by Jane Cousins
Gratitude Darcy could live with, if he’d started mocking her, then that spiffy light grey suit of his would never have been the same. “You’re probably trying to come up with some grand, complicated plan to prove to Aunt Patricia that you are meant to be together. Some elaborate gesture. And a lengthy and heartfelt speech.”
“Um… yes?” He wasn’t sure if he was asking or agreeing but obviously some response was required.
“Wrong. Wrong. So very wrong. Look, Patricia has spent decades thinking… knowing, that because Great-Aunt Alma took a hike, that she would be alone. I’m not saying she doesn’t have… feelings-” a look of distaste rippled across Darcy’s face as she spat out the word. “… for you, but it’s not about… that. For Patricia it’s also about-”
“Trust.” Cullen got it now.
“Yes.”
“So you’re saying that all I need to do, to prove to Trix that we belong together, is just basically stick around and keep doing what I’ve been doing?”
“Yes.”
“No flowery speeches? No grand gestures?” Cullen saw Darcy flinch just a tiny bit, as if she had an itch she was fighting the urge to scratch. “What?”
“Okay, you didn’t hear it from me. But maybe just one gesture.”
“And that would be?”
Darcy turned, her plaid mini flipping up for a moment, the sun casting blue lights through her black hair as she began stalking away. “You’ll figure it out Archer, I can only do so much.”
Cullen watched her go, a little bemused. What the hell had just happened? A well known sociopath had just given him relationship advice? More bemusing, he was going to take it.
“Oh, and I know it’s Summer and all, but it is the beginning of December, Archer. You might want to start getting into the festive spirit.” Darcy waved absently before disappearing from view.
Festive spirit? Christmas? Yeah, sure, but he had more important things… damn. Decorating the Annexe. What was the deadline again? And where the hell was his copy of the Town Charter? If he recalled correctly he couldn’t just fling some tinsel around. The Charter had very rigid, very exacting decorating specifications.
Okay, so he had a lady love to win, but first he had an Annexe to decorate. There was only one question remaining. Where the hell were those bloody Christmas decorations Trix had promised to have delivered? Oh, shit, and the high tea for the God Apep. Seriously? The thought of losing Trix was playing with his head, his instincts, more than he liked.
Time he Archered up and won the woman. And in order to do that he had some Christmas decorations to track down and some doilies to order.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Patricia sat in her ergonomic chair staring blankly at the computer screen. Her phone was ringing and several call waiting lights flashing, but none of it was registering.
It had been six days since her return from Wales. Six days in which she had been actively avoiding any attempts Cullen made to contact or see her in person. Not wanting to look into those jade green eyes. Sink into their heated depths. Really, really not wanting to hear the words goodbye issued from that surprisingly sensual mouth.
Nope, she was done with Cullen. It had been a fling. Done. Over. Finito.
She’d been a little… hurt, no, surprised that he hadn’t pushed a little harder to see her. To say goodbye. But then again, he was a pragmatic, sensible man. He wouldn’t see the wisdom in expending much energy to cut ties with someone who was essentially a one night stand.
Grrr, though she was also a work colleague. And effectively his boss. He could at least hand over the keys to the Annexe. Though according to the speed of light family grapevine, he hadn’t actually left yet.
What was taking him so long? Perhaps if she drove by…? No, catching stolen glimpses of him was not going to help mend… not her heart, it wasn’t broken. It was just a little… bruised.
And it wasn’t like Cullen was her meld match or anything.
Too superior. Too take charge arrogant. Too… come on, the man had to have other flaws. Grrr, it was annoying that none could currently come to mind. Worse, she kind of liked that he was… had been, superior and take charge arrogant. Because she did so love putting him in his place when he was exhibiting those tendencies.
She wasn’t pining over him. Not all. You didn’t pine or physically ache for a casual fling. She’d been using him, that was all. She was about to turn fifty, for heaven’s sake. And she clearly had deep seated issues about it. More so than she was willing to admit or was aware of. Obviously she’d needed to feel attractive, gorgeous, vital still. And Cullen had been convenient, that was all.
As her fiftieth birthday had begun to loom large in her future she must have had a little crisis of confidence, that was all. Which was ridiculous, it was just a number and a state of mind. But perhaps sub consciously she’d begun to feel the weight of her long, long life in front of her. One that she appeared destined to live alone.
She’d missed the meld boat back in her late twenties when Great-Aunt Alma had taken her two decade long sabbatical. And the older she got, well, the pickier she’d become. Sex was all well and good but the morning after? The onerous polite chit chat. The awkward disengaging. Shooting down her partners expectations that there could ever be anything more than a brief, physical encounter.
She’d always had a type when it came to choosing her one night stands. Handsome, but not too handsome. Polite. A certain level of maturity that was reflected in their speech and world experience. They had to be able to hold up their end of the conversation at dinner at the very least. And most importantly, they had to be tall. At least her height or taller.
Cullen went against all of her criteria. He was more handsome than she was comfortable with. An yes, okay, he was well spoken and had a wealth of life experience, but he tended to blow past maturity and edge too far over into superiority. Though she did find it challenging to bring the man down a peg or two.
Polite? Yes, he could be. With her family, definitely. But more often than not he tended to try to run roughshod over her wishes. Not that she ever let him get away with that kind of malarkey without calling him out.
Which just left her one and only unbreakable must-have in her men, height. And yet Cullen had blithely pulverised that mandatory rule.
And okay, they’d spent the night together. A great night. Full of surprisingly good sex. Though why should she be surprised? Cullen was an Archer, after all. Trained to note minute details, a devotee of angles and trajectory. The fact that he could put all that training together and pleasure a woman, if she hadn’t been the recipient, she’d want to complain to someone that his powers gave Cullen an undue advantage. A woman could easily become addicted to the touch of such a talented man. Not that Patricia was in any such danger. She was far too sensible to get any fanciful ideas.
What she needed was that holiday. Away from her family. Away from the Library. Some alone time to get her head… her heart straight. She was not in love with an unattainable Archer whose loyalties belonged to a country far, far away. She wasn’t. She was a single, attractive, smart woman. And the future, her future, it didn’t have to be defined by her past.
She had already started by spreading the pain… the workload she was responsible for to her senior staff. And it had become vitally clear that she needed to begin holding the junior staff more accountable. Yes, they were daunted, but letting them coast on her coat tails wasn’t helping them to grow and mature in the fast paced lethal Library environment.
Which would give Patricia more me time… lots more me time. Since Cullen would be well and truly out of the picture. A leaden feeling blossomed in her gut. More worrisome, when Cullen was gone for good and if Patricia didn’t have piles of work to keep herself busy… no, she was not going back down that path. She would start saying yes to all the invitations she received to attend planning workshops, conferences and think tanks. More often than not they were located in wonderful locations such as New York, Italy or New
Orleans.
Yes, that was a good idea and would kill two birds, since those types of gatherings, where Librarians got together in significant numbers, were notoriously rowdy. She’d meet a man… no, men. She had no intention of being anything but single, if she couldn’t be with… no, so not going there. Cullen? Her and Cullen long term?
They’d drive each other nuts. Jockeying for the superior position. Though that was half the fun. Nope, it was nothing but irritating. And yes, they laughed together. But Cullen and her? No. No! The man was not her meld mate. He couldn’t be… because if he was… well, where in the hell was he?
“Patricia? Patricia?”
Blinking, Patricia looked over at Marta standing in her doorway. “Yes?”
“You feeling okay?”
“Of course.” Patricia watched as Marta opened her mouth to say something, winced and then opened and closed her mouth once more, nothing emerging. “Just spit it out.”
“It’s just, you’re late.”
“What?” She was never late. Ever. Her fingers hit the keyboard hard, typing fast, pulling up her calendar. She didn’t have any meetings… what? “I didn’t…”
“Maybe you delegated it?” Marta suggested. “You’ve gotten rather good at that lately.”
“You’re lodging an official complaint?”
Marta laughed. “Not at all. That might get me assigned even more work, right?”
“Very probably.”
“Well, perhaps one of the staff is stepping up, taking on responsibilities without being asked. Either way, now we are both technically late.”
Patricia got to her feet, smoothing down her purple wrap dress, and wishing there was a moment to check that her makeup was sufficiently covering the dark shadows that had formed under her eyes, thanks to several recent restless nights.
Following Marta towards the conference room she wasn’t sure if she was pleased or upset that one of her employees had decided to use some initiative. A little bit more notice would have been appreciated. Then she probably wouldn’t feel so on the back foot. Huh, if she didn’t know better this kind of strategic move had all the hallmarks of… she stepped into the conference room, her gaze zeroing in on the head of the table, her usual seat, where Cullen was sitting.
He looked exceedingly comfortable in her chair. The dark grey suit he wore with a charcoal shirt and dark silver coloured tie made his black hair look darker, and his jade eyes brighter. The man was born to sit at the head of the table. His body language commanding but at the same time relaxed.
What, in the hell, was he still doing here?
“Ladies.” He gestured to two empty seats further down the table. Amusement lifting the edges of his lips ever so slightly.
Grrr, Patricia’s shock at seeing Cullen here, in the conference room, in her chair, was superseded instantly by a flare of righteous anger. Doing her best to keep her expression one of only polite interest, she took a seat, her attention fixed upon the head of the table. Fully aware that every single one of her staff was eyeing her and Cullen, waiting for the fireworks to explode. She refused to be so damned predictable.
Cullen fought hard not to laugh. Trix might look serene, as if this was just another meeting, but she couldn’t hide the bright flecks of copper that were flashing in her gorgeous hazel eyes. She was mad. Though he wasn’t yet sure if it was because he was still here, in the Sanctuary, or because he’d had the gumption to call a staff meeting without her permission.
Either way, he was just thrilled to be in her presence. Even better, since she was seated almost at the other end of the table, he could look his fill without being obvious about it. Although, as she cleared her throat pointedly in the silence that had fallen, Cullen realised he needed to ensure he didn’t get too distracted by her presence. He did have an agenda here. Speaking of which.
“Now that our last two stragglers have joined us, we can begin. The first order of business. Although Nestor has noted that his work with the babies is still in the infancy stage, excuse the pun, and that his official report will take months to collate. He has issued an advisory to all those assigned storyteller duty at the weekly Mother and Baby group. Please avoid all stories to do with puppies, kittens, balls and rainbows. He bolded rainbows for some reason, so just use your common sense people. My advice would be to stick to anything that features some action and adventure. On a related note, Carol has the get well soon card for Allan. So if you haven’t signed it yet, see her. Anything to add Carol?”
“Oh, yes. I spoke to Nell. Allan is recovering nicely, just a few scratches and a little scare really. Though I think we should permanently remove his name from the storytelling rotation.”
“Yes. Let’s do that.” Cullen made a note.
What, in the name of the Goddess, was going on? Patricia discreetly pinched herself. Nope, this was not some weird dream. Her initial thought when Cullen opened his mouth to begin the meeting was that he intended to use the gathering to express his formal farewells.
The British were renown for being polite after all.
But first he’d rudely drawn attention to her lateness. Then he commenced chairing the staff meeting as if nothing was out of the ordinary. Running through a list of bullet points that addressed several issues, updated everyone on the status of several special projects, and requested volunteers for several new ones. It was all so ordinary and normal that Patricia found it unsettling.
Why was he still here? Here, here? In her Library? Chairing a staff meeting? He should have left by now, or at least been in the throes of packing up his house and the last of his belongings. Patricia ran through the facts and they weren’t adding up. She’d seen Cullen in action back in the UK. Witnessed his dedication and willingness to lay his life on the line in defence of the innocent.
And as he’d walked towards her, out of the gloom, moments after defeating Verona, just before she punched him, there had been a look of fierce triumph on his face. She knew too many Enforcers not to recognise that look. Archers would be no different, they would be addicted to the thrill. She’d succeeded in re-igniting his passion, she was sure of it.
Except, sitting here, looking at Cullen, in his grey suit, perfectly brushed black hair and flashing jade green eyes, she couldn’t help but think that he looked just as satisfied, just as happy, chairing the meeting as he had tangling with a coven of evil witches.
It was all so… confusing. She tamped down on a part of her that leapt to the conclusion that he was staying. Nope, don’t go there. No hopes. No wishes. What she needed to do was crush all those feelings. Cullen didn’t belong here. Except he didn’t seem to know it…. yet. Then for his sake, she would need to kick him out, just as she had originally planned.
She’d had several irons in the fire on that front, hadn’t she? Except not a single devious manoeuvre was springing to mind. Come on, think woman, don’t lose focus, stop staring at his lips, for heaven’s sake. Be strong. Be smart.
Damn it. The meeting was winding up. Cullen was asking if there was any new business. Come on think. Now he was asking for a volunteer to organise and chair the next staff meeting. Grrr, delegating another role out from underneath her, and she couldn’t even bring herself to get angry. All she could feel was confusion and panic. He couldn’t stay. She’d get too attached. She would end up saying something she would regret. And he was bound to leave… eventually. And it would destroy her.
Merciful Lady, she was in love with Cullen. Her timing couldn’t have been worse.
The meeting was finished and her staff began to leave. Dazed, Patricia rose to her feet, intending to drift out with the crowd. She needed to be alone. To think. To shore up all her internal defences. To come up with a way to kick Cullen out of the Sanctuary, back to where he belonged, before she did, or said anything, that she couldn’t take back. Bad enough she loved the man and he was leaving. There was no way she wanted him to ever guess the truth.
Patricia had almost made it to the door, but a figure moved across her
path, effectively cutting her out of the stream of people leaving. Damn it, she bit her tongue to keep from saying anything as she came face to face with Cullen. This close she could smell his aftershave, notes of leather, black pepper and lime battering her senses. Memories of their sizzling night together flashed through her head, making her feel uncomfortable and off kilter. Like she was on the edge of a cliff and she might fall forward… into his arms.
Crap, straighten those shoulders, head in the game. Your heart is already involved, you don’t want the famed Archer to know that. Grrr, she watched the last of her people leave. Alone with Cullen, the one thing she had been actively avoiding of late.
“Sorry about the ruse with the staff meeting.” Cullen’s stance was relaxed. “Only way I could think to get some one on one time with you without arousing anyone’s suspicions.”
Damn it. She didn’t want any thanks, not for her part in bringing down the coven or for their night in Wales together. She didn’t want to hear about the plans he’d made regarding his return to the UK. His future missions… dangerous missions, where he might get hurt or dead.
“But I know how important this particular special project is-”
Wait. What? Special project? He didn’t want to say goodbye? Didn’t want to have some awkward farewell conversation? “Sorry. Say that again.”
“The high tea, I’ve changed the date… you know, where Cara will meet Apep for the first time. You okay? You look a little tired.”
She knew she should have added another coat of under eye cream. Gritting her teeth, Patricia managed a small, polite smile. “I’m fine.” If he could be polite and act like they’d never had sex then so could she. “Please, go on. You said something about making some changes?”
“Yes. I contacted Apep’s people and they were very eager to speed up the timing. And given Cara’s tendency to… bring chaos into the mix, I thought it would be the best approach.”
