Chapter 4
Chapter
Four
Sydney
“ H ave we come to the part where I spank you?”
As the final notes of “Happy Birthday” echo through the small conference room, I close my eyes. Did my perpetually inappropriate coworker, Jamie, actually suggest a bit of kinky discipline in front of the entire Out of this Realm staff?
Everyone laughs uncomfortably—except my exceedingly dishy photographer, Caden MacTavish. Mortified, I risk a glance at him. He’s crossed his thick arms over his chest while glaring at Jamie with those piercing blue eyes.
With a disapproving sigh, I turn to the office Lothario. Jamie merely leers, wagging his brows at me.
“Have we come to the part where you leave?” Caden counters.
The words somehow sound polite. He has that upper crust Londoner sound, though muted by time elsewhere. But he can still say most anything and sound civilized. His current expression, on the other hand, rivals Attila the Hun’s on a bad day.
“You think you should be first to have a go at her?” Jamie challenges him. “I’ve seen how you stare.”
I flash hot all over. Since joining our team, Caden has taken a great deal of interest in my work. He’s been especially fixated on the battle in that South London tunnel last month. Though he claimed my story about the magical war is utter rubbish, he’s asked a load of questions, particularly about my information source. Not that I would tell him—or anyone else—the woman’s name. Impossible, anyway. I don’t know it. Unfortunately, Jamie must be addled because Caden’s fascination does not extend to me.
“Bad karma!” Aquarius, my flower-child assistant, scolds both men. “Mellow!”
Neither spares a glance for the little waif in the fringed dress. Silver bangles tinkling, Aquarius reaches out to Caden. Whether she intends to soothe him or test his aura, I can’t be sure. I shoot a silent warning at my assistant. Now is not a good time for one of her healing-crystal/save-the-world moments.
Caden ignores her to glare daggers at Jamie. “You may find this concept hard to grasp, but some men are capable of admiring more about a woman than what’s in her knickers.”
Jamie scoffs. “If he’s a nancy boy.”
I don’t know Caden well. But despite his disinterest in the contents of my knickers, I’m convinced he’s not gay.
“Or more evolved than a hormonal ape,” Caden drawls.
“Stop being rude,” I snap at Jamie. “This is a birthday party, not a brawl.”
“Tell us your wish,” Leslie from marketing suggests to smooth the tension.
A romping shag with Caden, but since that isn’t likely to happen…lead reporter has a lovely ring to it. Sure, I work for an online paranormal tabloid that few take seriously, but it pays the bills. Soon, I hope to make a name for myself writing stories that traditional journalists eschew. And people everywhere will recognize me once I find proof of the supernatural. I know it’s out there…
Until then, I’ll write about the otherworldly things my parents have utterly rejected. Besides, Out of this Realm is a scream to work at. Where else could I collect a salary for chasing Ripper ghosts and conducting interviews at the London Psychic Centre?
My personal life, on the other hand? Disaster. How does one manage to become a sad spinster at twenty-eight? The endless string of dates from my uni days have been replaced with deadlines and staff meetings. My last boyfriend… His pretty face failed to compensate for the fact he had the IQ of a dead houseplant and the emotional range of a pea. Perhaps I should wish for a man.
For Caden.
Yummy waves of dark hair, delicious blue eyes, a body that belongs in magazines, and a reserved nature that makes me itch to know the man beneath. It’s a shame the attraction doesn’t run both ways.
“She can’t tell us or her wish won’t come true,” Holly, my editor, points out and gestures to the table loaded with brightly wrapped boxes and decorative bags. “Now stop fannying about, Syd, and open your gifts.”
Aquarius points animatedly to a bright yellow box with a kitschy floral ribbon. Before she can thrust it into my hands, I tear into another. I adore my assistant, but she has a penchant for gifts that often induce snickers and shock. I’d rather open hers in private.
Sighing, Aquarius pours cups of her infamous home-blended herbal tea as I plow through all the brightly wrapped boxes. A pair of delicate silver earrings, a relaxing massage at a local day spa, and a sumptuous Italian silk scarf trimmed in blue crushed velvet. Jamie gives me a gift certificate for a large pizza and Netflix discount code—both of which he’ll likely insist I share. Prat.
Caden hands me a somewhat impersonal card and a small box of gourmet chocolates. It’s lovely…though I would have preferred an indecent proposal. It’s been an age since I’ve had a shag, much less a decent one. And I’ve never been as attracted to a man as I am to him.
“Thank you, everyone. I’m genuinely touched. You shouldn’t have gone to such trouble,” I tell the group.
“We want to show you how much we appreciate you,” Leslie insists.
Wrapping paper and greeting cards litter the table when only the package from Aquarius remains. My assistant practically vibrates with excitement. “Last one. Open this! It’s from me.”
“You baked and organized and still got me something? You shouldn’t have.”
With the butterfly tattoo on her shoulder and her asymmetrical mesh-and-lace blouse that looks like something from Stevie Nicks’s wardrobe, Aquarius doesn’t dress like a typical assistant. She refuses to make coffee—too full of chemicals and caffeine. And she despises technology. But Aquarius has a knack for stories, for juggling my hectic schedule, fielding the editor-in-chief, soothing paranoid readers, and keeping internal strife at a minimum.
Despite being total opposites, she and I have become good friends.
“Are you two going to start snogging, or are you opening that?” Jamie hollers.
After tossing another glare his way, I focus on the gift. It’s square and slightly heavy, wrapped in yellow linen. I study the loud ribbon, wondering whether the present is safe to unwrap in polite company.
“Go on!” Aquarius insists excitedly.
An odd anticipation revs through me as I pluck at the silky bow and tear through the wrapping to reveal…an old book. The red leather cover is framed in a gilt filagree design and some sort of scripty-looking symbol. I try to hide my confusion, but I’ve been told I should never play poker.
Aquarius laughs. “Read the card inside.”
With a shrug, I open the little volume and flip through the empty, ever-so-slightly yellowed pages. Caden elbows in and gives the book an eye-popping stare as I thumb my way to the middle and locate a white square of card stock emblazoned with a fancy script that reads:
On these magical pages, spill your sensual fantasy, soon, your wishes will become reality.
A kiss, a touch, a whisper-whatever you most desire, in the arms of your lover, pleasure will burn hotter than fire.
Wait. Aquarius believes this unassuming little book makes sexual fantasies come true? I would love that, and I believe in magic, but this little volume in my hands?
Impossible.
Caden wedges his way through the crowd until he’s beside me, gaping at the book. His musky, woodsy scent never fails to drive me mad. How can any man smell so clean and yet like the dirtiest sex?
“May I see that?” he demands more than asks, reaching for the red volume.
“If you like.”
Before I’ve even finished speaking, he snatches it from me, pinging with tension.
I sigh. Yesterday, he looked right past the low-cut black jumper I wore to snag his attention. This old book? He’s enraptured.
Aquarius grabs my hand with a secretive smile. “Syd, do you understand? It’s?—”
“A crappy old book,” Jamie hollers, edging in behind me. “What kind of boring gift is that?”
“I appreciate everything everyone’s given me,” I say through clenched teeth, then address the rest of the staff. “Thank you. I’ve had a lovely birthday. Let’s get back to work. Deadlines don’t care that I’m another year older.” Maybe that will make Jamie shove off.
With murmurs about lots to do and so little time, the small crowd files out of the conference room. Unfortunately, Jamie lingers. Aquarius remains, as does Caden, who still intently studies the book.
Jamie drops a hand on my hip and slides it toward my backside. “You know, if you want something special for your birthday, I’ll make time for you this weekend.”
Does he think I’m eager to shag him? I can’t fathom ever being that desperate.
I open my mouth to refuse and tell him to remove his paw. Instead, Caden grabs Jamie’s wrist and nearly crushes it.
“What the bloody hell?” He glares at Caden as he tries—and fails—to jerk free.
Normally, such high-handed tactics would annoy me. I’m a grown woman who knows how to fend off creepers. But if Caden’s unexpected caveman impression means he’s even the slightest bit jealous, splendid.
“You daft prick, let go!” Jamie demands.
“As soon as you let go of her.” Caden nods toward Jamie’s hand hovering near my ass.
The cretin releases me, shaking his offended wrist when finally Caden turns him free. Openly sulking, he leaves.
Caden watches with a scowl of silent disapproval. I feel violence pulsing under my photographer’s skin. “Could I speak to you in your office?”
As always, his tone is polite. Is he planning to warn me about Jamie’s evils like an overprotective brother? Depressing thought. Do I have to jump on Caden while he’s naked to make him grasp that I’m not interested in anyone but him?
“Of course.”
“After you.” Caden gestures to the door.
“Wait!” Aquarius snatches the book from Caden and shoves it back in my hands. “Your gift! I should tell you about it.”
Oh, the “magical diary.” I can’t refuse without hurting Aquarius’s feelings. My impromptu meeting with Caden will have to wait.
“Go to my office. I’ll be there in a minute,” I tell him.
After a long glance at me, then the book, Caden nods and slips from the room, shutting the door behind him.
Being a petite redhead, I’ll never have a centerfold’s breasts and am not one of those statuesque, model-like creatures men get in a froth about. But Caden’s interactions with me are so impersonal, I wonder if he even knows I’m female. I sigh.
“You want him,” Aquarius whispers. It isn’t a question.
“I couldn’t want him anymore than if I’d shot myself with Cupid’s arrow.” I toss my hands in the air. “He doesn’t reciprocate.”
“You don’t know that,” Aquarius argues. “Something is brewing in that man’s head.”
Maybe. “He’s bloody difficult to read.”
“I don’t think he’s as immune to you as you imagine.”
“I’d love to believe that. No, I’d love to experience it.”
“You can.” Aquarius taps the old book. “He can be yours for a night.”
Honestly, Caden can have his pick of women. Besides being fit, gorgeous, intelligent, and polite, he has proven dependable thus far. He isn’t lazy, he’s chivalrous without being a misogynist, and he truly seems to listen. He’s probably devastatingly good in bed, too—not that I’ll ever know personally.
Or can I?
The idea tempts me. Can this journal possibly be magical? Truly? It sounds awfully fantastical—not that such a book exists, but that Aquarius dropped it in my lap. Supposing everything she says is true…could Caden truly be mine for the night after I jot down a few ideas that involve scented massage oil, a big bed, and his naked body?
I cast a gentle glance at my assistant. “You genuinely believe this book is real?”
Aquarius nods. “It made one of my fantasies come true. Remember Alex, that delish neighbor I told you about? He asked me out when I wrote down precisely what I wanted.”
“He had an itch for you, so when his calendar opened up, he rang.”
“And read my mind? Until last week, I never knew shagging under a waterfall would be so…invigorating.”
“A waterfall? It’s bloody November. Where did you find?—”
“I’ll never tell.” She smiles coyly.
“Let me get this straight: This hunky bloke suddenly appeared and whisked you away to fulfill your fantasy, exactly as you wrote it?”
“Yes.” Dreamy doesn’t begin to describe Aquarius’s faraway expression. “It was fantastic.”
I grope for a chair and sink into it. “Good thing you’re taking a holiday. I think you need it.”
“I’m overworked, not mad. I thoroughly enjoyed Alex. As a life partner, he wasn’t right for me?—”
“No man ever is.” Aquarius is notoriously picky.
“There’s a man out there. Somewhere. I’ll know when I meet him. But the point is, I don’t need this journal anymore.” Aquarius shoves it at me. “But you… If you want Caden, write your fantasy in here.”
The idea is tempting, but if Caden ever discovered my words, mortified wouldn’t begin to cover how badly I’d want to crawl into a hole and wait for a new millennium.
“That’s a terrible idea.”
“Pining away is no better. Look”—her voice drops to a whisper—“take the diary with you this weekend and write your deepest desire about Caden. Wait a day or two. If it doesn’t come true, what have you lost?”