Page 37 of Once Upon a Curse for True Love
“Like you’re deciding whether to arrest me again or push me up against the nearest wall.”
“Can it be both?”
“Mmm, I’ve had enough of your handcuffs for one week, detective.”
“Fair,” he conceded.“But you didn’t rule it out.”
“Let’s solve the case before we negotiate bedroom dynamics.”
“Boo-hoo,” Donatello disagreed, even if she could still hear the smile in his voice.“Speaking of our next steps…”
Just like that, they shifted from flirtatious banter to professional discussion, the transition smooth for two people who’d been at each other’s throats forty-eight hours ago.The conversation flowed.Donatello confirmed a spyware had been found on Arcanet’s computer.How the killer must’ve known when to send the email.Andromeda asked to examine the code the next day.Donatello told her they had to go see Professor Blackwood first, and before she knew it, an hour had passed.
“It’s getting late,” Donatello finally said, even if he sounded reluctant to end the call.“We should get some sleep.I’m going to knock early on your door again tomorrow, Swan.”
“As long as you knock, detective,” Andromeda agreed, surprised by how reluctant she was to hang up.“What time are you picking me up?”
“Seven.”
She groaned.
“And wear something professorial.We want to blend in at the university.”
“You don’t like my ripped jeans?I could pass for a student.”
“Maybe I like them too much,” he drawled.“I need to concentrate.”
Air went down the wrong pipe, and Andromeda coughed.“I’ll dust off my tweed and spectacles,” she promised dryly.
“Goodnight, Andromeda.”Hearing her name in his gravelly voice for the first time was like having defibrillator paddles slammed against her chest shocking her to life.Until now, she’d only ever been Swan or Miss Swan.
“Goodnight, detective,” she replied, unwilling to reciprocate the first-name basis yet.
After they hung up, Andromeda sat in the empty living room, her phone still warm in her hand.
The strange loneliness that had gripped her earlier had vanished, replaced by a humming anticipation for tomorrow, when she’d be reporting for duty to Detective Tall, Teasing, andSo MuchTrouble.
Chapter Fifteen
Live Laugh Lich
DONATELLO
Donatello squinted at his phone screen as he stood in line at the coffee shop, the names of time-sand purchasers blurring before his caffeine-starved eyes.He’d been up since five reviewing everything to make sure he hadn’t missed anyone.But the list was just too long.
He scratched his nape, his hair—still stubbornly lilac—hidden underneath an SMPD baseball cap today so that his scalp wouldn’t boil under the beanie like it had yesterday.
The Witchy Brew was filled with the usual morning crowd of magical and mundane patrons.With Salem’s unique population mix, places like this maintained a delicate balancing act—serving actual potions to wizards and witches while providing bland alternatives to the humans.
As he waited in line at the register, he fired off a quick email to his deputy with instructions to cross-reference the list against all known associates of Arcanet.When his turn finally came, he asked for the largest to-go cup.If he was going to face Andromeda Swan again without making a complete fool of himself, he needed a caffeine infusion.Possibly laced with a flirtation blocker that would make him immune to that mix of dry wit and soul-melting eyes.
Minutes later, Donatello walked out with two cups—his a black dragonfire espresso and for the hacker, a swirling, opalescent unicorn latte that looked like someone had liquefied the aurora borealis, if the northern lights came in pink, and topped it with whipped cream.It was a ridiculous, beautiful beverage he was positive Andromeda would love, even if he couldn’t explain why this certainty existed in his brain.
Pulling up to her house, Donatello allowed himself a moment to prepare.Their almost-kiss from the previous night remained a persistent thought, surfacing at inconvenient moments, like during his shower that morning, or when he needed to concentrate on work.The memory of her body pressed under his, her whiskey-colored eyes wide and challenging, her lips parted—hell, he was doing it again.
He shook his head like a dog would to get rid of water on his fur, grabbed the drinks, and strode to her door, pressing the bell with his elbow.When the door swung open, the several pep talks he’d given himself on the way over flew right out of his brain.
Andromeda stood in the doorway looking like every librarian fantasy he’d never admitted to having.She wore a modest, purple-and-blue striped sweater that was simultaneously conservative and devastating to his peace of mind, paired with a knee-length pencil skirt that hugged curves he was actively trying not to think about.Her blonde hair was pulled back into a loose, messy low knot, with a few tendrils escaping to frame her face.But it was the glasses that did him in—black-rimmed and perched on her nose, giving her an intellectual air that made his mouth go dry.
