quickly from her bedroom, through the living room, continuing out the patio door onto her deck. She paused momentarily to fling shorts and a T shirt in Royce’s general direction as she passed through the living room.
Royce heard Becki re-enter the living room and looked up to see clothes sail through the air toward him.
“Thank you,” he called to the rapidly retreating figure. “Chicken,” he murmured, chuckling to himself. It really was a shame he had to move on so quickly.
Outside, Becki paced from one end of her deck to the other and back again. Biting the nail on her index finger, she relived the last few minutes. Did she just make out with a perfect stranger? Perfect was right. Oh my.
“Shit, shit, shit,” she muttered rubbing her forehead. Was it too much to ask for the ground to open up and swallow her right now.
“Coffee?” Adonis asked, handing her a steaming cup with all the essentials.
Looking at the perfectly tipped swirl of whipped cream floating on the top, she asked, “How did you…”
“The creamer and whipped cream were sitting next to each other in the fridge. I just heated the coffee that was cooling in the pot,” he said as he moved to sit in one of the chairs surrounding the patio table.
Becki sipped her coffee, and wondered if she had hit the “man lottery”. He looked like a model sitting at the table, actually drinking her coffee. Uncle Kurt’s “Divers Do It Better” T-shirt had certainly never looked so fine.
She abruptly sat her coffee down on the table. “I’ll go put your clothes in the washing machine,” she mumbled.
Before she could make her escape, Royce snagged her wrist. “I already did. Now, why don’t you sit down and relax with me for a few minutes.”
He softly caressed her wrist, running his thumb over the pulse-point. Standing, Royce pulled out the chair for Becki, right next to his.
Dropping into the chair next to him, she hoped he had set the washing machine on speed cycle. This man positively oozed trouble. Then again, she thought with a smile tugging at her lips, a little trouble never hurt anyone.
“You are beautiful when you do that,” Royce murmured, staring intently at her lips.
Unsure how to respond to that, Becki blurted, “Do you have a name?” Her face immediately flamed in embarrassment.
“I do,” he said with a smile. “Royce St. John,” he introduced himself, extending his hand toward her in greeting. Lifting one sexy eyebrow he prompted, “And you are?”
“Becki Stephens,” she responded, placing her hand in his.
“Nice to meet you, Becki Stephens,” Royce said as he gently closed his fingers around hers.
“Nice to meet you, Royce St. John,” Becki said softly finding it difficult to breathe.
A slight lean forward would put him close enough to steal another kiss. His brain argued it was a really bad idea. However, his body did not seem to be in agreement. He tugged gently, pulling her toward him, lowering his head ever-so-slowly. His eyes remained firmly focused on hers.
“Uh, where are you from, and what do you do?” Becki asked in a rush, pulling away at the last moment to wrap both hands firmly around her coffee mug.
Royce picked up his own coffee before answering, “I own a home security business near Asheville.”
His stomach clinched again, protesting the lie he was forced to tell. He sat his coffee back down on the table without having taken a drink.
“Home Security” served as a cover for his team, which currently consisted of seven members, each possessing their own unique set of skills. ART (Artifact Recovery Team) had been formed by the Secret Council centuries ago, specifically to recover “artifacts” that had either been stolen, or simply gone missing. The majority of these items could be extremely dangerous in the wrong hands.
The Secret Council was just that-- a secret council-- keeping even bigger secrets. They were also the keepers of potentially harmful “artifacts”. However, with the amount of corruption and ongoing power struggles among the immortal communities, these “artifacts” were proving difficult to keep under wraps.
Royce’s team had been charged with recovering a collection of coins. The collection had been spelled by Merlin centuries ago. Each coin had been created for a specific purpose. If used improperly or by the wrong people, the world as we know it could altered. The coins had fallen into circulation upon the gruesome demise of the original thief, a rogue warlock who had originally been a trusted advisor to Merlin.