Chapter 37

I stood at the open doorway to the master bath. Leaning against the wall next to the doorway, I couldn’t see the tub. “You wanted to talk, Olive?” I called.

“I would rather talk face to face,” she said.

I couldn’t hear any movement, which either meant she was neck deep in the water, as I had been when I had to warm up, or the tub was empty and she was doing something I couldn’t hear. I could easily imagine what she was doing. I had seen enough of her in the car to know what she looked like in the tub. However, I didn’t hear her moaning. Therefore, she wasn’t likely doing anything naughty.

I closed my eyes and tried to think of a spell that would allow me to be in the room with her yet not be moved by what I saw. No, that was a bad idea. I should be moved by a beautiful woman. I just didn’t like having it used against me.

That was the real problem. I actually found her attractive. I knew what she wanted and if the situation were different, I wouldn’t turn her down.

Nevertheless, this wasn’t the place for what she wanted. We were in my family’s home, with my Mom and sister sitting out in the living room, grieving over the loss of Dad. Add to that, Lisa Hartwell sat out there with them. She wanted the same thing Olive wanted. With my girls, I did my best not to make anyone feel more or less important than anyone else did. It was difficult at times too, like this. Therefore, this little talk couldn’t devolve into sex. I was damned certain my life depended on that.

I edged past the doorway and stood next to the wall adjacent to the tub.

“What are you doing?” Olive asked. She sounded amused.

I looked up. Across from the tub and me was the counter and sinks. The wall behind the counter was covered with a long vanity mirror. I could clearly see Olive in the tub, naked and smiling.

Dammit.

I turned and faced her. Olive looked relaxed in the tub. She was submerged up to her neck in the hot water, but the water was clear. It did nothing to hide her body from me, no more than it did for me when Alyssa looked down at me two nights ago.

I sighed and moved over to the toilet at the far end of the bathroom. I closed the lid and sat on it. I could see the tub without seeing inside of it, but Olive had to move so she could see me.

Sure enough, she moved. She positioned herself so her chin sat on the edge of the tub. I could imagine her butt threatening to break through the surface of the water. It didn’t help my misgivings.

Yes, given the chance, I would look. My girls gave me chances all the time. This was different though. This woman wasn’t one of my girls. She wasn’t a family friend. For that matter, she was convinced that I had to leave town to end the firebombs. Yes, she was correct, but that was a different matter. It wasn’t as mundane an issue as she understood it. No more than our common presence in this bathroom was a mundane issue.

Magic was involved. I knew it. I just didn’t know the source of it.

“What’s the matter, Seth?” Olive asked. Back in her car, her voice varied from one moment to another, adjusting to her emotions. Here in the bathroom, her voice was succulent and sexy. Now, there was only one thing on her mind.

She moved in the water. “I feel much better. Thank you for asking.”

I looked at her. I knew what she was doing: trying to draw my attention. “You should stay in the water. Even a quick dip in icy cold water can take hours to recover from.”

She reached up and patted the edge of the tub. “Then come over here so I can see you properly.”

I sighed and stood up. She smiled and eased back into the water. I walked over and stood next to the tub.

Like the tub upstairs, the edge was narrow. Unlike the one upstairs, this tub looked big enough for two people to enjoy together. Olive wasn’t as tall as I was. She stretched out her shapely legs in the water. It was deep enough that she could almost swim in it.

Don’t ask me why, but I imagined sitting in this tub with Olive. Our slick skin sliding along the others’ and certain parts feeling much better for not being trapped by clothing.

I shook my head and eased down to gingerly sit on the edge of the tub. Somehow, I was doing this to myself as much as Olive, but what?

“How did your family take the news?” she asked gently.

I looked at her. “How do you expect any family to take that kind of news?”

“You seem to be handling it well.”

“I’ve had time to process it.”

“Only a few hours.”

I gave her a withering look. “Do you really want me back in there, bawling like a baby with them?”

She pointed back over at the doorway. “I didn’t hear them crying. I wouldn’t have interrupted if I had.”

“Then what do you want?”

She rolled under the water, getting onto her hands and knees. Only her head remained above the waterline. The change in position placed her face closer to me. She rolled her eyes up to look at me and said, “You, naked and hard as granite.”

Either the spell I had cast on myself – to encourage others to speak the truth – was working overtime or she decided to forego all subtlety. “I’m sure there are plenty of men who would enjoy the opportunity.”

She bit her lip and shook her head. “I don’t care about other men. I want you. I can’t explain it any more than I could explain God’s divine plan for us. It is what it is. I want you. I want you so bad I haven’t been able to focus for two days. I’ve had to lie to Anna and our friends, and I don’t like it. I want this ... this ... whatever it is gone. I don’t like feeling this way, no matter how good it feels. It’s sinful.”

“And you believe that by sleeping with me, you’ll become free from this infatuation?”

“This is not an infatuation,” she said, vehemently. “I do not see you as perfect or without flaws. If anything, you are the epitome of flawed. You refuse to believe in God. You mock our society and scoff at those who wish to maintain order. You give in to baser needs any time it pleases you. You sin without asking forgiveness.”

“If I am so wretched, if I am so far beneath you, then what are you doing here?” I asked.

She closed her eyes tight and gritted her teeth. “I cannot get you out of my head. You invade my dreams, and confuse my thoughts. You make me feel like ... like...”

“Like what?”

“Like a wonton whore!”

I shook my head at her. “I didn’t do this to you, no more than I started the firebombs.”

She whined. “Then how do I make it stop?”

I had to bite my tongue to keep from asking a patronizing question. It took a lot of effort. I considered her problem. For all I knew, sex with me would resolve the issue, or make it worse. Either way, we had to find common ground, because I had to know both what caused this in the first place, and how to resolve it.

“Why do you think these thoughts have been about me?” I asked, trying to change the tone of our discussion. “You believe in a higher power. Why would God make you dream about me of all the single men available at church and in town? I’m sure there’s someone with whom you would prefer over me.”

“I haven’t found one.”

“Either you haven’t dated anyone, or you have and he didn’t fit what you want in ... what? A husband?”

“A husband, yes.”

“Yet none of the men at the church seemed to fit the bill?”