Jodi Redford - That Voodoo You Do

“Why don’t you throw another bag of popcorn in for me while I grab my stuff?”

“Your nose is better than Floyd’s at sniffing out food. And what’s this about your stuff ?”

“Didn’t think you’d want me traipsing around here in my skivvies or worse. Or did you?” He gave another of those lecherous eyebrow wiggles he seemed so proficient at.

“I’m beginning to empathize with Clarissa.”

His full belly laugh echoing in the entry, Logan moseyed through the doorway. She made a scratching sound on the wood paneling and he jumped, shooting a leery stare in Barney’s direction. Snickering, she crossed into the kitchen and chucked another bag of popcorn in the microwave. She rubbed her belly again. “So what do you think, Little G? Should we let him camp here for a bit? I know it’s just been you and me lately, but your daddy…well, he’s got these strange ideas about us needing protection. And you can’t beat having a werewolf for a guard. Even if he does have a raccoon phobia.”

The cycle finished on the microwave and she grabbed the popcorn, trying not to burn her fingers on the escaping steam. She heard Logan’s boots approaching on the floor planks. “Okay, if I’m being totally honest, your company won’t be entirely awful. As long as you keep your hands to yourself.”

“Baby, no way in hell that’s happening.”

Her stomach flipping, she spun. The bag plummeted from her hands, spilling popcorn everywhere. “ Griff .”

There was no more beautiful sight than the woman standing before him. Going along with Logan’s ridiculous prank of having him wait out in the car had just about killed him. He’d needed Jemma in his arms. Now . Not waiting another second, he hoofed it across the floor, the scattered popcorn crunching beneath his feet. He swept her into his arms, his mouth devouring hers. She finally broke from her spell of shock and flung her arms around his neck. He swallowed her soft sob.

The reality of Jemma was a million times sweeter than the memories that’d sustained him for the past five weeks. He rained kisses all over her face, his hands touching every part of her he could reach. She was everything he’d clung to, everything that’d kept him alive. Sane. He nuzzled the crook of her neck, drunk on her scent. It was sharper than usual, spiked with an intoxicating…

He jerked his head up and stared at her before lowering his focus to her stomach. A warm glow of joy bursting in his chest, he traced the soft curve of her belly. “You’re…pregnant?”

She gaped at him. “How did—?” Her eyes narrowed. “That dang Mrs. Pendleton.”

“No, those dang pheromones. I can smell all that loving nurture your body’s providing our little baby boy.”

“Uh, boy ?” She nibbled her bottom lip. “Looks like Barbie’s vacation home will have to become GI Joe’s super plush yet totally macho command center.”

He laughed and hugged her close before kissing the tip of her nose. “Baby, I’ve missed you more than you could possibly imagine.”

She stroked his jaw. “No, I can imagine. These past five weeks have been hell. I was beginning to lose hope that the guild would return you to me.”

“We have Logan to thank for that.” He chuckled at her look of disbelief. “I know. Pretty much my same reaction.”

“ How ?”

“Apparently he was making Domino nervous with the way he was suddenly sniffing around her daughter, Marabella. He made Domino an offer she couldn’t refuse—Marabella’s prized virginity intact in exchange for my freedom.”

“Wow. Talk about playing hardball.”

“Yep. Marabella isn’t too happy to be on the losing side of the equation. Word has it she had a hankering for some legendary werewolf lovin’.”

“Let me guess. That came straight from the wolf’s mouth.” She shook her head with a grin. “His ego truly knows no bounds. Still, I suppose I owe him everything for bringing you back to me.”

He growled. “You are not repeating that to him. Understood? I don’t want him thinking he can weasel payback from you.”

Her lips brushed his, her tongue teasing along the rim. “Mm, not a chance. There’s only room in my bed for Stan. And maybe a tool belt.”

A groan escaped him. “Baby, what am I going to do with you?”

“Love me?”

“Always.” He sealed the promise with a hungry kiss.

She pulled back, her expression devilish. “Speaking of tool belts…”

“Sorry, no can do. It’s in my locker at the store.”

“No problem.” She wagged her fingers and his clothes disappeared, leaving him wearing only his tool belt. “I’ve been practicing.”

Her mischievous giggle proved his downfall. Tipping her into his arms, he strode to the bedroom. “Baby, remember that tongue bath you were begging me for?”

Desire flushed her cheeks pink. “I think I’m going to like having a tiger in my bed.”

He kicked the bedroom door shut with a meowww that earned her laugh. Then he went about showing her firsthand just how right she was.

Seven had never been Clarissa Miles’ lucky number. For that reason alone, she stared at the return address on the snowy white envelope resting in her hand with a mounting sense of dread. Seventy-seven west Seventh Street. How fucking ironic could life get?

She got her answer five seconds later when Logan sauntered into the library. Great, another complication she couldn’t deal with right now. “I’m busy. You’ll have to come back later.”

“Don’t worry. This won’t take long.”

She tracked his approach with wary expectancy. “Logan, I mean it.”

“So do I.” His mouth slammed over hers, stealing her breath. The same electric sizzle she’d experienced in the kitchen all those nights ago returned with blazing intensity. Her nipples tightened and she clawed at the arms of her chair to keep from touching him. Because if she gave in to that longing…

She shivered, a strange bereft void spreading inside her when he ended the kiss. He licked his lips and she followed the motion of his tongue. Sweet goddess, what he did to her. She crossed her legs, struggling to regain her composure. “Don’t ever do that again.”

“Why? You want it. I want it.”

“You’re wrong.”

He leaned closer, his warm, minty breath fanning her mouth. “We’ve been sniffing at each other going on seven years now, shug. Foreplay only lasts so long before you gotta give in and scratch that itch.”

She swallowed with some difficulty before arching her eyebrows in haughty dismissal. His smile cocky, Logan pivoted and strode from the room. Her body trembling, she slumped deeper into her seat. The envelope caught her eye. Blowing out a heavy exhale, she ripped open the flap and extracted the single sheet of paper tucked inside.

Your seven years is almost up. Collection is expected in full.

Two sentences. That’s all it took to sum up the price tag on her life.

Yeah. Fucking ironic.

At the ripe age of seven, Jodi Redford penned her first epic, complete with stick figure illustrations. Sadly, her drawing skills haven’t improved much, but her love of fantasy worlds never went away. These days she writes about fairies, ghosts and other supernatural creatures, only with considerably more heat.

She has won numerous contests, including The Golden Pen and Launching a Star.

When not writing or working the day job, she enjoys gardening and way too many reality television shows.

Currently residing in Michigan with her husband and overgrown lapdog, she is a member of RWA national and Greater Detroit Romance Writers of America.