Under Her Spell

by Isabella Ashe

  "Time to go. We're running late already."

  "Late for what?" Zach rubbed his eyes, squinting down at her.

  "You'll see," Bryony said. "You'd, um, better put some clothes on."

  He wore nothing but a pair of silk boxer shorts. Her eyes widened as she took in his well-muscled chest and the way the boxers clung around his narrow hips. His body was athletic and perfectly proportioned, from his wide shoulders to his long, compact legs. She took her time sizing him up, deliciously aware that she was turning the tables on him.

  If he was embarrassed by her scrutiny, Zach didn't show it. He stood firmly in the doorway, hands on his hips, and let her look. The moment stretched into an eternity. Bryony's heart turned over as her gaze traveled boldly down to the coarse, dark hair that gathered in whorls on his lower belly.

  She forced her head up in time to see the arrogant set of his mouth and the teasing sparkle in his eyes. "See anything you like?" he asked.

  "I see a man who's about to miss a spectacular sunrise," she said. "I'll give you five minutes to dress, not an instant more."

  "Aye, aye, sir," he said, snapping her a mock salute and closing the door behind him. Bryony let out a sigh of relief. She'd been afraid he might balk and ruin her plans.

  She fetched the thermos of coffee she'd prepared earlier, slipping it into her canvas knapsack with the carefully wrapped slices of crumb cake and the binoculars. Then she stepped out onto the porch to wait. The night was turning to gray as the first rays of sun leaked over the eastern horizon. The ocean's muted roar pounded in her ears like her own pulse. Even the birds weren't awake yet.

  "So, where are we going?"

  Bryony jumped at the sound of Zach's voice, as if he'd touched her. "It's a surprise," she said. "Come on."

  He followed her to his car and followed her directions without a word of protest. Highway 1 was deserted, and the trip to the lagoon took only a few minutes. "Here," Bryony said, and Zach pulled off onto a dirt road nearly hidden by trees and other foliage. "Drive to the end."

  He eased the convertible slowly down the road until they reached a cul-de-sac that served as an unofficial parking area. "Now what?" he asked.

  Bryony opened her knapsack and pulled out a knee-high pair of waterproof boots. "I brought these for you," she said. "They were my father's. You'd better put them on, or you'll be soaked."

  "What about you?"

  "I'm wearing mine already," Bryony said. Besides the rubber boots, she'd dressed in old jeans, a denim shirt, and a down-filled nylon parka. It was her birding outfit, though she hadn't worn it in years. She was glad to see Zach had taken her cue and put on comfortable, faded clothes. They were going to get wet.

  He'd realized what she was up to and looked a little ill at ease. Bryony stifled a chuckle. Despite his love of hiking, he was still -- as she had suspected -- a city boy at heart. She couldn't help but enjoy his discomfort.

  "Follow me," she said, and began to climb down the small hill leading to the lagoon's tidal flat. The water rose around her ankles as she stepped in, and she could feel the chill even through the thick rubber of her boots. The rushes and cattails rose up past her waist. She turned to make sure he was behind her. He was, a long-suffering look on his face.

  They edged carefully around the north corner of the lagoon, stepping gingerly to avoid pockets of deeper water. The day brightened incrementally as the sun stole up over the hills, casting long shining spears of light over the water. Bryony pulled the binoculars from her pack and scanned the lagoon.

  She sucked in her breath as she spotted a brown pelican, unmistakable with its stout body and huge bill. "There," she whispered, handing over the binoculars. "Do you see the pelican? At two o'clock? It's one of the first of the season. Their migration doesn't really peak until August, when we'll have two thousand or more."

  Zach's voice was hushed, too, as he replied. "Where do they all come from?"

  "Baja California and the Channel Islands. They breed there, then fly here for late spring and summer."

  "I've only seen them in books," Zach said, lowering the binoculars.

  Bryony savored the look of awe on his face. "You haven't seen anything yet. Just wait."

  Morning stillness gave way to a bustle of activity as the sun touched the lagoon. Birds awoke, stretched, and began their day. The sun warmed Bryony's cheeks and burnished her gold-red hair. She kept her promise, pointing out a dozen different bird species. "There are even more in the winter," she said. "Thousands and thousands, like a living blanket. It's the most amazing thing you ever saw."

  "I'll have to come back for it," Zach said. They were sitting on a grassy slope, surrounded by wildflowers. Delicate yellow meadow foam, bright orange California poppies, buttercups, and baby-blue-eyes turned the hillside into a riot of color.

  Bryony poured a cup of coffee and handed it to him before she answered. "Seashore Estates will be in mid-construction then. I doubt you'll be left with much to see."

  "Ah." He took a sip of the still-hot coffee. "Now I see why you brought me here. You had an ulterior motive."

  "No," Bryony said. "I brought you here this morning because I thought you would enjoy it."

  "I am enjoying it," he said. "More than I thought possible. But are you telling me that it didn't enter your head, for even one little second, that seeing all this might make me change my mind about the development deal?"

  "Certainly not. I'm sure you're not the kind of man to back down once you've formed an opinion. Even if that opinion was based on prejudice, stubbornness, and a complete lack of information."

  Zach laughed, a deep, attractive growl. "I think I'm man enough to admit when I'm wrong."

  Bryony eyed him hopefully. "So you've changed your mind? You think I'm doing the right thing, trying to save this place?"

  "I think you have a good cause," Zach said. "I'm not convinced that you'll have much luck if you go up against the Mandell Corporation. As I said before, they've got pretty strong backing."

  "Well, I won't give up."

  "Good. Now, what else have you got in that knapsack?"

  They ate the crumb cake in companionable silence, then started back. Bryony sloshed along beside Zach, a satisfied smile on her face. She hadn't changed his mind, but it was a start. At least she knew he could be reasoned with.

  Now, if only she could convince him that there was more to life than cold, hard fact. He didn't have to believe in fairies and guardian angels. She simply wanted him to admit that there were things in the world that couldn't be measured by his scientific instruments. Things that didn't have a dollar value attached.

  Back at the car, Bryony cleaned her muddy boots the best she could with a handful of leaves while Zach did the same. They climbed into the front seat, and Zach started the motor. Then he glanced over at her, frowned, and turned it off again. "What?" Bryony asked, frowning suspiciously.

  "You've got something -- there." And he leaned over to brush the tip of her nose with one lightly callused finger. A thrill shot through her body as he touched her. "Mud," he explained, his voice hoarse with desire.

  "Did you get it off?" she asked, her own voice low and husky to her ears. She could feel his warm breath against her cheek and smell the musky scent of his aftershave.

  "Almost. There," and he touched her again. "It's gone now."

  "Thank you." She stared up into his dark eyes, unable to read them.

  Suddenly, before she could take another breath, he drew his fingers sensuously along the curve of her jaw and brought his lips down to brush hers. She felt his mouth soften against hers for a fraction of a second.

  Her whole body responded urgently to his kiss. She ached for him to cover her lips with his, ached for the feel of his body against hers. Instead, he withdrew and turned away. He left her dazed and more than a little shaken.

  Without thinking, Bryony brought her fingers up and pressed them against her lips, which tingled as if they'd been stung. She expected Zach to say something, anything, but
he wouldn't meet her eyes. As he started the car, she felt like crying out from disappointment. Had the kiss meant something, or was it simply one of his experiments?

  She tried to gather the courage to ask, but Zach was staring straight ahead with such intensity that she didn't dare. Did he have any idea of the effect he was having on her? Perhaps she was reading too much into a casual gesture of friendship, and he'd merely meant it as a thank you for the morning. She bit her bottom lip and kept silent, but her mind whirled with confusion and turmoil.

  "So, how are things with Zach?" Vivien asked later that day, in a casual tone that didn't fool Bryony for an instant. She was helping Vivien rearrange the furniture in her new living room, which overflowed with cardboard boxes and rolled-up rugs.

  "Don't you mean, 'How's my little matchmaking experiment?' No comment."

  "Has he kissed you yet?"

  Bryony groaned, almost dropping her end of the couch. She wasn't sold on the existence of ESP, but sometimes Vivien's intuition made her wonder whether telepathy might be for real. Sometimes her sister seemed to know about her life before she even said a word. It was hard to keep a secret in the Lowell family. "No comment," she repeated.

  "He has!" Vivien said. "I knew it. Here, help me put it in the corner." The sisters lifted a small table and deposited it on the other side of the room. Vivien found a blue ceramic vase and set it on the glass tabletop. "How's that?"

  "Perfect," Bryony said, hoping Vivien would get caught up in decorating and forget about the inquisition. Unfortunately, it was not to be.

  "So he's kissed you," Vivien said. "Has he admitted he's in love?"

  "First of all, he's not in love with me. Furthermore, I'm not in love with him. We're just way too different."

  "Opposites attract," Vivien said. "You'll work things out."

  "What about you and Kevin? You're hardly opposites."

  "That's why we took so long to get together. I always thought of him as the boy next door -- you know, we were best friends, we played together, we knew all the same people. And then . . . ." Vivien's eyes grew dreamy and distant. "All of a sudden, something changed. I started looking at him in whole new way."

  "My love potion," Bryony joked.

  "Maybe," her sister said. "I don't know why it happened. We were clowning around, hanging out, and he got all serious on me. I could just feel the air change around us. It was abruptly charged with all of this electricity. And suddenly I thought I would die if he didn't touch me."

  Bryony felt a disconcerting jolt of recognition. That was exactly what she experienced with Zach. At the same time, she was scared to death by the new sensations. She worried that she might come to need him, even to love him, and then he would leave. He would go back to the city, back to his magazine, and forget all about her. She would be fodder for his column and nothing else.

  Again, Vivien seemed to read her mind. "You have to take a chance," she said. "There's always a risk. Yes, maybe you'll get hurt. Maybe you'll regret it. But you won't regret it half as much as if you never make that leap."

  Bryony shook her head. "I don't know what you mean. Are you saying I should sleep with Zach?"

  Her sister rolled her eyes. "God, Sis, do you really think I'm talking about sex? No, I mean you should do something much, much more difficult. I think you should let yourself love him."

  Bryony blushed, feeling as if Vivien's dark green eyes were piercing her very soul. She was urging the very thing Bryony was most afraid of. Bryony looked away. When she spoke, her voice was thick with unshed tears. "I'm not sure I can."

  Vivien tore a strip of masking tape off one of the cardboard boxes, lifted the flaps, and began to sift through the contents of the box. "You'd better make up your mind. He's only staying another week."

  "I know," Bryony said. "How could I forget? I think about it every minute of every day."

  That night, at her desk, as she worked on the week's orders, Bryony's mind kept flashing back to the conversation with her sister. Maybe she was being too cautious. She had always thought of herself as a romantic, someone who believed love conquered all.

  Her past relationships had failed because they lacked a certain spark -- she'd told herself that the men she had dated were too dull, too tame, not challenging enough. They hadn't measured up to the princes in her fairy tales, who were bold and brave and a little arrogant.

  Now there was Zach, and he was everything she had dreamed of. The sparks were there, no doubt about it. True, they sometimes flew rather too hotly. She remembered their arguments, the silences, and their utterly different world views. But maybe those things could be overcome. With time, they could learn to appreciate each others' differences.

  There was only one problem. She had no idea how Zach felt about all this.

  If only she had some idea, she could decide what to do about her growing attraction to him. But he hadn't said a word about their kiss. All through dinner, she had waited for him to mention it, and he had studiously avoided the topic.

  Zach had kept the conversation light, though Bryony sensed he hadn't forgotten anything. The memory smoldered in his gaze when his eyes met hers. The tension in the dining room had been thick as butter.

  Now Bryony found she couldn't shake that tension. She was restless as a caged lion, longing to break free of the invisible bars that kept her from Zach. Finally, unable to bear it any longer, she threw on a sweater over her thin blouse and sought comfort in the sight of the sea.

  Out on the deck in front of the house, she watched the dark surf pound the shore. There was no moon tonight, and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. The stars shone such a dazzling silver that they almost hurt Bryony's eyes. She could see whole milky galaxies swirling from bright centers and falling to nothing at the edges.

  Suddenly, her confusion over Zachary Callahan didn't seem so important after all. She gripped the wooden railing and closed her eyes, savoring the gentle ocean breeze as it caressed her face. She breathed in the briny scent and listened to the constant, rhythmic grieving of the waves. For the first time since Zach had walked into Heart's Desire, she was at peace.

  "Everything's just fine," Martin said for the seventh time.

  "What about the UFO cover story? Has Peter Carlisle turned it in yet?" Zach asked, worry furrowing his brow as he sat on the edge of the bed, phone in hand.

  "The deadline's not for another week," Martin said. "Don't worry. I'll keep on him about it."

  "But you know how Peter is, always waiting until the last minute to start writing."

  "Yes, and he always turns in excellent work in the end."

  Zach sighed, taking a sip of ice water from a glass on the bedside table. "I know, but I always worry."

  "Of course you do. This month, let me do the worrying for a change. You just concentrate on your vacation. And your column, of course. How is it coming, by the way?"

  Zach almost choked on his water. "Uh . . . just fine," he said. He didn't know quite how to explain the situation, and had decided not to let Martin in on the details of his bet with Bryony.

  "You aren't waiting until the last minute to write it, I hope," Martin teased. "Do I need to keep on you about it?"

  "No," Zach said, "but my research is a little more, um . . . thorough than usual. I'll finish soon, though. You can read it when I get back next Monday."

  "So you decided to take the whole two weeks." Martin sounded pleased. "The time off has been good for you. You sound much more like yourself. It must be all the fresh air."

  "Something like that," Zach said. Bryony's face flashed through his mind. Her company had done more to rejuvenate him than a year of hiking and beachcombing ever could, but he wasn't about to admit it.

  Just then, Martin was distracted by a commotion on his end of the line. "Jessie! Stop that," Martin said. "Sorry, Zach. She's trying to get into the cookie jar again."

  "That's all right," Zach said, chuckling. Martin's youngest daughter Jessie was three years old, cute as a button but a regular littl
e hurricane of destruction. "I'll let you go now and check in with you again on Wednesday or Thursday."

  "Good," Martin said. "Oh, before you go -- can I get the number for your hotel, so I can call if there's an emergency? Not that there will be," he added. Zach gave him Bryony's number. "What room?" Martin asked.

  "Uh, well, I'm not actually at a hotel."

  "Oh?" Zach could almost hear Martin's eyebrows go up in surprise.

  "I'm sort of staying with a friend," he said. "I'll explain later."

  He could tell Martin was dying of curiosity, but at that moment there was a splintering crash from Martin's end of the line and then a child's frightened wail. "Jessie!" Martin cried. "I've got to go, Zach. A little emergency here. She's not hurt, but what a mess." He moaned. "Kids. What can you do?"

  Zach said goodbye and hung up. He hated to admit it, but he was slightly jealous of his managing editor. Martin had a wonderful wife and two adorable, if occasionally trying, little girls. He'd spent a number of holidays at the Ambrosios' house and always came away warmed by their cozy family life. In marrying Eve, he'd hoped to find the same happiness in his own life. He had obviously made a serious error.

  He'd always known what he wanted in a woman -- someone beautiful, worldly, cool, and logical. Eve had been all those things. He was attracted to her because she wasn't clingy, flighty, or overly emotional like some women. With Eve, there were no scenes or long, dull discussions about the state of their relationship. He'd thought they were a perfect match. Unfortunately, he had soon discovered her calculating and manipulative side.

  Now he closed his eyes and imagined that he was in his own house, with his wife and children in another room. What would they be like? He kept seeing Bryony's face, surrounded by a cloud of red-gold hair. He shook his head, trying to knock the vision out of his head. His desire for her was clouding his judgment.

  The past few days, he'd developed a grudging respect for Bryony. Maybe he'd even come to care for her. She got under his skin in a way no woman had done in a very long time. He wanted her so badly that his desire was an ever-present taste in his mouth, a constant buzz in his head. But he certainly didn't love her.