Once Upon a Valentine

by Stephanie Bond

  So much for trying to think of her as just a friend.

  Stephen glared at his reflection in the mirrored wall behind the bar. “You could have any woman you want. She’s not on the list. Remember that.”

  Stephen was tall and wasn’t fat. He ran three miles a day and saw a personal trainer twice a week. He ate healthy most of the time. He rarely drank—except on certain Valentine’s Days. The women he’d been with in the past hadn’t had any complaints about dating one of Toronto’s most eligible bachelors. Only that one ex-girlfriend had, to his knowledge, ever cheated on him. Publicly, shamelessly and often. So what if Stephen hadn’t been “exciting” enough for her? When one’s idea of exciting was group sex and jumping out of airplanes naked, he’d have to take a pass.

  He owned his own business, now in its seventh year, and it was moderately successful, thank you very much. It would be better soon, at least once Jorgensen committed to the new contract. That was bankable talent right there.

  Speaking of bankable talent, Stephen eyed his vibrating cell phone to see that Jorgensen himself was calling. He took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and then answered the call.

  “Fox, here,” he said, plugging his other ear so he could hear properly in the noisy bar.

  “Fox, I’m not happy.”

  This wasn’t particularly a surprise.

  “I’m sorry to hear that. How was your flight?”

  “Bumpy.”

  “Your hotel?”

  “Adequate, at best. My view is blocked by that stupid tower.”

  “The CN Tower? It’s a city landmark, not to mention a world wonder.”

  The famous author made an annoyed sound. “I can’t stay here. I want to leave.”

  Stephen’s grip on the phone increased. “No, no, no. Don’t go. We want you here. We have a meeting tomorrow morning. You know, the one I flew you in for?”

  “I want to meet tonight,” the man said bluntly. “In my hotel suite. We’ll settle everything so that I don’t have to stay here any longer than necessary. I can’t stand this town. Why aren’t you in Manhattan?”

  “I love Toronto,” Stephen said, refusing to rise to any snobby author’s bait.

  “It’s freezing cold here.”

  “It’s freezing cold in Manhattan in February, too. It’s not that far away.” Stephen swallowed his annoyance along with another gulp of beer. He couldn’t argue with Jorgensen, not now. The difficult author’s backlist represented three-quarters of Red Fox’s revenue. His new books could mean a true future for his business and a long-overdue opportunity for growth.

  He had to keep reminding himself of that as he bit his tongue nearly to the point of drawing blood so he wouldn’t say something he’d regret later.

  “Are you coming or not?” Jorgensen said with annoyance.

  “Yes, fine. I’m coming.”

  “Make sure to bring the redhead with you.”

  “You mean Ginger? Your editor?”

  “That’s the one. Half an hour, Fox. Don’t be late.”

  The phone went dead and Stephen glared at it. “Yeah, Happy Valentine’s Day to you, too, asshole.”

  It took him a little longer than he’d have liked to compose himself. Then he pulled out his phone to call Ginger and tell her they needed to be at the beck and call of the author of the Blue Monster Mysteries. Immediately.

  He thumbed through his address book and hit the call button, then held his phone to his ear.

  “Uh-huh?” she answered.

  A smile tugged at his lips. “When are you ever going to answer with ‘hello’?”

  “Probably never.”

  “Are you home yet?” he asked.

  “No, I’m randomly wandering the streets on my way there.”

  He heard something on her end of the line then. “Was that a whistle?”

  She cleared her throat. “Yeah.”

  “Some guy just whistled at you?”

  “I’m getting some…attention.”

  “You must look totally hot tonight.” He grinned. “What are you wearing?”

  “Don’t be a smart-ass. I mean, I think I look good, but…this is…different. Remember that cookie I told you about?”

  “The magic cookie.”

  “Right. Well, you can mock me if you want to, but I think it’s real. It’s making every guy I come across extremely interested in me. I’m trying to ignore it.”

  Good, he thought. The idea that men were hitting on Ginger didn’t sit well with him at all. “I need you.”

  “Pardon me?”

  He crossed his legs, ignoring his erection that had only become harder to ignore since he’d started talking to her. “I need to get together. Jorgensen’s requested our meeting be moved up to tonight. And he wants to see you, too.”

  She sighed with frustration. It was a sound he was used to hearing from her when it came to the author. But tonight, the breathy sound shot right through him and made him even more painfully aroused.

  Damn it. He didn’t need this complication. He’d wanted to ignore his attraction to her, hoping it would lessen with time. But if anything, it had only increased with each day that passed.

  He wasn’t surprised that other men would want her—with or without any so-called magic in the mix. She was gorgeous: a beautiful face, with a cute little freckle just under her left eye that he found incredibly distracting during meetings; a gorgeous body that filled out blouses much too well, which was even more of a distraction; a generous and funny personality that always lightened his heart even on rough days when the numbers weren’t looking good.

  Damn. He wanted her.

  But he didn’t want to scare her off. She couldn’t ever know how he really felt.

  “How much have you had to drink?” she asked.

  He eyed his car keys before shoving them back in his pocket. After four and a half beers downed in less than an hour, getting behind the wheel probably wasn’t a good idea. “Too much to drive.”

  “Fine. I know you’re not too far from where I am. Meet me at the corner of Adelaide and John. We’ll take the subway to get to Jorgensen.”

  “You’re really okay with the meeting tonight? It’s kind of inconvenient.”

  “I know how much it means to Red Fox…and to you. We’ll get this jerk to sign the papers, Stephen. Promise.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “We’re a team, Stephen. Together we can accomplish anything.”

  He ended the call and looked at the screen. He had a picture of her to go with her phone number. He stared into her green eyes for just a moment before he tucked the phone into his pocket.

  It looked as though he’d be spending Valentine’s Day with Ginger after all. It would be easier to keep other men away from her if he was at her side.

  Trying to remind himself that she was just a friend was getting more difficult when his body reacted to the very sound of her voice, the image of her both on his phone and in his head. He couldn’t shake this feeling that there was magic in the air tonight when it came to Ginger Redman.

  He decided to blame the beer.

  GINGER HAD QUICKLY GROWN weary of the sound of men whistling at her. Now it just made the hair at the back of her neck stand up.

  “She’s so hot,” a man said to his friend as she passed. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

  “None of your business,” she muttered.

  “Oh, c’mon. No reason to be mean.”

  “Whatever you’re feeling isn’t real,” she informed him. “It’s because of a magic cookie.”

  That earned her a confused look. “A magic cookie?”

  Exactly.

  Another whistle from behind her made her shoulders tense and she cast a look backward, just before slamming hard into a tall, firm body. It stopped her cold and knocked the breath out of her.

  “Ouch.” Stephen rubbed his shoulder before grabbing her arm. “Distracted much?”

  She cringed, but she immediately relaxed at the sight of
him. “You could say that.”

  His gaze swept over her. “I can see why men are falling all over you. That dress…” He inhaled sharply before his eyes snapped to hers. “It’s…well, it’s…”

  “Expensive. Tight. And short.” She grinned at him before looking down at the little black dress she’d recently purchased under her open coat. It hugged her body like a second skin while managing not to look trashy. “Worth every penny.”

  “And then some.” He grabbed her hand. “Let’s head for the subway.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Ginger’s gaze moved over his body. He wore a white dress shirt from earlier at the office under his black leather coat, but he’d changed into dark blue jeans. Casual, for him. It looked good. Very good.

  And his hand in hers—he didn’t normally touch her. She hadn’t even realized that before this moment. His skin was warm against hers in the cold night. It made her breath catch and she wasn’t entirely sure why.

  That wasn’t true. She knew why. Seeing Brad earlier had only cemented it for her. She wasn’t interested in him, she never had been. She was interested in Stephen.

  And now she had resigned herself to spend Valentine’s Day night with a man who just wanted to be friends.

  They weeded through the people waiting for the next subway to come along. “See what I mean? The men down here—they’re all checking me out.”

  “I noticed.”

  She bit her bottom lip hard. “I wished on that cookie and my wish came true.”

  “Cookies don’t grant wishes, Ginger.”

  “This one did. I know it sounds crazy, but this all started happening—and you have to admit, this is not normal—after I made the wish and ate the cookie.”

  “Then maybe you should have been more careful about what you wished for.”

  She mock-glared at him. “Sure. Now you tell me.”

  “What’s the problem, anyway? I’d have thought you’d be thrilled with the attention.”

  “Thrilled, huh?”

  He nodded. “Women like attention from men.”

  “Nice. That’s not sexist at all.”

  “It’s the truth.”

  She shrugged. “It’s just not natural. I guess I’ll have to be patient and wait for the real thing. No magical shortcuts need apply.” She looked up into his eyes. They were blue like the ocean. Sometimes clear, sometimes stormy. Right now they were stormy.

  He raked a hand through his light brown hair that was a couple weeks overdue for a cut. His hand was tight on hers as the subway arrived, the doors opened, and they got on. The doors whooshed shut behind them.

  “By the way,” she said, “I thought I should remind you that Jorgensen is incredibly impossible and demanding. When he snaps his fingers, he expects to get whatever he wants. But if you give in, he’ll keep doing it. I don’t care who he is, you can’t let him boss you around.”

  “I don’t like it much, either, trust me.”

  Stephen was strong, confident and a fantastic businessman. But when it came to this author, all bets were off. She knew how much his books meant to Red Fox Publishing, but in a twisted way, she’d love to see Stephen tell the obnoxious man off one day.

  “You really need to stand up to him.” She frowned. “Hey, are you all right?”

  There was a thin sheen of perspiration on his forehead as he stared out of the subway window as it started to move. There weren’t too many other people in this car, but they remained standing anyway. She held tightly to the metal pole to keep steady as the station whizzed past them.

  When he didn’t answer other than increasing his grip on her hand, she grew concerned.

  “Stephen,” she prompted again. “What’s wrong? You look a little…sick.”

  “Sick.” He laughed quietly and raked his hair again. “Yeah, something like that. So this gingerbread cookie you ate—”

  “Which was delicious, by the way. You really need to check out that café some time.”

  “I’m on it. But do you honestly think that it granted your wish to have men want you?”

  She looked out of the window, reflecting on what happened. “The proof’s in the eyes of every man I’ve passed since I left that café. It’s like a tiny Cupid just shot them in the chest. I know it’s hard to believe, but if I wanted to, I think I could have had any one of them.”

  “It’s not that hard to believe.”

  There was something in his voice that made her gaze snap to him. “Stephen, what are you—?”

  But she couldn’t finish her sentence. The next second, he took her by her upper arms, pulled her against him and crushed his mouth against hers. She gasped with surprise against his lips.

  Desire shot through her as she kissed him back. Hard.

  What was this? He wasn’t acting like himself at all. Stephen didn’t grab her and kiss her. He…he kept his distance. He was friendly, but controlled and professional. He was…

  Damn, he could kiss. Like, really kiss. Passionate, knee weakening, achingly hot. Forget desire…lust slammed into her, through her, deeper than she’d ever experienced before.

  The cookie. It was a fleeting thought from a distance, but it quickly approached so she could see it closer.

  The cookie’s magic… Stephen had been affected by it, too. And because of that, he now wanted her. All because of a damn spell.

  Not because he really did want her. Not like she wanted him—had wanted him for so long now…

  She remembered the first time they ever met, a year ago at Jack and Lucy’s when he’d been depressed over an ex-girlfriend who’d treated him badly, an ex-girlfriend that Ginger would now like to throttle for treating him badly. Stephen had gotten really, really drunk.

  He’d been so appalled and embarrassed about his behavior—not like any other guy who would have laughed it off and not given it another thought—that she’d been utterly and completely charmed by him. She hadn’t planned to hold it against him. Everybody had off nights and did things they regretted. Stephen, she’d later find, didn’t have too many of those off nights.

  His reaction had meant something to her. And that something had grown over the months to something much deeper than friendship.

  Damn it, she thought. Why do I have to pick the ones I can’t have? Why couldn’t I have been interested in Brad like this?

  Finally, Stephen broke off from her, pressing his hand against his mouth and giving her a look similar to the one he’d worn the morning he’d learned that the woman he’d acted like a drunken fool in front of would now be working very closely with him. Every day.

  Shameful. Bashful. Shocked as hell.

  It was like a lightning bolt right to her heart.

  “Well,” she said shakily. “That was unexpected.”

  “I don’t know why I—” His gaze raked down the front of her, bringing heat to her skin wherever he looked. “I love you, Ginger. So much. You have no idea. You never have.” He clamped a hand over his mouth for a moment. “Oh, hell. Why am I saying that out loud?”

  She’d stopped breathing. Love. It was something he once told her he didn’t believe in. It was only more proof that this wasn’t real.

  Stephen Fox didn’t believe in love. And she hadn’t believed in magic.

  One of them was definitely proven wrong tonight. Too bad it was her.

  He looked so mortified by the words coming out of his mouth that she couldn’t help but laugh nervously.

  “Don’t worry, it’s just the spell. I trust you. Just…pull yourself together. It’ll wear off soon, by the stroke of midnight, the woman in the café told me.” At least, she hoped it would. This was proving to be more difficult than she thought it would be. Random men showing interest in her was one thing…but Stephen?

  Her knees weakened at the thought of the kiss they’d just shared. The man in the café had also taken her by surprise with a kiss, but that one hadn’t been nearly as mind-blowing as this one.

  Damn it. This was getting complicated.
>
  “We need to talk to Jorgensen now.” She forced herself to sound calm. “A lot rides on this meeting, right?”

  “Right.” He gripped the metal pole until his knuckles went white. “This is ridiculous. What is going on? Why am I feeling this way?”

  “Magic. A magic cookie. Maybe that woman was a witch.”

  His frown was so deep it looked painful. “Witches don’t exist. Neither does magic.”

  “You just told me you loved me,” she reminded him. “What is that? Real or magic?”

  He just stared at her. “I…did I really say that?”

  “You did. And since I know you don’t believe in love, that’s impossible.” She exhaled slowly, trying her best to stay in control of this situation. She looked up into his blue eyes. “But you want me right now, right?”

  His eyes burned into hers. “Oh, yes.”

  She shivered. The need for him to touch her again pooled low in her body. “It’s just a spell. It’ll pass.” Her confident expression wavered. “At least, that’s what she said. I mean, the gingerbread cookie wasn’t that big. Just…breathe. It’s going to be okay.”

  For the next few minutes, he appeared to be waging an inner battle with himself. Finally, his expression began to look less tense.

  “I’m better now,” he said with a firm nod. “Totally in control of myself.”

  “Good.” She tried not to sound too halfhearted. And she also tried not to touch him. That might make things worse—for both of them.

  Unfortunately, right now she really wanted to touch him. That look in his eyes, that heat. It had slid right into her and it hadn’t gone anywhere yet.

  The cookie’s magic, if that is what could be blamed for all of this, didn’t seem to work both ways—at least, not before, anyway. She hadn’t been interested in any of the men she’d come across tonight. But with Stephen, it was different.

  The difference was obvious. She already wanted Stephen. Seeing that need reflected in his eyes, even if it was only because of the spell, meant she couldn’t repress her own feelings as well as she normally did.

  Her body couldn’t resist, anyway. The need she felt for him twisted inside her, making her remember his lips and the taste of his tongue against hers as he possessed her mouth. She ached for the feel of his hand sliding down between her legs. Just the thought made her instantly wet.