More Than Fiends by Maureen Child Page B

was a kid. I could use brainless and romantic as excuses for having sex under the pier with a guy I knew was going to be leaving town to finish college.
    Now I’m an adult. Technically. A mom, of a nearly dating-age daughter. So hey, I need to set some standards. Be a good role model.
    â€œYou’re thinking too much,” he said. “Which means you’re going to say no.”
    I frowned at him. “Just because you knew me back then doesn’t mean you know me now.”
    â€œI’d like to.”
    â€œAnd I’d like a million bucks,” I quipped and hoped to hell my voice wasn’t quavering. “Looks like both of us are doomed to disappointment.”
    He walked toward me, and just to be sure I didn’t go back on my brand-new “role model” resolution, I backed up until I hit the door behind me.
    He ran his hands up my arms, and I swear I could actually feel little flames dancing along my skin. Like I said, good with fire. He looked into my eyes, and for a second or two, I saw the boy he’d once been in the man he’d become—and, boy howdy, the combo was really appealing.
    He smoothed his thumb across my bottom lip, and it was all I could do not to nibble on it. Oh God, I was so in deep shit.
    â€œI’m not going anywhere, Cassie,” he said and tapped the end of my nose with his index finger. “We’ve got lots to talk about, and I’m looking forward to getting to know my daughter—and you—better.”
    He left right after that, and I sort of slid bonelessly into a kitchen chair. Sugar gave me a disapproving look.
    â€œHey,” I argued, “easy for you to say. You’ve been fixed.”

Chapter Five
    S o far, my birthday sucked.
    Well, semisucked. I still had a shot at the cleaning contract to Magic Nights, unless Devlin Cole called in the next couple of minutes to tell me it was all an ugly joke. My gaze slid to the phone, half expecting it to ring. When it didn’t, I grabbed a couple more kisses, because they were handy and why the hell not?
    With Logan gone and Thea at Zoe’s, no doubt complaining about the hideousness of her life, I had a good hour or more to myself. Plenty of time to figure out just what the hell I was doing to so piss off the karma gods. Or time to just grab a beer and forget about everything else.
    â€œSounds like a plan to me.” I stood up, went to the fridge and gave the handle a good yank because the stupid door always stuck. Not today. Well, not entirely.
    The door stayed shut, but the handle came off in my hand. “What the hell?”
    I looked at Sugar, but she was as confused as I was. Just what I needed. More appliance death. I tossed the stupid door handle onto the table and peeled the stupid door open with my bare hands, giving it a lot of oomph. Too much, as it turns out, since the damn door popped off and crashed to the floor, spilling out half-empty bottles of ketchup, mustard and salad dressing along with a jar of what looked like fuzzy salsa.
    Whoa.
    The light in the fridge shone out at me, and I reached in to grab a beer. Twisting off the top, I took a long drink, stared down at the door and asked nobody, “Okay, is it just me, or did things take a seriously weird-ass turn here?”
    Sugar whimpered and crawled farther under the table, just in case the stove tried to get her next. I was about a minute away from joining her.
    â€œYou are the Demon Duster, with inherent strength that will continue to increase.”
    â€œYikes!” I spun around on one heel of my boring little green pumps, felt it snap off and staggered a little while I caught my balance by grabbing the back of a kitchen chair with one hand and steadying the beer I really needed with the other. The loony tune was back. Naturally. “Are you trying to kill me?”
    Jasmine gave me a small smile and widened her nearly black eyes until they seemed to take up most of her face.
    I could