Face the Fire Page 0,2

a grin, there was little more arousing than Mia Devlin in full temper. It would be . . . entertaining to strike swords with her again. Just as it would be satisfying to soothe that temper away.

He crossed the street and opened the door to Cafe Book.

Lulu was behind the counter. He'd have recognized her anywhere. The tiny woman with a gnome's face almost swallowed up by silver-framed glasses had, essentially, raised Mia. The Devlins had been more interested in each other and traveling than in their daughter, and Lulu, the former flower child, had been hired to tend her.

Because Lulu was ringing up a customer's purchases, he had a moment to look around the store. The ceiling was pricked with lights for a starry effect and made the prospect of browsing through the books a festive one. A cozy seating area was arranged in front of a fireplace with a hearth, scrubbed and polished, used as a haven for more spring flowers. The scent of them sweetened the air, as did the pipes and flutes playing softly on the speaker system.

Glossy blue shelves held books - an impressive array, he reflected as he wandered through, and as eclectic as he would have expected of the proprietor. No one would ever accuse Mia of having a one-track mind.

His lips quirked as he saw that other shelves held ritual candles, Tarot cards, runes, statues of faeries, wizards, dragons. An attractive arrangement of another of Mia's interests, he thought. He'd have expected nothing else there, either.

He plucked a tumbling stone of rose quartz from a bowl, rubbed it between his fingers for luck. Though he knew better. Before he could replace it, he felt a blast of frigid air. Smiling easily, he turned to face Lulu.

"Always knew you'd come back. Bad pennies always turn up."

This was his first barrier, the dragon at the gate. "Hello, Lu."

"Don't you hello-Lu me, Sam Logan." She sniffed, skimmed her gaze over him. Sniffed a second time.

"You buying that or do I call the sheriff and have you hauled in for shoplifting?"

He laid the stone back in the bowl. "How is Zack?"

"Ask him yourself, I don't have time to waste on you." Though he had her by a foot in height, she stepped forward, jabbed her finger at him, and made him feel twelve years old again. "What the hell do you want?"

"To see home. To see Mia."

"Why don't you do everybody a favor and go back to where you've been gallivanting these past years?New York City ,Paris , and oo-la-la. We've all done fine without you taking up space on the Sisters."

"Apparently." He gave the store another casual look. He wasn't offended. A dragon, in his mind, was meant to be devoted to its princess. In his memory, Lulu had always been up to the job. "Nice place. I hear the cafe's particularly good. And that Zack's new wife runs it."

"Your hearing's just fine. So listen up. Go on and get."

Not offended, no, but his eyes turned edgy, the green in them deepening. "I came to see Mia."

"She's busy. I'll tell her you stopped by."

"No, you won't," he said quietly. "But she'll know in any case."

Even as he spoke, he heard the sound of heels on wood. It could have been a dozen women, descending the curving steps in high heels. But he knew. As his heart stumbled in his chest, he stepped around the bookshelves and saw her just as she made the last turn.

And the look, that one look at her, sliced him into a thousand pieces. The princess, he thought, had become the queen.

She'd always been the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen. The transition from girl to woman had only added polished layers to that beauty. Her hair was as he remembered it, a long tumble of flaming curls around a face of rose and cream. That skin, he remembered, was as soft as dew. Her nose was small and straight, her mouth wide and full. And he remembered, perfectly remembered, the texture and flavor. Her eyes were smoke-gray, almond-shaped, and watched him now with a studied coolness. She smiled, and that, too, was cool, as she walked toward him.

Her dress, a dull gold, clung to her curves, showed off long, long legs. The heels she wore were the same tone and made her look like something glowing with heat. But he felt no warmth from her as she arched a brow and looked at him in turn.

"Well, it's Sam Logan, isn't