Page 45 of A Match Made in Coven
He pondered this new revelation, the possibility that he might be in love with Sarah Michelle, the detective who had once almost arrested him, the witch who belonged to a rival coven, the woman whose kiss had unlocked a deep, insatiable thirst within him. The notion was absurd, but inevitable.
“Love,” Lorcan mused, tasting the word on his lips as he lowered the broomstick toward the ground. “What a peculiar spell to be under.”
Chapter Twenty-six
Air-dry and Black Tie
SARAH MICHELLE
Sarah Michelle hesitated as she pulled up to the imposing iron gates of Lorcan’s mansion, the kiss of the previous night still fresh in her mind. Was it wise to return here? But she had promised. And anyway, she wasn’t here to kiss Lorcan again. They had to plan their next move to nail MacGregor. Before she could stop the car or ring the bell, the gates swung open. How? Iron wasn’t supposed to yield to magic.
She drove up the long, winding driveway. Lorcan was waiting for her, leaning against the front door, his tall frame illuminated by the warm glow of the porch light.
At least this time he had a shirt on to cover all those obscene upper body muscles, but he was also wearing those hexing, sexy glasses. And anyway, half-naked or not, the casual, soft sweater he had on clung to his muscular frame and wasn’t much less revealing, nor were the jeans. The effect was still devastating.
Sarah Michelle glanced down at her own rumpled uniform, wishing she had taken the time to go home and change. It had been a long day. Being the number one detective on Chief King’s shit list had condemned her to a day filled with the most trivial yet time-consuming cases—neighbors’ petty disputes, magical brawls, an illegal potion that gave an entire family pustules the size of apples, among other headaches.
As she stepped out of the car, Sarah Michelle discreetly sniffed her armpit and wrinkled her nose. She ducked behind the vehicle, out of Lorcan’s sight, and quickly cast her showering spell, the invigorating rush of a mini cyclone washing over her. Smoothing down her tousled hair, she took a deep breath and emerged from her hiding spot.
Sarah Michelle strode toward the mansion, her eyes locked on Lorcan’s handsome face. With each step, she steeled herself against the lure of tempting distractions—like how the corner of his mouth was curling up now. That same mouth that had brought her heaven and hell the previous night. Right, she would not think about that. Catching MacGregor should be their top priority.
But Lorcan’s smile widened as she approached, and her traitorous heart gave an extra kick at the sound of his voice. “Did you fly here instead of driving?” he teased her disheveled appearance. The mini-cyclones were great for smell control but not so much for hairstyling.
She arched an eyebrow, struggling not to smooth down her hair again. “How did your gate magically open for me?” she countered, crossing her arms. “Iron shouldn’t do that.”
He chuckled, pushing away from the doorframe. “The gate itself is iron, but the hinges aren’t. I added you to the list of people with automatic access.”
The revelation was possibly more unsettling than his good looks or the memories of the kiss—kisses. Too afraid of the answer to ask why he’d done that, Sarah Michelle climbed the last of the porch steps and stopped short, unsure how to greet him. A handshake seemed too formal, a hug too intimate, and a kiss… Out of the question.
But Lorcan had other ideas. In one swift motion, he pulled her flush against his chest and captured her lips in a smoldering kiss. Sarah Michelle’s mind went blank, her body betraying her as she melted into his embrace. All her sensible arguments on why they shouldn’t be doing this fell away, and the two of them got lost in an intoxicating rush that had their magic sparkle.
When they finally broke apart, Sarah Michelle was breathless, her heart racing. She glared at Lorcan, attempting to regain her composure. “That’s not why I’m here,” she scolded. “We can’t keep kissing while the case is open.”
“My apologies.” His tone made it clear he wasn’t sorry at all.
Sarah Michelle slipped past him into the house, making a beeline for the study. She settled into an armchair near the fireplace, ensuring Lorcan would have no choice but to sit in the twin chair across from her—at a safe distance. But no amount of space might ever be safe between them, not if he kept eating her with his eyes.
So, she concentrated on anything but his handsome face and filled him in on the strategy. “I discussed the latest developments with Malatesta, the detective who’s been assigned to Elijah’s case,” she began, wanting to steer the conversation back to the investigation. “He will work on getting a warrant to legally access the corporate documents Andromeda has already uncovered on Morning Star and MacGregor’s personal records.”
Lorcan leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “And that will be enough?”
Sarah Michelle met his gaze, shaking her head. “Malatesta will collect the financial proof we need through official channels. But we have to link MacGregor to the murder. And we agreed that the best way to nail MacGregor is to prove that the partial print on your dagger matches his.”
“How?”
She sighed. “We need an object he’s touched. Something with a clear print.”
“Can’t we just magic whatever out of his house?”
“That’s called stealing, and both police departments—magical and human—frown upon it.”
Lorcan whipped out his phone. “Let’s see what the good councilman has on his agenda, then,” he mused, his fingers tapping the screen. He scrolled a while before clicking his tongue. “Well, well, well. MacGregor will preside over the Town Hall Halloween Ball tomorrow night.”
Sarah Michelle scoffed. “That’s a fancy-ass ball. It’s impossible to get an invitation unless you’re Salem royalty.”
Lorcan grinned at her with a sheepish expression. “You have an invitation, don’t you?”
He winked at her, his smile turning downright devilish. “Be ready at seven tomorrow night. I’ll pick you up.”
