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His tongue slipped inside, tangling with hers, exploring. The fire appeared out of nowhere, exploding in a flash of heat that raced from her curls to her toes and back to settle in her groin. This was no light-hearted bit of fun. This was Big Trouble.
Thiskiss,combinedwithhisscent,wasblowingher mind, altering her in ways that felt like forever. It was as though her other half was clicking into place, defining who she was and all she could be.
It scared her out of her wits. What if she was falling victim to the family curse?
“Get off her, you dastardly rapscallion!” The new voice was male, elderly, angry and very determined. “I’ll have your head! Don’t worry, Mary, I’ll save you!”
Chapter Three
The Kazinskis to the Rescue
I
T TOOK MARY Aminute to figure out whose voice it was. Mr. Kazinski, one of her favorite neighbors. His voice traveled through gooey treacle from a million miles away, but she had to pay attention. This was a whole different kind of trouble, although at least it would distract her from the Big Trouble. And that’s what she wanted. Right? She didn’t want to fall in love, wham, bam, like every other female in her family for generations back.
Butnevermindthatnow.Herneighborwasgetting dangerously close.
“Mr. Kazinski,” Mary called, “please don’t — ”
“Don’t worry, Mary,” Mrs. Kazinski shouted. “My Seymour will save you.”
But Mrs. Kazinski got there first. That was a good thing. Mr. Kazinski always carried a solid oak cane with a heavy bronze handle. His wife’s only weapon was her purse. Although, come to think of it, a purse could maim too, in the right hands. Mrs. Kazinski’s were definitely the right hands when she wanted them to be.
She wound up like an Argentinian gaucho swinging his deadly bolas over his head. “You varmint! We’ll teach you to bring your nasty tricks and wicked crimes into our neighborhood!”
No! Mrs. Kazinski sometimes carried rocks in her pursewhensheexpectedtorunintoavarminttrying to bring his nasty tricks and wicked crimes into her neighborhood. That wind-up looked like this was a rock-carrying occasion.
“No, Mrs. Kazinski, no!” Mary grabbed Van, pulling him against her chest with one arm and swinging the other up to protect the poor, defenseless back of his head from the lethal purse. She deflected it, mostly. Ouch. That hurt. Never mind. It was better than the body sprawled on top of her turning into a corpse.
EspeciallybecauseshewasmoresurethiswasHer Man with every minute she breathed in his essence. Physical attraction was fine. The world didn’t go ’round without it. What she was feeling for Francis VanDeventertheFifth,however,wassomethingelse altogether.
“Mrs.Kazinski,Iknowyou’reworriedaboutme,but he’s just trying to help me. I asked him to roll on top of me.”
“You did?” Mrs. Kazinski stopped her second wind-up but kept her purse at ready. “Well, I never.”
“No, no, you don’t understand. I wanted to ask him for an interview, but my coat — ”
“You did?”
Uh-oh. That was Van’s voice, arriving at her eardrums from directly on top of her. It resonated with a tense, gathering, building quality that made Mary want to crawl into a nice, protective cave with a magic spell to keep angry business tycoons out.
Mr. Kazinski hobbled up, lungs wheezing like a faulty steam engine. “Inge? Mary? What is going on here?”
“It seems — ” Van’s voice rumbled with dangerous calm “ — the young lady wants an interview.”
Mr. Kazinski’s cane stayed at his side. Whew. The cane kept him upright. If he toppled, he’d probably crash on top of Van and Mary, and the two of them were in enough of a tangle already.
Besides, Van’s temper was building fast and furiously enough without adding a cracked head courtesy of Mr. Kazinski.
“I don’t quite see what asking for an interview has to do with ... ” Mrs. Kazinski’s voice trailed off.
“I hope I don’t either,” Van said.
“What?” Mary squawked. “Are you implying — ”
Mrs. Kazinski sniffed disapproval in Francis Van Deventer’sdirection.“Iassureyou,whoeveryouare, our Mary would never roll around in the park with you to get an interview. I’m sure she has a perfectly reasonable explanation.”
Mrs. Kazinski tucked her purse under her arm and tapped her chin with her free hand. “I’m having a little trouble at the moment guessing what that explanation would be.”
