Wilde Magic (Wilde Women Book 3) (14 page)

At one point when she’d been pontificating on the benefits of laughter as a psychic medication, he’d imagined a time far in the future when they’d be together laughing their asses off. Instead of being freaked out by the thought, he felt a sense of calm.

She was changing him already.

“So, do you think you can do that? Not talk back and definitely no why this or why that. To borrow from Master Yoda, it’s either do or don’t do. No questions. Capisce?”

She was enjoying the dumbfounded expression on Ty’s face as she laid out some of the things they’d be doing. When she mentioned coloring books and baking cookies, he’d looked at her as if she was batcrap crazy.

Pfft. He had no idea!

All of a sudden he chuckled. A real chuckle. Deep, rumbling and sexy as hell. Charlie didn’t think for a second he was going to casually let her call all the shots. Not without getting a few in, here and there. She waited for his first comeback –and secretly hoped he made it a doozy.

Sounding incredulous he asked, “Are you saying the only way you’ll work with me is if I,” she waited with baited breath for what he said next. “Submit?”

She chomped down on her bottom lip to keep from roaring with laughter. Submit. That’s what he came up with. That she wanted him to submit. The idea was so delightfully funny she almost peed. Snorting and then covering her face in embarrassment, Charlie shook her head. “Something tells me you and submit aren’t the best of buds.”

“Probably a good call,” he drawled. “But for you, ‘tessa. Toss a bit of the Baroness of Wild my way and I might try to be good.”

Charlie giggled uncontrollably and even slapped her hand on the table. If only he knew how truly ironic the title was. She had to share this particular funny with Rhi.

“Do you think we have different notions of what constitutes being good?”

His grin was disarming. “Depends on the context.”

Dropping her hands into her lap, she relaxed and smiled. “Well, be that as it may, you’re my client and I will expect you to be good, Ty.”

His expression told her he was thinking about what she said and probably working up a wicked response.

“I can do the good guy thing,” he proudly announced.

Sheesh. Men.

“Seriously? Being a good guy is
waaay
different from being good. And you know it.”

He held up his hand. “Now wait a minute.”

“Give up,” she drawled. “No matter what you think, I’m way better at this than you are. My dad is an English professor so playing word games with me is kinda pointless.”

Ty’s eyes widened and he nodded his respect. “Oh man, that explains a lot. I figured you for someone with lively dinner conversation experience. My dad is a high school principal so believe me, vocabulary always scored extra points.”

“Oh,” she yelped with glee. “So you
DO
know when you’re being an ass.”

He clutched his chest as if he’d been shot. “Ouch, ‘tessa. You wound me.”

She bunched up her napkin and tossed it on the table. “I’m going to do a lot more than wound you Cal Tyler if you don’t take me seriously.”

“What’s in it for me?” he asked with an innocence that earned an exaggerated eye roll. “Being good, I mean. If I’m a good boy, what do I get?”

Charlie stood and smoothed a hand down the front of her dress. “Well, what you need is a good kick in the butt for thinking that testing me every two seconds is gonna get you anywhere.” She crossed her arms and stared him down. “There may be a few missing pieces but I’ve got you figured out. Mostly. If I didn’t think I could help you in a real sense, well.” She shrugged to make her point.

“You’ve got me figured out?” He didn’t hide the incredulous edge to the question.

Smarty pants. She’d show him.

Moving around the table, she picked up their dishes and took them to the sink. He didn’t get up but rather sat there staring a hole through her.

“We’ll side step the whole race car driving thing and why you do something so dangerous, for now.”

“Coward,” he muttered with just a hint of challenge.

“Oh, bite me,” she answered drily. “I asked you a direct question earlier which you conveniently dodged—so don’t give me crap because I won’t let you dominate the direction of the assessment.”

“Hey. What is it with you and the submit and dominate thing? You don’t strike me as the type.”

She sighed. “Again, Ty. Bite me. You’re the one that said submit and while it’s not a word that I’d use, yeah. Sure. When I’m in charge, I want you to submit.”

In the blink of an eye, she felt like the spider realizing how deep into the web she was.

“So,” he murmured silkily. “You want submission and won’t allow me to dominate. Do I have that right?”

Not entirely sure how to climb out of the verbal hole she stupidly dug, Charlie exercised her universally accepted right to play one of many female cards held in her deck.

Feigning a stifled yawn, she stretched, leaned against the countertop and scanned the room for a clock. “It’s getting late and I’m bushed. We have an early start in the morning and—”

He cut her off before she even saw him approaching in the rear view. Damn, he was that good.

“You can stay here. Tonight. That way we can start at the ass crack of dawn if you want.”

Ah, temptation. Thou art a cunning bitch.
Hmph. Another great snark-gasm to share with Rhi.

“Ty. Don’t, okay? You’re on thin ice as it is. Giving me another reason to doubt this arrangement, well…”

He rose from the table, walked around the island and came at her. With his hands braced on either side of her, he gripped the counter and caged her in. The man knew how to be direct.

“Tomorrow I can’t dominate you. Tonight I can.”

And then he kissed her.

And kissed her.

And kissed her.

Charlie clung to him and trembled as he made it very clear with his mouth how easy it was for him to dominate her.

The kissing continued. His tongue slid into her mouth and she was lost. The desire rolling off him in powerful waves held her in a vise of heat until it was all so overwhelming that it scared her. Scared her witless. This guy was a man, and her? Shit. She was a toddler compared to him. A little girl playing a game she had no hope of winning. And didn’t know the rules for.

Disoriented when he eased off, it took her a minute to process what was happening. He’d reacted when she got scared. She felt it in his touch.

He didn’t say anything when they drew apart—just kept their bodies plastered together while he stared into her face. Unable to look away and too shaken to mask her emotions, it was all she could do to simply breathe. If he let go of her, she’d likely hit the floor with a thud.

Eventually they separated, but he never let go of her hand. And he wouldn’t, unless he had to. He helped her slip on the denim jacket and stood silently while her shaking fingers knotted the long swath of purple.

Every so often, one of them would murmur. But that was it.

The long ride to her tiny, bolthole flat felt surreal. The whole way there he held her hand unless he needed his to drive. They spoke very little, and when they did, their tone was hushed and intense.

A parking space materialized out of nowhere outside her building. Walking along the pavement together, she picked up the cadence of his solid strides and her booted scampers when he went too fast.

He insisted on seeing her directly to the door of her apartment where he waited patiently while she struggled with a sticky lock that needed a shoulder shove at the last to get past.

“Do you want to come in?” She wasn’t sure why she asked. The polite thing to do? Maybe.

“That’s not a good idea, ‘tessa,” he grumbled

There was heaviness, a thickness in his voice she hadn’t heard before.

Just when she was sure he’d kiss her good night, he straightened and pushed her through the door. “I’ll wait till I hear you lock. Be ready tomorrow at seven,” he reminded her.

As she shut the door, Charlie locked eyes with him as he hovered in the dimly lit hallway.

“Good night, Ty.”

“Sweet dreams, ‘tessa.”

“O
KAY, SO. POWER FOODS. NO
crap allowed.”

Cal nodded. Easy to follow since he wasn’t much of a crap eater. Not unless you counted the milk chocolate he craved and hoarded like a fucking squirrel with winter approaching. Europeans had a totally different take on chocolate than a kid raised in Virginia who thought a family trip to Hershey Park in Pennsylvania was a candy lover’s dream. Following a Hansel and Gretel path of chocolate kisses that led over a cliff -- he’d be the first dumbass to fall.

They were sitting on a blanket in a huge open field above a winding country road. The view of the surrounding countryside was unbeatable. Today’s slow down and smell the roses activity involved bike riding. Not mountain or sport biking where the ride was arduous and challenging either. Nope. For the Baroness of Wild, her idea of biking involved an early start, a leisurely pedal, countless slow downs and stops to admire the scenery or take a water break. That’s how they ended up lolling about in a field.

From her backpack, she drew out something wrapped in paper and a travel container. This is what his days with ‘tessa were like. She had every base covered and calmly laid out a daily plan rivaling the logistics and oversight Crepuscolo employed to move the team all around Europe. The girl was a marvel.

Cross-legged on the blanket, she impatiently shoved the long braid she kept her hair in over a shoulder and winked at him. In a conspiratorial voice, she told him, “Coconut almond energy bars. Homemade—thank you very much.”

Folding back the paper, she uncovered two good size hunks and showed him. A wide smile illuminating her face.

“My sister’s recipe. She’s a genius in the kitchen. Wait till you sink your teeth into one of these babies. They are to die for.”

Reclining on his side, Cal leaned heavily on an elbow and reached for one of the proffered bars. Each one was carefully tucked into a paper pocket thingie. The minute he bit into the dense bar his taste buds surrendered and fell hopelessly in love.

“Oh my fucking God,” he drawled—his mouth making quick work of the delicious treat. “This is amazing.” And he wasn’t kidding.

’‘tessa was having her own foodgasm, chowing down as quickly as he did. “It’s vegan, if you care.”

Oh Jesus. Vegan. Cal’s mind fired up a memory that came out of nowhere and brought a smile. His mom was an avid Whole Food’s shopper. And by shopping, in no way did that imply pushing a cart around a store and checking off a list. No. That wasn’t mom’s style. She made every store run an educational experience, stopping to chat at the product demos, asking a zillion questions at the seafood counter, debating organic versus raw with the produce girl. Shit. Mom could put on twenty minutes of stand up at the drop of a hat on the subject of organic.

“Your sister like you? Barefoot hippie with flowers in her hair and a fifty-pound sack of whole wheat flour stashed in the pantry?”

She snorted with laughter. “Oh God no. Think, um … oh, I know! Think of your brother. You said he’s the older one, right?”

He chuckled. Fucker. Yeah. Being oldest came with a double helping of side-eye mockery. Cal nodded and chewed. “Okay.”