Enamoured

by Shannon Curtis

  The G.F.C. frowned. “Actually, by his definition, that hasn’t happened yet.”

  Fate winked. “Give it time.”

  Matilda subsided into her chair. “There is still the issue of our original Frog Prince.”

  Fate looked at the G.F.C. for a moment, long enough for not only Matilda to frown at him, but for Esmerelda to shift her wings, just a little.

  “He wasn’t ready. Wrong time, wrong place.” Fate’s words were quiet, but full of impact, full of emotion, and Matilda dropped her gaze. Esmerelda ducked a glance at Rump, who suddenly seemed to find the pattern in the parquetry fascinating. Something else was going on here, something far deeper, far darker, than she could guess.

  “He’ll get his Fairy Tale,” Fate continued, “but this isn’t it. You have to agree, Tilly, all the conditions have been met.”

  “It wasn’t meant to be like this,” she muttered, but she seemed calmer, more serene. Not so…charged.

  “It is what it is,” Fate stated, direct and forthright.

  The G.F.C. shifted her wings, the shimmer catching the light from the window. She opened the folder again and picked up her willow wand. There was a sparkle of light, the scent of cinnamon, and she signed off on the Tale.

  She looked up at her fairy, and Esmerelda straightened, raising her chin. Waiting for…

  “Mission complete,” the G.F.C. stated.

  Not that. Esmerelda hesitated. That’s it? No right republican bollocking? No punishment? Thank the sun sparkles. She gave a quick smile and nod, and flicked a nervous glance at Fate.

  “Well, I’d best be getting back to the testing chamber,” Esmerelda said. “Mistyweather is out of detox, and wants to practice some spell casting.” For once, the prospect of being in an enclosed space with a fairy who couldn’t flutter her wings without stirring up a dust storm was appealing.

  Matilda nodded. “Certainly. You and your partner are free to go—until the next Fairy Tale requiring enforcement.”

  Esmerelda’s cheek muscles spasmed. “Partner?” She darted a glance at Rump, who tilted his head to the side, his expression mildly curious. “Er, I thought this was just a one-time arrangement?” Please let it be just a one-time arrangement.

  Fate’s eyebrows rose, and the G.F.C. pointedly ignored him. “Oh, I don’t think Rumpelstiltskin is quite in a position to operate as an independent enforcer yet, do you? No. After seeing just what a…unique working relationship you have, I’ve decided that you two will remain partners. Indefinitely.”

  Esmerelda gaped in dismay at the head fairy. But…but—please, no! Matilda eyed her, waiting for a response.

  “Certainly, G.F.C.,” she rasped. She shot Rump a glare, pivoted on her slippered feet, and walked out of the chamber. She so wanted to stomp. Slam the door. Something. She left the room with calm, quiet steps.

  Fungus.

  A cool breeze stirred her wings, followed by the faint scent of orange bergamot. Her feet landed just a little harder, just a little louder, as she walked down the main cavernous hallway of Fairy Central.

  “I had nothing to do with this,” Rump said when he finally caught up with her.

  She kept walking.

  “You know your glimmer is showing, don’t you?”

  Esmerelda took a deep breath, trying to get her anger under control.

  “Oh, don’t stop on my account. I like it.”

  She whirled around and faced him. “How could you? You—you set me up.” She was furious, damn it. “You risked my reputation, my track record—my pension! But more than that, you risked the humans when you let Fate play with their Tale.” No wonder the Tale had gone off track. “Our Frog Prince got shot,” she whispered harshly. She didn’t know how the Fairy Council were going to react to that point. It had never happened before.

  Rump frowned. “Interesting. I end up in Confinement for the ages, but you get upset over a trifle hiccup in a Tale. Why do you care about them so much?”

  “Why do you not care at all?” she wailed, throwing her hands up. Shimmering dust rained down around them, and Rump sneezed. Fungus. It was always a tell when a fairy started throwing around dust. She fisted her hands, trying to get her emotions under control. But, for the love of everything natural, how could he do that to her? Of all fairies…

  ”Why?” She placed her fisted hands on her hips. Her gossamer was taut, her wings were arched, but she didn’t care. She wanted him to know she was madder than a brownie at Beltane. What he’d done—bring in Fate—was like poking an ogre with a willow wand—it was tantamount to treason. Almost like a….rebellion.

  “Because maybe things need to change around here,” the imp replied. He stepped closer, and she noticed his golden skin was smooth, supple, stretching across his handsome features with a healthy glow. When had that happened? And how? He was supposed to be slowly healing from the lifedrain in Confinement, not…glowing.

  His golden-brown eyes sparked as a mischievous smile tweaked his lips and drew her gaze. “I’m out of Confinement, Essie, and there is one thing you should know about an imp.”

  She folded her arms across chest and narrowed her eyes. “I’m listening.”

  “We do so love to play games,” He said, his voice low, suggestive. His arms slid around her waist and tugged her to him. He was tall and rangy, muscled and fit. All those ages in Confinement had turned him into a lean, strong imp with an attitude. She could feel the warmth of his body against hers, supportive, enveloping.

  She swallowed. He was throwing down a challenge. She had no idea what his agenda was, but he was telling her in no uncertain terms that he had one—and it involved her. Fine. If that’s the way it’s going to be, she was prepared to fight.

  She braced her hands against his chest—oh, sun sparkles, but he was…strong. She lifted her chin. “Bring. It. On.”

  His smile broadened, and he leaned in even closer, his head drifting to the side. Esmerelda’s eyes fluttered closed as she tilted her head to give him better access.

  “Oh, and Essie?” his voice rumbled in her ear, spreading shivers down her spine.

  “Hm-mm?” He was so close, so warm, so…enthralling. He breathed against her skin, and she shuddered at the sensation, like tiny sun sparkles dancing across her skin.

  “You’re going to need more protection port.”

  He let her go and continued to walk down the hall, whistling.

  Esmerelda stumbled a bit, and finally opened her eyes, her heart racing as she watched the tall imp leave. Oh. My. She swallowed as she ruffled her wings, trying to cool herself down. Holy pixie tricks. Her hand trailed down to the tiny bottle at her waist. He was right.

  She was going to need much, much more.

  Chapter 20

  Melanie glanced around the office. Her office. It had been several months since the boat incident, and a lot had happened. She smiled at Susie, her new receptionist-slash-administrative assistant as the woman packed up her desk, and waved to Joe, her new sales agent as he left the shop for the day.

  She’d finally completed her studies, and was now a licenced real estate agent. Just like Dad. Randall had retired, and she’d taken over the business. Sure, it was a steep learning curve, but she was enjoying the challenge.

  Lionel had been arrested and was currently awaiting trial, along with Robert Dunn. Her mother was seeing a counsellor, and was slowly weaning herself off the painkillers. Deborah had been appalled when she’d learned what had happened, and had thrown Lionel out of their home despite his protestations and threats. There were hiccups, but her mother was gradually healing.

  Melanie was happy. Really, she was. She nodded at Susie as the young woman left for the day. Everything was working out as it should. From what she could gather, the police had been investigating Lionel for quite some time, and the data she’d uncovered in the files, along with the information found in the files and disk drives on his boat, was enough to send Lionel to prison for quite some time. He’d tried to have the evidence dismissed, but his sneaky
manipulations had backfired on him. The boat was in Melanie’s name, not his, so she had invited the police on board, and given them full access. They’d uncovered enough evidence to connect him to her father’s death, too.

  No, Lionel wasn’t getting out of prison any time soon, if ever.

  All was good and right in the world. She shut down her computer and started packing up her desk. The business was picking up—which wasn’t so hard after Randall’s unique approach to running a real estate agency. She should be so busy that she didn’t have time to think.

  But she did. Every now and then she’d find herself wondering what Cole was doing. She still couldn’t believe she’d puked on him. That was just a little…embarrassing.

  They’d had minimal contact after the boat incident, and nothing for a few months, now. She…oh, crap, she missed the big annoying sexy jerk. Despite having known him for so little time, the guy had managed to finagle his way into her thoughts, into her dreams, damn it. She missed the teasing—why, she had no clue, but there it was. For a little while, she’d felt close to him. She’d told him things she’d never shared with anyone, even her own mother. She’d trusted him. Even though he’d never been honest about his motives. Knowing that, she’d still trust that man with her life. With her secrets.

  She puffed out her cheeks as she exhaled. And wasn’t that just pathetic? The only reason he’d ever paid her any attention was to get to her stepfather. Yet she couldn’t quite shrug off her attraction to him, her fascination with him. He was a cop, and he’d been doing his job. It had taken her a while to accept it, but she had. If he hadn’t done what he’d done, Lionel would still be on the scene, and who knows what could have happened to her and her mother? Yes, she’d been angry, and just a little hurt, but she could appreciate his position. He couldn’t tell her everything.

  Bloody hell. Stop thinking about the man. She picked up her handbag and keys, locked up the office and walked down to the side street where she’d parked her car. She’d just turned the corner when her phone rang. She fumbled around in her handbag for it as she stepped in front of her car, dropped her keys and swore softly as she finally pulled the phone from its depths. The phone stopped ringing. Damn. She hoped her caller would leave a message, particularly if it was about the new listing on Dolphin Street.

  She glanced about on the footpath for her keys. Now, where did they –. She halted when she noticed the dark shoes. Her eyes travelled upwards. Blue jeans fit long, muscular legs, a grey t-shirt that looked soft from too many washings stretched over a taught stomach and broad chest. Russet brown curls flopped over a broad forehead, and green eyes twinkled at her with humour and a touch of uncertainty.

  “Hi, Mel.”

  She gaped for a moment, before finally giving herself a little shake. “Cole.”

  “How are you?”

  “Fine. What are you doing here?” He was supposed to just haunt her thoughts, damn it. She hadn’t expected to see him, at least, not until the court case. She’d been trying to prepare herself for that, but it was still weeks away. She wasn’t ready to see him now.

  “I couldn’t stay away.” His smile was tinged with self-deprecation.

  ”Oh.” She didn’t know what to say. After daydreaming of the man for months, wondering what he was doing, to be faced with the reality was a little unnerving. “I was just on my way home,” she said.

  Oh, God, what if he thought that was invitation? “Alone,” she added, then bit her lip. That just made her sound pathetic.

  “You look good,” he said quietly.

  Warmth bloomed in her cheeks, and she swayed a little closer to him. He looked better than good. He looked - yummy. Could you use that to describe a man? Whatever. Yummy. No. She frowned. He’d used her. Lied to her. She straightened.

  “I was looking for my keys,” she said abruptly. Yep. Keys. That should show him she wasn’t drooling over him.

  He smiled, and her breath caught at the flash of dimples, the slow, sexy tilt to his lips. Those kissable, lickable lips. He held up her key ring and jingled the keys. “Oh, you mean these?”

  “May I have my keys, please?”

  “I’ve missed you, Mel.” He made no move to hand her keys over.

  “Oh, really?” His words sparked a yearning inside that she desperately tried to bury.

  “Yeah. I thought we might go out for dinner, maybe?” He took a step closer.

  She took a step back. “You lied to me.”

  “I know.” He took another step.

  She retreated, until the car behind her stopped her. “You used me.”

  He stepped closer, until they were standing toe-to-toe, and lifted a hand to smooth a tendril of hair away from her face. “I’m sorry.”

  “The only reason you wanted to go out with me was because of my connection to Lionel,” she whispered harshly. That still hurt.

  Cole snorted. “That wasn’t the only reason. You were so damned gorgeous, yelling at me through that gate.”

  “I wasn’t yelling,” she argued softly.

  He chuckled, and she loved the breathy sound. “Yeah, you were yelling at me. I was undercover, but I really, really wanted to get closer to you. It was very unprofessional.”

  It was her time to snort. “Uh-huh. And that’s why you came to the fundraiser.”

  His hand trailed down her neck to her shoulder. She should tell him to stop touching her, or move away, or something. Instead, she stayed still, enjoying the light trail of heat his touch created.

  “I worked on his site, Mel. I could have engineered any number of meetings. I went to that fundraiser because of you.”

  “Uh-huh. Right.” She didn’t believe him. Didn’t want to believe him. Her heart pounded in her chest as he slid his hand back over her shoulder.

  “I came to find you, Mel. I told you this wasn’t over, and I meant it. I care about you.”

  She shook her head. No, it was so much easier to believe he’d used her.

  “The case is scheduled. We have enough evidence to put Lowry behind bars. There is no reason for me to contact you, no ulterior motive.” His hand stroked her back, sliding down to her waist as he gazed at her, his green eyes flaring, full of heat, full of promise. Her breath hitched. “I can’t think, I can’t sleep, without you haunting me. I’m enamoured with you.”

  Just like that, he could turn her knees and her common sense to mush.

  ”I meant what I said on the boat, Mel,” he murmured, and she tried to stop the shiver that swept over her. She closed her eyes. Block him out.

  “No.” Her voice sounded hoarse, but she was beyond putting strength into it.

  “I care about you, Mel. I want more time with you, without all this crap about Lionel between us. I want to get to know you, and I want you to get to know me.”

  Oh, it was tempting. So tempting. He’d fought against her. He’d fought with her. He’d fought for her. She knew he was a cop and he’d just been doing his job—but she’d been the job. Could she trust him again? She didn’t know if she had the courage to expose herself like that. This man had gotten under her skin. She liked to think she was strong. Independent. This man made her want to confide in him, lean on him. And do a heck of a lot more than that.

  When she’d first met him, she’d thought him a rough, brash, cavalier extortionist with an eye on the main chance. She’d learned that assumption was wrong. Maybe it was time to look a little further, a little deeper. The prospect scared her. Excited her.

  “Can I have my keys, please?” She opened her eyes to look up at him.

  He met her gaze for a moment. “Nuh-uh. Finders keepers.” He jingled the keys, as though to taunt her.

  The memory of their first meeting surfaced, and she narrowed her eyes. “Please.”

  “Nope.”

  “I’ll pay you.” Her voice was low, husky.

  He grinned, and let his gaze wander down her body. “I already get paid enough,” he murmured throatily. “What else have you got?”

 
She lifted her wrist and tried to keep a straight face. “I have a watch.”

  “I’m not into ladies watches,” he said, grasping her arm and planting a kiss on the underside of her wrist. She trembled, heat swamping her at the gentle, erotic touch.

  “What -,” she cleared her throat, “what would it take?”

  He lowered his head to nuzzle against her ear. “Dinner.” His voice sent tremors through her. He did something with his lips and breath against her lobe that sent arcs of sensation zinging through her body. Oh, wow.

  “Uh-huh,” she murmured, tilting her head back.

  “Dancing.” He planted his lips against her neck, and her nipples peaked in her bra. She leaned back against the car, and he followed her, pressing his hard, muscled body against her own. Which was a good thing, because it was probably the only thing preventing her from dissolving into a puddle of hot need on the footpath.

  “And a kiss,” he whispered as he trailed his mouth up her neck to her lips.

  She raised her arms to twine them around his neck, pulling him closer.

  “I already owe you one of those.” And she was willing and ready to deliver. She lifted herself up on her toes to touch her lips against his.

  The kiss was hot, carnal. He opened his mouth and she slid her tongue in, caressing, gliding. He moaned against her lips and pressed even closer. She could feel his desire throbbing against her, hot and hard, and she widened her stance.

  Cole bent down and grasped her hips, lifting her up onto the bonnet of the car. She leaned back, wrapping her legs around his hips as she toyed with his tongue, teasing, touching, inviting him to kiss her deeply.

  He did. Hot. Wet. Thorough. His hands caressed her body as his mouth did deliciously naughty things. He rubbed his tongue against hers, and for a moment all she could sense was him. His scent, his taste, the feel of his muscles bunching under her touch, his hands searing a path down her body. Her heart raced as she quivered in his arms.