Part 1 (1/2)

MYTHE & MAGICK.

by s.h.i.+LOH WALKER.

To my editor Pam, the Wondrous One.

To my kids Cam and Jess-my world revolves around you two. I love you both.

And to my husband Jerry. My real life fantasy... I love you.

AVALON.

Chapter One.

June 1999

If he was honest, it was that cool, icy composure that had first attracted him. She was like a rose encased in ice, and he was drawn to bring her out. And G.o.d help him if any of their co-workers had any inkling just how poetic his thoughts became when Seth thought of Erin.

Her hair fell halfway down her back in razor-straight silky tresses of pale, pale blonde, brows just slightly darker arching over pale, ice-blue eyes. Her skin was ivory and peaches and as soft as satin.

And the taste of her...

Man, the taste of her was pure s.e.x. Again, she brought peaches to mind, hot juicy, ripe peaches just plucked from the tree. She was addictive.

Erin Sinclair was every man's dream. She offered no promises, accepted none, asked for none. She didn't steal the covers at night and didn't presume that simply spending the night meant a wedding ring. In bed, she was hot and wild and everything Seth could hope for.

Yep, Erin Sinclair was every man's dream.

Every man but Seth Porter.

Because she was every bit as distant as the stars.

And he was head-over-heels in love with her. Seth wanted nothing more than to promise her the moon, and have her make the same promise back to him.

Currently, the object of his brooding thoughts sat some fifteen feet away, calmly working on a report in the midst of the chaos of the bullpen. All around, voices were raised, the voices of pleading suspects, weeping mothers, raging fathers, hara.s.sed overworked public defenders, and under it all, the voices of the detectives that worked the 53rd precinct of Avalon Police Department.

Avalon. Man, what a joke. This city was as far from perfect as it could possibly be. Oh, it had a well-to-do area where the doctors and lawyers drove their Mercedes with lily-white, smooth hands, where the lawns were manicured and green and lush.

But that area was small, isolated, an island surrounded by crime, corruption, and chaos. The rest of Avalon sat so far apart that they may as well have been in different countries, never mind the fact that they shared the same area code.

Seth Porter was from that part of Avalon, where prost.i.tutes, druggies, and derelicts ran wild. Seth was a b.a.s.t.a.r.d, plain and simple, and had no qualms about admitting it. His father, most likely Italian, had taken what he wanted from his momma while she worked as a c.o.c.ktail waitress and part-time stripper at a sleazy Avalon night spot called The Lady of Avalon. If he had promised her the world and a diamond ring and a ticket out of this h.e.l.lhole, Anita Porter had never mentioned it to Seth.

Instead she accepted the fact that she had been naive and started working double s.h.i.+fts, saving as much money as she could before she started to show and got booted out on her f.a.n.n.y.

After that, she had applied for a job at the precinct and for some odd, completely obscure reason, had landed it, and worked there to this day. She'd worked her way from the janitorial staff up to secretary, did a brief spot as dispatcher, and then worked her way into the archives. Anita ran her own little kingdom in the precinct with an iron fist and even the most hardened, jaded detective knew better than take a file from her precious room without signing it out.

And heaven help him if he kept it any longer than she felt was necessary.

Seth threw his pen down on the table and shoved the report away. Glancing at the clock, he scowled, realizing just how late it was.

Erin. He could tune out everything in the bullpen, the voices of the d.a.m.ned, the smell of unwashed bodies and tobacco and stale alcohol, the clacking of typewriters and the hum of computers and modems.

But he could not, for the life of him, block Erin Sinclair from his mind.

Erin truly was a lady of Avalon, the daughter of one of the well-respected, well-to-do members of the inner set. Mr. Eric Sinclair had run the top accounting firm in the city, and had his hand in some of the finer real estate pieces in several of the surrounding cities. He had been upright, he had been honest, and he was a decent enough person, even if he did have a bit of a stick up his a.s.s.

Mrs. Eric Sinclair had been a society lady until her death eight years earlier. Seth laughed to think of anybody ever calling that powdered, pampered and perfumed lady a housewife.

Not that she couldn't cook, he knew. Her chocolate chip cookies were reputed to make a grown man beg from a hundred yards away. If that was where Erin had learned the recipe, then Seth knew from experience, it was fact.

Erin, their only daughter, borderline genius, honor student, graduate of Yale, was one of the detectives out of vice.

Why she had chosen to become a cop was beyond his comprehension, but she was a d.a.m.n good cop, razor-sharp instincts, a good eye, and fair.

Those instincts were nothing short of miraculous. She could work a case like a terrier, gnawing and chewing at it until it all came together. It was uncanny, the way she could size a person up in barely a blink, know whether or not that person was the one she needed, or the one who would lead her to the one she needed.

And you couldn't lie to her.

Most cops developed an instinct about cons and liars and could recognize them easily enough.

She didn't recognize. She just knew, in a way that was downright eerie sometimes. That was how she had left her uniform behind so quickly, how she had become a detective after only two years on the streets.

Drumming his fingers on the desk, he continued to stare at her, a frown marring his features. Black, wavy hair tumbled over his forehead, and the scowl sat rather well on his poetically handsome face. His normally smiling mouth was compressed into a grim line, and his straight black brows pulled down over his deep, deep, brown eyes. High, chiseled cheekbones and a mouth that no plastic surgeon could ever hope to duplicate completed his face, a face that had started setting girls to dreaming before he even got to junior high.

Erin knew he was watching her. h.e.l.l, she thought with inner amus.e.m.e.nt, he had always watched her from the day she had left her uniform behind and entered the private sanctum of Avalon's small detective force. Even before that, she suspected.

Idly, as if just noticing his scrutiny, she glanced up at Seth and smiled at him as a s.h.i.+ver raced down her spine. Just looking at him-even after two years of being his lover and friend-just looking at him was enough to make her mouth water and her knees go weak.

His lids drooped slightly as one corner of his mouth lifted. Erin's heart starting racing as his eyes focused on her mouth before trailing down her neck and torso, lazily working back up again until he was once more staring into her eyes.

Something was bothering him.

Tearing her gaze away from him wasn't as easy as she made it appear and that hot, lingering glance had her insides jumping, though she kept a clear, calm mask on her face. Seth Porter had always had the ability to make her body do a slow, subtle meltdown.

He could make her laugh, make her crazy, make her needy. He had already made her love him, something she had sworn she would never do.

She knew him like no other could, even though she doubted he understood just how well she knew him. Erin knew that he wasn't happy with her, and she knew him well enough to know why.

Erin also knew, as much as it hurt, that there was nothing she could do about it.

She had no intention of getting any more involved with him. As much as she loved him, it wouldn't be fair.