When she’d confessed to a casual friend that she liked a computer geek, they’d teased her relentlessly. Beau was quiet and introverted, and though always helpful to his coworkers, he never seemed to socialize with them outside the office. Basically, he was the opposite of everything she usually found attractive in a man.
Thing was, Beau was the furthest thing from a dullard. Yes, he wore plain trousers, usually beige, heavy-rimmed glasses, and sometimes his shirt was buttoned up so tight around his neck, it looked like it might obstruct blood flow. But what her friends and others in her office seemed to miss was that beneath the subdued exterior, Beau was smoking hot. He had baby-blue eyes and his wild, uncombed locks were golden-blond with a hint of ginger. A band of coppery freckles crossed his long nose, and his voice carried the softest hint of a Scottish brogue. He pronounced e’s as a’s, and she wondered if Beau had gone to school in Scotland or lived there as a child.
Occasionally, Beau would loosen up. In warm weather, T-shirts exposed his broad shoulders and well-defined chest. His arms looked like he frequented the gym, and those stretch khakis he favored as office wear gave her a view of a sexy, tight ass. A couple of times, she’d peeked down his collar and glimpsed the silky blond hair on his chest. It was that teasing hint of smoldering physicality simmering just below a subdued surface that made her fantasies spin out of control. He looked completely capable of picking her up, carrying her into a quiet storage room, pressing her to the wall, and banging her senseless. Of course, he was too well-mannered to do such a thing but a girl could dream.
“Never underestimate the power of love.” Witch Casey winked as she popped the captured snake back into the basket.
Devon turned her attention to the woman standing in front of her. Had she been reading Devon’s mind?
“Your dilemma will not be hard to decide. You already know exactly what you want, and you don’t have to choose.”
Devon’s eyes widened.
Dear God, she can read my mind. I wonder if she saw all my dirty thoughts?
“I did, dear. Naughty time in the storage room? Trust me, you’re not the first to have that fantasy.” Witch Casey shrugged. “But don’t worry. Your secrets are safe with me. Whenever I speak, I sound mad. No one believes me anyway.”
3
Oakland, California, office of International Explorer Magazine
Devon returned to the office Friday morning feeling less than enthusiastic about having to come back a day before the weekend. Technically she was losing a vacation day, but it couldn’t be helped.
Today was a crisis day. The entire photo spread she’d planned for the next issue of International Explorer had been axed for legal reasons, and she had to find a decent substitute fast.
At least her time in Salem with Arcona had been fun. It was always good to see her mom and be reassured that she was recovering well. Too bad the fun was over. She was whipped, and no amount of coffee seemed to help. Flying home on a red-eye and going directly to the office was killing her.
She clicked her phone and called Arcona.
Arcona picked up. “You’re a psychic! I was just getting ready to call you.”
Devon tapped away at the keyboard as she spoke. Image after shop-worn wildlife image flashed past. “Did you catch your flight and get home all right?”
Silence hung in the air. “I never got to the airport.” Arcona’s tone was sheepish.
“What?” Devon sounded more alarmed than she intended. “Is there a problem? Are you okay?”
“I’m okay now, but I had a pretty strange night.” The sound of a highway and a blaring truck horn drowned her out.
What was going on? “I hear traffic. Where are you?”
“I’m on the turnpike. I’m driving home to the West Coast, sort of an impromptu road trip.”
This was so unlike Arcona. Devon stopped clicking images to concentrate. “No airplane? You’re driving from Salem, Massachusetts, to Los Angeles? Do you know how long that will take? Are you crazy? Did you suddenly develop a fear of flying?”
“That’s the thing. After last night, I don’t have to be afraid of anything anymore!” Arcona sounded overtly cheerful. “I faced all my fears in a single night, and it was awesome. I know where my phobia of being persecuted and burned at the stake comes from. I understand all of it now. I can’t even describe how free I feel.”
Did Arcona sound a little dreamy, perhaps giddier than usual? It wasn’t at all like her, but could she be high? “That’s great.”
“It’s more than great. It’s life-changing! Listen to me, those weird witches in the Silver Moon Scrying Shoppe were telling the truth. They are the real deal. Be prepared for anything and everything. Keep an open mind. Hang on to that damn wish stone and treat it with respect.”
What was wrong with her friend? “I’m going to come out and just ask, are you driving high?”
“I’m not driving.” Arcona giggled. “Tyr is.”
Did she say Tear? “Who the hell is Tyr?”
Arcona’s voice was silken. “Tyr, say hello to Devon.”
“Hello, Devon.” A man’s deep voice, sexy as hell, rumbled through the phone.
Arcona returned. “Nice voice, huh? There’s more, a lot more. I’ll send you a picture later.”
She whispered, “Is ‘I’ll send you a picture later’ code for ‘I’ve been kidnapped. Please call 911’?”
“No, Devon, I’m fine.” Arcona laughed. “The kidnapping was last night. Today everything is okay. I just called to give you a heads-up about the wish stone. For God’s sake, take it seriously.”
“Okay. Whatever. I’m at the office all day, likely all night. Check in later and let me know everything is kosher with the strange man you just met in Salem and left on a cross-country trip with.” What the fuck was that about?
“I’ve got lots to tell.” Arcona sounded genuinely happy. “But I’ll save it for another time.”
The called ended.
Devon stared at the dark screen. What the hell? She returned to the task at hand. The morning dragged. She yawned from exhaustion as much as boredom. The reality of a job that had lost its creative edge was beginning to get to her. Hunched in front of her large-screen computer, she scrolled through thousands of wildlife photos, liking none of them. Most of the photos were immediately familiar and had already been used too many times in International Explorer’s magazine and television network promotions. “I should be looking at my own original photos. I need to get out of the office and work,” she muttered.
“It’s true. Those should be your photos.”
She swiftly turned. Beau looked directly at her with blue eyes that shimmered like the sea and an almost breathless expression on his face. “Good morning.” Stunned, she gulped a deep breath. “Everything’s fine in my workstation,” she mumbled. Holy crap, Beau was so gorgeous up close, and a bit taller than she remembered. “Believe it or not, I’m not having any IT problems, but the day is young. Anything could happen.”
Beau moved a little closer and offered a sweet smile. He carried the fresh, clean scents of pine forest and mint toothpaste. “Do we have to have an IT problem to say hello?”
She was shocked. Beau seldom initiated conversations. “Not at all.”
“I’ve seen your photography.” Beau glanced away shyly. “When I did the data retrieval on your crashed computer last summer, I saw all your photos.” A fiery blush crept up his cheeks. “I wasn’t spying or anything like that. I was just making sure the files would open for you.” He swallowed uncomfortably. “Your photographs of the Grand Canyon and the Moab desert are amazing.” Staring at his shoes, he appeared near the limit of this unusual burst of outgoingness. “I think you’re very talented and brave to fly over the canyons to get those pictures.”
Oh my God! Beau was talking to her, about her. This was a fabulous first. “I was pretty scared flying an ultralight that close to the rim.”
“That’s normal. Most people are scared of open-air flight until th
ey get used to the feeling of hitting a warm updraft and soaring higher. It’s total freedom.” His face lit with excitement. “Once you’ve felt that, you’re hooked.”
All in all Beau was a dreamy guy, even if he might appear a bit sedate. She looked at the subdued urbanite, thinking it highly unlikely, but asked anyway. “You sound experienced. Have you flown an ultralight?”
He suddenly looked uneasy, and stepped away from her desk. “No.” His Scottishness really came through on the taciturn no.
Damn. There he goes, back into his shell like a startled turtle. Keep him talking. “Do you have a pilot’s license?”
Palpable discomfort rolled off Beau. “No.”
Well, what the hell was he talking about? “Have you flown in a glider, perhaps parasailed?”
“No.” His face grew redder.
“Hot air balloon?”
“No.”
Okay, they were going to play the shy person’s version of twenty questions. “I just got back from Salem, so I’ll take another angle. Do you fly on a broomstick?”
“No.” Beau laughed, exposing a charming dimple on the side of his brilliant smile.
She wanted to know more about Beau. He was something of an enigma. He spoke so little and never just wandered over to her desk simply to chat. If she missed this opportunity, it might never come again. “So tell me, how are you flying and catching those updrafts?”
Beau spread his arms wide, flapped them up and down, and screeched loudly like a pterodactyl.
People down the hall craned their necks to see what was going on in the art department.
Devon laughed out loud at Beau’s unexpected antics. This was so unlike the usually reserved man. Somebody must have spiked the poor guy’s coffee. Several coworkers rushed into her department to see what the commotion was about. “Oh my God! You’re a total geek.” The words blurted past her lips before she could stop herself.
Beau stopped flapping his arms and appeared sobered. “Is that what you think of me? I’m not a demigeek—I’m a total geek?”
She hated herself for misspeaking. Beau was such a nice guy. She didn’t want him to feel put down. “A geek’s not a bad thing in my book. I like a smart guy who knows his way around a tricky IT configuration.”
Beau grinned. A silky lock of hair slid in front of one eye. “Thanks.”
She had to save the situation and change the topic. Aside from discussing computer malfunctions, this was the longest conversation they had ever engaged in, and she wanted to keep the good vibe going. Dipping her hand into her jacket pocket, she felt for the wish stone, withdrew it, and presented the dual-colored stone to Beau. “Have you ever seen a stone like this before?”
“I have.” Beau’s face lit with interest. He immediately reached for the stone and held it to the light. “If this is what I think it is, these stones are very rare. They’re called dragon eggs.” He whispered the words reverently. “Where did you get it?”
“A weird Wiccan shop in Salem.”
He leaned closer. “How did they get it?”
Devon lowered her voice. “I have no idea. This stone wasn’t the only oddity in the shop. Take my word on that.”
“They just handed you this stone?” Beau looked intrigued. “Were there any special instructions to go with it?”
“Yes, but the woman who gave it to me was a full-blown kook. She wanted me to return the stone to—”
“Mount Kilimanjaro?” Beau interrupted.
Devon gasped in surprise. “She wasn’t that specific. The witch at the shop merely said Africa, as if a continent so large is a single-stop destination.”
“Would you mind if I showed the stone to someone?” Beau’s fair brows leveled. “I’ll be very careful and return it to you immediately.”
“Who are you going to show it to?”
Beau’s gaze lowered. He became silent and seemed to be stalling. “I want to show it to Jace in production.”
Her face warmed at the sound of Jace’s name. “Why Jace?”
“He’s a friend.” Beau’s cheeks flushed such a bright pink, he looked tipsy. He broke eye contact with her. “Jace knows all about mythology, folk stories, all that kind of arcane stuff. I want to find out what he knows about dragon eggs.” He turned on his heel. “I’ll be right back.” He strode out of the art department and headed down a long hall.
Devon followed Beau with her gaze. That exchange was just too weird, and when had Jace and Beau become best buddies? They barely spoke to each other at work. Her mind drifted toward the tantalizing image of Jace and Beau together. One was dark and spicy, and the other was sweet, golden sunshine. Double yum.
It occurred to her that both of her dream men would be discussing her stone in a moment, and she wasn’t there to enjoy it. Why was she just standing here like a fool? After all, it was her stone, damn it. This was the perfect excuse to talk to her two favorite men during work hours for no real reason at all.
Dragon eggs? How stupid was that? Still, it was a great excuse to talk. Maybe a morning meeting would put her back on Jace’s radar.
Jace was Beau’s opposite and worked as a producer managing content for the magazine and the International Explorer channel. Well-respected, and in demand, he was outgoing and authoritative. When he entered the room, others stopped what they were doing to listen. He had an artistic, wild vibe about him too that was exciting to be near. Always eye-catching, he dressed well, with accents of bold colors like earthy orange or rich purple. It was a treat to watch him walk past her desk and catch a whiff of his subtle sandalwood aftershave—that was, if he ever really shaved. His strong jaw seemed perpetually stubbled in a sexy way. With coppery skin and the swarthy good looks of a Barbary pirate chief, she half fantasized he was the son of some powerful khan and his mother was some delicate-boned beauty. Jace was both puzzling and stunning to look at. His sleek nose and chiseled bone structure made his origins difficult to guess. She wondered if there was a tribe of exotic people hiding somewhere on some long-forgotten island, who every now and then snuck away from their hidden paradise to work as office managers.
Foolishly, she’d told Jace on a casual date that she had no intention of getting involved with a coworker, so maybe some of the distance between them was her fault. She wanted to take it back. What a dummy she was for saying that.
Turning the corner, she darted down the hall after Beau, watching in frustration as he headed into Jace’s office and shut the door behind him.
Damn it. She was too late.
Devon cautiously approached the office, careful to avoid the frosted-glass panel near the door that would expose her loitering. She could clearly see Jace and Beau’s silhouettes inside, and when she pressed her ear to the thin wall, she heard their conversation.
“Where did you get that?” Jace grumbled.
“I’m so sorry I doubted you.” Beau sounded excited. “You were right about Devon. She just gave this to me. It’s still warm from her hand. She just reached into her pocket and offered it.”
Jace sighed. “Does she know what it is?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Where did she get it?”
“She said some kook in Salem gave it to her.”
“Perhaps one of the old ones lives there?” Jace appeared to be examining the stone in his open hand. “This is more than good fortune—it’s a full-on sign of fate.”
“What do we do next?”
“We wait. We can’t pressure her,” Jace insisted.
Beau stepped back “You didn’t wait. You’ve dated Devon.”
“I’m not going to apologize for that.” Jace’s voice deepened. “It’s my right, and besides, I restrained myself.”
“So?” Beau sounded bitter. “I guess I’m expected to continue restraining myself?”
“Be patient.” Jace’s tone softened. “Everything’s falling into place.”
“You’re right. I just don’t want to lose the opportunity. She’s so perfect.”
“It won’t be long.”
“What do you mean?”
“Her scheduled photo spread just got canceled.” Jace laughed quietly. “Who do you think caused the cancellation? In good conscience, I had to inform legal that International Explorer had no right to reproduce those images.”
“I suspected it was you. Devon’s so talented and fearless. We should let her get the next round of exclusive photos.”
“She’s definitely my first choice.” Jace sighed with a deep purr that carried a distinctly sensual note.
“I agree.” Beau’s answer sounded soft and dreamy.
“You’ll get your chance.” Jace playfully slapped Beau’s chest. “Remember we share—”
Beau sniffed the air. “Hush.”
Both men remained silent for a few tense moments.
Devon pressed her ear to the wall, wondering what was going on. The silence in the other room dragged.
“I’m going to give the dragon egg back to Devon.” Beau said the words as if he were on stage. “Now.” He moved toward the door, taking deliberate steps.
Devon froze when she realized the door was about to be opened in her snooping face. She turned and dashed down the hallway toward her cubicle, her heart pounding. She leaped onto the edge of her desk and crossed her ankles as if she’d been comfortably perched there all along.
Her pulse raced as she reviewed the odd conversation in her mind. It was now obvious there was a wide world of weird going on under her nose, that plumbed a mile deeper than the staid office politics she was used to. The seemingly disjointed conversation in Jace’s office was nearly indecipherable. She had no idea what the hell all this meant. Both Jace and Beau seemed to see special significance in the wish stone, so she knew she was missing some important kernel of information. What was even more mystifying was the possibility that Jace and Beau were engaged in some sort of covert competition over her. That was a heady thought. Too bad they were both more talk than action.
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