Wickedly Good (Hex Appeal)

by Anya Breton

  Wickedly Good

  Anya Breton

  It’s wrong. Wicked. As coven priest, Aston should know better. But he can’t help his feelings for Gemma. Too bad she likes his brother Drew—his no-good, cheating, engaged brother, who takes what he wants regardless of who gets hurt. Aston intends to warn Gemma, but when he steps into his brother’s room and the lights go out, and she presses herself against him…

  Air witch Gemma has lusted after Drew for years. When she gets her chance to spend a steamy night with him, she takes it. As he makes love to her in the darkness, as he makes her come again and again, she can’t help but think he’s different somehow—taller, more thoughtful. And that facial hair that abrades her skin in some seriously naughty places…how did he grow that so fast?

  By day, Aston seems dark and frightening. By night, he rocks Gemma’s world. If he could only convince her to see the truth—he may not be his brother, but he loves her more than Drew ever could.

  Wickedly Good

  Anya Breton

  Dedication

  To Scott, for everything.

  Acknowledgements

  Thank you to all of the people who pushed me to keep writing. And to Carrie, my editor, for turning ho-hum manuscripts into my best work to date.

  Chapter One

  Gemma was convinced Murphy’s Law was in full effect on the bright June evening. The airline had lost her luggage somewhere between London and New Hampshire. She’d dropped her purse in the middle of the street outside the terminal, spilling everything as far as it could possibly go. Then the heel of her favorite black-suede pump snapped off when she stepped into the cab. To top it all off, the car sprang a leak and stalled out two miles from her destination.

  She chose to walk the remainder rather than wait for a replacement. Two miles wasn’t terribly far when she had no luggage, and it was a beautiful day. The only tricky part was her broken heel.

  Soon the two-lane street gave way to a curvy back road canopied in lush green leaves. Oak and birch trees in bloom lined the pavement. Gemma’s pace was steady but unhurried as she enjoyed the warm breeze.

  She smiled at the potholes that had existed for as long as she could remember. Such a strange thing, for something as frustrating as a giant hole in the pavement to be a happy memory.

  The brick gate of her childhood home came into view. Her heart skipped a beat. Soon she’d be able to read the iron plaque above the snapdragon flowers and evergreen bushes.

  A giddy feeling rose within her now that she was within sight of her destination. She wondered where she’d find her mother, the Haizeas’ housekeeper. The dinner hour was near. Her mother would be in the kitchen wielding pans atop the eight-burner stove like a culinary ninja.

  Or perhaps the family would be out and Mother would be relaxing on the side porch with a book. Gemma hoped this was the case. She didn’t want to see the Haizea family while she was covered in the grime of her travels and missing her precious luggage.

  The tweets and chirps of the nearby birds and insects drowned out Gemma’s plodding steps across the narrow road to the brick entrance. She paused to make certain the iron plaque still read Haizea House. Satisfied that though her life had changed her childhood home hadn’t, Gemma started up the winding drive to the house.

  The Haizeas’ paved drive extended a half mile through the wooded land leading to the large home. But its beauty in all seasons could never be quantified. Gemma closed her eyes, recalling the home from memory.

  The family had added on to the two-story colonial-style home over the years. What had once been a single building made of sturdy timber and plaster now contained additions for a conservatory, an attached garage with living quarters above, an additional garage, a barn and even servants’ quarters. She had fond memories of racing from the servants’ quarters to the main house and then sliding down the back hill in the snow.

  But the brightest memories all contained Drew Haizea, the youngest and prettiest of the Haizea brood. What would Drew think of her now?

  With a smile plastered on her lips, Gemma quickened her step to find out.

  * * * * *

  Drew Haizea punched the gas pedal at the mouth of the driveway simply to make the breeze ruffle his pale-blond hair. It had been in his eyes. But that wasn’t why he’d done it. He looked best when he was windswept. Too bad no one would be home to appreciate it apart from his mother.

  Amanda would laugh and run her fingers through his shoulder-length locks as if he were still five. Some days it bothered him she treated him like a child. Today Drew needed all the sympathy he could get from his darling matriarch.

  The mailbox he raced past probably held fresh bills and invitations to the next big charity function in Boston—two things Drew had absolutely no interest in handling. He twisted the knob on the blaring radio as he accelerated around the first curve. Drew threw his head back to sing the refrain along with the rap star. His long hands tapped out the beat on the steering wheel.

  Drums were something he’d always wanted to try. But Amanda had insisted he put his time into sports and service rather than music and the arts. Music and the arts were Aston’s domain. Like virtually everything else in the state.

  A bright-red spot overhead snagged Drew’s attention. Could it be a cardinal? The only cardinal he’d ever seen was on the logo of a baseball team.

  Orange flared in his peripheral vision. Drew’s heart lodged into his throat. He slammed on the brakes even as his attention came down from the clouds. The car came to a screeching halt inches from a wide-eyed redhead in a fluttering sundress.

  He stared into the girl’s brilliant blue gaze as his heart jackhammered against his ribs. Drew’s stomach sloshed its contents several times while he gaped.

  A nanosecond’s pause would have ended in vehicular manslaughter. And she was such a pretty little thing. Never seeing those cyan irises sparkling with life would have been a crime.

  “My god,” Drew exclaimed at last as he pulled the lever on the door.

  He sprang out of the seat and then strode to the front of the vehicle. His would-be victim’s chin lifted as he approached. She was shorter than him, perhaps five and a half feet, the perfect height to make him feel masculine. He stared down into eyes that went on forever. A man could get lost in those.

  “Are you okay?” he asked when she said nothing. He had the urge to reach out. Perhaps to make certain she was alive. Or perhaps it was simply that he wanted to feel her smooth skin.

  Who wouldn’t want to? She had the face of an angel. The soft, rounded chin was almost dainty, a sharp contrast to full lips the color of velvety rose petals. Two sculpted brown eyebrows hinted she wasn’t a natural redhead. Desire shot straight to Drew’s dick when he thought of what he’d do to find out for certain.

  The girl nodded twice, speaking barely above a whisper. “Yes.” Even her voice was melodious like the breeze through fresh leaves.

  “I’m so sorry,” he apologized at last. “My head was in the clouds. I should have been watching where I was going.”

  Yet…this was the driveway to his house. No beautiful, nubile redhead ought to be walking along it unless he’d been warned prior.

  “It’s okay,” the lovely replied a little louder. “Some of those curves are blind.”

  He must have been blind to miss her curves. Now that his pulse was slowing, he discreetly scanned her trim figure, noting the orange chiffon dress that should have clashed with her brilliant hair but instead looked perfectly matched. Tiny black dots at regular intervals gave it a charming appeal. And she had the kind of tits a man could feast on for days.

  Drew leaned forward, drawing in her scent. Fresh northern wind coupled with sweet purple lilac filled his nose.
“You’re an Air witch,” he blurted out.

  “Of course I’m an Air witch.” Her expression was slightly mischievous, as if she found him silly but hadn’t the nerve to verbalize the thought.

  “I’m an Air witch too,” Drew stated.

  The girl laughed, a sound that made the hip-hop music still blaring out of his car sound raucous in comparison.

  What was humorous about his being an Air witch?

  She shifted her weight onto one leg as though uncomfortable. Drew was being rude by keeping her in front of the car that had nearly hit her, wasn’t he?

  “Were you going to the house? What am I asking? Of course you’re going to the house. Do you want a ride? It’s the least I can do considering I nearly hit you and all.” Drew paused, adopting an urging tone. “Say you’ll take a ride with me.” Though he gave her his best earnest look, he valiantly tried not to imagine what other sort of ride he could give her.

  Her lovely lips spread again as she ducked with a bashful move to the left. “Okay.”

  She started for the passenger side without another word. Drew rushed to head her off so he could get the door in a gentlemanly fashion. Again her laughter rang out against the fluttering leaves, warming his skin. What was wrong with him? He’d never wanted to behave like the gentleman his mother expected him to be—like the gentleman Aston was.

  This girl was different.

  His attention was fixed on the creamy glimpse of her knees as she settled onto the seat. She smoothed the thin fabric over her legs. Another shot of heat passed down him when he imagined lifting that skirt and pressing his knee between her supple thighs. He gently closed the door like a gentleman ought to, and then made his way around to the driver’s side.

  Drew took his seat and then spun the volume dial all the way down. Who needed music when he could listen to her lyrical voice? “What brings you by?”

  Again the girl’s laughter rang out. “I’m visiting Ellen Erjon.”

  “Good old Ellen,” he remarked. “She makes the best chocolate chip cookies in New England.”

  “Only in New England?” the girl teased. “Have you had better in Pennsylvania?”

  Did she know Drew had gone to school at Penn State? He glanced at her for a hint. Was that amusement quirking her mouth to the left?

  Drew imagined her looking up at him like that from the surface of his bed. He made himself chuckle while swallowing down a stab of lust. She would notice the erection pressing his slacks if he wasn’t careful.

  “No,” he answered, despite his thoughts taking a detour to the state of his linens. Had Ellen had time to change them? Had she fetched his worn boxers from the floor? And more importantly, would Ellen mind if he monopolized her little guest for a few hours? When the girl offered up nothing further, Drew couldn’t resist questioning her. “Are you a niece?”

  Her now-familiar musical laugh made his balls tighten. “You could say that.”

  Ellen would run him through with a kebab skewer if he dallied with her niece. He caught a glimpse of the girl’s breast beneath her filmy bodice. She just might be worth the wound.

  “Will you be staying long?” He nearly winced at his hopeful tone.

  “I don’t know yet.”

  Drew glanced again to find her watching him from beneath the fringe of her long lashes. Her mischievous smile had faded into something grave. Though he wasn’t the brilliant mind his brother was, Drew got the distinct impression she was waiting for him to urge her to stay. Brief, tumultuous affairs were his specialty. And with that fiery red hair of hers, Drew knew theirs would be very tumultuous indeed.

  Still, he said, “We’ll have to see what we can do to make up your mind.”

  Her melodious laughter promised an interesting evening.

  Gemma was in Drew’s car. Like one of countless women before her. And he hadn’t recognized her. Eighteen years, she lived feet from his house, swam in his lake and sledded on his hill yet he wasn’t treating her like the housekeeper’s little girl.

  Drew was treating her like one of his women.

  She was warm all over recalling how his gaze had slid over her in that appreciative way he’d used on so many others. Drew Haizea had never looked at her like that. How many nights had she dreamed he would? How many falling stars had she wished upon?

  The number was too large to recall.

  Empowered by his mistake, Gemma leaned into the leather seat of his convertible, watching the trees pass by at a leisurely pace. A slight smile played upon her lips. The years at school as well as her time abroad had transformed awkward little Gemmy, the housekeeper’s daughter, into worldly Gemma Erjon, a scholar in her own right. But she must have changed more than she’d realized for Drew not to recognize her. How long could she keep his interest before he discovered his mistake?

  “So where are you from?”

  Again, she couldn’t stop her laughter. “Not far.”

  Drew’s golden eyebrows lifted quizzically. “Really? I thought I knew all the Air witches in New England. I wouldn’t have forgotten meeting you.”

  Pain sliced through Gemma’s abdomen—a psychological pain more than anything. Drew didn’t know how much it hurt to hear him say that. She certainly wouldn’t be the one to explain it to him. Instead, she retorted, “I’ve recently been in England.”

  “Maybe that’s why.”

  Gemma kept her attention glued to the trees to hide her reaction.

  “There are so many beautiful spots on our property and more around the city and state. If you don’t have anything to do while you’re here, I’d love to take you around to see them.”

  She did nothing to tamp down the thrill of excitement that coursed through her. Drew only brought the girls he really liked to his “beautiful spots”. And even though those girls hadn’t lasted much longer than the others, Gemma was different.

  Gemma would become a Haizea. She’d known since she nearly drowned in a neighbor’s pond and Drew carried her all the way back to the house. She’d clung to the hope they’d be together ever since.

  The car came to a stop in front of the crimson door to the Haizeas’ impressive residence.

  “Okay.” Her reply was breathy but audible.

  Drew was out of the vehicle and hurrying to her side before she could gather her purse and fix her shoe. She unsteadily stepped out of the car. His hand was warm and firm on hers. Gemma memorized the clean cotton scent tickling her nose.

  “Ellen is probably in the kitchen. Come on inside. We’ll look for her together.”

  Together. She could hardly breathe. How long would it be before he invited her to breakfast? He guided her to the door of his family home as though she were an honored guest. She’d dreamed of this moment since she was a little girl.

  This was how it was meant to be.

  The door swung wide beneath Drew’s burst of energy. A baritone voice called his name from within the house. Heavy footsteps stomped on the runner in the distance.

  Gemma stiffened in the light of the evening sun spilling through the etched glass beside the front door. She couldn’t recall how many times she’d hidden from Drew’s formidable older brother. Aston Haizea had had little patience for his brother’s antics or those of the housekeeper’s young daughter. No doubt his patience had not improved these last four years.

  “Drew, what is this about stranding your fiancée at the Hilton?”

  Had it not been for a word that froze her mind in horror, Gemma would have focused on the frustration filling the man’s voice. However, she was stuck on the knowledge that Drew Haizea had a fiancée.

  How had it come to be that New Hampshire’s most notorious Air witch playboy was settling down? And if that were true then why was he even now staring at her as though trying to see beneath her dress?

  Aston, dark where Drew was fair, polished where Drew was wild, stepped into view. Gemma went absolutely still apart from the requisite draw of her lungs. Perhaps he wouldn’t scrutinize her if she failed to move.


  “Drew,” Aston barked for attention, gaining only Gemma’s.

  Drew’s petulant sigh went ignored once Aston’s gaze settled on her. His eyebrows shot to the middle of his tanned forehead. Gemma remained motionless, hoping against hope he wouldn’t recognize her. And then he squinted.

  “Gemma,” he stated tonelessly. “Welcome back.”

  “Gemma?” Drew repeated. “Your name is Gemma?”

  She faced him, blushing. “Yes. Gemma Erjon.”

  “That’s a pretty name.” Drew’s response was soft, almost worshipful. He still didn’t recall who she was, even with her name at his disposal? Had he forgotten her so easily?

  It pained her to consider it. So she chose not to, instead smiling at the compliment.

  “Oh, for pity’s sake,” Aston exclaimed impatiently. He gestured at her with one broad palm. “It’s Gemmy, Ellen’s daughter. Drew, have you completely lost your mind?”

  Drew glanced at his brother. Confusion crinkled his features. “Ellen’s daughter.” Another glance at Gemma did little for his memory.

  “Yes, the carrot-top with the pigtails, braces and thick glasses.” Aston’s hard-edged voice cut through the foyer.

  Gemma’s cheeks seared at Aston’s recollection of her. It had been accurate in all but one area. An area Drew quickly fixed.

  “But…Gemmy is fat,” Drew exclaimed. His gaze swung back to where Gemma stood trying to sink into the floor.

  Aston’s lips pressed thin atop his immaculately trimmed Van Dyke beard. “Apparently England agreed with her.”

  “England,” Drew echoed in confusion.

  Aston’s heavy sigh signaled he was at the limit of his patience. “Into my office, Drew, now, so we can smooth over your earlier faux pas before it costs me the region.” Command stated, Aston turned on his heel and stalked across the carpet in the direction of his office.

  Irritation flared along her insides. He didn’t need to be so rude.

  But they were right. She had been overweight, awkward and orange. Her hair had darkened in the English winter and had yet to lighten. Gemma’s freshman roommate introduced her to the wonders of a straightening iron and contact lenses. And the braces were removed when she was fifteen, long before she left for school.