Eden's Spell by Heather Graham Page B

you doing? This is probably just the eye—”
    He turned around, looking down at her. “I know it’s the eye. I’ll be right back in. Take Jason and go back inside.”
    â€œWhat—?”
    â€œHurry, please. Dammit, will you do as I say?”
    He was implacable and cold and his hands came to her shoulders like talons, firmly turning her around and shoving her toward the door.
    â€œMike—” she began, trying to wrench away. And then she broke off, because at the side of the house—right next to the concrete porch—there was a pair of squirrels. Cute little fluffy brown squirrels. Mating.
    It was difficult to tell where one squirrel began and the other ended, so engrossed were they in one another. Squirrels were not usually passionate animals, but these squirrels were definitely passionate. She’d never seen creatures go at the act with such absolute abandon ever in her life.
    â€œMan, are they going at it!” Jason laughed from the doorway.
    â€œOh!” Katrina gasped. “Jason, get back in the house! Now, this minute! I mean it!”
    â€œReally, Mom, I’m almost nine! Don’t make a federal case about a bunch of squirrels!”
    Bunch of …? She turned around. Mike, hands on his hips, eyes angry, was staring at her. And beyond her, the small clearing in front of her house was full of the creatures—all blindly enjoying the nature of their sexes.
    â€œCaptain Taylor!” she thundered. “You pervert! I’ll have your—” She cut herself off just in time. “I’ll—I’ll—I will see that you’re court-martialed for this! Drawn and quartered and hung out to wash!”
    â€œJust go back inside,” he told her rigidly.
    She did, shoving Jason in before her. Then, in a high pitch of fury, she swung around and locked the bolt on the door.
    â€œMom, what are you doing?”
    â€œHe deserves to stay out there!” she snapped.
    â€œMom, come on, I’m old enough, I know that babies don’t come from storks! If you’re mad at him because of me—”
    â€œI’m mad at him because he should be shot!”
    â€œYou can’t leave him out in a storm!”
    No, she couldn’t. But she wanted to. She wanted to very badly. Why? Because the squirrels had embarrassed her?
    No, dammit! Because she’d had a dose of the same damn stuff the squirrels had received! How the hell had she acted? She’d fallen asleep, passed out. But she’d awakened with her bathing suit on the floor next to the bunk and …
    Blank. Dead end. She didn’t want to know any more. All she wanted to do was wring his neck and—
    â€œKatrina! Open the damned door!”
    â€œMom!”
    Her back was to it, and she couldn’t seem to force herself to move. She felt frozen, in time, in eternity. She had to keep him out. If he got back through the door again—”
    â€œDammit! I’m not about to while away the hours of a hurricane with a bunch of palm trees.”
    She didn’t move, but suddenly the door did. His fist slammed against it and the wood reverberated, cracking. She swallowed, miserably aware that he had the raw strength to break it down; she’d be left without a door—and with a very irate man on her hands.
    â€œStop it!” she shrilled out, and motioned for Jason to open the door.
    When he opened it, Katrina noticed that the wind was already picking up again—from the opposite direction. It was definitely only the eye that had passed them.
    Mike caught the open door before it could be swept by the wind; he closed it, bolted it, then leaned against it, staring at her as if she were a snake.
    â€œThat was stupid. Utterly stupid—and lethal!” he told her, heedless of Jason, the words bitten off and hoarse as he spoke them.
    She retaliated with the only words that came to her mind.
    â€œSquirrel murderer! Those poor creatures! Now