by Judith Leger
She froze. Did he wink at her? Yes, he had.
He looked away.
Freed from the hypnotic spell he cast on her, she exhaled.
Narrowing her gaze, she studied him. What kind of game was he playing? Her mind screamed to turn, run away. She’d find the quiet spot, phone Kramer and tell him she couldn’t go through with this interview.
And he’d blow up and fire her. She shut her eyes for a second, trying to find a place of calmness inside her.
When she opened them, Evers nodded in response to something someone said. Even though Caitlyn believed he’d stared into her eyes, there wasn’t any proof he focused on her. More than fifty people roamed about the room. Her imagination was playing with her, and if she wanted to succeed with her career she would have to learn to handle her reactions to his every move.
Satisfied with her analysis of the situation, she focused on the illusionist once more. Someone stepped away from him, allowing her a few moments to study his every move.
One long leg, covered in black leather, stretched away from the table while the other bent back under the wooden edge. Thick dark hair framed his features and hung over and behind his shoulders. Inhaling, she glanced at his face. The real man was far sexier than the cutout had been and, unlike the cardboard picture, he moved. The left side of his mouth twitched. He glanced in her direction again.
Marcy freed Caitlyn’s arm and glided to Evers’s side, squeezing past the people in front of him. The sexy blonde stopped less than six inches from him and leaned close. The side of her friend’s breast brushed against his arm, and Caitlyn clenched her jaw, determined to rise above the sudden surge of jealousy bubbling within her.
Rolling her eyes, she refused to watch his reaction to her friend’s overtures. She hoped no one had seen her enter the room with Marcy. The woman was a great friend, but her wild streak bothered Caitlyn.
She moved toward a buffet table not far from them. She kept her gaze on the cheese tray in front of her. Without having to look, she imagined how well Marcy was coming on to the man. Her friend had no shame when it came to men.
“What is it about him that attracts beautiful women?” A man’s said from behind her in a deep, accented voice.
Curious to see the man asking the question, Caitlyn swiveled toward the speaker. Tall and slender, pale blond hair tied at the back of his neck, the middle-aged stranger stood less than a foot away from her. He stood like a monolith, his arms crossed over his chest. A frown marred his handsome face. He reminded her of a Greek statue, his features perfect and cool.
The man tilted his head and raised an eyebrow at her.
She shrugged and bit off a piece of cheese she took from the platter. “I have no idea. I’m not sure I want to know, either.” She smiled and accepted a glass of wine from a passing waiter. Rich burgundy aroma rose from the fluted glass.
“It’s as if he has a scent about him which attracts women,” the man continued.
An image appeared in Caitlyn’s mind of a stag in rut. Yes, perfect comparison for the illusionist. She raised the glass to her lips and wine shifted toward her lips. She took a small sip, the rich aroma streaming up her nose.
The blond man snapped his fingers and smiled at her. “I know. A stag in rut.”
Caitlyn choked.
Chapter 7
Heat seared her throat, and she tried to draw in a tiny bit of air to cough.
“Oh my. Here, take another drink.” The stranger took her hand and brought the glass to her lips. Her breath rasped as she tried to shake her head.
Strong hands came from behind, caught her under her arms and lifted them above her head, glass and all. The gentle touch slid down to grasp her ribs below her breasts. “Keep your hands up and try to cough. A good deep breath and you’ll be fine.”
Through the burning pain, realization hit her. That voice. Evers. He was helping her. Oh God, she liked his touch. So nice–no, more than nice. She coughed. The next second, she stiffened, the burning in her windpipe forgotten. Warmth coated her body from behind. From the top of her head, down her back, blanketing her legs, her entire backside rested against him.
His body against her should have bothered her, but the feel of his strong hands under her breasts, cupping them up, his thumbs at each side, distracted her as sharp pangs traveled to the tips of her breasts. Her nipples hardened, and she forgot to cough. With a choked groan, she turned her face toward him. Oh, why did concern shine in his amethyst gaze?
“Would you please remove your hands from my breasts?” Throat raw, her words came out husky and low.
His eyes widened, and he jerked his hands away with a grin, shifting away from her. “Sorry. I didn’t realize.”
“It’s okay,” she muttered as heated blood rushed to her face.
His eyes narrowed. “I know you. You’re the news reporter, Caitlyn Reiley.”
Caitlyn tried to smile, but felt cornered. She looked past his handsome face and saw Marcy. Her friend stood a couple of feet behind him, her face expressionless.
Marcy’s gaze met hers and a chill raced up Caitlyn’s spine. Gleaming with a strange internal fire, Marcy’s eyes glowed bright. Malice aimed at her through the look sent an unexpected stab of fear lancing through her. From the edge of her line of vision, Evers turned toward her. The pale blond stranger, who’d been standing by, observing in silence, shifted closer to her. Did she imagine the instant protective wall emanating from the two men?
Caitlyn blinked, and when she raised her eyelids and focused, Marcy stood at ease, smiling at her. Had she imagined what had happened?
“Forgive Catey. It’s not every day she meets a famous person.” Marcy stared pointedly at him. “Hey, listen, can you kind of keep an eye on her? I want to talk to a guy over there. He’s your music tech, isn’t he? If I can’t have you, then he’s next on my list. Catey, let me know when you want to leave, okay?”
Still unsure of what she’d just witnessed, Caitlyn nodded while Marcy pivoted and melted into the crowd. She’d known Marcy since junior high. There wasn’t a mean bone in her body, yet what Caitlyn sensed and saw coming from her friend frightened her. Was Marcy jealous of her? No, she would never leave Caitlyn with him if that were true.
“Are you all right?” The question came from the stranger. He had remained silent, concern lining his features.
Caitlyn smiled and nodded. “Yes and thanks.”
Shay frowned. “Did Lance send you a pass for tonight?”
“No.” Her hair fluttered across her cheek as she shook her head. “I came with Marcy Richards.”
The frown deepened. He looked even more handsome wearing such a dark expression.
“Marcy?” He repeated curiosity evident in his gaze.
Caitlyn kept her tone even, but on the inside, she cringed with embarrassment. “The blonde. The one who asked you to keep an eye on me.”
His right brow rose, and he glanced in the direction where Marcy had disappeared. “You’re not like her, are you?”
Caitlyn’s back stiffened. “And what exactly does that mean? Marcy may be a little forward, but she’s a great friend, and no, she and I are complete opposites. She’s one of a kind.”
“I meant no offense.” He faced her, a wide grin spreading across his lips. He leaned close, his voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper. “Are you spying on me? A little undercover work before the interview?”
Guilt rushed through her and heated her cheeks. She hoped he wouldn’t notice the added tint to her face. “No, I’m not. I wanted to observe you unobserved. That’s all.” Her tone came out rigid and formal.
“Ah.” He straightened and clasped his hands behind his back, staring at her. “I see you’ve met Rhys. He’s my gardener.”
Surprised, she looked at the tall blond man. “You’re a gardener?”
“I have a magical thumb.” Rhys held up his right thumb. His eyes lit with flashing blue glints. She relaxed and smiled at him.
“Do you always bring your gardener with you on tour?
” she asked Shay.
Before he answered, Rhys spoke up, “No. I came to search for a rare and exquisite flower. Shay was kind enough to offer me a way home.”
“Did you find it?” Caitlyn wondered, her curiosity piqued.
“Yes. As a matter of fact, I did, with a little help from Shay.”
Glancing at Evers, she remarked, “My, what a paragon of kindness.”
“Paragon.” Shay slowly repeated the word, as though savoring the feel of it on his tongue. “I like it. Did you hear her, Rhys? I’m a paragon of kindness.” He tilted his head and lowered his voice. “I’ve been telling him ever since our childhood what a good fellow I am. He doesn’t believe me.”
His words brought an unbidden smile to Caitlyn’s lips. “Childhood friends?”
“Like brothers.” He nodded and winked at Rhys. The gardener’s mouth lifted with a one-sided smile that seemed to contain no humor. Interesting. “Rhys always pulled me into one scrape or another. Of course, he helped me a great amount too. I was happy to assist him with this matter.”
Filing this bit of information away, she asked “So, you like plants?”
“You’re not interviewing me, are you?”
“No. Do you see a tablet? A mic? I’m not here officially.”
His gaze lingered on her a moment longer. The next second, the devastating white smile that had wowed most breathing females flashed. The area around them lightened. When he spoke, her heartbeat sped up and her breath stopped midway to her lungs. “I love plants. All kinds. I suppose you could say it’s my hobby.”
“What’s your favorite?” The words came out breathless.
She hadn’t wanted them to sound that husky, almost sexy. A strange tension came over her muscles. The sudden flare of desire caught her off guard. In danger of becoming one of those mindless women who swooned at the mention of his name, she tried to convince herself his smile didn’t affect her. No, it wouldn’t. Not her.
“Any kind. Want to know what Rhys’s favorite is?”
“I don’t believe Ms. Reiley cares to know,” Rhys interrupted. The tightness in his voice took her aback. Shay called them friends but the other man’s behavior pointed to something else.
“Oh, but I would. What’s your favorite?” Caitlyn asked, relieved to turn her attention from Evers.
The superstar never gave Rhys a chance to reply. He took her arm to bring her attention back to him. The warmth of his hand through her sleeve’s thin gauze blazed a trail along her nerve endings straight to the base of her belly.
“It’s the blackthorn tree. Have you ever seen one?” As he spoke, her thighs squeezed tight.
“No,” she whispered.
The waves of heat coming from his hand continued to send messages through her body. A rush of warmth pooled between her legs and the muscles at the junction of her thighs trembled. His gaze captured and refused to release hers. She attempted to shake her head but failed. Every part of her body flared with awareness, centered on him. The lyrical words he spoke poured over her, inflaming a need in her. Oh, she needed to breathe.
Deep and hypnotic, Shay’s voice held her in its grip. “It’s black. The twisted trunk and limbs are covered with thorns, hence the name. It’s one of the few trees that bloom in the spring before the leaves. The fruit, if eaten too early, is bitter and vile.”
Momentary silence, followed by his gaze cutting to Rhys, made a chill race up Caitlyn’s spine. The tension between the two men grew stronger. Shay looked back at her and continued.
“Ah, such a wonderful tree to grow and to nurture. The blooms are a stark contrast to the tree. Waxy and white, they cover the branches. The tree can reach up to ten feet in height, though most people only allow them to grow to four or six feet.”
He paused, and she shifted closer, trapped by the light in his strange and beautiful eyes.
“There are legends about the tree. One tells how a demon is imprisoned within the tree, sentenced for eternity in its trunk.”
Caitlyn tried to swallow, to breathe. She grew lightheaded waiting for him to finish the story, but instead, he dropped his hand and grinned. “By the way, I love pansies.”
The torturous build-up of tension eased from her limbs and left her muscles tingling.
Rhys cleared his throat. “We leave in an hour. I need to return to my hotel and retrieve my bags.” He shifted his cool attention to Caitlyn. “Ms. Reiley, a true pleasure to meet you. Perhaps I’ll see you once more during your stay in Wales.”
She nodded, her smile stiff, but she remained intrigued. Rhys had reminded Shay of his trip as though informing a wayward child of their departure. “I hope so, too.”
He bowed his head and strode across the room. Caitlyn watched him reach the elevator. A nagging thought told her Evers deliberately tried to hurt his friend’s feelings, and he’d used his charismatic abilities to drive his point home.
After Rhys entered the elevator, she decided to try her hunch. “You did that on purpose. You like playing games with people, don’t you?”
“Did what?”
Oh, no, he didn’t just try to fluff her off. She had eyes and ears. What was he playing at? “You were pushing him. You wanted a reaction from him. Why would you be so mean? Isn’t he your friend?”
“I like limits, Ms. Reiley. I like to push them. Do you?” Shay lifted a brow at her. Without taking his gaze off her, he raised a finger and motioned for an attendant to bring the wine tray.
“From what you said, you’ve known each other all your lives. That’d make you close, like you said, brothers. Why would you do something like that?”
“Do you ever talk to your friend about her behavior? Don’t you wonder what it would be like to see how far you can go with someone or something?” He removed two glasses from the tray and nodded toward a nearby doorway. “This conversation needs more privacy. Shall we?”
“Of course,” she said with a slight nod. Good, she needed to question him. All her previous impressions of him disappeared in light of the real man. He had behaved so strangely to a man he’d declared to be a close friend. She hoped to find out why. And this would give her a chance to relieve some of the tension he’d forced her emotions to run through since she met him.
They wove through the crowd, avoiding any major stops. When they reached the door, she glanced at the wine glasses in his hands for a second before opening it. He nodded thanks, and motioned for her to precede him. No one occupied the office with a sitting area. When the door breezed shut, they were alone, cut off from everyone.
Shay moved toward the sitting area. Stopping in front of the sofa, he faced her, still holding the glasses. Neutral in tone, the sofa and end chairs contrasted with his stark white and black attire, making him appear larger and dangerous.
Caitlyn studied him as he waited in front of the sofa. When he remained silent, she stepped to the closest chair and sank to the edge. He handed her a glass before sitting on the sofa and propping his feet on the table. He twirled the bowl of the fluted glass between his palms as he watched her.
“Now, Ms. Reiley, are you upset with me?”
The need to melt under his deep, relaxing tone came over her again. Fighting to maintain a hold on her senses, she took a gulp of wine. Warmth spread through her belly, helping compose her enough to speak.
Calmer, she responded. “I’m not sure. I assume you hate blackthorn trees.”
“You assume correctly.”
“And yet, they’re his favorite.”
“Correct again.”
“So why did you describe the tree in such a dark, malicious way? I had the impression you were trying to make him angry or worse–hurt him.” She leaned forward, staring hard. “Tell me why? Do you hate him?”
“I told you. I like to discover other people’s limits. I know his limit, and I push it to see if he can take it. As humans, we all do it in one way or another. This is my way. What is your way, Caitlyn Reiley?” He raised his glass and saluted her before he took a sip.
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br /> His callous manner took her by surprise. Heat flooded her face and she struggled to maintain her even breathing as her anger flared. His charm had peeled off to reveal a cold-hearted man. Her attraction to him faded. “My friends are important to me. I wouldn’t hurt them.”
“Hmm.” The very simple noise in his throat indicated a far more complicated thought roamed through his mind. “Well, it seems I’ve found one of your limits. But I’m thinking there are more. On the outside, you seem as you appear. Calm, cool, almost cold and analytical. But underneath, I can sense someone different.”
He studied her far closer than before, his nostrils flaring a bit, and his gaze delved deeper than the surface of her body. He saw into her soul. The idea both intrigued and frightened her. “For instance, I think you would have me believe you aren’t affected by me at all.”
Her eyes widened with his unexpected comment. She started to deny it, but he continued. “I think you want me to believe that you, of all the women out there,” he made an easy motion toward the larger, still crowded room, “are here only to observe me before you interview me. Does that explain why you sit so far away? You’re afraid if you come closer I’ll see your interest is deeper, darker and a little less professional.”
The finely-shaped lips curled into a seductive smile that forced her lungs to stop working. The uncanny way he guessed the truth about her spurred an instinctive need to return to the safety of the other room. She gripped the arms of the chair to remain sitting.
“But I can see there is still a professional side to this interview. And now I am led to wonder, what would you do to keep your place in this interview?”
Chapter 8
His question stunned her for a second before shock drove her to her feet. She set the glass on the table a little harder than she’d intended. The glass clanked on the wood. The burgundy sloshed on the mirrored surface. “There are some things I would never do.”
She turned, intent on leaving the insufferable man behind, but the sound of slow clapping stopped her. She glanced over her shoulder. He stood, his feet planted solid on the floor. White teeth flashed in his tanned face.
