Ryan couldn’t help but grin. “My goodness, Emma, you naughty girl. What are you reading these days?”
He turned it over to read the story blurb on the back cover. It was about a woman who worked for a paranormal investigation agency who experienced many explicit fantasies made flesh during her cases with her partner Bryan.
Bryan.
Ryan frowned and flipped through the book to find the bio of the author. There was a black-and-white picture, but it was mysteriously shot so it wasn’t obvious what she really looked like. Her back was to the camera, her face turned just a little so she was coyly glancing over her shoulder. Very enigmatic. Very sexy.
Very Emma.
He recognized her immediately and his mouth fell open in shock.
There was a card clipped to one of the book covers and he grabbed it.
Emma, congrats on the new release. Enjoy the extra copies! Please consider writing more for me. Let me know when you’re ready to talk more books!
—Marilyn
Emma wrote this book. She was E.M. Black. These were copies of her erotic novel.
Naughty, indeed.
He sat down heavily on the leather sofa and trained his gaze on the door, waiting for Emma to come bursting through at any moment to reclaim her tote bag and potion bottle.
She didn’t return.
Ryan left the party at just after eleven o’clock and grabbed a taxi to take him across the city to his hotel room. He hadn’t spoken to Franklin personally about who was supplying him with stolen supernatural merchandise. This was still vitally important to him—to clear his name once and for all—but he’d decided to put that on hold for just a couple days longer.
Tomorrow he’d rent a car and head to Mystic Ridge, a town he hadn’t stepped foot in since he’d been fired six months ago.
He had to see Emma again.
Tonight, however, he had some serious reading to do.
4
EMMA WAS ON THE BUS headed away from the station when she realized, with a sick, sinking feeling, that she’d left a couple of things behind.
The books she could live without. Since she’d left them in a library, maybe Xavier would think they were an anonymous donation. He certainly seemed the type to appreciate erotica. But the bottle—that was going to be a problem. It was, after all, the sole reason she’d been sent to see the billionaire in the first place.
Of course, that was before everything went to hell.
Her head still felt cloudy and she couldn’t believe what she’d done. She and Ryan had almost—
She banged her head gently against the window, feeling the vibrations of the bus’s movement.
It was as if her baser instincts had taken over. She’d jumped on the man she claimed to hate like a sex-starved frog on a tuxedo-wearing lily pad.
In her line of work, she’d come into contact with potions before, but she’d never been influenced by one. Not like this. It was just a good thing that she wouldn’t see Ryan again. Ever. She definitely didn’t want a repeat performance to mess her head up even more than it already was.
The window reflected a redhead who had sad, glossy eyes and flushed cheeks. Emma shook a finger at her. “Don’t get emotional over that jerk.”
The redhead just stared back at her bleakly.
“No,” she assured her reflection. “He’s bad news. Not worth another thought.”
The lust potion had brought back a big mess of issues, all of them involving her unrequited feelings for Ryan. The ones that would have to stay unrequited.
She didn’t trust him. He was a thief and a liar.
For a moment she thought he was going to try to tell her that he was innocent, that he’d been wrongfully fired from his job. He’d seemed surprised when she told him there’d been a witness to what he’d done, one Emma trusted more than anyone.
Herself.
Emma had seen Ryan leave the office with the stolen merchandise in hand late one night. She’d been in the parking lot. She’d seen him load the stolen items in the trunk of a black car and then take off without looking back.
If she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes, she never would have believed it. But she had. And she did. And the fact that she still had feelings for the man who’d broken her trust as well as her heart—well, that just pissed her off.
Thank God she’d stopped before they’d had sex. It had been so close. Way too close. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to think about how he’d felt, how he’d tasted, how he’d smelled. Very good. Very tempting. Very dangerous.
“Goodbye, Ryan,” she whispered. “For good this time.”
“OKAY, WELL PLEASE contact me if you find anything,” Emma said into the phone Thursday afternoon. She was finally back at her desk at the PARA head office. She’d taken the morning off since her bus hadn’t pulled into Mystic Ridge until after 2:00 a.m. “I really appreciate it.”
She slammed the receiver down and then swore at it.
Her friend, Charlotte Hayes, eyed her cautiously. “And what did that poor phone ever do to you?”
“They can’t find the potion bottle,” Emma explained. “That was one of the maids. They’re still cleaning up after the party last night. No bottle. No tote bag. Nothing.”
“That blows.”
“Tell me about it.”
“It’s not the end of the world. It happens. Jeez, Emma, old man Franklin hitting on you must have really messed up your head. You never forget stuff like this.”
Emma cringed. It was a pretty good excuse, she thought. She’d left the party after Xavier had groped her. That was all she’d told Charlotte. She hadn’t made one mention about seeing Ryan again. After all, it had been statuesque, blonde and beautiful Charlotte whom he’d dated before he was fired. And it had been Charlotte whom Emma had been painfully envious of for that very reason. However, Charlotte had gotten over Ryan’s betrayal much faster than Emma had.
The last thing she wanted Charlotte to know was that Emma had bumped into her former partner and had nearly screwed his brains out at a client’s home, thanks to a lust potion.
Talk about unprofessional. And embarrassing.
It was best she forget about it. She was still working on that.
It wasn’t as if she resented Charlotte for being tall and gorgeous. She liked her. A lot. In fact, they’d been roommates until only until a few months ago. Charlotte had worked for PARA a year now. She was only twentyfive. Her parents had money, a lot of it, but most of it had been lost in a bad economy and a Ponzi scheme, leaving Charlotte with no nest egg to speak of. She’d had to get a job to pay her bills instead of relying on Mom and Dad, so she’d jumped at the chance to make a living using her empathic ability.
The poor girl still didn’t know the value of a dollar. Emma had taken her under her wing and shown her the ropes of bargain hunting. Or she’d tried to, anyway. When you were born into money, it was difficult to make the transition to clipping coupons.
At least she was gorgeous. And she was dating a man who was crazy about her. Charlotte and Stephen had recently moved in together, actually. She’d be fine. Emma just worried about the people she cared about.
Charlotte had been put in charge of sorting through unsolved cases and she had a stack of file folders on her desk. Emma had glanced through them earlier. One was a known thorn in PARA’s side, an allegedly haunted hotel on the other side of Mystic Ridge. For years, agents had been unsuccessful at exorcising the ghost from the location—even proving there was even a ghost in residence seemed impossible.
If Emma messed up on any more assignments, she’d be demoted into working side by side with Charlotte on those cold cases. She wasn’t quite as fond of dusty and impossible-to-solve riddles as Charlotte seemed to be.
Agency manager Patrick McKay moved slowly toward her. Tall and attractive with a bright gold wedding ring on his left hand to show he’d recently returned from his honeymoon, he used a cane to walk these days as part of his recovery from a spinal injury. Otherwi
se he looked like someone who might climb mountains in his spare time.
“Any luck locating the bottle, Emma?” he asked.
She just shook her head, trying to ignore her feelings of guilt over her failure.
His lips thinned and his gaze grew concerned. “Everything okay, Emma? It’s not like you to forget something so important.”
“I’m fine. And I— I’m sorry, Patrick. I don’t know what happened.”
“Xavier Franklin hit on her and it messed her up,” Charlotte offered bluntly. “She shouldn’t have been sent to that dirty old man’s home all by herself. She’s lucky she got out of there at all.”
Patrick’s brows drew together. “Is that true?”
Emma tensed. “Yes, but I don’t want to make a big deal over it.”
“Franklin is a known womanizer, but I hoped his age might prohibit him from bothering my agents. Seems like I was wrong. I’m sorry you had to deal with that. And Charlotte’s right. You need a partner to prevent situations like this happening in the future. You’ll be able to do more field assignments than you have the last few months. I’m sure you’re sick of being stuck at your desk so much lately.”
“But—”
He raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”
Her shoulders sank. “That’s fine. Thanks.”
He watched her for a moment. “You’re sure everything’s fine, Emma? I sense that you’re troubled.”
Empaths. They were dangerous to be around. Especially really gifted ones like Patrick.
“I’m fine,” she said firmly.
“If you say so.”
“I do.”
She was. She was fine. And she held on to that thought for the rest of the day until it was time to go home. She had a date tonight and the least she could do would be to show up for it even though all she really wanted to do was go home and crawl into her bed.
But forgetting that potion bottle was unforgivable and unprofessional. It bothered her.
Emma exited the PARA head office and headed toward her car in the parking lot—a blue Toyota Camry that had been in the shop yesterday, which was why she’d had to take the bus to New York. She pushed her key into the lock, but then stopped. A shiver went through her and gathered low in her body. Her nipples tightened and strained against her white shirt.
She bit her bottom lip. Uh, oh.
Her cell phone vibrated. She grabbed for it and held it to her ear. “Yes?”
“Miss me?”
Her jaw clenched. “Ryan.”
“You recognize my voice.”
“Where are you? I know you’re here.”
“How do you know that?”
“I can feel you.”
“I’m flattered.”
“Where are you right now?”
“Behind you.”
She looked over her shoulder to see him leaning against a nearby car and her grip tightened on the phone. He removed his phone from his ear and tucked it into the pocket of his leather jacket.
“I just wanted to talk to you,” he said.
She pressed the Disconnect button on her phone and tossed it into her purse. Lust potions were very powerful, in case she had any question about that. She was the living proof that being within twenty feet of Ryan made her desperate for him.
She eyed him wearily. “Just leave me alone, Ryan. I have a date tonight and it’s definitely not with you.”
His gaze remained fixed on her. “I dreamed about you last night.”
“Good dream or bad?”
“Very good.” There was a dozen feet between them and yet it felt as if he was right next to her. He rubbed his temples and looked pained for a moment. “This is more difficult than I thought it would be. Being this close to you feels…dangerous.”
“I might not like you, but I know you won’t hurt me.”
“Who said you were the one in danger?” He grinned a little.
She glanced around. “You really need to go, Ryan. If anyone sees you…”
“They’ll firmly escort me off the premises?”
“If you’re lucky.”
“I just wanted to see you again. I…needed to see you again.”
The desperate tone in his voice gave her an unexpected inner thrill. “Why?”
“Because I wanted to give you something.”
He drew closer. She found that she wasn’t scurrying back into the office like she probably should. Instead she pressed back against her car door as he came within a couple of feet from her. Her heart rate increased and her skin warmed.
She watched him carefully. From the heated look in his gaze to the sight of his chest moving with rapid breathing, it was obvious she affected him as much as he affected her.
Dangerous indeed.
He reached for her hand, taking it in his. The contact left her breathless. The potion’s effects hadn’t faded a bit from yesterday. If anything, this strong lust she felt for her former partner had gotten stronger. He moved closer still. She was certain he was going to kiss her, to press his mouth against hers. And she was going to let him do more than that.
“What do you want to give me?” she whispered, when his lips were only an inch away from hers. She braced her right hand against his firm chest so she could feel the pounding of his heart.
“You forgot something last night.”
She felt a press of something cold and hard in the palm of her left hand and she looked down to see the green potion bottle.
He’d come all the way back to Mystic Ridge to return the bottle of Desidero potion to her.
“Ryan…” she whispered, not sure if she was going to thank him or ask why he’d bothered.
“Later, Em.” He turned and walked away. The moment he was out of view, she leaned against her car door, the only thing currently keeping her vertical. Every cell in her body had urged her to throw her arms around him, kiss him, undress him. It didn’t matter that they were right in the middle of the PARA employee parking lot. Her body burned for him to be inside of her.
It was very inconvenient.
And she had a funny feeling that she hadn’t seen the last of him.
IT WOULD HAVE BEEN MUCH simpler for Ryan to leave the bottle on Emma’s doorstep so she could find it, take it back to PARA and say her assignment was completed successfully. It hadn’t been necessary for him to deliver it in person, he thought.
What had started off as a bit of a joke, a small amusement for him after so many months of being alone, had gotten serious damn fast. As much as he wanted Emma, she simply wasn’t in his grand plan. Every minute he spent here in Mystic Ridge was one less minute he’d spend investigating who was really behind the crimes of which he’d been accused. He had a list of stolen items he’d been tracking. Six in total. He’d found only two of them so far—an enchanted amulet and an urn—in the collections of rich men with too much time and money on their side.
He was certain Xavier Franklin, a known collector of glassware, was in possession of a missing vase, but hadn’t been able to officially confirm that at the party. He’d have to go back and question the billionaire as soon as he could.
Ryan’s confidence in his plan had faded with each month that passed. It seemed as if everyone had moved on except him.
He wondered sometimes why he refused to give up. Why not just head down to Florida early? Down there he could start over. He’d make new friends, find a beautiful woman who could look at him without doubt or disappointment in her eyes, and make a new life for himself once and for all.
Yes, that’s exactly what he was going to do.
But not just yet.
First he had clear his name. It was the principle of the thing.
He didn’t even really fault Emma’s immediate assumption that he was guilty. It wasn’t common knowledge, but Ryan did have a bit of a shady history. Fifteen years ago, he’d fallen in with his brother’s friends, a tough group of kids who jacked cars and sold the parts. Ryan was one of the unlucky ones who’d been busted for it.
The cop who’d nabbed him took pity on a seventeenyear-old kid who was missing the right direction in his life and helped to keep him out of jail, helped him see that the path he was on was one that would only lead to more trouble. Ryan hadn’t stolen anything since. He’d learned his lesson. But those he’d trusted and told about his past would know that his being light-fingered was a definite possibility.
He stayed in touch with the cop for years. The man had been like a father to him in his late teens and early twenties and had helped keep Ryan on the straight and narrow. It had a whole lot to do with the man’s influence that Ryan was going this extra mile to clear his name.
He missed the old guy. In fact, Ryan still visited his grave every other weekend.
But it hadn’t made anything easier over the last six months, knowing right from wrong.
It had even occurred to him a couple of times that he should live up to his reputation and start to steal again. If he was considered a thief by everyone, he may as well make a profit at it.
But it just wasn’t in his nature anymore.
It wasn’t in his brother’s nature anymore either. Joe had cleaned up years ago and started the business down south. He was the one who’d asked Ryan for help, knowing Ryan’s gift with cars.
So Ryan endeavored to prove his innocence, to make that cop who’d been his one good influence in his youth proud, even beyond the grave. But he kept coming up against brick walls every direction he turned.
“Brick walls are a hell of a lot better than jail cells,” he mumbled as he drove his Mustang away from just down the block from where he’d left Emma.
Ryan wanted to get back to working at clearing his name as soon as possible, but he wasn’t quite ready to say goodbye to his favorite stubborn redhead just yet. They had some unfinished business between them to take care of first.