Trace of Magic by Diana Pharaoh Francis Page A

two squared-off turrets in the front. By the time Taylor got ahold of it, the previous owners had let it fall to pieces. She’d bought it for a song and gutted the place, restoring it to splendor, but adding in every modern convenience. After that, she’d turned the three-acre garden into her own private Eden.
    Price pulled into the long, looped driveway and stopped beside the front steps. The snow was more than a foot deep and his car chugged and died. He jerked the keys out of the ignition and flung open his door, snatching up his gun as he got out. He jammed it into his shoulder holster and yanked open the back door.
    I slid out first, tugging Taylor after me. I’d been rethinking my decision not to break the tab and run. I’d be better off looking for Josh on my own.
    “You can just stop thinking about it,” he said as we went up the steps.
    “Thinking about what?”
    “Getting away from me. I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
    “That will make peeing interesting,” I said.
    His brows rose, and then he flashed an unexpected grin. “Won’t it?”
    The smile startled me. So did the innuendo. It was like he was a real human man, not to mention it smelled a lot like flirting. The idea did things to my insides that it had no business doing.
    “I mean for you,” I explained, deciding to needle him. It was definitely not flirting. “I’ve heard it’s hard to pee when someone’s watching. If I’ve got to be there for it, I might as well check out the equipment. I hope you’re not shy. Or embarrassed. I mean—” I waggled my pinky in the air. “I’ve heard some men can be really sensitive about that.”
    “I’m not worried in the least.” His gaze ran down me and lingered at my crotch. “I admit it will be interesting to see if the carpet matches the drapes. Not to mention if the hedges are trimmed or if they grow wild. Hmmm. Wonder if there are any hedges at all?”
    I blushed. I couldn’t help it. If I could have hit him and gotten away with it, I would have. As it was, I grabbed a handful of snow from where it had drifted up onto the porch and squashed it into his neck.
    He yelped and spun around, grabbing my arm in a hard grip. “What the hell was that for?”
    “You seemed hot. I thought I’d help cool you down.”
    “How old are the two of you, anyway?” Taylor demanded as she thrust open the door. “Josh has been tortured and kidnapped. Try to remember that, would you? Take your shoes off in the mudroom. I don’t want snow all over the house. I’ll turn the fire on in the back living room. My laptop is in there. You can get started looking for Josh.”
    Josh. I pushed my hair out of my face. It was wet. Icy water trickled down my neck. I shivered as I kicked out of my boots. My socks were only slightly damp so I left them on. I pulled off my coat and hung it up. Price did the same. He motioned for me to lead the way, so I did, all too aware that he had a good view of my ass. After his comments about my pubic hair, I couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking. I mean, I’ve had men compliment me on my ass before, but all of a sudden, I was paranoid about whether it was too big or too flat or too wide—
    Shit! Who cares? This was Detective-Asshole Clay Price! He was an enforcer for the Tyet and I was pretty sure he was going to kill me or get me killed before the end of the week, if not the day. So why on this side of hell did I care what he thought of my ass?
    But I did. I’m sick. Really, really sick.
    Taylor had the gas fire crackling and had turned on her laptop.
    “Want something to eat?” she asked, and disappeared into the kitchen before either of us could answer.
    “She cooks when she’s upset,” I said.
    “I could eat,” Price said, sitting down in front of the computer. He glanced at me. “What do you do when you’re upset?”
    A whole cascade of smartass answers ran through my head, from “masturbate” to “kill people.” “Drink,” I said and went in