Wickedly Charming

by Kristine Grayson

  Mellie didn’t like the way her heart rate increased when she realized he was back. She didn’t want to be thrilled (but she was). She wanted to be calm and collected and completely uninterested.

  She could pretend she was all of those things, but she wasn’t. She couldn’t stop herself from watching him as he ordered, gesturing with his right hand, and then smiling at the barista.

  The barista, who wore black, and was tattooed and pierced everywhere, and had to be all of twenty-five, watched him as if she were entranced.

  He even moved elegantly, as if he had been a dancer in a previous life. Maybe he had been. After all, dance was required of royalty in all of the Kingdoms. Just like fencing and jousting and horseback riding. He moved like an athlete because he was an athlete.

  He just wasn’t the kind of athlete she had become accustomed to in the Greater World, the skinny, entitled guys who filled the evening news or the famous, puffy guys bulked up on steroids or the average, everyday guys who were so full of themselves because they started their day by running five miles.

  Charming made it all look easy—of course he did. That was part of being charming, making everything look easy.

  The way he bought cinnamon rolls (she had yet to see him finish one), he should have weighed an extra hundred pounds or so. But he didn’t. He looked perfect, the way that men looked in advertising—with that triangular shape—the broad shoulders tapering to narrow hips and a really, really, really nice butt.

  He started to turn and she made herself look away before he finished the movement. She didn’t want him to see her. She really didn’t want him to know what she was thinking. The very idea made her blush.

  She braced her cheek on one fist. How much had she blushed since she met this man? Nearly every day (except in the last week, when she hadn’t seen him at all). Sometimes more than once per day. She was blushing like a new bride.

  A new bride whom no one had told the facts of life.

  A new bride who had no inkling that there even were facts of life.

  “I’m sorry,” he said and she jumped again. He took the briefcase off the table. “I forgot to set that on the floor.”

  “It’s okay.” She smiled at him, hoping the color in her cheeks had receded somewhat.

  He set both cinnamon rolls down, just like he had a week ago. Only this time, he remembered the butter, the napkins and the silverware—including the knives.

  Then the barista said, “Dave!” and Mellie started for a third time, glancing at the door. But there was no Dave. It took her a half second to remember that the Dave she knew as Dave and the Dave the barista had just called were different people.

  Of course, Charming couldn’t go around telling people his name was Charming. That would get more of a reaction than telling people his daughter was named Imperia.

  He went back to get the coffees. Mellie slid her cinnamon roll closer. She wasn’t going to pretend she lacked an appetite. She was going to need all the sugar and fat she could get to make it through this conversation without making a fool of herself.

  In fact, she wasn’t even going to start the discussion, because she was too afraid she would demand to know where he had been.

  He came back, sat down (slowly and elegantly, without spilling anything on those perfectly creased pants), and said, “I owe you.”

  She set her fork down. She hadn’t expected him to say that. She had expected something witty or just a little bewildered, like I wasn’t sure you’d still be here.

  In fact, if he had come a day or two later, she wouldn’t have been here at all.

  “You owe me?” Mellie couldn’t for the life of her imagine why.

  “My daughters love school,” he said as he stirred sugar into his coffee. “They love it.”

  Mellie frowned ever so slightly. Did he think she’d magicked them somehow? Because she certainly hadn’t done that, nor had she done anything else.

  “That’s good, isn’t it?” she asked, trying not to sound as confused as she felt. “That they love school. It’s good, right?”

  “It’s better than I ever could have expected,” he said. “I think we’ll make it here now. I was afraid we’d have to go back to the Kingdoms.”

  He sounded relieved and happy. She’d never really heard him sound happy before—except when he was showing her the books at the book fair.

  “I’m glad it went well,” she said politely, still not sure what it had to do with her.

  “You did it,” he said. “You made all the difference.”

  She took a sip of her coffee, even though it was still a bit too hot to drink comfortably.

  “I didn’t do anything.” How could she have done anything? She hadn’t even met his daughters.

  “But you did,” he said. “You figured out why the kids in that school were picking on my Grace. You solved the whole problem.”

  “So they were going after Imperia?” Mellie still didn’t like that name.

  He nodded. “And I gave Imp permission to defend her sister.”

  “I’m so glad it worked out,” Mellie said.

  “It wouldn’t have without you,” Charming said and grinned. “I’m in your debt.”

  “No.” She shook her head. In the Kingdoms, being in someone’s debt was a great responsibility. She didn’t want that obligation from him. She wanted him near her because he wanted to be near her, not because he was obliged to.

  “I brought books,” he said, pulling his briefcase on top of his thighs. He clicked it open and pulled out book after book after book, most of them paperbacks, most of them with attractive, shiny covers.

  “Charming, I—”

  “These aren’t vampire romances,” he said. “Or vampire YA novels. Or vampire urban fantasies. They’re books I think you might like from all different time periods. There are a few vampire books, but nothing like you’ve read before—”

  “Charming,” she said. “Really, it’s not necessary.”

  He was stacking the books on the table. “But I think it is. I promised I’d teach you to enjoy reading, and I think something in this mess might just do it. I’ve included a lot of women’s fiction. I think you’ll like some of these books. They’re—”

  “You read women’s fiction?” The voice beside Mellie was dry.

  She looked up. Dave stood beside her, arms crossed, with a supercilious expression on his face. He seemed possessive and contemptuous at the same time. He was glaring at Charming.

  Mellie felt her heart sink. This was not going to go well.

  This was not going to go well at all.

  Chapter 20

  “I read everything,” Charming said, without looking up. He was still grabbing books from the briefcase. “Books are books are books, as far as I’m concerned.”

  Then he realized he wasn’t answering a question from Mellie. He was answering a question posed in a contemptuous male voice.

  He raised his head.

  The doughy guy who had been eavesdropping on their conversations the week before stood next to Mellie as if he owned her.

  Charming pulled the last of the books from his briefcase and closed it. Then, very slowly, he set it on the floor.

  “Don’t you read women’s fiction?” Charming asked the doughy guy.

  “Why would I?” the doughy guy said. “It’s for women.”

  Mellie’s mouth opened slightly. The color in her cheeks rose again.

  “Well, that’s where you’re wrong,” Charming said. “Women’s fiction is just a marketing category, designed to appeal more to women than to men. But there are stories in that category that any human being would like.”

  “I’ll take your word for it,” the doughy guy said. He hadn’t moved. If anything, he looked even more planted against Mellie’s side.

  She wasn’t asking him to move.

  Had Charming missed something here?

  “Now that you’ve given Mel your little presents, why don’t you just run away, like you did last week,” the
doughy guy said.

  Charming frowned. The doughy guy thought Charming had run away? Well, maybe he had, but not because he was scared. Or rather, scared too badly. He had to deal with his girls. And in no way was he going to tell this doughy guy that. He wasn’t going to tell the doughy guy anything.

  What Charming wanted to do was wipe that supercilious smile off the doughy guy’s face. And it wouldn’t be hard. He obviously never got out much, and he certainly didn’t get much exercise. Charming could flatten him with a single blow.

  But Mellie had become a modern woman, a woman of the Greater World. A punch to the doughy guy’s face probably wouldn’t impress her.

  She hadn’t said anything. She was watching Charming. Charming’s heart started to pound. Were they a couple now?

  “That’s right,” the doughy guy said. “You can skedaddle now. Mellie and I have a lunch date.”

  Mellie shook her head slightly. Her gaze met Charming’s.

  “Actually, Dave,” she said, and Charming heard apology in her tone. She was going to tell him to leave. Using the name he used in the Greater World because calling him Charming would sound stupid. “We don’t have a lunch date.”

  Charming knew that. What was she playing at?

  “I know,” he said, standing slowly.

  “We do too,” the doughy guy said. “I told you I’d be back this afternoon.”

  Charming blinked. He wasn’t quite sure what was going on. Neither was the doughy guy. He frowned at Mellie.

  “That doesn’t mean we have a date,” Mellie said to the doughy guy.

  She stood as well, moving slightly away from the doughy guy.

  “Dave Encanto,” she said to Charming, “meet Dave Bourke.”

  Charming felt his mouth drop open. It took him half a second to recover, and when he did, he realized he had three options. He could bluster his way out of here, he could challenge the other Dave, or he could charm the man.

  It didn’t take much thought to realize which option was best.

  Charming leaned forward—he was taller than Dave Bourke—and extended his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  Bourke didn’t move. His arms remained crossed. “You’re the doofus who named your daughter Imperia. Imperia Encanto. That’s a really stupid name.”

  The comment was designed to make him angry. Charming knew that. But it didn’t make any difference. He was angry.

  Once again, someone was attacking one of his daughters.

  Only this time, that someone didn’t even know his daughters.

  “Perhaps you would like to reconsider your attack on my child?” Charming asked quietly.

  “I wasn’t attacking your poor kid,” Bourke said. “I was going after you for saddling her with such a wretched name.”

  “Dave,” Mellie said with a warning in her voice. But Charming couldn’t tell if the warning was for him or for Bourke.

  And honestly, Charming didn’t care.

  “Really?” Charming said. “Because I would think that someone named Bourke has no grounds to stand on.”

  “Dave,” Mellie said, only this time she was looking at him.

  “Bourke isn’t such a bad name,” Bourke said. “And it’s certainly better than Imperia.”

  “Dave!” Mellie turned toward Bourke. “Stop. Now. Both of you.”

  “My daughter has no place in this discussion,” Charming said, taking a step forward. He had wanted to hurt this guy from the man’s first interruption a week ago. Now he had an excuse. He would pick up the doughy son of a bitch and slam him against the ceiling, and see how he liked that. Charming could do it. He’d done it before—in tournaments, to be sure, but those men, at least, were in fighting shape. This man hadn’t been in a physical altercation in decades, if at all.

  “As I said,” Bourke said, “I really can’t go after you. You have the perfectly pleasant name, Dave. Even though you’re not one of the most pleasant men I’ve ever met.”

  “I’m charming,” Charming said, although he wasn’t sure if he was objecting to the insult or if he was introducing himself. He took another step forward.

  Then Mellie barged between them. She put a hand on each of their chests like the referee in a wrestling match. She had to use force to keep them apart too. Charming could see her arms straining with the effort.

  “Enough,” she said again. “You will both listen to me now.”

  “You get ’em, lady,” someone yelled from another table, and laughter sounded all around.

  Charming finally noticed everyone else. The usual group of regulars sat in their chairs. The barista clutched a cell phone, but didn’t hold it to her ear. One man near the back stood as if he had been about to get involved.

  “First you, Dave,” she said looking at Charming. “I thought you were supposed to be charming. Charming people do not menace other people. Didn’t you learn that in Charm school?”

  He bristled. “They didn’t have charm—”

  “And you,” she said turning toward Bourke. “I spent some time with you this week, and put up with your occasional insensitive comments. I realize you don’t even understand that you’re making them half the time. But for your information, if you want a woman to date you, you don’t call her a black widow.”

  “Unless you got money,” that same voice yelled.

  Mellie looked over Bourke’s shoulder at the source of the yelling. So did Charming. He saw a young, laptop-toting guy who wore a ball cap with the name of a popular sitcom blazed across the front.

  “And you,” she said to the yeller before Charming could say anything. “Butt out.”

  The yeller leaned against the wall, but kept a small smile on his face.

  “When I called you a black widow, it was a joke,” Bourke said.

  “Some joke,” she said. “It was offensive.”

  “You should’ve said something,” Bourke said.

  The color in Mellie’s cheeks had moved down her neck. She looked like she was going to explode. Charming wanted to step in, but Mellie kept her hand on his chest. He couldn’t move forward without using force.

  “I’ve been meaning to tell you,” she was saying to Bourke, “that we’re really not suited. But I was going to do it in private. However, since you’ve decided to make a scene—”

  “I didn’t decide to make a scene,” Bourke said. “It’s your charming friend here who started it.”

  “I didn’t malign a good book,” Charming said.

  Mellie glared at him. “You can shut up too. You stop being charming when someone attacks your choice of reading material. And that’s just strange.”

  Charming frowned. That wasn’t true. It wasn’t strange at all. Books were personal, and attacking someone’s choice of reading material was like attacking someone’s clothing or his looks.

  He started to say that, then realized that Mellie had turned back to Bourke.

  “Anyway,” she said, “you’re a nice man, but you’re not right for me.”

  “Ah, c’mon, Mellie,” Bourke said. “So I can be rude sometimes. I’m a successful writer. I make a load of dough, and we’ve had fun times.”

  Charming straightened his shoulders. She dated this man? She slept with this man?

  “We have a lot in common,” Bourke was saying. “We’re both adults, we’re interested in writing, we both work in Hollywood—”

  “We have nothing in common,” Mellie said. “You don’t even know what an adult is. I’m interested in writing only because Charming here—”

  And she took a breath, clearly catching herself.

  “I mean, Dave here,” she said.

  Bourke laughed. “Charming,” he said over Mellie. “That suits you, doofus.”

  “Better me than you,” Charming said stiffly.

  “Dave here,” Mellie said louder, “is the one who said I should put my experiences into a novel. He has a point. You see, Dave—”

  And this time, she made it clear she was speaking to Bourke.


  “—I want to write women’s fiction about stepmothers. Evil stepmothers, and how they’re really not evil at all. Just like the way a woman who is unfortunate enough to be twice-widowed is not a black widow.”

  Bourke’s pasty skin got even paler. He finally understood that things weren’t going well for him.

  “Mellie,” he said. “I can teach you how to write. This guy can’t. He’s just a reader. He’s not a real writer. He doesn’t know anything—”

  “He knows more about women’s fiction than you do,” Mellie said. “He at least appreciates women. And he’s never said anything bad about me, although I’ve given him cause to.”

  Charming suppressed a smile. He leaned into her hand just a little, liking the pressure against his chest.

  He wondered if she could feel his heart beat.

  “So, Dave,” Mellie said, without looking at Charming, “why don’t you go back to your explosions and your manly men and the famous people you write for and leave me alone?”

  “You don’t mean that, Mellie,” Bourke said.

  “Oh, for…” She let her arm drop away from Charming’s chest. He nearly fell forward due to the lack of pressure.

  “I hate it when men tell me I don’t mean something,” she said. “I hate it when someone dismisses me, like you have over and over and over. I hate it when—”

  “I think he gets the point, Mellie,” Charming said, putting his arm around her. Unlike his family, Mellie had once had magic. But there was nothing like anger to revive dormant magic. And when someone used magic in anger, there was no telling what would happen.

  “You have no place in this discussion,” she snapped at Charming.

  “Actually, I do,” he said to her. “Technically, you don’t have any place in this fight.”

  She made a face, one his girls made when they were very small. It was a cross between a grimace and a pout.