Under Her Spell

by Isabella Ashe

  Bryony bit her lip to hold back a cry of despair. "What did I do wrong?" she asked, her voice ragged with misery. "Whatever it was, I'm sorry. I didn't mean . . . ."

  "Yes, you did," Zach said. "That's exactly the problem. You did mean what you said just now, didn't you?"

  Bryony nodded, unable to speak. Tears streamed down her face. She wished she could take back her words, leave them unspoken, but it was too late. She gulped back the sobs rising in her throat. "Don't you want me?" she said in a small voice.

  He turned to her with a look of disbelief. His voice matched the pure agony on his face. "Can you doubt it? Right now I want you so badly it's nearly killing me. I'd like nothing more than to touch you, hold you, possess you --"

  He stood abruptly and moved across the living room with quick, decisive strides, as if to put space between himself and temptation. He began pacing the room. Anger and frustration clouded his ruggedly handsome face. "Don't you understand? I can't take advantage of you, knowing that. You deserve better. You deserve someone who can love you back, someone who will marry you . . . ."

  Bryony sat up, pushing a curl out of her face with a trembling hand. Her wet cheeks shone in the firelight. "And you can't do those things," she said.

  Zach brought his fist down on the mantle with such force that the picture frames danced. Bryony jumped. "No, damn it," he shouted. Quieting, her turned toward her, shaking his head. "Once was enough," he said. "I swore, after Eve, that I wouldn't let myself fall into that trap again. I told you how I felt last night. Nothing has changed."

  Everything had changed, Bryony thought. She loved him now, like she'd never loved another man. But she didn't say the words out loud. Instead she swallowed, trying to wet her parched throat. A long silence filled the room as they stared at each other.

  Despite her emotional pain, Bryony was mesmerized by the sight of the man before her. Zach seemed totally unconscious of his nakedness as he moved restlessly back and forth in front of the flames. Bryony could see the long, strong muscles of his legs tense as he paced.

  The sun and wind had lightly bronzed his skin. The black hair of his chest swirled down to his belly and below. He was like a tawny jungle beast, radiating superiority, masculinity, and a masterful virility. Even now, with the tears still drying on her face and his cold words hanging in the air between them, she desired him.

  "I don't care," she said at last. "I don't care, Zach. You're absolutely right -- you told me how you felt last night. And I wanted you anyway. I'm an adult. I made that decision all by myself. You told me earlier today that you wanted to make love to me, no matter what it took. Well, here I am."

  His eyes swept her body as she spoke, and Bryony suddenly realized she was as naked as Zach. She flushed pink and grabbed an afghan from the edge of the couch to cover herself. "There you are," he said, not without a trace of humor. "So you're ready and willing, no matter what the future holds."

  Bryony lifted her chin stubbornly. "That's right," she said.

  Zach took in the vision before him and groaned inwardly. Her hair, the color of strawberries and honey, fell loosely over her milky shoulders. The blanket she clutched close to her body barely concealed the delicate curves underneath. The blushing peak of one breast played peek-a-boo with the edge of the afghan. Arousal still softened her full, rosy mouth.

  He must be insane. This incredible, lovely, willing woman sat before him and he couldn't bring himself to take what she offered. He'd never experienced this kind of uncertainty before. He wanted her so badly he could hardly breathe. The memory of her soft skin and eager body under his kindled a roaring fire in his loins. And still, honor held him back.

  Her declaration of love rang in his ears. He'd seen the emotion shining from her eyes, illuminating her fragile heart-shaped face like a light from within. In that moment, he had known that he didn't deserve what she offered. Bryony had planned to give him more than her body. She intended to grant him a far more precious gift.

  A gift he could not, in good conscience, accept. Because he knew she would come to regret it, sooner or later. Deep down she expected him to return her love. She might deny it, but he knew a thing or two about women. Though, to tell the truth, he'd never known a woman quite like Bryony. She was as different from Eve as a rose from a prickly pear.

  That, of course, was exactly why she was so dangerous. The bait might be sweet, but a trap was still a trap.

  "You won't change your mind?" she asked now.

  Zach gazed down at her and almost weakened. Her lips trembled almost imperceptibly as she waited for his answer. Her cheeks flamed at her own audacity, but her soft green eyes fixed him with a bold stare.

  He slowly shook his head, not trusting himself to speak.

  And then, before he could change his mind, he strode quickly from the room.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Bryony sat stunned, too bereft even to cry. A few moments ago Zach had held her tenderly. His touch had sparked astonishing and pleasurable sensations.

  Now she heard the sound of his bedroom door slamming behind him.

  She felt abandoned and humiliated. She had offered Zach everything -- her body, her heart, and her mind -- and he had rejected her. Underneath the shame and embarrassment of the situation, she felt anger stirring.

  Slowly she rose and began to dress. Her hands trembled as she remembered how gently Zach had removed each item of clothing only minutes before. Crossing to the sliding glass door, she leaned her forehead against the cool glass, staring out into the darkness. Rain hit the glass in front of her face and rolled down like the tears.

  She felt drained and spent. Her whole body ached, and despite the roaring fire she was chilled to the bone. Her thoughts tumbled about in her head like laundry in a clothes dryer -- tangled, disorganized, terribly confused.

  The worst part was that she was stuck with Zach until the storm ended. She wasn't scheduled to work for the next two days, and the weather was too grim for outdoor activities. Bryony was trapped in a house with a man whose very presence set her nerves tingling with sensual electricity. A man she desired beyond belief. A man she loved, who didn't love her back.

  She squeezed her eyes shut against self-pitying tears. She wouldn't succumb to those, at least. She'd known exactly what she was getting into. Zach Callahan was out of her reach. He didn't trust women. He wasn't interested in commitment.

  And still, knowing all that, she'd fallen in love.

  Bryony shook her head and rubbed the heal of her palm against her gritty, tearless eyes. Her situations was so ironic she almost had to laugh. At the beginning of this whole ridiculous mess, she'd imagined she would make him fall in love with her. She had planned to throw his declarations of love triumphantly back in his face.

  Instead, her love potion had backfired. She'd fallen for him, and fallen hard. Even now, angry and exhausted, her lips softened into a tentative smile as she remembered the expression on his face as he gazed at her naked in the firelight. She'd seen more than lust there. His expression had neared reverence.

  Now Bryony sighed and turned away from the streaming glass. She wanted to believe that he might love her, even just a little. But obviously she just too naive to accept the truth. She'd made a spectacle of herself. Now Zach would think her weak and foolish.

  He would pity her.

  She closed her eyes, but she couldn't shut out that one terrible fact. Zach would pity her for loving him. That was the one thing she could not stand. Tomorrow, she would have to tell a terrible, heartbreaking lie.

  Bryony slept late Thursday morning, but the extra hours in bed did little to dispel her fatigue. She suspected it was an exhaustion of the heart rather than the body. When she couldn't linger under the covers any longer, she reluctantly dragged herself downstairs. She didn't even bother to comb her hair or change out of her baggy flannel pajamas. She padded down the stairs in her fuzzy bedroom slippers.

  The kitchen was awash in sweet, enticing smells. "You're finally up," Zach said as
she entered the room, smiling at her as if the night before had never happened.

  He was freshly showered, his hair still wet. He wore a crisp white shirt and black denim jeans. His just-shaved face looked so smooth Bryony ached to touch it. She was suddenly very aware of her tousled hair and the way her striped pajama bottoms sagged. She told herself she didn't care.

  "What's all this?" she asked.

  "Waffles," he answered. "Your choice -- chocolate chip, strawberry, or banana. I'll cook 'em to order. Then we've got your basic toppings. Whipped cream, fruit, syrup -- maple or chocolate -- and, let's see, orange juice and coffee. Scrambled eggs, sausage, and toast if you want it."

  Bryony took in the feast with a bewildered glance. "You didn't have to do all this."

  "Oh, it's not an apology. I think I made the right decision last night. In fact, you should be thanking me. Your honor is still intact." He grinned arrogantly at her, a familiar teasing glow in his eyes.

  "Huh." Bryony grimaced and glared at him.

  "I see you don't agree, but that's all right. I'll feed you anyway."

  Bryony smiled slowly, unable to remain sullen in the face of his buoyant good humor. "I'll take you up on that. I'm starving." As she said it, she realized it was true. The tantalizing smells in the kitchen made her feel hollow inside. "I'll have some waffles, if you please."

  "What flavor?"

  "What were my choices again?"

  "Chocolate chip, strawberry, or banana," Zach said.

  "In that case, I'll start with one of each."

  "Coming right up," Zach said. He leered at her. "What did you do last night to work up such a hearty appetite?"

  Bryony didn't answer. She bit her lower lip, fighting back the memory of the night before. She'd thought a night's sleep might dull the pain, but now, standing before the man who had rejected her, she knew it was not so easily forgotten.

  "Bryony?" Zach said, worry furrowing his forehead. He touched her gently on the shoulder.

  "Don't," she said, flinching from his touch, her voice catching on the word. Hurt shone in her sea-green eyes. She lowered her thick gold lashes and looked away quickly, before he could see too far into her heart.

  "I'm sorry," he said, bending over her. She could smell the wonderfully musky scent of his aftershave. "I'm so sorry things can't be different. Bryony, I hate seeing you so unhappy. It tears at my heart, it truly does. Maybe I'm not in love with you, but I -- I've come to care about you a great deal."

  She shook her head mutely. His words were so weak compared to what she felt for him. She gritted her teeth against the angry, scornful phrases that rose in her throat. The anger made it easy to do what she had dreaded.

  "About last night," she began.

  "Yes, let's talk about it." Zach poured batter into the waffle iron and closed the top. The delicious aroma of melting chocolate chips wafted through the kitchen. "If you want me to leave, I'll understand."

  "No!" Bryony said. Zach glanced at her in surprise. She thought she saw a hint of pity in that glance. She cleared her throat and lowered her voice. "I mean, I couldn't ask you to do that. It's still storming outside and the roads aren't safe. Besides, it doesn't bother me that you're here."

  "I just thought . . . . Well, considering the situation -- your feelings for me, and the fact that I --"

  Bryony raised her chin proudly and launched into the speech she had prepared the night before. "That's what we need to talk about. I said some things last night that weren't precisely true. That is, I got carried away by the situation." She gave a bright, false little laugh. "After all, we were very -- uh -- very intimate last night. And it's only natural that in the heat of the moment I might make a statement that, under later and cooler consideration, was greatly exaggerated. Untrue, even."

  She could feel the heat in her cheeks as she spoke, but she was proud of how cool and unruffled she sounded. Zach stared at her. He ran his fingers through his still-damp hair and then crossed his arms.

  "You didn't mean it when you said you loved me."

  "Exactly," Bryony said. She crossed her arms too. They stood looking at each other.

  "And when I asked you if you meant it, and you nodded?"

  "The heat of the moment," Bryony repeated, punctuating her answer with a firm nod. She schooled her face to hide her inner turmoil. Zach must never know how much it cost her to deny her feelings and save her pride.

  "I see," he said. "I suppose it's better this way." Bryony thought she saw a flicker of disappointment in his eyes.

  "Absolutely," she said. "No complicated emotions. No traps. That's the way you like it, right?"

  "Right." He turned away, so that she couldn't see his expression. "I'm glad you're so reasonable about all this. The next few days will be more comfortable for both of us, and it will certainly be easier when I leave."

  Bryony felt the tears pricking the back of her eyes, but she fiercely blinked them back. For the next few days, she would play a role. Zach would never know how much she hurt. She felt like the little mermaid in the Hans Christian Andersen fairy tale. The sea witch gave her legs, but the mermaid walked on knives with every painful step. Despite her sacrifices, her prince married someone else. Bryony always cried at the end, when the mermaid threw herself into the sea and became foam on the waves.

  "Breakfast is served," Zach said, presenting Bryony with her first waffle.

  "Thank you," she said. Her appetite had disappeared, but she added syrup and whipped cream and ate it anyway, for politeness' sake. Zach joined her at the table several minutes later with his own heaping plate.

  Their conversation was strained. The tension between them set Bryony's teeth on edge. She could tell that Zach wasn't enjoying it any more than she was. She longed for the playful camaraderie that had grown between them in the past few days. She hoped it wasn't gone for good.

  "What are you planning to do today?" she asked at last, to break the silence.

  "Catch up on my reading, I suppose," Zach answered, staring out the kitchen window at the steady, pounding rain and the tree branches swaying wildly in the wind. "I won't go out hiking, that's for sure. I might start work on my column. The deadline's coming up fast."

  Bryony didn't need to ask what he would write about. The agreed-upon week and a half wouldn't be up until Sunday night, but it was a forgone conclusion. Her love potion hadn't worked its magic -- on Zach, at least.

  After breakfast, Bryony took a long, hot bath and then pulled on slacks and a thick green turtleneck sweater. She plaited her hair into a casual braid and sat down to do the accounting for Heart's Desire.

  Bryony was slightly cheered to discover that, as she expected, the shop had turned a tidy profit in the past few months. Most of the mail-order items sold well. She decided to add to the aromatherapy line and discontinue the jade buddhas, which had disappointing sales. After faxing in a few order sheets and tidying up her inventory list, she sighed and pushed herself away from her desk.

  All in all, it had proved a productive morning. Still, Zach was a distraction. Even though she couldn't hear him or see him, she could still sense his presence in the house. He was like a tickle in the back of her throat -- barely there, but something she couldn't seem to ignore.

  She kept flashing back to the night before, all of the flooding emotion and delicious sensation that had rocked her safe, comfortable world. She had never known any man who affected her the way Zach did. He made her furious, he made her crazy, and he made her want him.

  She paced her office, irritable and frustrated. She'd never felt so out of control. Part of her wanted Zach to pack up and get out of her life before he could hurt her any more. The rest wanted him to stay forever, no matter what the terms. She couldn't stop remembering the raw desire in his eyes when he had undressed her in front of the fire, or the clean, masculine lines of his body when he stood naked before her.

  Finally, Bryony could bear it no longer. She had to get out of the house. The rain had slacked off a little, though the
wind whipping through the treetops was fiercer than ever. She rummaged in her closet until she found a long red raincoat. Shrugging it on, she started down the stairs. A short walk on the beach would make her feel better. At least it would help her work off some of the nervous energy.

  Zach sat on the living room couch, his black leather briefcase open beside him and piles of paper stacked on the table. He looked up. "You're not going out?" he asked. "It's pretty nasty out there." Concern shone in his dark eyes.

  Bryony pulled her thick red-gold braid out from under the hood and flung it over her shoulder. "I need to get some fresh air," she said. "I hate being cooped up here. Besides, its nearly stopped raining."

  "But the storm's not over," Zach said. "It could start pouring again any minute."

  Bryony frowned. He had no right to tell her what to do. "A little rain won't hurt me," she said. "I'm just going for a quick walk down the beach. I think I can manage."

  "Let me go with you," Zach said, standing up.

  Bryony groaned to herself. That was the last thing she wanted. The whole point was to get away from Zach for a while, so she could think clearly. "I'd prefer if you didn't," she said, more stiffly than she'd intended.

  A slightly hurt look flitted over Zach's handsome face, but he recovered quickly. "Fine. Have a nice walk." He sat down and bent his head over his papers again.

  "Goodbye, then," she said.

  "What? Oh. Goodbye," Zach answered, barely looking up from the article he was reading.

  It was Bryony's turn to feel slighted. She let the front door shut hard behind her. Slamming the door was childish, but there was some satisfaction in allowing the howling, blustering wind to do it for her.

  Outside, she breathed in the rain-soaked air as it drove its icy spray against her cheeks. Leaves skittered against her feet. Her shoes were already damp. Bryony pulled the raincoat tight about her body and tied the belt against the cold.