. Never say never, sweetheart.” He shot her a teasing grin.

“You’re so hilarious.” She crossed her legs and pretended like the dimples adorning the curves of his mouth weren’t personal weapons. “Thanks for the unsolicited life coaching, Dr. Suess. I’ll make sure I forget all of it. You need to get a new hobby.”

He grinned wider and chuckled. “Who says I don’t already have one?”  

Darcy felt that flicker of attraction again—unwelcome, and completely unfair. Good-looking men weren’t to be trusted. Their best friends were themselves and a good mirror. And this one came with his own personal warning label: May cause heat, headaches, and leave occasional handprints in low places. With a huff, she turned away.

“Turn left at the next corner, my car is parked there,” she instructed. At least it should be around the next corner. She’d parked it a few blocks away and walked to her destination, the glorified “Bates Hotel”, otherwise known as The Rocking Chair Motel.

How appropriate.

Waiting to see if Mr. Beefy would come back out with his overblown mistress was boring, but it was a job. Then she’d been accosted by this throwback to another century. Her bottom was still stinging.

Despite her abused rear, Darcy was strangely aware of Logan, as if her body was subtly adapting to his, seeking closeness. She didn’t have a good track record with men and was more wary than that cat in a roomful of baying hounds. Her friend still wanted her to see a therapist—the irony of that seemed to have escaped Amy. But then Amy was sweet, kind, and had married her high school sweetheart. No unwelcome secrets springing up at the wrong moment in that relationship—it was more stable than a concrete block.

“Is that your car?” 

Her eyes slid reluctantly sideways, drawn by his low voice—rough as whiskey, warm like a campfire, but edged with something that made her skin tingle. Dangerous in a way that made her want to run as far away and as fast as she could. For a split second, she was caught in the pull of his voice—until her gaze landed on her ’98 Taurus. Any flutter of awareness was bulldozed by the cold punch of horror that slammed into her chest when she saw what was left of her beloved car.

“Stop,” she yelled as she scrabbled for the car door. Before he was fully stopped, she jumped out of his car and ran to the decimated remains of her baby. This wasn’t vandalism; it was a back-alley predator attack. All four tires were gone. Stereo torn out. The engine was gutted and stripped bare like an animal carcass picked clean by greedy vultures. Her baby—her faithful, slightly rusty, coffee-stained baby—was nothing but trash now. And she’d just made the last payment on it.

Frantically, she dropped to her knees, the asphalt of the roadway biting into her orange and black striped tights. Shoving her hand beneath the driver’s seat, she swept her fingers back and forth, praying that the thieves had somehow missed it. Please, please—but it wasn’t to be.

Empty—her purse was gone.

Darcy pushed to her feet, stomach sinking with the certainty that the universe really did have it out for her. The Gods of luck had turned their back on her. Groaning, she placed both forearms against the edge of the door, banging her head between them in a monotonous thumping rhythm. “This could only happen to me,” she muttered, her eyes tightly shut.

“Something else wrong?”

She spun around to see Mr. Tall, dark, and annoyingly male watching her with a glint of curiosity tinged with sympathy. “Of course not, I just enjoy banging my head on cars, it’s good for the brain. Didn’t you know that?”

His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t rise to her jab. “I’ll let that pass since you’ve obviously had another shock…that is, if this is your car?”

“Of course, it’s my car!” Was the man dense, along with his other alpha failings? “I only like to headbang my car, you know? Other people tend to get weird when you dent their vehicles.”

Steel slid into his voice. “That’s enough. There is no need to be unpleasant and rude.” His tone dipped lower. “If you keep it up, I may turn you over my knee for another spanking.”

The words were flat, specific, like a man who didn’t bluff. They pressed in on her, like a door slowly closing in a dark hallway, and her pulse skipped a beat.

Darcy’s self-preservation radar started blaring. The hair on the back of her neck stood up like it always did when danger was afoot.

Still, he couldn’t have it all his way.

“Don’t even think it,” she warned, low and tight.

His voice was deliberate, unhurried. “I can do more than just think it.”  

Darcy was done. This night was an official disaster of the highest proportions. And this graduate from the Alpha Male Academy wasn’t helping. But she knew when to cut her losses.

“Whatever.”

One little word that meant so much.

With a shrug of her slender shoulders, she turned and walked away. At least she could console herself with leaving his smug, handsome face in her rearview. Tears of frustration and temper were building, and she didn’t trust herself not to slap him as if she were beating out a pizza crust while it was in the air—with both hands.

This evening could not have gone more wrong if Hades himself had popped up from the Underworld to torture her personally. Oh—wait. He sent his minion instead, Mr. Wonderful. She wondered if there was a police station nearby or someone on a doorstep who would let her use their phone to make a call.

No such luck.

 “Wait, you can’t go running around alone in this neighborhood.”

Once again, she was grabbed by the arm and turned to face her tormentor. “Let go of me,” she hissed. “Using my butt for a stress reliever wasn’t enough for you? Just leave me alone.” She tried to jerk her arm out of his grasp, but he wouldn’t let go. Instead, he took the bag off her other arm and let it fall open.

“Seeing as how you only have a camera in this bag,” he drawled, “I’m guessing you left your wallet, phone, and money in the car. And now it’s all gone.”

“Ding, ding—give the man a prize,” she drawled back. “After your earlier mistake, I would never have pegged you to be so astute.” 

Her arm was tingling where he held it, and her knees began to shake again. The scent of some heady male aftershave drifted lightly across her nostrils as he pulled her closer. Tangy and tantalizing, it made her want to cuddle up to his chest and let him take care of her. She cursed under her breath. Why did he have such an unsettling effect on her? Worse yet, why did she have to run into someone so perfect, only to find out he wasn’t?

His eyes flashed a definite warning once again as he hustled her towards his car. “Come on, you’re coming home with me and Holly.”

Darcy dug her heels in. “I most certainly am not. I don’t even know you.”

He questioned her as he continued to drag her along despite her protests. “And just what are you planning to do then? You have no money, no ID, no wallet, which means no bank card or checks, and it’s almost 10:00 p.m.”

“Not your business. What does it matter to you, anyway? I’ll find a phone and call a friend.”

He stopped by his car and opened the door for her. “I can’t leave you out here by yourself, Darcy DeAngelo. I feel responsible for you since I mistook you for my niece. And now that I know you’re stranded, I won’t leave you on your own,” he insisted. Then his voice softened. “Be reasonable. At least come with us to Holly’s house. You can use my cell to call a friend for help and wait there for them to arrive. None of us needs to be hanging out in the streets this time of night. Please?” 

If he had ordered her about one more time, Darcy would have slapped him with her bag and faced the consequences. But since he’d virtually begged, she decided to give in. Nah, who was she kidding? Her sense of self-preservation had kicked in again when she spotted two shadows lurking in the alleyway down the street behind him. She slid into the car and allowed him to close the door. “Is he always this bossy?” she shot to the girl in the back seat.

“No,” Holly replied, “usually he’s worse. He must be feeling guilty for making a mistake. Of course, I have to say I’m glad he did.” She grinned, her smile lighting up her impish features.

“Thanks a lot,” Darcy replied dryly. “You owe me one, kid.”

Chapter 2

Within 15 minutes, Logan drove the Camaro into the driveway of a typical ranch-style home with a two-car garage reminiscent of the 1990s. Variegated brick siding with a white door and white shutters on the windows, and one step up under the door overhang that would keep you out of the rain. Hedges grew along the front of the house, and a sidewalk led to the driveway.

When the garage door opened, the Camaro purred inside and came to a stop. A few moments later, the girls were escorted inside the house, past a laundry room, and into the spacious kitchen area, which was separated from the living area by a bar. Once inside, Logan flipped the lights on and scowled at Holly. “Care to explain yourself, young lady?”

“I already told you Denise invited me and Rachel to trick-or-treat over in her neighborhood. Okay, maybe I shouldn’t have gone, but I didn’t realize how bad that area has gotten, and I didn’t want to let her down,” she fumed.

Darcy could remember those teen years—back when high school life was like threading through a war zone every day. You never knew when a bomb might go off that would ruin your life. Pimples, not getting a date to the homecoming dance—the possibilities were endless, and reputation was everything.

Logan folded his arms and stared, his gaze softening. “All I have to say is you’re lucky I found Darcy first, young lady. That’s too dangerous a place to be hanging out after dark, especially if you don’t live there. Even on Halloween,” he added.

“Yeah—lucky me,” Darcy drawled.

Holly shrugged. “I’m sixteen, and I can take care of myself.”

Logan’s eyebrows rose. “Not in that neighborhood. It’s declined a lot in the last five years.”

“I noticed that,” Holly replied dryly. “But I said I’d go—so I did. Denise’s dad was supposed to have picked her up over an hour ago at the diner, but he wasn’t there. We were walking towards Rachel’s house when we saw you guys.” She shivered slightly.

Logan studied her silently, and Darcy almost felt sorry for him. “All right,” he spoke at last. “I’ll let your dad deal with you. Prepare to be grounded until the next millennium if I know my brother.”

Darcy’s stomach chose that moment to growl like a thunderstorm intent on significant damage.

“Sounds like you missed dinner,” he said with a grin as Holly rolled her eyes and huffed off down the hallway. “I have some leftover spaghetti if you’re interested.”

“I might be,” Darcy admitted grudgingly. Spaghetti sounded heavenly at the moment. She looked around at the modern kitchen, done in cool blues that blended seamlessly into the living room décor, featuring a plush navy sofa and matching recliners. It was a beautiful home with an island in the kitchen and a family dining table in front of sliding glass windows hung with long, flat blinds. The cabinetry had been remodeled in a French style, and the flooring consisted of blueish-gray tiles.

Logan handed her his phone. “You can sit at the bar and make your call,” he told her, “I have water or sweet tea if you’d like a drink.”

“Tea, please,” Darcy replied, taking the phone. She watched him furtively as he moved about the kitchen with quick, efficient movements. Briefly, she wondered how it would feel to have him caring for her all the time. Nah. Men wanted to be taken care of, not the other way around.

She shoved those useless thoughts aside and punched in the number for her current boyfriend. There was no point in calling her roommate—Pamela was undoubtedly hooked up with whichever boyfriend had spent the most money on her lately. She couldn’t keep up with her romantic exploits and didn’t bother to try.

But Pamela did help with the rent. Darcy spent most nights with Doug at his place, but wasn’t about to give up her apartment, no matter how much Doug whined. Call her paranoid, but she wasn’t ready to commit to giving up her independence—it was her escape hatch.

Especially lately.

Impatient, she drummed her fingers on the table as she waited for him to pick up. Finally, after the 5^th ring, he answered.

“Hello?”

“Doug…hi…it’s me, Darcy.”

“Where the devil are you, Darcy? I’m falling asleep here waiting for you to get home. Do you realize how late it is?” His voice was querulous and complaining. Nothing new there.

She rolled her eyes even though he couldn’t see her. “I know, I got tied up over here in the Birmingdale area on a case, and my car’s been stripped. They stole my purse, too. Can you come and get me?”

“It’s almost midnight, and Birmingdale is two hours away. You know I hate driving at night, and I’m extra tired tonight. Can’t you get a hotel room or something?”

“And how am I supposed to pay for that?”

“Just get the room, and I can bring you some money in the morning,” he growled impatiently.

“And with no car, how do I get to a hotel? My car’s stripped, remember?”

“If it weren’t for that sleazy job you refuse to give up, you wouldn’t be in this predicament,” he shot back.

The exasperation in Doug’s voice fired her temper. No, “Are you ok, babe?” No, “What happened to your car?” Nothing. Just that same put-out tone as if she’d caught him in the middle of something important—like watching Netflix.

Lately, it felt like every time she asked him for anything, it was always inconvenient. However, it was a federal crisis when he needed something, and she was supposed to drop everything and come running. The disenchantment with him that had begun months ago finally came to a head. Her ‘I’ve had enough meter’ just hit the red zone.

“You know what? Never mind,” she snapped. “Just forget it, Doug, don’t put yourself out for my sake. I’ll find my own way home tonight and every other night. We’re through.” She viciously jabbed the off button to hang up the phone.

She was so done with Doug. Test it with a fork, done.

Still, she stared at the phone. Just in case he called back.

He didn’t.

Loser.

She rubbed her forehead with tired fingers. Maybe Pamela would accidentally be home. She dialed her apartment number. After the tenth ring, she hung up and dialed her roommate’s cellphone—no answer. She’d already expected that. Pamela rarely answered her cell phone on dates; she preferred not to be interrupted.

Should she try her mom? She lived three hours away, though, and didn’t see well at night—probably not a good idea. Her best friend, Amy, lived in another state—no help there.

Darcy didn’t have many people she could turn to. Getting close to someone meant letting your guard down, and that wasn’t an option.

Not anymore.

She started when she felt two warm hands on her shoulders, their gentleness surprising her.

“Why don’t you stay here tonight, Darcy. I can take you home in the morning after you get some rest. It’s getting late to be calling anyone anyway.”

The kindness in his tone brought a prickle of tears to Darcy’s eyelids, and she gulped to swallow the lump that was trying to form in her throat. She would not embarrass herself again in front of this man. Shrugging a slender shoulder, she replied, “No, I can’t do that, but thanks for asking.” Her shoulders tingled where his hands touched her. She looked up into his warm, dark eyes full of concern and found herself wanting to stay despite what was coming out of her mouth. It would be nice to be taken care of and protected for once.

“There’s nothing improper about you staying here,” he assured her. “Holly is here, and there’s a spare bedroom, fully furnished. You can borrow some of Holly’s clothes and make fresh plans in the morning.”

He smiled down at her, and Darcy found herself melting. 

That smile should definitely be registered as a weapon. 

What was happening to her? She didn’t even know Logan, and yet she instinctively knew that had she called him for help, he would have come as fast as he could to get her. Disconcerted, she tried to get out from under those hands and away from the spell he was weaving around her. “I don’t think…”

“I insist. After all, it’s the least I can do to make up for spanking the wrong witch,” he teased. Those teasing dark eyes should be registered as weapons, too.

Darcy tried to drag her gaze away from his, but her eyes refused to cooperate. “Alright,” she whispered, her mouth dry. She held her breath as his head dipped lower. Her lips parted in anticipation. She was surprised when they merely brushed across her forehead in a chaste kiss, and she hated that she was disappointed. The microwave dinged.

“Your spaghetti is ready,” he murmured.

Was it her imagination, or were his hands trembling slightly as he turned and strode across the kitchen? Then he came back and set the plate of food in front of her. His fingers seemed to linger on the glass of tea as she took it from him.

When he turned away to put the empty spaghetti container in the dishwasher, she tucked into the food like she hadn’t eaten for days. There might be some truth to that. She didn’t have time to cook much, and Pamela didn’t cook at all. And of course, neither did her ex. Doug was great at ordering take-out, but didn’t know how to turn the stove on. If it weren’t for his mother, he’d starve waiting for her to cook meals. Her schedule didn’t put her at home much around dinnertime, and she skipped more meals than she ate.

Which was only one more log on the fire of his discontent with her job. Doug wanted her at home in the evenings to attend to his needs.

In reflection, she realized it would never have worked out. Shoving the last forkful of spaghetti in her mouth, she realized Logan had come back and was watching her. “Uh…that was great.” She’d practically inhaled it.

“Would you like me to fix you a sandwich?” he inquired politely, a grin teasing the corners of his chiseled mouth. He picked up the plate and headed for the dishwasher with it.

“No, that was plenty,” Darcy quickly replied, “thank you.” She was halfway through with her glass of tea by the time he turned around, her belly finally thanking her with a satisfied gurgle.

He looked amused. “Are you sure? It sounds like you’re still hungry.”

She patted her stomach. “Nope, I’m good. That was delicious.”

“Thank you.”

She eyed him in surprise. “Did you make it?”

His eyebrow shot up. “Does that surprise you?”

“I’ve yet to meet the mysterious breed of men that cook,” she quipped. “They are as rare as hen’s teeth, I’ve been told.”

He laughed then. “I enjoy cooking. My mother thought I needed to learn the same as my sister.”

“Your mother is a rare gem.”

“Do you cook?”

“I’m a woman, aren’t I?” Her eyebrow slid up.

“I find myself constantly surprised at the number of women who don’t,” he mocked.

“Then it’s a good thing you can, it increases your value as a partner.”

A shadow seemed to flit through his dark eyes before he spoke. “Bring your tea with you, and we’ll get clothes from Holly so you can get a shower,” he ordered gruffly.

He turned and headed for the hallway, and Darcy obediently followed him, feeling like she’d hurt his feelings in some way. “Get a grip, girl,” she muttered to herself.

Logan showed her to the bedroom on the left and opened the door. “This room and Holly’s share a bathroom. You’re welcome to use the shower in the middle; towels are provided in the closet. Or you can use the guest bathroom in the hallway.”

“Thank you,” she murmured as she stood uncomfortably sipping her tea in the middle of the room.

“The pleasure is all mine. I’ll let you get some clothes from Holly while I finish in the kitchen.” He flashed her that blue ribbon smile and left, closing the door quietly behind him.

Darcy looked around as she set her glass on the nightstand by the bed and kicked off the pointy-toed witch shoes. She groaned with pleasure at the release of the pinch on her toes. She dug her toes into the plush carpet and sighed as she looked around.

The room didn’t have any personal effects, and she wondered if Holly were an only child. It was a guest bedroom decorated in soft browns and neutral tans with a few family photos on the walls and a retro-country style tin pitcher filled with a sunflower bouquet and a happy cow painted on the side. The knock on the adjoining bathroom door stopped her perusal, and she stood up as the door opened. Holly’s face peeked around the edge. It was devoid of the heavy makeup, and she looked like a young woman again.

“I have some things that should fit you,” she said with a smile. She held out the bundle of clothing in her hands.

Darcy took it and smiled back. “Thanks, I do appreciate this.”

Holly stood there as if she wanted to say something, but wasn’t sure if she should. Then she spoke tentatively. “He likes you, you know.”

Darcy stared. “He doesn’t even know me.”

Her voice gained confidence. “I know Uncle Logan pretty well…and he likes you,” she replied smugly. I just wanted to warn you in case you start liking him back. Then if you fall for him, you can’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Thanks for the advice,” she replied dryly.

Quickly, she turned the shower on and stepped into the tub, then closed the curtain as the blissfully hot water washed over her.

Her thoughts turned to Logan and his talk about natural consequences. She would never admit it out loud, but he did have a point. She judged Logan to be in his late twenties. She wondered how such a good-looking man had escaped marriage so far—probably this spanking business. She didn’t realize that men did that these days—unless they were kinky, of course.

Turning off the shower, she stepped out and dried herself off, brushing back the wet dark hair while a few damp tendrils curled around her neck and temples. Her deep blue eyes stared back from the mirror, pale and tired, with a hint of puffiness beneath them. Yuk! She looked like the poster girl for women who haven’t slept since menopause.

She suddenly wished she had someone to snuggle with, someone to hold her for a while. Someone to make her feel safe, protected—maybe even loved. Or at least pretend they did.

Convincingly.

Feeling down, she slipped into the chaste red cotton pajamas with black flowers all over them and padded to the kitchen with the empty glass. She thought about Doug and his oh-so-valiant refusal to come and get her. Yeah. No knight in shining armor there. Keeping the apartment had been an act of mistrust, and thank God for that. You would think she would know better after most of her trust in men had been burned to the ground, stomped on, and salted for good measure.

A wry grimace twisted her soft mouth as she placed the glass in the sink and turned around. She froze when she saw Logan coming through the doorway, his eyes raking her figure from head to foot. Her heart pumped faster.

A flicker of something indistinguishable flashed in his eyes as he slowly approached her. “Well, well…how different you look without all that cake make-up,” he murmured, his hand reaching out to run a finger down her cheek. “Quite beautiful in its normal appearance instead of green.”

Darcy flushed and backed away. He was too close to her personal space. “Ha, little do you know. Beauty is not one of my finer points.”

“I disagree.” His voice was low, steady as he stepped closer, closing the gap again. “I see a lovely young woman—one who shouldn’t be running herself down.”

When uncomfortable, Darcy had a bad habit of hiding behind thorny sarcasm, a trait that many people found obnoxious. Fewer still chose to tread behind the thorns.

“Men are not known for being picky,” she said tartly. “Ever hear the old song… ‘The women all get prettier at closing time?’”

She didn’t miss the tightening of his lips and the scowl etching into his face. Warning signs that any sensible woman would have noted and backed off from. Darcy wasn’t in the mood to be pragmatic; she chose to ignore those warning signs, wanting only to keep him at bay. She wasn’t prepared for the growing interest she was feeling, nor the interest he was displaying in her. It was making her say outrageous things.

“Stop it,” he ordered brusquely, folding his arms across his chest.

“Why? Does the truth hurt?” She flicked her gaze to her watch, widening her eyes theatrically. “Oh my—time’s ticking. I must be getting totally irresistible by now.”

“I said…enough.” His tone hardened, steel threading through each syllable.

If she had known him a little better, she might have been more cautious. But, given the circumstances, she plowed nervously on—attempting to keep him at arm’s length rather than admit the heat she felt sparking between them. To drown the flame that was licking along her abdomen. Because a man who looked like Logan would never want her in his future, and she’d rather shove him away now than hand him her heart and watch him crush it later.

***

Given his occupation, Logan could read the snarky young woman well enough to know she was hiding behind a bravado as sharp as delicate glass, and just as fragile. Like a stray cat spitting to mask its trembling, he could see the fear flickering beneath the defiant sparkle in her eyes.

“Your room or mine?” She laughed, her lip quirking up in a derisive grin.  “Or do you want to just get it on right here on the kitchen floor?”

Her chin lifted in a mock challenge, but her body betrayed her—shoulders tight, breath quick, pupils dilating—all mouth and no follow-through.

“You don’t listen well, do you?” His voice was calm, deliberate. When he closed his hand around her arm and marched her toward the hall, she gasped—soft and startled.

“W-where are we going? Let go of me.”

That flicker of uncertainty—the way her pupils widened—was a symptom of someone testing their limits and writing checks their courage wouldn’t be able to cash. He was right in his assessment: all mouthy bluster and no follow-through.

“I’m taking you to your room,” he replied in an even tone, his insistent pressure guiding her down the hallway. His other hand slid to her hip, steady and unyielding.

“B-but,” she stuttered. The kitten-squeak was genuine, her brain scrambling for a way to stop him without surrendering the façade.

“I-I didn’t mean it,” she protested, digging her heels in.

Her breath was coming faster now, her pulse beating hard enough for him to feel it through his grip. She tried to shake his hand off her arm and pull away.

“You should never say things you don’t mean,” he chided firmly, opening the bedroom door and guiding her inside. “Someone might take you up on them one day.”

She looked small in the soft lamplight, but her gaze was still darting for escape routes as he drew her towards the bed. His voice was firm but not unkind. “When I say enough, that means enough, Darcy. Keep that in mind in the future.”

“W-what are you going to do?” Her voice quivered as he sat down on the bed and pulled her between his knees. “Something you’ll remember next time you think mouthing off is a good idea…..grab this book here before the intro price of .99 goes away.

Thank you for checking out Trick or Trouble, and as always,