Chapter Eighteen
KING went downstairs, determined to get his meeting over with so he could get the castle finished and the witch—the sexy one invading his home, bed, and dreams—out and away from his short-circuiting libido as quickly as possible. Was it only yesterday that he’d climbed the walls, impatient for her arrival? He was a sick son of a bitch.
He found his antiques restorer and architect in the wide balcony area overlooking construction in the great hall.
“Good morning, you lucky devil, you,” Aiden said, petting the black cat nuzzling his neck.
“Be careful,” King said. “Insanity runs in that cat’s family.”
“Look at you.” Aiden shook his head. “The reliable, un-creased, ultraperfect King Paxton—all creased and wearing what? Yesterday’s clothes? And late for your own meeting.” Aiden slapped him on the back. “I’m proud of you, old boy.”
King stepped from his friend’s mocking congratulations. “I don’t need your patronizing jokes right now.”
“Hey, who better to help shove a stopper in your search for perfection than one of your oldest friends who happens to be one of the most imperfect men on God’s green earth?”
King turned his back on Aiden to greet his more serious friend. “Morgan, good to see you. I’m sure Aiden filled you in on the torrid scene he walked in on upstairs, though he should have been filling you in on the restoration project, which is why we’re here. Did you bring the plans for the altered design?”
Morgan tapped the unrolled architectural drawings on the table.
The devil cat jumped from Aiden’s arms to the plans as the seductive witch strolled in and removed it to join its siblings on the floor. “Paxton,” she said, her screwball cats hopping around her gorgeous legs like popcorn. “Introduce me to your friends.”
“This is a business meeting,” King said, eyeing the tight pink bare-midriff tee that proclaimed, I’ve Upped My Standards. Up Yours.
King fisted his hands, less at the insult than at her shorter-than-short black skirt, with those spikes, whose cross-straps tied halfway up her endless legs.
“Did you two have a lovers’ quarrel?” Aiden asked, rocking on his heels, eyeing them, and catching a cat mid-catapult.
His friend’s comment cut too close to the surface for King’s peace, yet not close enough.
“The lady’s shirt tells me somebody didn’t finish what he started.” Aiden shook his head in a pitying way. “King, old boy, couldn’t you have loosened up for once and forgotten about work?”
King wanted to clock him.
“Hi, I’m Harmony Cartwright.” The hellcat cut Aiden’s sarcasm by shaking his hand. “I can’t believe Warlock likes you. He’s very picky about his people.”
Aiden picked up the cat to look it in the eye. “Hello there, Warlock. Nice to make your acquaintance. Are you and your mistress new residents of the asylum?”
“Ramrod, here, hired me.” Harmony elbowed him, and King wanted to elbow her right back. “I’m the witch whisperer in residence,” she added.
“Ramrod,” Aiden said with a bark of laughter. “Good call.”
“Hello,” Morgan said, shaking her hand. “You can’t be a witch whisperer, because witches don’t exist, except in people’s minds.”
“And yet, Paxton’s unreal resident witch shut the hell up when I walked in, or haven’t you noticed? Ramrod here is keeping me around for the duration. And you are . . . his fraternal twin?”
Morgan stiffened. “I’m sorry. I’m Morgan Jarvis.”
“I’m sorry you’re Morgan Jarvis, too.”
Morgan recovered quickly. “I’m the architect on this job and a paranormal debunker in my spare time.”
“Withering witch balls!” The hellcat said. “Then we should get along just fine.” Harmony and Aiden laughed, and King wanted to take a header off the balcony. He needed a shower and a good night’s sleep, but first, he needed to slake his lust with the witch, if lust this powerful could be slaked.
“I sense that you’re not just business associates,” Harmony told Aiden. “You’re too free with the insults, plus you invaded his . . . suite.”
“Actually,” Aiden said. “King and I went to military school together.”
“No way. Did you get thrown out together, too?”
“Ah, no. King did that by himself. I actually graduated.”
King frowned. “By the skin of his teeth.”
“Hmm. If King got thrown out and you finished, how come he’s the straitlaced tight ass, and you’re the scraggly stud muffin? I’d think you’d be the opposite.”
“Oh, I like this one,” Aiden said, hugging her and not letting go, the bastard. “She’s a keeper.”
Harmony raised a brow his way, which made King want to pull her from Aiden’s clutches.
“Morgan, do you and Paxton hail back to college, or something? You’re old friends, too, right?”
“And she’s perceptive as well. ” Aiden slid his hand from her shoulder to her waist, and if it landed on her ass, King was going to—
“Since senior year of high school,” Morgan said. “But I’m curious about your perception, Miss Cartwright. You classified my friends as tight ass and stud muffin, but you didn’t classify me?”
“You defy classification, Mr. Jarvis. What are you hiding?”
Aiden got out of firing range to play with the catapulting kitten squad.
“I assure you, Miss Cartwright, that I—”
“Oh I believe you have a degree in architecture, and some kind of paranormal gripe, but there’s more to you than you’re willing to admit.”
Morgan adjusted his cuffs. “No classification for me, I guess. I’m disappointed.”
“No, you’re not, but if it’s any consolation, the rest of the world doesn’t think what you’re hiding is as bad as you do.”
Caramello flew into Morgan’s arms as if to prove Harmony right. “What is this?” Morgan asked. “Adopt-a-cat day?”
“You’ve got me,” Harmony said. “They’re not people cats, but they’re all over the three of you.”
“Fine with me,” Morgan said, petting Caramello.
“I do have a description for you, after all,” Harmony said. “Morgan the mystic.”
He frowned. “I can’t be a mystic. I’m a debunker.”
Harmony nodded. “You’re right. I was going for alliteration, but let me clarify. I should have said Morgan the spiritualist.”
Aiden’s head came up, but King thought their serious friend held his own, considering.
Morgan shrugged. “However confused you are, Miss Cartwright, I do feel at peace with your try.”
“Harmony has that effect on people . . . and ghosts,” King said.
“And a keen sense of their flaws, I think.” Aiden ate her up with his look, damn him.
“By the way, Harmony, we always called him Morgan the Miserable,” Aiden said.
“Works for me. Hey, I don’t suppose you two would consider trying to talk Ramrod, here, into keeping the castle?”
Morgan tapped the designs on the table. “Too late. He’s already accepted an offer, and the clock is ticking for him to finish, or he’ll lose it. That’s why we’re here.”
“Watch out, King!” Harmony shouted, throwing herself at him so they both flew and landed on his sore butt, as a ceiling beam swung in and broke through the wall where he’d been standing.
“Son of a sea witch!”
Aiden and Morgan caught the beam to steady it and keep it from swinging back like a pendulum.
Harmony got up and leaned over the railing. “Everybody okay down there?”
“Yeah,” Curt said. “The winch snapped. Everybody okay up there?”
“We’re fine,” she said.
King rose and tried to ignore his throbbing butt.
“I don’t know why,” Morgan said. “But all the accidents in this place happen around you, King.”
“They do?” Harmony asked. “That’s odd . . . or not.”
Aiden touched her arm. “Why isn’t it odd?”
“You won’t want to hear this, but my theory is that Gussie—Ramrod’s witch ancestor who’s haunting the place—doesn’t want the castle to leave the family.”
That shut his friends up. King gave her a look that he hoped shouted, “Out!” and she got the message. “It was nice meeting you both,” she said. “I’ll leave you to your meeting.” She tried to swipe his briefcase, but King caught her arm, stopped her in her tracks, and crooked his hand for her to give it back. “I need that.”
“Oh, sure,” she said, handing it over. “Well, I’m glad Aiden and Morgan both have a good sense of humor. You should consider growing one in the next two minutes.” She turned to his friends. “You need to know that Ramrod challenged me to try to take the starch out of him. Bye.” She waved. “I’m off to keep the imaginary ghost quiet.”
“Harmony,” Aiden called after her. “Care to have dinner with me sometime?”
King watched the hussy’s gaze flit from his former friend to him and back. “I’d love to,” she said. “Thank you, Aiden.” And with that, she disappeared.
King figured his heart rate had risen because of his near accident, not because Harmony agreed to date Aiden.
“Damn,” King said, “I forgot to thank her for saving my life.” He looked at Aiden. “No matter. I’ll thank her tonight . . . in bed.”