The Touch of Magic Series, page 123
Speaking of right in front of her, the wrong guy was headed straight to her door. She’d made it four days since returning from Madrid without speaking to him. So much for making it to five.
Max leaned in her doorway, his crossed arms showing off his broad shoulders and making her stupid stomach flip. “Hey, Sloan. I was hoping you’d join me for lunch.”
“I don’t know.” She did have a ham sandwich stashed in her drawer. Not that a wheat-bread sandwich was her reason for waffling, but she tried to convince herself it was.
“I packed a picnic. You know: short walk, long lunch, a few ants.... Please?”
Good lord, Max Summerland asking her please. That was going to do her in one of these days.
She opened her mouth to turn him down, but Max beat her at getting words out. “I wanted to keep up on the goings on with the baby.”
Well, shit. He had an absolute right to that. She had to play nice or the whole thing could go to hell. Then, she reminded herself he was a deal-closer and she was his holy grail deal to close. At least this time it was only for lunch. He was coming after her using the baby and her hunger as bait. Though Sloan saw exactly what he was doing, she caved. She was such a sucker.
“Okay, five minutes?” She wanted to be mad at herself but he said he had food. The baby needed food!
Four minutes later, she was sorting the last files into ‘done’ and ‘to do’ when he showed up again, this time with an actual wicker basket in the crook of his arm. She sighed a swear word.
If the others in the office hadn’t already started putting two and two and two together and getting “baby,” then this was a huge neon flashing sign. This looked just like a real date. The very thought made her heart flutter, but her head wondered what explanation she could offer her co-workers if they asked. No, no, it’s not a date, we’re just going out to discuss my baby, who is also his baby. Yeah, that was worse.
She wanted to cast a spell so no one would see them walking out together with her belly and his picnic basket. She wanted to cast a spell so they forgot about rumors that she’d woken in his bed in Chicago. But forget spells were nasty little things. Delilah said they always seemed reasonable, and they always left a trail of destruction in their path. Sloan trusted Delilah.
Sloan and Rae’s mother had been run out of their old Italian village after using her skills to find a missing person. Though that kind of skill ran rampant through the family, Sloan’s mother had said it was only her and left town, rather than have her whole family be banished from the farm and the only home they’d known. They’d called her a witch. And here Sloan was, becoming one. But the spells she’d contemplated might deserve the treatment her mother had gotten.
She pushed the thought aside and followed Max out her office door and down the hallway. It seemed everyone watched them go by as they practically paraded out. They even ran into an abnormally high number of people from other departments on the way down, just to be sure that the whole company knew.
When they at last made it a good three blocks away, they settled on a spot in the soft sun on a block of deep green grass at the small park. Max set the basket aside and pulled out a huge piece of sheet plastic.
Classy. Okay, so she was being sarcastic, but she had expected a little better effort from Max than a plastic picnic mat. Then he pulled a beautiful woven blanket out and laid it over the plastic. “I just didn’t want the blanket to get wet, you know, if the grass was damp or something.”
Sloan mentally kicked herself and was glad that she’d held her tongue.
Reaching for her hand, Max helped her lower her increasingly awkward frame and get comfortable on the blanket, before sitting himself down. This he did with his knees touching hers, near enough that she would be able to feel his heat and just detect the scent of him. He stayed far enough away to not invade her personal space. Just enough that she couldn’t accuse him of any indecency. Still, they must look like a couple to everyone who passed by, and her swollen belly only confirming that idea.
He overwhelmed her whether he meant to or not, and there was nothing she could do about the jolt that went through her every time they touched. Just a simple gesture, his hand brushing the back of hers by accident, or to get her attention, and she must have flushed. How could she not, with what she’d been thinking? When his fingertips slid along the palm of her hand, it had taken her right back to that night in Madrid, in the pool. And on his bed.
She’d seen next to nothing of Spain or the city of Madrid. Between the work and her infatuation with Max, she’d barely looked up. Sloan remembered the airport, where he carried her bags. They had driven around a lot getting from place to place, but she didn’t remember the views they passed, just a standard limo interior and Max’s thigh pressed next to hers, sending shivers up her whole body. It was better when she avoided him entirely. But right now, he was talking to her, giving her a fresh new blush.
“I made sandwiches.” He pulled a few fat, lush-looking hoagies out, stacking them next to the picnic basket. “Boarshead ham and turkey, one chicken.” He pointed as he spoke. “Rye, and that’s a Hawaiian seven grain.”
He must have seen her eyebrows go up. “Hey, I make a mean picnic and I can cook, too.”
She smiled, although it was a little forced. He was closing the deal, always closing. She wished for a second that things could be different. That he was the right guy. That if she leaned a little forward, his hand would come around her neck and he would pull her close and kiss her deeply. Later he would hand feed her the grapes he was pulling from the depths of the basket. In her imagination, a shining gold band circled her left ring finger.
But her finger was bare. And he was offering her bottled water, served without a kiss. She accepted. The sandwich was heavenly. He had beaten her ham on whole wheat twelve ways to Sunday. For a short time while they ate, the sunlight filtered through the leaves and an easy silence settled around them.
When Max did finally speak, she got the distinct impression that he had purposely waited until her mouth was full before he started. “Listen, I don’t know what happened in Madrid.”
She swallowed, struggling to speak. Although to say what, she wasn’t sure. He didn’t know what happened? Did he need to repeat seventh grade sex ed classes?
But he held his hand up. “I’m not sure I want to know.”
Sloan just nodded, not sure she wanted to tell him either. “If you decide that you do, I’ll tell you.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Was she disappointed that he didn’t want to know? If she had to judge by the weight in her chest, she was. Since he brought it up but clearly didn’t want to talk about it, she didn’t know what to say, so she took another bite, and let Max continue. “I just want us to start over. We have a baby coming. And as much as you might like to get rid of me, I’m not going anywhere. I always wanted a family of my own.”
She nodded, but again he didn’t let her speak. Dismissing the past and turning the topic more to the present, he changed direction on her. “When is your ultrasound appointment? You said I could come.”
Why had she said that? Wiggling like a fish on a hook, she blurted out the words that popped into her head. “Maybe you could watch a video of it later.”
His face fell. He looked like a boy whose puppy she had just kicked. Still, he sucked it up, even if he visibly bit back what he wanted to say. When he did speak his words were conciliatory. “If you’d be more comfortable that way, I’ll deal.”
No. He wouldn’t. She felt like a terrible person just for suggesting he not come. All evidence said Dylan Atterson was entirely at fault for all this. While Max might not have been drugged, he’d been a victim of a bad circumstance, too. Even though she wanted to say he should have worn a condom if he really didn’t want to be in this situation, she couldn’t do it. She was glad to be having this baby! And she probably had the word ‘sucker’ tattooed across her heart in a beautiful flowing cursive. If she ever had a chest x-ray they’d see it. “No, it’s okay, you can come. I said you could.”
Though he shook his head, his voice accepted. “Only if you’re sure.”
Holding back the sigh with all she was worth, she assured him, “I am.”
It was his baby, too. She wouldn’t be pregnant without him. He had every right to be there. God, that puppy dog look lit his face up. Yup, s.u.c.k.e.r.
“When is it?”
“Next Tuesday, ten a.m. One fifty medical plaza at UCLA. Suite 300.”
“You remember the day and time and address?” He pulled his day planner out and input the appointment.
She heard the giggle escape her throat. That was the problem with Max: as uptight as she was around him, he always made her laugh and smile. “Are you kidding? I am so excited I’m going to blow a gasket. I don’t think I’ve been this excited since my seventh birthday and my pink huffy bike.”
He laughed, too, causing her a brief pang of anger at herself for telling him ‘no’ the first time. He shouldn’t have had to wear her down to come with her. He didn’t seem to notice any of the thoughts in her head though. “You’re right. I think I’m gonna bust. What do you want, boy or girl?”
Shrugging, she looked skyward. “Happy and healthy, otherwise I don’t care.”
“If you could chose?”
“I don’t know. I think I’d relate better to a girl, but I think boys don’t have as many issues.” She stopped herself. Wow, one turkey sandwich and she was blabbering stereotypes about boys and girls.
But he didn’t press. “I have visions of teaching my son how to play ball, but then again you always hear about Daddy’s girls. I mean you can teach any kid how to throw a ball, and any kid can tell me they’d rather wear princess dresses than do a sport. So I guess I don’t know either.” His smile was warm and sweet and sucking her in. She didn’t need that. His voice was almost conspiratorial, “I guess we’ll take what we get.”
We? When had they become a we? Probably when you made a baby together, Sloan told herself.
“I can pick you up and drive us in, if you’d like.”
She had visions of him at her doorstep. She didn’t need that, either. Or the fact that a ride in would mean a ride home at the end of the day. “I want to get some work in that morning before I go.”
“I can drive from the office.”
With a low sigh, she gave in to that one, too. As usual, he had neatly cornered her. “Okay.”
How many more concessions was she going to make? And if she kept backing down, how was she going to keep the wall around her heart?
Suddenly she was incredibly grateful that she and Rae had found their cousin Luke. She was even more grateful that Luke was married to a bona fide witch. Sloan was never going to be able to resist Max and his onslaught on her own. She was going to need some magic.
CHAPTER 20
Max was torn. The picnic in the park had been a fantastic first date. He wasn’t even certain if she’d known it was supposed to be romantic. And it wasn’t like any other date he’d ever been on, what with his date being four months along with his baby, but it had been wonderful.
Under the tree on the picnic blanket, Sloan had laughed. She’d smiled real smiles at him. He knew some of the things he was asking were things she didn’t want to give up easily, but he’d pushed—just a little—and she’d caved. Surely, she would have held her ground more firmly if she really hadn’t wanted him there. He looked at her face and wished he could pull out a dowsing L-rod and ask the universe to double check her answers. He’d saved that for later. He’d back out of the appointment if any of his spells or readings said she really didn’t want him along.
Later that night, in his apartment, he’d finally pulled out the dowsing rods and checked all her answers. Though he’d held his breath the whole time, ultimately he’d been pleased that she wasn’t lying. That part was good. It was the things he saw when he wasn’t looking that bothered him.
His Grandma Summerland had taught him to look with ‘the side of his eye,’ as she called it. His peripheral vision saw things the conscious brain missed. In the park, when he’d leaned over to get the sandwiches, he’d caught a glimpse of something. Naturally, it escaped him when he looked directly at her and he chalked it up as a dust mote.
But when he’d fallowed her pointing finger to a bird in the tree above them, he’d seen it again. So while they ate, he stayed quiet and was grateful when she did, too. If she thought anything of him looking away and admiring the scenery, she didn’t say anything. What he was doing was looking at her, with the side of his eye, like his grandmother had taught him.
It was definitely there.
Smoky tendrils of grey and white, curling around Sloan as though they owned her. Somehow, she’d gotten another spell on her.
It had taken him a while to wrap his head around it. It was a legitimate question: Who got spells cast on them? It could happen. Maybe she’d run into a witch and they cast on her for whatever reason. The first time he’d seen it, she’d been cast on at the hotel bar. Dylan Atterson had hit her with GHB and a forget and desire spell combined.
But Max had removed it.
He’d double checked. That spell was gone long before he and Sloan even pulled their shirts off. Also, that one had a black glint. It had been a nasty little fucker, intended to hurt or use the victim.
As he watched this one, the grey and white pieces snaked and moved around her. Max had hardly been able to look at Sloan, let alone speak. So he’d eaten his sandwich and tried to figure out what she might have gotten herself into.
The best he could figure was that Atterson had cast on her again. Sloan said she’d written him a letter. It was probably full of legal threats that may or may not have carried any weight. Hitting her back with another spell would earn that ass his revenge and someone like Sloan would likely never even know she’d been spelled, let alone tie it back to that little weasel.
Normal people didn’t think in terms of spells and casting. When things were wrong, they didn’t fog their mirrors and look for tendrils in the air around them. They didn’t grab a pendulum and ask if they’d been cast on. But whatever this one was, it was strong enough for him to get a glimpse of it while they were in the park.
Though he’d had a great time, he’d spent most of the meal and the rest of the afternoon worried. Atterson was the only one Max could think of who would do it. There were witches everywhere, not in high numbers certainly, and few who’d been raised in the craft like him, so it didn’t have to be that piece of shit Dylan Atterson. Still, that was his first, best bet.
While Max wanted to sit down and remove the spell, the best he could do would be a general removal. It would be better if he knew what he was removing specifically. But first he had another more tangible message.
At home, he logged into the company information and pulled up his old files. He had a contact number for everyone who’d attended the Chicago meeting. Pulling up his cell phone, Max hoped that Atterson had maintained the same cell number. The work line would likely be dead or would lead to the new Jeff Landers guy.
It rang and rang. Shit! Atterson wouldn’t answer if he recognized Max’s number and he likely also wouldn’t if the number showed up as “unknown.” Max hung up and called back. He waited five rings, then hung up and called back again. The little asshat would know it was important. Just as Max was trying to decide what kind of threat would work best on voicemail, the line clicked.
“Who is this?” The voice was gruff and irritated. And though he’d only heard it for a short while several months ago, Max recognized it. Bingo.
“This is Max Summerland from Bernstein.” He let the idea that it was a business call hang for a second, then he slashed that to the ground. “I know what you did to Sloan Ellis. I have evidence and I can prosecute you.”
“Look, I—”
Max knew that Sloan had already threatened him, but she hadn’t understood she’d been cast on. Max was going to add another layer.
“Shut up. I know Sloan wrote to you and I know she decided not to prosecute. But if you do anything to her again, you’ll wish she had thrown you in jail. What I can do to you will be a thousand times worse.”
“Look man. She said she was single. It’s not my fault you had a crush on your co-worker…” the tone was mealy and condescending, that of a man who was used to getting away with certain things. Of course he was, he was using magic and probably no one suspected him, but Max was putting an end to it.
“That’s not what this is about. Let’s discuss the fact that you put GHB in her drink.”
“That shit breaks down. I don’t know what her proof is, but you can’t trace it…” There was an air of superiority and Max felt his blood boil at the almost-admission of guilt. He wanted to reach through the phone line and strangle the little fucker. But he couldn’t, so he played a better card.
“That may be true, but you didn’t count on running into someone who can spot the spell you placed on her, did you?”
Silence held for a minute. Anyone who hadn’t put a spell on Sloan would have started in about Max being off his rocker. That Atterson waited him out was practically a confession. Son of a bitch!
Max waited until Atterson spoke. “Look, I—”
Then he cut the little bastard off. “I also know that you cast another spell on her since you got fired—”
“I didn’t! I swear. I mean I bought that crap off the internet!”
Max didn’t believe him. Or if the asshat had bought it off the internet he clearly hadn’t quit doing it. “I don’t care how you got it. I can see it. I took the first one off her. I’m taking this one off her, too. If another one shows up—and I don’t care from where—you’re going down.”
He paused for effect. “If you tell anyone about this conversation, I’ll deny it. And then I’ll make your life a living hell, and no one will believe you. I can and will turn your world upside down in the worst way possible. We need to be crystal clear about this. Do. You. Understand. Me?”
