Wilde Magic (Wilde Women Book 3)

by Suzanne Halliday

  She’d been surprised to discover he drove a sensible, despite being ridiculously expensive, Maserati sedan. Expecting a racer to haul ass around town in a Lamborghini or maybe a Ferrari only demonstrated how narrow her view was of these things. And that made her feel like crap.

  Charlie knew all too well what it was like to be judged. By looks. Especially when you had blonde hair and big boobs. Talk about a blessing and a curse! Or by her interests and lifestyle. Plenty of people judged what she did and thought her loopy—but some staid, teaching job and a play-it-safe life plan wasn’t her thing. She’d drop an invitation to the party of the year just for a chance to hang out with any of the fabulous artisans she’d met in her European adventure. In that light, her unfounded narrative around Sexy Pants and his driving career was pretty damn lame.

  Lost in her wandering thoughts, she didn’t fully register them pulling into a parking garage until he was at her door, pulling it open. She saw his hand reaching out to her as if it was happening in quarter time. There was something familiar about it. Something that reached through time and space as if this hand, this man, had been taking care of her since time began. The fanciful thought shook her up but she slid her hand into his regardless.

  Long, sturdy fingers closed around her smaller ones and pulled until she was on her feet and practically standing on top of him. He smelled of leather. Mmmm. And a hint of something aromatic and a little woody … like anise. An undertone of subtle scents slithered into her senses and wound sinuously around every nerve ending. She desperately wanted to press her nose into his neck along the collar line of the crisp white shirt and breathe him in until she was drunk on his enticing sensory aura.

  The expression on his face and tightness in his clenched jaw told her that he knew damn well what she was thinking. They were playing with fire. It wasn’t just him either. Though she tried to act her usual around Ty, there was something about the guy that drew her far from what she’d call normal, into a different place. A place of seduction and eroticism. Until a craving for peanut butter dropped her into Cal Tyler’s web, she’d never before journeyed so deeply into this unfamiliar world.

  It was exhilarating. And scary. Charlie knew without the shadow of a doubt that he could chew her up and spit her out if that was his intention. She stared spellbound into his captivating eyes and hoped he wasn’t like all the others.

  She caught a slight movement that drew her gaze to his mouth as he licked his lips and swallowed. She studied his throat, what she could see of it above his collar and wandered innocently into the realm of wicked thoughts about all the things his tie could be used for.

  “Cut it out,” he growled. Pushing her against the side of the car, Ty leaned heavily until they were pressed together. His arm around her waist felt possessive, but when a hand slid beneath her hair and up the side of her neck to cup her face, she responded with a full body shudder that made his eyes burn.

  He murmured something in Italian. Whatever he said sounded so sexy she didn’t care if he was reciting his weekly shopping list.

  “I don’t understand,” she whispered. After all the time she spent here you’d think she’d pick up more than a few simple phrases, but that hadn’t been the case. Charlie just didn’t have an ear for language.

  “Good,” he assured her. “Then you won’t be offended by all the things I said I’d like to do to you.”

  This time it was her doing the heavy swallowing. “Th-things?” she stammered. “What things?”

  His thumb glided gently back and forth across her cheek. Ty’s gaze was fixed on her mouth, which was open because she was having trouble catching air. Charlie stopped breathing altogether when the thumb traced her bottom lip. When he pressed and she opened, there was no hesitation on his part. He fed the thumb into her mouth, his eyes narrowing when she sucked it deeper.

  It was reflex. Had to be. How else could she explain her response?

  With a deep growl that echoed through the garage, he surged against her body and withdrew his hand from her face. She was startled when his fingers reached into her hair and grabbed hold. Tight. With the gentlest of tugs, he yanked her head back until she was unable to move and staring up at him.

  “I’m trying ‘tessa, but you’re making it … hard.”

  She understood the hard. It was pressing into her stomach. But the trying she didn’t understand.

  “You make it difficult to be a gentleman.”

  Ohhhhhhhhhhh. Yeah. Now she understood. But really? Why? The farthest thing from a femme fatale, Charlie was way, way, way out of her league with Ty. In fact, she’d been sure almost from the first second they met that at any moment, a supermodel was going to sweep in and yank his manly chain. What was it about inexperienced little her that fired him up? She got it but didn’t at the same time.

  Whoa. And then it hit her. Like square between the eyes. What the heck was she doing? This was supposed to be business. Acting like a foolish kid around an older and much more experienced macho man was a one-way ticket to screwing up her life.

  Abruptly jerking away, she put her hands on his chest and pushed him back until a good couple of feet separated them. He looked surprised but not put out by her sudden turnaround. Almost like he was expecting it.

  She felt like an idiot.

  “This was a very bad idea,” she told him in a rather unfriendly and stiff tone. “My fault entirely.” With a determined nod and a wave of her hand, she took responsibility for stepping over the line.

  In a flash, she turned around, opened the door, reached in and grabbed her bag. Swiftly putting her head and shoulder through the strap, she swung it across her chest and tugged on the bottom of her denim jacket.

  Getting out of there and away from the temptation Mr. Sexy Pants offered was her best option. She’d deal with the consequences later. Luckily she had a strong resume and a boatload of fantastic references. She could weather a direct hit to her professional reputation but not if she let things go further.

  Reacting instantly, she turned and headed for the street. “I’ll find a taxi,” she barked over her shoulder.

  Charlie took maybe a dozen steps before she was lifted off the ground. Next thing she knew her field of vision was crowded with the sight of Ty’s legs and the pavement beneath his feet as he marched along with her flung over his shoulder.

  “What are doing?” she squeaked with horrified confusion. “Ty. Put me down. Ty!”

  “Give it a rest ‘tessa. You aren’t going anywhere except with me into this elevator.”

  She heard and then saw a small elevator open and close. Struggling to get down she twisted around, watched him punch a button on the control pad and then calmly stand there while she flailed and squirmed.

  Next thing she knew, he swatted her bottom. Like hard. Really hard.

  “Ow,” she yelped. “What the hell’s wrong with you?”

  “Stop wiggling woman. I told you. You’re not going anywhere, and I’ll let you down when I’m good and ready. Now shut it and hold still.”

  Charlie smacked him on the back as best she could from an upside down position. Not that she had much impact through the suit jacket he wore. “Put me down Mr. Tyler. Now.”

  His response? He laughed, turned his head and kissed the top of her thigh. She felt the warmth from his lips through her tights.

  Jostling her as if she weighed nothing, he laughed some more. “I think I like this. Caveman style. A first for me.”

  She growled. “Aargh! I swear to God, if you embarrass me like this in a restaurant full of people I will find a way to make you regret it.”

  “Really?” She heard his deep hmph. And swatted him again.

  The elevator doors opened, and she steeled herself against what she just knew was some horrifyingly humiliating scene about to unfold. Wishing her dress wasn’t so short she mentally cringed fearing her ass in the black tights was on full display.

  Dumping her to the floor, she felt her booted feet slam on tile and wobbled as she st
ruggled to extricate from his He-Man hold. Swatting away a hand that tried to steady her, she grumbled and growled until he backed off. Looking around and expecting to be the object of public attention, she started and went still.

  They weren’t in a restaurant. Or even a private club. A three sixty visual scan left her breathless and confused. Standing in the center of a circular hall foyer that very much resembled a tower room, she saw the elevator on one side and two large entry doors of carved wood with an arch of glass above that drew the eyes to the impossibly high ceiling.

  “Where are we?”

  Ty was observing her with a quiet intensity. Dammit. She had a hard time hiding her feelings under that kind of scrutiny so she did the next best thing. Stood there and returned his powerful examination.

  The way her heart danced when she looked him over gave Charlie a sensual thrill. Good lord. No doubt about it, he more than earned the Sexy Pants moniker.

  She was around men in suits every day, all day long. This was Italy after all. But man oh man, the way he moved gave the suit he wore with such ease a manliness she’d not seen before. He was the space he occupied—there was no other way to put it. His energy, that vibration uniquely his, was strong. Dominant.

  He wasn’t the sort of man who exhibited extraneous movement. She liked that. Guys who fidgeted or did the whole peacock, ‘look at me’ thing made her nuts. And hot damn but did he ever have the body for a suit. Pfft. Or a friggin’ fig leaf. The guy could make anything look good.

  Tall but not overly so, he was broad shouldered and solid. Solidly lean without an ounce of body fat as far as she could tell. He had a sexy way of standing—one leg bent casually and a hand shoved in his pocket.

  Now, when it came to his thighs, well Charlie was pretty sure she could write a book about them. Sturdy and rock solid, she’d felt their strength pressed against her. She wondered if they were so big and muscular because of the driving. Reflexes and strength for all the shifting and maneuvering on the track probably explained a lot, she reasoned.

  Charlie stared at his feet for the longest time. Knowing exactly nothing about men’s shoes—an admission Rhi would roll her eyes at—she figured his were handmade, Italian leather of course. Polished and shiny. Like the leather belt at his waist. And big. The guy had big feet.

  Big feet. Hmmm. That meant something, didn’t it? Big feet, big hands, big… Charlie’s eyes lifted to his hands. Oh my. Compared to hers, his were like … gargantuan.

  The hand shoved into his pocket withdrew and held up a fancy hi-tech key fob.

  “This is my place.” He answered her question so nonchalantly that she gaped at him in reaction.

  “Your place?” She glanced around and frowned. “What about the villa?”

  He shrugged. “Window dressing.” He held the fob at the door, and she heard the lock open. “This is home.”

  She didn’t know what to say or expect when he pushed the doors open and gestured for her to enter. What she saw took her breath away.

  Stepping inside, she felt his hand caress the small of her back as she came to a quick halt.

  “Welcome to the citadel. I didn’t name it that.” He assured her. “My realtor used the term to pique my interest so …” He shrugged.

  Charlie couldn’t speak. An old world apartment home unfolded before her artist’s eyes and she was instantly drunk in love. How could she not be?

  Windows soared to the impossibly high exposed wood beam ceiling. Here and there exposed bricks accented the architecture. It was cozy and warm, not at all the luxurious penthouse of a bachelor playboy on the prowl in the Eternal City. She was enchanted.

  Dragging the satchel over her head, she dropped it onto an old, worn circular table with a carved pedestal that sat in the center of the entryway. Pulled like a magnet, she veered right and stuck her head into a room that proved to be a quaint lounge area with a small sofa, table and easy chair. She’d make this a reading nook. It’d be perfect. Two tall, narrow windows behind the chair would bring in plenty of light and the small, tucked away feel was something she felt drawn to.

  Continuing along the side of the open entryway, she caught herself tracing the tips of her fingers on the plaster wall. At the next arched doorway, she found a narrow room that was basically all windows. At night, the city lights twinkled like a thousand fireflies.

  “Solarium,” he murmured.

  The circular entryway opened into a long living space crammed with cozy furnishings and a flat screen TV. A mix of old and new furnishings gave Ty’s home an eclectic vibe that she was very much at ease with.

  But holy guacamole with a side of wowza—when her tour brought an astonished Charlie to the enormous open kitchen and gathering space, she fell head over heels. Like something she imagined or the setting for a wonderful story, it was that perfect.

  Completely modernized while retaining the old world charm and cozy rusticness of the original structure, the cooking space had beautiful marble counters, the richness of carved dark woods and fixtures mimicking aged bronze. Stools clustered around a curved island strewn with baskets of fruit.

  Off to the side was a round table and four chairs set in an oddly shaped nook next to a breathtaking stone fireplace—clearly a remnant from the past.

  Charlie was unwinding the scarf from her neck and shucking off the denim jacket as she moved silently around the room. A shallow arched niche in the wall on either side of the massive fireplace each held what she instantly identified as 18th-century Florentine terracotta pots. However, it was a vibrant Majolica urn and matching side pieces that had her hearing angels sing.

  Hurrying to get a closer look, she skipped to a quick halt, gathered her hair in a long tail she held out of the way and leaned over the breathtaking pieces. She had to touch, just had to. Reverently, Charlie ran a trembling finger over the big urn and thought about the centuries it had seen and the generations of people who’d also touched it.

  After she straightened and walked to the mantle, her artist’s heart was near to overflowing. This place was like a dream. Running her palm along the aged wood, she explored every swirl and dip in the carved end caps and sighed heavily.

  What a wonderful place to live.

  And then she remembered where she was and with whom. Turning to look for Ty she wasn’t in the least surprised to find him right on her heels, both hands jammed in his pockets, suit jacket discarded, tie loosened and collar buttons undone. Her first glimpses of his expression told her loud and clear how delighted he was by her spontaneous, unreserved reaction.

  “This is the main floor,” he told her. “There’s a terrace off the solarium that looks out over Castela Sant’Angelo.”

  Oh my God! For real? Charlie gazed longingly at the big windows and searched the night vista for the distinctive castela. How absolutely marvelous, she thought.

  Finding her voice, she asked, “Another level? Up or down?”

  He reached for her arm and turned her until the heavy wood balustrade of a down staircase came into view.

  “Common spaces up here. Kitchen, living room, dining.” One of his shoulders lifted and dropped like it was all no big deal. “Downstairs are the bedrooms. Don’t bother to keep a guest room. I never bring anyone here.” He looked her straight in the eye when he said it. “So one of the rooms is an office-slash-study-slash-man cave.”

  She chuckled at the mocking description. At least he got how funny it was.

  “There’s a master suite. I can show you if you’d like and one other room.”

  CAL WAS ENJOYING THIS WAY too much. Watching her silently take in the uniqueness of his home gave him serious pleasure. Her delicate fingers feeling their way from room to room. The way she vibrated with delight at some of the Italian ceramics and pottery he’d collected. With no idea at all what the fuck he was doing, he simply bought pieces he liked. When she had a mini-meltdown over an antique urn, he almost gave it to her as a gift. Hell, she could back a moving truck up to the door if she wanted—as long as
her eyes danced the same way they did when she bent over the elaborately decorated objects.

  Suggesting a tour of his bedroom was an innocent offer. Last year he’d acquired an antique Tudor style four-poster bed that floated his boat in a big way. The design was unique and weathered the march of time with only a few minor repairs. The damn bed was his pride and joy and he bet she’d fall in love with it, too.

  After removing the jacket and scarf, ‘tessa gave off an air of youth and vitality that translated to a heavy thrum in his ears. Her dress was a style she made look incredible. Short, gathered under her boobs and flaring out over her hips, he tried not to focus too long on her chest but fuck man—ignoring her tits was damn hard.

  “You have a beautiful home, Mr. Tyler.”

  He searched her face for a clue to her mood. Bringing her here was the right thing to do even if it sent up a bunch of warning flags. From the get go, he knew this girl wasn’t a player. Head games were not her style. Knowing that sorta set him free. He could let down his guard and be his authentic self and that meant he should ‘fess up.

  Acknowledging her compliment about his home, he bent his head in gratitude. Cal wasn’t fucking around about not bringing anyone here. She was the exception and that earned her a box seat.

  “Grazie, Contessa.”

  Her eyes told him she was gearing up to give him a dose of what-what. Bet it’ll be quite a performance, too. The way she smirked had a sweet, captivating quality that got his blood pumping. He sped up and cut in front though when he saw the opening.

  “It was,” Cal searched for a good word to use, “uncool of me not to tell you we were coming here.” Her face registered surprise. Good. He didn’t want her lumping him in with every other guy. This wasn’t a seduction.

  Okay. Maybe that’s oversimplifying. Every second he was with her reeked of seduction, but any ulterior motives around bringing her home had way more to do with how deeply she intrigued him. Getting inside her head, knowing her better. That was the deciding factor.