“Its not just your mind that has to be open,” Malory added when Dana turned her head to stare at her. “Your heart has to be. Thats one thing I learned. You cant take that last leap otherwise. You wont be ready to risk whats on the other side.”
SHE didnt know why it bothered her, bothered her to the point of anger. Open her heart? What was that supposed to mean? Was she supposed to strip her emotions bare so anyone could come in on a whim and dance all over them?
Wasnt it enough that she was working her ass off, giving herself headaches with hours of research, note-taking, calculating, and supposition?
She cared, damn it, she thought as she slammed into her apartment. She cared about those three young women, half goddess, half mortal, and trapped for eternity inside a glass prison.
She had shed tears for them, would shed blood if necessary.
How much more open did she have to be? Tired, achy, irritable, she strode to the kitchen, popped the top on a beer, ripped open a bag of pretzels to go with it. She dropped into a chair in the living room to sip, munch, and sulk. Take the last leap?
She was going up against an ancient and powerful sorcerer. She was risking nearly every cent she had on a new business. Shed ordered shelving and tables, chairs, and books. Lets not forget the books.
Then there was the cappuccino machine, the individual teapots, the glassware, the paper products that would max out her credit card in very short order.
And she was doing it all without any projected income. If that wasnt a goddamn leap, what was?
Easy for Malory to talk about open hearts and last leaps. Shed already done her part, and was allcozied up with Flynn in connubial bliss.
Got your house and your dog and your man, Dana thought with a scowl. Congratulations all around. And, God, she was being such a bitch. She let her head fall back and stared up at the ceiling. “Face it, Dana, youre jealous. Not only did Malory come through the test with a big fat A, she earned all the goodies. And here you are, spinning your wheels, sleeping with a man whos already broken your heart once, and terrified youre going to blow it all.“
She hauled herself up at the knock on her door, and took the beer with her to answer.
Moe shoved his nose into her crotch by way of greeting, then rushed past her to claim the mangled rope hed left on the rug during his last visit.
He pranced back, ears flopping, to whack the rope hopefully against her knees.
“You didnt come by to get Moe,” Jordan commented.
“I forgot.” She shrugged, then walked back and dropped into the chair again.
Jordan closed the door behind him, tossed the manila envelope he carried on a table. He knew that look, he thought as he studied Danas face. She was sulking and working her way up to a serious mad.
“Whats going on?”
“Nothing much.” Since Moe was trying to crawl into her lap, she tugged the rope out of his teeth and tossed it to Jordan.
It had the expected and for her, gratifying, result of causing Moe to charge him like a bull charges a matador. And like a matador uses his cape, Jordan flicked the rope down and to the side: Man and dog played tug-of-war while dog growled playfully and man stared at woman.
“Long day? I was going to come by and give you a hand, but I got caught up in stuff.”
“Were managing everything.”
“An extra pair of hands couldnt hurt.”
“You want to put your hands to good use?”
“Its a thought.”
“Fine.” She pushed out of the chair, headed toward the bedroom. “Bring them along with you.”
Jordan lifted a brow at Moe. “Sorry, kiddo, youre on your own. I think Im about to play a different sort of game.”
He followed Dana into the bedroom, shut the door. He heard Moe collapse on the other side with a huge doggie sigh.
Shed already stripped off her sweatshirt and shoes and was unbuttoning her jeans. “Lose the clothes.”
“Got an itch, Stretch?”