Sensual Spell
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Total-e-bound
www.total-e-bound.com
Copyright ©2008 by Rachel Carrington
First published in 2008, 2008
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NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.
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A Total-e-bound Publication
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www.total-e-bound.com
Sensual Spell
ISBN # 978-1-906328-11-5
©Copyright Rachel Carrington 2008
Cover Art by Lyn Taylor ©Copyright January 2008
Edited by Claire Siemaszkiewicz
Total-e-bound books
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author's imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-e-bound eBooks.
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The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.
Published in 2008 by Total-e-bound eBooks 1 The Corner, Faldingworth Road, Spridlington, Market Rasen, Lincolnshire, LN8 2DE, UK.
Warning: This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has been rated Total-e-sizzling.
SENSUAL SPELL
Rachel Carrington
CONTENTS
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
About the Author
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Chapter One
Noelle woke next to a cold body, and with the twenty tiny tin soldiers pounding in her head, she figured this wasn't going to be the greatest Monday she'd ever had, if it was indeed Monday.
Scrambling from the bed, she wrapped the sheet around her toga-style and stared at what she could only assume was a corpse laying atop the fawn-coloured sheets. She didn't recognise the linens any more than she did the man. His face was almost purple, his lips blue, and the shock of white hair atop his head gave him a ghastly appearance, like one of those circus people Noelle had never particularly cared for.
She edged forward, with her lower lip pulled into her mouth. With one outstretched finger, she poked the man's chest. He didn't move. Yep, definitely dead. She'd taken a few classes about anatomy, and the lack of exhalation clued her in. Well, that, his colour, and the coldness of his body.
Shivering, she backed as far away from the bed as possible, her wild-eyed gaze sweeping toward the window. Where was she, and how in the hell had she gotten into this stranger's bed?
Trying to recall what had happened yesterday, she ticked off the memories on her fingers. “Okay, I met with the aunts for breakfast; almost missed my ancient reversal spells class because I had to help pull Aunt Emmie from the bushes.” One of her most beloved relatives, Emmie, was particularly fond of alcohol, but couldn't handle it worth a damn. Noelle smiled fondly before shaking herself back to the present.
"Oh, yes, and then I went to the cleansing room because I was starting to develop a headache. Although why I can't just whisk it away like the aunts do, I'll never know.” Noelle drew in a deep sigh. “And that's it. Nothing else. So what in the hell happened between the cleansing room and here?” When nerves kicked in, she talked to herself. Sometimes, she could have full conversations.
"I'm going to go wake him up. He needs to get his ass out of bed,” came a deep, extremely irritated voice. “Breakfast was his idea, and now he decides to sleep in. Look, you go on to the restaurant, and if I can drag Ed's ass out of bed, we'll meet you there. If not, I hope he's got something to eat in this damned house. I'll call you later, Aunt Rita."
Noelle barely had time to make sure all her body parts were covered before the bedroom door slammed open against the wall and a male Adonis stormed across the champagne-coloured carpet.
The Greek god came to an abrupt halt, his face going ashen as he stared at the prone man. “Uncle Ed?” He took another step. “Uncle Ed?"
"He's dead,” Noelle offered in a timid voice. She suddenly found herself under direct scrutiny from a pair of eyes the colour of polished onyx. It didn't take her long to realise she probably shouldn't have spoken, or better yet, she should have just whooshed away, but at this point, she wasn't feeling rather sure of her abilities. Whooshing might not be such a good idea.
"Who the hell are you?” the man questioned in an imperious tone of voice, which set Noelle's teeth on edge. If the truth were known, Noelle had a problem with authority, and given that this man was in no position of authority over her, she was even more annoyed.
Her shoulders squared, and her chin jutted forward. “My name is Noelle Bridges."
The god stood there, folding his arms across his massive chest. An impressive chest, if Noelle did say so herself. She particularly liked the way his T-shirt stretched across his muscles while the seams wept in dismay.
"Is that supposed to mean something to me? What in the hell are you doing in my uncle's bedroom?"
He tapped one foot against the carpet, and Noelle noticed he favoured expensive athletic shoes, the kind she'd have to save for a year to buy. If she really wanted a pair, she could have conjured them, but she wasn't a typical witch. She liked to earn what she owned, unlike her cousin, who just happened to like the ability to acquire goods with the snap of her fingers.
"Hello?” The deep voice carried more than a hint of impatience now.
Noelle brought herself up to her full five-foot-four-inch height and glared up at his chin. “That's none of your business.” It was the only response she could come up with on such short notice, especially given that she didn't know how or what she was doing at the present moment. Odds were good it really was his business, and she doubted he was going to let her just sail out of the room without an explanation.
So she'd better start thinking of a damned good one.
The eyes narrowed, and Noelle sensed that wasn't a good thing. “My uncle is sixty-eight years old."
Noelle didn't think he'd appreciate her correcting his tenses, but the fact remained that poor Uncle Ed had expired and a fluffy white comforter was all that separated her birthday suit from Ed's nephew's blazing gaze.
What Uncle Ed's age had to do with anything, she wasn't sure, but apparently, the nephew thought it was important. And from the set of his jaw, his displeasure had taken a turn for the worse.
She began to back towards the door, sweeping a nervous glance around at the floor in a desperate bid to find her clothes. “Well, I'm sorry for your loss. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be on my way."
He moved like a rattler, snagging hold of her arm and yanking her up next to his chest. That close, she could better see the dimple in his chin and the rakish tilt of his eyebrows. God, the man was gorgeous. And angry. She couldn't forget angry. “You're not going anywhere. Not until you tell me what you're doing here with my uncle and why he's now dead!"
"That's it? That's all you have to say?"
She shifted nervously. “I don't know what else to say."
Both eyebrows shot up to tangle with the tousled black locks sweeping his forehead. “Really?” He tugged at the edge of her makeshift toga. “So if I pulled this down, you wouldn't be naked then?"
Noelle gurgled her dismay and cursed her own luck, or lack thereof. “I ... I would hope you wouldn't be so crude as to pull it down.” She held the top knot with both hands, just to be on the safe side. Don't make me turn you into a snake. You're too attractive to be a reptile. “Now, if you will kindly excuse me, I have to leave. I need to find my way home.” She noticed his fingers didn't relent. “Look, Mister...” Not knowing his name, she paused.
"Sanders. Jacob Sanders, but then, you probably knew that already, didn't you?"
Her lips pursed, and her mind drew a blank. Of course, Jacob Sanders would have no way of knowing that she didn't really know too many people outside of Betony. “No. I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I don't know you."
"Right. And you didn't know my uncle just happens to be worth over one hundred million dollars?"
Oh, the fates above! This was going from bad to worse. Now she was a gold-digging slut. “I can assure you, I didn't know your uncle's monetary worth, nor do I care. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."
"So you just make a habit out of picking up old men and sharing their beds with them?"
Noelle's nose wrinkled, and she shot a glance towards poor old Uncle Ed. She didn't think they'd done that ... had they? She shuddered at the thought. “I didn't share your uncle's bed, at least not in the manner in which you are insinuating.” At least, she hoped not.
"Did you or didn't you sleep here last night?” The man was relentless.
It was hard to remain dignified when she had no idea how she'd gotten into Ed's bed or if she had, indeed, spent the night. The mere thought horrified her. “Look, I can explain all of this.” She stopped talking immediately. Well, no, actually, she couldn't ... unless ... yes, that was it!
Ella! Her beautiful, witty, charming, and pain-in-the-ass cousin, who was probably, at this very moment, having a hellacious chuckle at Noelle's expense. Damn her! What was it with Ella and her practical jokes anyway?
No doubt, Ella figured Noelle couldn't find a way out of this predicament on her own. Well, she would just have to prove her cousin wrong. She could do this. She hoped.
"Well?” Jacob barked. “I'm listening."
God, she loved the sound of his voice. Better not to point that out to him, though. Noelle wanted to clamp her hands on her hips, but the way Jacob kept eyeing the sheet, she didn't dare risk it. “I was ... well, someone drugged me."
Jacob glared at her. “And you know this how?"
"Because I didn't come here with your uncle, and I don't remember, well, doing anything with him."
His eyes slitted like a cat's. “Stay put.” As he marched towards the door, Noelle realised she was free. Still naked, but free, at least.
"Where are you going?"
His hand twisted the doorknob. “To call the police.” He shot one more glance over his shoulder. “And the coroner."
Noelle gave a squeal of dismay. “The police? Why would you need to call the police?"
"Because I don't have time to investigate my uncle's murder. That's a job for the local authorities.” He slammed the door before Noelle had time to protest any further.
"Hell's bells,” she muttered, racing around the room in a frantic search for her clothes. “In case you're listening, my dear aunts, I could really use some help here!"
Now, to find a way out of this without bringing more attention to herself. And where were her damned clothes?
"Ella, could you not have at least left me something to wear?” she barked at the ceiling.
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"Oh, dear. Oh, dear. This isn't good at all,” Jasmine ‘Jazz’ Bridges wailed in a high-pitched voice even tone-deaf dogs could hear. She tapped one finger to her chin and marched around the room in a perfect circle. Superstitious to a fault, she made exactly three laps around the chintz settee and brass floor lamp before returning to the Book of Spells lying open on the glass-topped table next to the fireplace.
"You're not going to be able to remember the spell, Jazz. You might as well give it up as a lost cause,” grumbled Heart Bridges, the older version of her sister, and the one considered to be the smartest of the three witches who shared the spectacular palace on Whispering Pines Road, dead centre of Betony.
The three witches shared much more than just a love of the craft; they also shared a gene which made them sisters, as well as a particular fondness for imported hooch. In fact, at that very moment, Emmie, the oldest of the three sisters lay fast asleep on the veranda, passed out from too much tequila.
"I have to help her,” Jazz continued to moan.
Heart sighed and tromped forward, her voluminous robe sweeping out behind her. The picture of ancient elegance and grace, Heart closed her hands around her sister's and leaned in close to enunciate each word. “You can't help her. You can't even remember how to reverse the spell on poor old Wally."
Responding to his name, Wally, a three-legged dog with a top knot, bounded into the room. Heart pointed to the mutt's face. “See what I mean? Poor old critter used to have the same colour eyes."
"I was only trying to make him more noticeable, is all,” Jazz responded in a defensive tone. “He had his eye on that poodle up the way, and she wouldn't even give him the time of day."
Heart snorted. “It doesn't change the fact that you turned him into a freak, and I'm sure our dear Noelle wouldn't appreciate your attempt at assistance. She'll figure things out. She always does.” Heart tapped her temple. “She's a smart one, that Noelle."
A sudden light beamed in Jazz's eyes. “That Ella needs her ass whipped."
At the mention of their wayward niece's name, Heart rolled her eyes and smacked her forehead. “Of course! Why didn't I think of that?” She glared at her sister. “Like that'll do any good at this late stage in the game. That one is going to be the death of us all. Why, the coven is talking about giving her the boot, and think of the shame that would bring to our family name.” She shook her head sadly. “Centuries of witches in the Bridges family, and Ella is hell-bent on destroying us."
Jazz came to Ella's defence. “She's just lost her way."
Heart pointed a finger to the oval mirror atop the mantle. “She's insane. If you don't believe me, take a look. You'll see for yourself what she's capable of. The little wench wants to show off her handiwork."
Jazz whispered even more “oh, dears” as she traipsed towards the mirror as directed. The second Noelle's blonde curls came into view, Jazz shook her head. “Ella will help her in the long run. She won't leave her own cousin there to fend for herself, and she really is a dear girl at heart."
Heart patted her gullible sister's back. “Come, dear. Let's rouse Emmie and see if she has any thoughts on the situation. After all, she is the best at spells, now that my eyesight isn't what it used to be."
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Chapter Two
Jacob didn't know what in the hell his crusty old uncle had been thinking to pick up a beauty like this one. With curves in all the right places, hair that made his fingers ache, and a body young men dreamed about, Noelle Bridges could have her pick of any man she wanted. So why hadn't his uncle thought of that before he brought her home?
Hadn't the old coot realised the woman was only interested
in the size of his wallet? Probably not. Uncle Ed wasn't the type to believe a woman would have a problem wanting him just for himself.
Jacob knew it wasn't fair to be angry with his uncle, but how many times had he warned the old codger not to go out on the town waving his money clip? Edward Spencer always knew what was best. No one could tell him anything, and he was always smarter than the average guy. Only, the average guy was still alive.
With the phone in his hand, Jacob hesitated, every instinct in his body telling him to call the police. He needed to make arrangements for Ed's funeral, and the last thing he needed to worry about was a saucy blonde with a smart mouth and perky breasts.
Good God, man. Have a shred of decency. His mouth thinned. He couldn't be blamed for noticing the woman's attributes, but his uncle had just passed on. At the very least, he should restrain himself until after the funeral.
In all fairness, Ed had lived his life to the fullest, and he'd always said the last thing he wanted was a bunch of weeping women draping themselves over his coffin. Ed had always insisted he wanted a party instead of a funeral.
Jacob's jaw clenched, and speaking in short, clipped tones, he informed the police of his uncle's passing and his suspicions. And wondered why he didn't feel better about it once he slammed the receiver down.
Whipping around, he headed back to his uncle's bedroom. He was almost surprised to find Noelle still standing next to the foot of the bed, right where he'd left her. Wouldn't a typical criminal have at least attempted to haul ass out the window? Of course, this woman looked nothing like a ‘typical criminal.’ Most of them wore clothes.
He cleared his throat. “Ms. Bridges?"
She raised her eyes to meet his gaze, and he noticed she was gnawing on her lower lip. With the innocent expression on her face, she looked like a child. He forced himself to keep his eyes above neck level. “Yes?"
"The police are on their way."
"Oh.” She nodded, and Jacob thought he saw her lips twitch. If the little vixen was laughing at him ... He didn't finish the thought, for Noelle began walking towards him. He eyed her with a tilt to his head. “What are you doing?"