VirtualDesire by Ann Lawrence Read Free Book Online Page B

tree.
    With little of the air of a bed companion, Vad said, “This
impertinent woman tried to take my cloak. The snake man overreacted. ‘Tis oft
times seen in poorly trained warriors.”
    She wanted to kick him in his perfect shins.
    Walter froze. Oh, no , Gwen silently groaned. The
British accent had done it. Walter was a hopeless Anglophile. He’d bored her to
tears reading droll Inspector Morse lines from his favorite British
mysteries—until he’d run off with her sister, that was.
    “What’s going on here?” the detective asked.
    “Neil? Who’s watching the shop?” Gwen used her sweetest
voice. “Could the customers be stealing us blind? Should we take the shortages
out of your share of the profits?”
    He took the hint and left the apartment.
    Walter, his eyes on Vad, took the knife from Gwen. He
stroked his hand over the decorations that graced the silver cross-guard of the
long blade. “Is this Celtic?” He gave a low whistle as he examined the handle.
The handle looked as though it was made of solid turquoise wrapped with a band
of gold. “It’s beautifully done.”
    Vad graciously accepted the compliment. “‘Tis an ancient
design.”
    Gwen sighed. Once Walter got going on Celtic folklore,
they’d be here all night. He’d minored in mythology at school. It was how
they’d met each other—paired on a mythology project and then later paired in
other ways.
    One uniformed officer, behind Walter, moved forward and bent
over the knife. But Gwen was very aware of the other man, one hand resting
casually on his gun, still standing by the door. Vad, Walter, and the one
policeman discussed double-edged versus single-edged blades. She wanted to bang
their collective heads together.
    She sank onto the sofa and rolled her eyes. She patted the
place next to her and Vad joined her. He leaned back and crossed his arms on
his chest. Now he looked as if he’d spent a few hours in her bed—and shower.
Wouldn’t that fry Walter’s scrapple?
    Vad’s long, wet hair hugged his head. His robe gaped over a
smoothly muscled chest. She averted her eyes but leaned against him and clasped
his hand. She sensed tension sweeping through his body, but he entwined his
fingers with hers. A slow warmth built in the pads of her fingers and spread
throughout her palm. He wore a wide gold ring on his left hand. Its design
echoed the Celtic knotwork on his blade. She hadn’t noticed it before.
    Was he married? The feeling of his strong fingers wrapped
about hers reminded her most poignantly of how lonely her life had become. She
dropped his hand. Married men should not hold hands with lonely widows.
    Judging from the questions Walter directed at Vad, there was
little chance he’d arrest anybody. Instead, Vad received a severe lecture on
waving weapons around. Gwen came into her share of censure, too. After a hiatus
of seven years, Walter was on a roll. She tuned him out as she had when they’d
dated, nodding now and then, her mind uncomfortably occupied with the warmth of
the man whose long thigh and hip pressed against hers.
    One of the uniformed officers frequented her store. He eyed
Vad with something akin to the look she saw on rabid fans just as they donned
the headset for a virtual reality experience. When her ex-fiancé ground to a
halt, she introduced her guest to the officer.
    “This is Vad, the Tolemac warrior. He’s my boyfriend.” She
enunciated every word in case Walter had missed the more subtle hints.
    “ A Tolemac warrior,” Vad corrected.
    “You’re coming to the ball tonight, aren’t you? You’re sure
to win a prize,” the officer gushed.
    “Prize?” Vad and Walter spoke simultaneously.
    Gwen shot to her feet. Vad followed suit. “Sure, best
costume. Finest weapon,” she said as she tucked Vad’s robe more securely about
his waist. The man had no modesty. “That’s why Vad was showing me his sword.”
    “Knife,” the three men said in unison.
    She took the blade and put it on top of her