Total Rush by Deirdre Martin

please.”
    â€œYou got it.”
    He extracted another cup from the cupboard as well as the tea in question. Tea steeped and ready, he picked up both steaming mugs and started back to the bedroom, acutely aware of his nakedness. He felt like the butler in a porn film.
    Propped up in bed, Gemma smiled as Sean came through the bedroom door nude bearing two cups of tea. “You should have woken me,” she said, eyes following him as he sat down atop the covers beside her. “I could have fixed you something.”
    â€œWhat? Yogurt pie? All you’ve got is yogurt and graham crackers.”
    â€œI’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting company. We could order in; the Indian place around the corner doesn’t close until one A.M.”
    â€œIf I eat Indian food at this hour, I’ll be up all night with heartburn.” He shook his head, biting into one of the graham crackers he’d brought with him. “This’ll tide me over.”
    Gemma sipped her tea, the taste of cinnamon and cardamom making her mouth tingle. She turned to thank him; that’s when she noticed the pensive look in his eyes.
    â€œSean? Are you okay?”
    He peered at her as if he needed to make out more clearly whom he was speaking to. “Yeah. I just . . .”
    â€œWhat?”
    Sean drew a deep breath. “While the water was boiling, I looked around the apartment and found—”
    â€œMy altar,” Gemma finished for him, leaning back against the wall of pillows.
    â€œYeah.” His expression was troubled. “You don’t put dresses on cats and sacrifice them, do you?”
    â€œWhat?” Gemma broke into laughter. “No! I practice Wicca, Sean. I’m not into Voodoo or Satanism.”
    â€œWicca,” he repeated.
    â€œIt’s an earth-based, Pagan religion,” she began explaining.
    â€œI know what it is,” he cut in impatiently. “It means you’re a witch. Should I call you Sabrina or Samantha?”
    â€œNeither. I don’t wiggle my nose and turn people into bunnies. I do not own a black cat, a broomstick, or a big black hat.”
    Sean rubbed his forehead. “And your store?”
    â€œWhat about it?”
    â€œWhat do you sell?”
    â€œBooks and occult supplies.”
    Sean groaned.
    â€œWhat? What’s wrong?”
    â€œIt’s nothing. Just forget it.”
    Gemma hopped out of bed, putting on her kimono. “You’re completely weirded out, aren’t you?” she sighed, settling down next to him.
    â€œI guess.” Sean peered at her nervously. “Are you in a coven?”
    â€œNo. I like to worship on my own.” She seemed somewhat bemused. “Anything else you want to know?”
    â€œAnything else you want to tell me?”
    â€œHhmm, let me think.” Gemma rested her head on his shoulder. “Well, my best friend is a DJ and I give tarot card lessons.”
    â€œGreat,” Sean muttered.
    Gemma lifted her head slowly and looked at him. “I’m the same person I was an hour ago, Sean. Nothing’s changed.”
    â€œExcept you might turn me into a toad.”
    She elbowed him in the ribs affectionately. “Don’t be an ass.” Taking the teacup from his hand, she put it on the nightstand with her own. Then she wrapped her arms around him.
    â€œAsk me anything,” she murmured tenderly. “I’m not embarrassed or shy about anything in my life. In fact, I’m pretty proud of the life I lead.”
    Lightening up a little, Sean kissed her forehead. “At least we’ve got that in common.”
    Trying to recapture the magic he’d felt earlier in the evening, he lay down with her, plying her with questions. She told him about the Golden Bough, and how happy she was to be able to run a business that reflected her beliefs. About Frankie, and how they’d known each other since they were little girls. Finally she talked about her family, and