Wilde Magic (Wilde Women Book 3) (11 page)

When the feisty therapist went to the conference table and forcefully opened a messy organizer that had scraps of paper jammed everywhere, the force she put on slamming the book caused a puff of gold and silver glitter to escape. Cal watched the glittery speckles fly up in the air. The intensity of his focus made the scene unfold before his eyes in slow motion.

As the flecks began to drop and drift toward the floor, several wayward pieces stuck to her tights while the rest fluttered onto the carpet at her feet.

Mesmerized by the fall, his attention fixed on the captured bits. Against the opaque blackness, three tiny sparkles glistened. Every time she moved, the glitter appeared to vibrate and shimmer more brightly.

Desire, raw and unbidden exploded inside him. And not just any desire. This was something different. And unexpected. An animal Cal didn’t know roared to life. Primitive impulses flooded his mind. Suddenly, every one of his senses was sharply attuned to the female trying so hard to blow him off.

When he drove, relying on his senses was a critical skill. He could feel the machine propelling him around a track through his hands and feet and along his spine right up to the top of his head.

It was like that with her. He felt the slightest of sensations when she stomped across the carpet. Caught a whiff of her alluring perfume in the swirling bubble of energy she created. Heard her short pants as she struggled to breathe. Watching her transform the tumble of her long hair into a thick knot was nothing short of fascinating. Man. The shit women did. He was impressed.

He also wanted to pick her up, throw her on the table, rip a hole in those damn tights and press his face into her mound. The idea of drowning in her scent, tasting her essence, held him in thrall. At that moment, he was her captive. A slave to the carnal promise she didn’t know her body was offering.

She was speaking, but he wasn’t listening. Couldn’t. Between the craving to devour her pussy and the almighty effort he was exerting not to give in to his animalistic appetite, there wasn’t enough of his brain left over to listen.

And then she looked at him. His gaze zeroed in and locked on target. There were flecks of silver and gold shimmering in her eyes that matched the ones stuck to her leg. She was sunlight and moonlight at the same time—vibrant and warm, then shadowy and mysterious. Everything stilled around them and Cal was sure he could count the dust motes swirling in the rays of sun shining through the windows.

Her lips moved. If there were words coming from her mouth he couldn’t tell. Not when her bottom lip was puffy and red where she’d been biting it.

“Sorry. What did you say?”

’‘tessa blinked. Her head wobbled. Not a shake or a nod. A wobble. She bit her lip, and then swiped her tongue over the spot. Had he spoken in Italian? Is that why she wasn’t saying anything?

“Um,” she mumbled, quickly looking away and pushing a wayward curl behind her ear. She kept her hand on her neck. Why? “Time,” she said and then cleared her throat. “Ninety minutes.”

Huh?

She moved her hand and pointed at the sloppy organizer. “My calendar.”

Ohhh. Right, right, right. She’d been pretending not to be all that interested with taking him on, while consulting her schedule to see when she could fit him in. From the corner of his eye he caught the glass of wine she refused. A quick glance at the clock behind them indicated they were into the dinner hour. He knew just what to do. Shifting into power mode, Cal leaned into her personal space and flipped the book closed with one finger.

“I have time right now.” The breath he drew after making the bold statement tingled on his tongue. Up close, she smelled of a tropical beach, a warm summer day and sex. She smelled of sex. That was the animal inside him weighing in. He barely stopped from rolling his eyes.

She looked confused. Or maybe startled. Why? From the statement he made or how close he was?

“But,” she stammered. Nodding to the windows where the last of the day’s light was melting into a glorious sunset, ‘tessa stated, “It’s late. Time for dinner.”

“My thought exactly.” He instantly had a plan worked out in his head. A plan he fully expected to rev up. “I know the perfect place. We’ll eat, talk, and get to know each other.”

“What? No. That’s not how this works, Ty.” She waved her hands and put that cute, stern expression on her face. “I need to evaluate you. Not share a meal.”

Fly? Meet web.

“I know,” he told her with a chuckle. “And what better way to gauge how much shit you think I’m full of than over dinner?”

The dry look that flashed on her face was adorable times ten.

“Oh, believe me. I already know just how much shit you’re packing.”

My God. She was making this too easy for him. “Contessa!” he chided. “I’m shocked.” Taking her by the arm, he gently led them away from the conference table and sat them on a wide leather sofa. “How did I not notice you checking out what I’m packing?”

Her expression of guileless confusion transformed to one of controlled amusement. “See. This is what I’m talking about.” Her soft laughter made his chest expand with something he couldn’t name. “I’m trying to be serious and you’re making like a romantic lead in a movie. Cut it out, Ty.”

Looking affronted, he drawled. “You make it sound like I’m trying to get into your panties.”

“Aren’t you?”

He smirked. “Actually ‘tessa, I’d rather get you
out
of your panties.” Gesturing with a head nod toward the conference table he added, “And spread eagle, butt naked on that table over there.”

Cal flinched when she hauled off and punched him in the arm. Hard. Like really hard. Heaven help them both if they ever got really physical with each other.

“Hey!” he barked. Massaging the spot as if she’d actually done him harm, he pouted like a bad kid. “You’re supposed to be helping. Not hurting.”

“I’m sorry.” Her voice was edged with genuine concern. When she swatted his hand away and started rubbing on his supposed injury, he almost dropped on the floor with laughter. She fell for his act. He could hardly believe it. Nobody ever fell for such lame ass shit.

In a completely innocent tone, he leaned closer and grumbled, “You could make it better with a kiss.”

Her head shot up so fast he almost got clocked in the jaw. Luckily, he had excellent reflexes and jolted back in time. Her entire face was screwed up in a confused frown and she looked at him so hard he felt the impact deep inside.

“Um, you mean as in … kiss it and make it better?”

The temptation to continue sparring with her over some flirty banter was there but that animalistic mindset he was struggling to manage had different ideas.

Without missing a beat, he slid his big hand around the nape of her neck and pulled. Her lips were within reach a heartbeat later. “No, ‘tessa. I meant kiss me and I’ll be better.”

He detected the shudder moving through her body before his mouth touched hers. She whimpered so quietly he almost missed it but it was there. Just as his lips touched hers he felt her soft hand on top of his where he held her by the neck.

“Ty.” He inhaled her soft plea as his lips pressed the gentlest of kisses onto her mouth. Devouring was an option but he didn’t want to scare her off.

They breathed together, lips barely touching and his hand firmly holding her in place. Their kisses were exploratory and sexy as fuck. When she briefly sucked on his bottom lip, a mighty battle kicked off inside him.

Take her,
growled the animal.

The less fierce but equally as persuasive Don Juan actor in his mental narrative weighed in.
Seduce her mind and then fuck her body.

Yeah. That plan seemed the better of the two.

“No peanut butter,” he grated huskily.

“What?”

“Real food.” He kissed the tip of her nose. Then her top lip. “When in Rome…”

“Rome,” she repeated.

“And wine. Lots of wine. Or one of my signature martinis.” Cal licked the corners of her mouth, imagining she’d just sipped from a glass and some residue was left behind.

The hand on top of his trembled. “Working,” she mumbled. “Shouldn’t.”

“Don’t care.” This time he licked her entire mouth. She gasped. He strengthened his grip on her neck. “It’s settled then.” He kept the chest thumping triumph out of his voice. Barely. “We’ll eat. Drink. Talk.”

He heard her slight intake of breath and smiled. Only a fool wouldn’t notice that she wanted one more thing on that list. Kiss.

Cal drew back but kept his hand where it was. Looking at her upturned face, he felt a wonderful pleasure when her expressive eyes confirmed what he already knew. He squeezed her neck, she moaned and shuddered head to toe. His libido read the signal, and for a moment or two, he fought the urge to put his mouth just below her ear and mark the soft skin beneath his fingers.

She seemed a bit dazed. Not too unlike how he felt. Astonished at how easily this quirky hippie chick turned him inside out, Cal murmured, “Came all the way to Italy and what did I find? An American girl with a hardcore jones for Skippy. Go figure.”

R
OME AT SUNSET WAS SOMETHING
Charlie would always remember. Though she’d been to every corner of the country, her Italian adventure began in Rome, and that’s where she always returned, time and again, if only in her thoughts.

They were making their way from the fashionable building where Crepuscolo was headquartered on their way to … she had no idea. Somehow he’d managed to completely obliterate her grand plan to be all buttoned-up and professional in order to maintain control of this bizarre performance they were stumbling through.

Buttoned up. Hah! How’d that work out, huh?
She mentally gave the finger to her smirking conscience.

“Did you make a reservation?” she inquired. “Where exactly are we going?” Two reasonable questions. Easy to answer. Or should be. So why was he so quiet?

Being in a car with a man who wasn’t but certainly seemed twice her size and who drove ferocious racing machines for a living was a singular experience. He handled the impressive vehicle effortlessly and with a subdued gracefulness she hadn’t expected. Thinking him a thrill seeking madman, it surprised Charlie how responsibly he maneuvered through the congested traffic.

This man wasn’t at all what he appeared. His aura didn’t crackle with risk and peril. Oh, he was dangerous. There was plenty about him to confirm that but he didn’t have an adrenalin junkie wavelength. Something she was used to with the athletes and even the few celebrities she worked with. Was she intrigued by this? Good lord, yes.

“I know a place,” was all he said in answer to her dinner questions. Great. Not only did she lose control of the situation, but she also put herself in the position of not having a clue what was going on.

Dumb move on her part but sheesh. She became a blob of clay when the charm got turned on. And the kissing. Damn. When he used his lips on her, he could pretty much sculpt her into a pretzel shape and she’d barely notice.

Charlie unwound her scarf and then because she needed to keep here hands busy, wound it around her neck a different way. She saw this fantastic post on Facebook showing different ways to tie a scarf and ever since had been on a one-woman mission to amass a mind-boggling collection. She had everything. Silk, knits, a patchwork of muted vintage fabrics and another with delicate faceted jet beads sewn along the short ends. That one was her favorite. It was long, light—made of some filmy material that was easy to loop and tie.

She sighed. This is what he reduced her to. Daydreaming about scarves so she didn’t accidentally reach a curious hand to touch him. Subconsciously, chewing her bottom lip, she stopped when a wince reminded her she’d already done quite a number on her mouth and should cut it the hell out. Part of her felt ready to leap from the car and run screaming as far away from Cal Tyler as she could get. That’s the side of Charlize Baron-Wilde who assaulted her own lips like a teething aid. The practical, safety-minded side that brushed her teeth with regularity and never, ever littered.

But the other side? The one cocooned in the soft leather of a sweet car with Mr. Sexy Pants driving? Charlie was scrambling to stay one step ahead of her.