Something Spooky by Janet Woods Page B

through satisfied eyes and purring loudly, as if pleased with her predicament. Scruff and Patrick were two of a kind, but that could change. Ellie was grinning as she brought her eyes back to Patrick. ‘Actually, I have a mouse in mind at the moment.’
    ‘How long have you been a practising witch?’
    ‘Hah! What a ridiculous question.’
    A grin plastered his face. ‘Tell me, green eyes, do you need a license to pilot a broomstick or can anyone do it?’
    Just at the moment Ellie would have given anything to qualify for a pointed hat and a diploma in sorcery. She wouldn’t even mind the mandatory wart on the end of her nose.
    ‘Sometimes I hate you, Patrick Morgan.’ His hand had relaxed, but it tightened instantly when she tried to move away.
    ‘Keep still,’ he growled, flicking the book’s pages over. ‘I want to find out what else you’ve been up too.’
    ‘Please don’t.’ The conciliatory note in her voice made her squirm. ‘It was just a bit of fun.’
    ‘If you think those hives I got were fun you can think again.’
    She held her breath when he reached the page with the love potion, then let it out when he moved past it. She was safe!
    No, she wasn’t - he’d turned back to it .
    Ellie wished the ground would open and swallow her up when he smiled and shouted out, ‘Ah-hah! Anyone would think he’d discovered penicillin by the triumph in his voice. ‘I didn’t realize you were mad about me.’
    ‘ Wrong, Patrick.’ Palpitations attacked her when he turned wicked eyes her way and her voice began to wobble alarmingly. ‘Actually, I think I detest you.’
    ‘Come now, Eloise.’ He was almost purring as he pulled her on to his lap. ‘I turn you on, admit it.’
    Torture by a thousand cuts wouldn’t make her admit to that!  The predatory smile on his face and the fact they were isolated by flood water suddenly alarmed her. Even the telephone was disabled. What if he …?  Ellie swallowed and closed her mind over the word that entered her head.
    She became acutely aware that she wore nothing but a short satin slip under her robe. He was wearing even less. His robe had parted, and the soft curves of her buttocks yielded to the harder columns of his thighs. Every individual hair seemed sensitized by the filmy material of her attire, as if reminding her of his gender. Against the side of her leg another reminder of his gender. Soft and warm, one wrong move on her part would turned the sleeping giant into a marauding warrior.
    ‘Let me go, Patrick,’ she pleaded, trying to ignore the steamy sensation of his breath penetrating the fabric of her nightdress.
    How could she ignore it?  It was bathing her nipples in hot and cold. A warm sauna when he breathed out, a cool shower when he breathed in. She wished he’d stop breathing. It was deliciously tantalizing, but bad for her libido.
    ‘No way, angel.’  The sauna swept upwards, his lips coming to rest against the hollow of her throat. ‘If you give a man a love-potion you must be prepared to sample the consequences.’ A paroxysm of shivers attacked her spine as his tongue feathered the hollow. His voice dropped to a husky murmur. ‘You smell delicious. Is it some sort of aphrodisiac you’ve whipped up for my benefit?’
    She became aware that an aphrodisiac was not needed as his hand caressed a silken journey from her thigh and came to rest on her hip bone. His fingers fanned in all directions, each bent on their own distraction. Both her stomach and waist hollowed obligingly under the attack.
    God!  She gasped as one of his fingers just brushed her in the most sensitive spot. She couldn’t remember moving within his reach.
    ‘Stop!’ Her hand came down on his and missed. He was moving it towards her breast. It kept moving as hers came down over it.
    ‘I like a women who participates.’
    She wasn’t participating but she couldn’t tell him that. His mouth had cut off her power of speech. His tongue became a poisoned dart,