The Cinderella Obsession (20 page)

This could get interesting.

by Amber Carew

When Lucinda receives The Call to mentor a brand new wizard, she is overjoyed.  It should be impossible for her to be called, but who is she to question Destiny?  Since The Call always occurs at birth, she is shocked when she goes to see the child and finds a full-grown
—
and quite naked
—
man.  With amnesia.

Lucinda may be the stronger wizard, but somehow this man takes control of every situation.  How does he manage to be so utterly domineering, so overwhelmingly masculine, and yet so incredibly irresistible?

As if this isn't enough to shatter her usual self-assurance, her long-time friend and mentor, Randalph, appears and warns her that he knows this man, whose name is Nyte, and he is extremely dangerous.

Excerpt

April in Paris. Charming. Why did she always wind up in these wonderful places when she didn't have time to enjoy them?

A couple of teenagers skated past her on roller blades and giggled. Lucinda shifted her focus to her own reflection and flushed. Here she stood in the middle of Paris wearing only a mauve camisole, matching boyleg briefs, and bare feet. She groaned. Well, she'd never pretended to be good at these middle of the night adventures. She had trouble being organized at the best of times let alone with less than a good night's sleep.

Pretending great interest in the view behind the glass, she checked her peripheral vision on each side, wondering how best to avoid notice.

Right, like that would happen. Almost everyone who passed by glanced in her direction. Some quickly glanced away again, some grinned, some twittered. Some ogled. She dragged in a deep breath, deciding on brashness as her best course of action. Drawing her shoulders back, she turned away from the window. She smiled and nodded at each person who glanced in her direction, then turned down the first alleyway she came across.

Good heavens. She would have to choose the mid-morning rush hour to appear in a world-class city in a state of undress. Of course, most nights she slept in an oversized grey sweatshirt, but yesterday, of all days, she'd given in to temptation and bought the feminine camisole set in the window of a lingerie store near her office - and she'd had to wear it to bed.

She padded down the alley, searching for a hidden corner where she could materialize some clothes, but a groan from up ahead interrupted her mission. She crinkled her forehead. Had it been an actual sound? Good heavens, could it have been the baby? Had he been left alone somewhere in this alley?

But a baby didn't groan.

She closed her eyes and
listened
. Fragmented questions tumbled through her mind.
Where am I? Who am I?
The strong sense of disorientation threw off her balance, sending her careening into a brick wall. Her shoulder pressed against it and she flattened one hand against the side of her head, trying to control the dizziness. The person was disoriented. And uncomfortable.

But he wasn't in danger.

She tried to catch her breath as a stunning certainty ricocheted through her. These thoughts were too coherent for an infant. And yet they definitely came from her intended student. She slumped back against the wall, barely holding herself upright as disturbing questions pelted her consciousness like hailstones.

If this wizard she'd been called upon to teach was not a baby, why hadn't she received The Call over a decade ago? The lad seemed to be suffering from some kind of accident. Could a blow to the head have triggered wizardly potential in him?

She didn't know. Drat. Many of her friends loved mysteries, but not her. Why hadn't one of them gotten this one? As soon as the thought crossed her mind, Lucinda felt a fierce protectiveness jolt through her. No way. This guy was
hers
. Lucinda had longed to be a mentor for centuries.

A good thing
, a little voice whispered inside her head. Because a seventh sense told her he was
ready
. She could feel the magical potential shimmering from him. Damn. She felt like a pregnant woman who'd just given birth, been handed a full-grown child, and told, "Here you go. You're a mother now." In fact, it occurred to her that in that particular analogy, not only had she not realized she was pregnant, but she'd thought she could never even conceive!

This isn
'
t fair! I need more time. I
'
m not ready for this!

She could almost see Merlin's sardonic green gaze.
Yeah, like life is always fair.

Lucinda shook her head. Okay, she'd manage. Somehow. In fact, the thought that she could start the teaching process right away held some appeal. She'd never been a patient person. Waiting twelve or thirteen years would have driven her nuts. And a teenager would be much easier to take care of than a baby. In fact, didn't they usually want to do everything on their own?

Sure. This would be just fine. Ever since she'd decided she might have to care for a tiny baby, a heavy sense of responsibility had dropped on her shoulders. Now it lifted. She straightened up and pushed herself away from the cold wall.

Time to find this guy.

Creeping further into the alley, she scanned the edges of the clutter lining the path. Garbage cans. Cardboard boxes. Wooden crates.

The glint of tanned skin caught her gaze and she focused on a figure slumped on the ground behind a box. She hurried toward him and stopped about a metre away. What should she do now? This was definitely the person she'd been seeking. She sensed confused thoughts skimming the surface of his mind. Not quite conscious. She stepped forward and touched his shoulder.

A fierce growl startled her and she leaped backward. He bolted to his feet as he swung around to face her. Her gaze followed his piercing eyes as he reached full height. In her peripheral vision, she saw his hand shoot to his hip. He tried to grasp something.
A sword?
That's what his surface thoughts revealed.
How odd.
A slightly puzzled expression flickered across his face, then disappeared. Hidden behind a shield of keen intelligence.

Her breathing slowed as they stared at one another. She could almost believe he was an ancient warrior displaced in time. He emanated a strong aura of power. His hair, dark and untamed, swept back from his face and tumbled over strong, broad - and very naked - shoulders.

Naked?

She allowed her gaze to continue down his firmly muscled chest past his waist. She quickly became cognizant of two startling facts. One, he was a fully mature adult male. Two, he was completely naked.

Good heavens, how did she get into these predicaments?

As her skin pebbled, she realized his gaze had started to wander, too. The edges of his mouth quirked up in a smile and a glimmer softened his granite eyes. Lucinda suddenly remembered her attire - or lack thereof. A scrap of satin and lace.

He took a step forward, and she jerked backwards, losing any facade of coolness she'd managed to present up to now. He stopped and studied her thoughtfully.

Her gaze kept drifting down his chest, along the lightly furred arrow that conveniently pointed to the more
interesting
feature of the male anatomy. Especially in this man's case.

Yipes, don't look
there
, she told herself.
Yeah, right. That
'
s like telling yourself not to look at the Eiffel Tower when it
'
s standing right in front of you.
And, right at this moment, the object of her discomfort stood as tall as that landmark.

Forcing her gaze to meet his, she felt herself drawn into some strange, dark depths. Something about him frightened her - but intrigued her even more. She stepped back, but he reached out and clasped her hand. His body pulsed with suppressed energy, yet his touch felt gentle, coaxing.

What
'
s going on? I
'
m a full-fledged, tenth level wizard. I should be in control here.

She tugged her hand free, folded her arms over her chest, and scowled at him. What was it about this guy that threw her off so badly?

"Who are you?" she demanded.

by
Opal
Carew

After her divorce Sandra swore off any involvement with men for a year. On the anniversary of Sandra’s divorce, her friend, Aimee, suggests she make a list of sexy things she’s never done, but would like to. After Sandra makes a few safe suggestions, Aimee cajoles her until Sandra opens up and pulls out her deeper, darker fantasies. Thus, The List is born.

Devlin is in love with Sandra, but knows she’s not ready for a committed relationship yet, so he and Aimee hatch a plan to get Sandra to go away to a secluded hideaway for a weekend, complete with two gorgeous hunks, to make The List come true.

But Sandra experiences something more intoxicating that’s not on The List… falling in love
.

Chapter 1

“I can’t believe you’ve gone an entire year without sex. And by choice.”

Sandra grimaced at her friend’s comment. She tightened her fingers around her champagne flute. Many times she’d regretted telling Aimee about her resolution, but in fact, her confession to Aimee had forged a closer friendship between them. A friendship that had helped her through some tough times over the past year. Especially the loneliness.

Aimee held up her glass. “Happy anniversary.” She grinned. “A year well behind you.”

Sandra clinked her champagne glass against Aimee’s, then sipped the bubbly wine. Not that a failed marriage was something to celebrate.

She glanced around Maelstrom’s Bar, wondering when Devlin would arrive to join them. He’d called to say he’d be a little late because he’d had to attend an afternoon meeting on the outskirts of the city. That meant he had to brave the rush- hour traffic driving back downtown to meet them.  Once he got here, he’d have some trouble finding parking, too, since the bar was in a busy area.

Sandra pushed her long hair behind her ear as she shifted on the upholstered seat. It was Friday evening and the bar was filling up fast, but she and Aimee had walked over right after work and grabbed one of the cozy curved booths near the window.

“So, you’re sticking with your story that your ex wasn’t a complete loser? Because I’m all ears if you want to dis him. It’ll help get it out of your system.”

“No, Eric was just the wrong guy for me.”

Not that it hadn’t hurt to find he no longer loved her. Or really, that he had never loved her. They’d dated since high school and for many years, they’d mistaken being comfortable with being in love. But neither of them had wanted the marriage to fail
—
to admit
they
had failed—so it had
taken ten years for them to fi
nally realize that divorce was the only answer. They simply weren’t happy together. They were great roommates, but their connection had broken down years ago
—
if it had ever been there in the first place.

Aimee pursed her lips. “Okay then. Moving on. Tell me what you’re looking for in a man.”

She leaned toward Sandra and her lips turned up in a crooked smile. Sandra could tell Aimee had had a little too much to drink. And Sandra probably had, too. Champagne tended to have that effect on her.

Sandra attempted to answer her friend’s question, but when she tried to picture the man of her dreams, all she came up with was a blank.

Aimee seemed to understand her dilemma. She sipped from her glass, then giggled. “I have an idea. Let’s make a list.”

She opened her purse and pulled out a pen, then grabbed one of the small square cocktail napkins the waitress had left on the table with the appetizer platter. Aimee wrote down the numeral one followed by a dot.

“Okay, I want you to think about”
—
she giggled—“you know . . . men . . . and what you’d really like.”

“What I’d like? I guess I’d like a guy who’s really sensitive, with a good sense of humor and . . . well, a sense of adventure.”

Aimee pointed at her and winked. “That’s what I’m talking about. Adventure.” She sipped her drink again, then set down her glass. “Forget that Mr. Sensitive stuff . Think about Mr. Muscle- Bound- Hunk meets Mr. Sexy- Bad- Boy and how he”
—
she winked—“or, better yet,
they
could make your dreams come true.”

Sandra knew exactly what Aimee was talking about. Sandra had made the mistake of telling Aimee about one of her ultra sexy dreams, dreams that had been a frequent occurrence over the past few months. Fantasies brought to life in steamy erotic detail in the middle of the night, leaving her hot and frustrated in the morning.

“Before you settle down with Mr. Right, you need to get your mojo back. You know, enjoy the single life and see what’s out there. Now”
—
she pointed at Sandra with her pen—“tell me what kinds of adventures you want to have. Your wildest, craziest fantasies. Let’s write them down.”

“I don’t see the point in making a list.” Sandra really didn’t want her fantasies written out in black and white.  That seemed too . . . sordid.

“Ah, come on. If you can dream about them, you can talk about them.”

Sandra’s cheeks flushed. “I don’t think so.”

Aimee patted Sandra’s hand. “Honey, there’s nothing wrong with having fantasies. And it’s good to examine them. It’ll help you know what really turns you on. Which is good since you’re going to start dating again. Look, I’ll get us started. You told me about that one where you were captured by pirates and carried off to their ship, so . . .”

Sandra watched as Aimee wrote
Be held captive
beside the numeral one.

“Now you,” Aimee said, pen poised.

Sandra shrugged. “I don’t know. I can’t think of anything.”

“What about that book you were reading a couple of weeks ago? It had bondage, didn’t it?”

“Um..
. dominance and submission, actually.”

Aimee smiled. “You’d like to try that?”

Sandra shrugged again. Aimee nudged her shoulder.

“Come on. Get into the spirit of it. I’m just trying to help.”

Sandra took a sip of her champagne and gazed at Aimee’s deep blue eyes. She did want to help. Sandra sighed.

“Okay. Well, I’m not sure about the bondage and domination stuff . I’d have to know the guy pretty well.”

“Well, yeah.” Aimee nibbled on one of the chicken wings, then picked up the pen again. “Okay, let’s leave that one a little open.”

She wrote down item number two as
Experiment with bondage.

“What else? Think about some fantasy that has really intrigued you that you know you’ll never try but wish you could.” She grinned. “And don’t be shy.”

One fantasy immediately popped into Sandra’s head. She’d caught part of a show on sexual fantasies and she’d been intrigued by one woman’s fantasy about being with a stranger. To her surprise, that had turned on Sandra immensely. Which was just crazy, especially since the only man she’d ever been with was her ex- husband, Eric.

“You’ve got one. I can see it in your eyes. Spill it.”

Sandra pursed her lips. “Well . . .”

“If you go, I’ll go.”

Sandra nodded. “It’s . . . well, being with a stranger.”

“You mean a one- night stand?”

“No, more like making love with someone and not knowing who it is.”

“So, like, some sexy guy is making out with you and you can’t see who it is? That’s pretty intense.”

Aimee wrote down item number three as
Make love to a sexy stranger while blindfolded.

“Now yours,” Sandra said.

Aimee wrote item four on the napkin, then turned it toward Sandra so she could see.

Have sex with two men at the same time (maybe more).

Sandra felt her cheeks heat. “That’s some list we have there.”

Aimee laughed. “It’s only four items. We’re not done yet.”

“I think I am.”

“Okay, then. I’ll just put some down for your consideration.”

Aimee jotted several more items on the napkin as Sandra watched. Finally, she turned it so Sandra could read it.

1. Be held captive.

2. Experiment with bondage.

3. Make love to a sexy stranger while blindfolded.

4. Have sex with two men at the same time (maybe more).

5. Be a love slave.

6. Have a love slave.

7. Be a voyeur.

8. Try exhibitionism.

“Want anything else?”

Sandra nearly jumped at the waitress’s voice. She wanted to snatch the list from Aimee and stuff it in her purse, but the young woman didn’t even glance at it.

“Yes. How about a couple of piña coladas?” Aimee said.

Sandra smiled and nodded. She loved piña coladas.

The waitress picked up the empty champagne bottle from the table and placed it on her round tray
, then grabbed the two empty fl
utes. She disappeared into the crowd.

Sandra picked up a piece of zucchini from the appetizer tray and dipped it in the dressing, then took a bite. The waitress returned a few moments later with their drinks. Sandra took a sip.

“It’s about time.” Aimee glanced over Sandra’s shoulder.

Sandra glanced around to see Devlin approaching their table. His glittering gaze locked on her as he walked toward them in his usual relaxed gait, a charming half smile curling his lips.

Although she couldn’t see the color of his eyes in this light, she knew they were as blue as the sky at dusk, dusted with golden specks, and surrounded by a midnight blue ring. The raspy shadow across his jaw gave him a definite masculine allure, and he’d tied back his medium brown shoulder length hair, which was typical on a workday. His relaxed casual- Friday outfit consisted of well- worn jeans and a brown tweed blazer over a brown striped shirt.

Sandra slid farther into the booth to make room for him, and he sat down beside her.

His gaze fell to the table. “What’s this?”

Oh, damn. Sandra tried to grab the cocktail napkin as he plucked it from the table
—
the napkin with the list scribbled on it
—
but he snatched it out of reach and began to read.

His grin broadened to a smile, revealing his strong white teeth. “Well, this is quite the menu. Are there pictures to go along with it?”

“You are so bad.” Sandra’s hand brushed across his broad chest as she tried to reach the list, but he held it farther away from her. She stretched her arm more, trying to grab the small square napkin, but his arms were longer than hers. Suddenly, she realized she was practically draped across him, her chest against his, and she became intensely aware of his muscular arm beneath her fingertips, her breasts pressed against his solid, ridged chest, his face far too close to hers. Kissably close.

And kissing wasn’t something she intended to do with Devlin. He was her friend.

She drew back and tugged the sides of her shirt down, then smoothed it over her hips, her lips pursed.

Now would come the teasing.

“Is this your weekend to-do list?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

“Well, maybe you and I can talk her into it,” Aimee said with a wink. “I’ve convinced her to stretch her imagination a little. Now we need to convince her to go a bit wild.”

Devlin grinned, his amused gaze settling on Sandra.

“Especially now that she’s lifted her ban on sex.” Aimee rested her chin on her hand. “A whole year without.” Aimee shook her head and gazed at Sandra. “I don’t know how you lasted so long.”

*
* *

Devlin watched Sandra’s cheeks blush softly. He didn’t know how he’d lasted so long. From the first time he’d met her, he’d been crazy about her. Aimee had told him Sandra had recently divorced and how tough it had been on her, so he’d decided to tread carefully. He’d gotten to know her, becoming her friend, making sure to give her plenty of time, Hoping when she was ready, she’d agree to go out with him. Then he’d show her why the two of them were perfect for each other.

But timing was everything. The woman hadn’t been with anyone else since high school, and she was clearly on the rebound. The first few guys she dated wouldn’t
—
shouldn’t—lead to something permanent. He needed to wait it out awhile longer, let her get a taste of the single life. Then once she was firmly ensconced in the dating world, he’d swoop in and make his move.

*
* *

Sandra held one of Devlin’s arms and Aimee the other as the three of them stepped outside into the warm summer’s evening. Sandra took a deep breath and realized she felt more than a little light- headed.

“My car’s around the corner,” Devlin said as he tugged her to the left.

“I’m glad we’ve got you as our designated driver,” Aimee said. “It beats taking the bus at this hour.”

Sandra took the bus to work and no express buses ran at this hour, so it would have been a long commute. Sometimes Aimee drove her car, but Devlin hadn’t even asked. Aimee and Sandra had both had enough drinks that he would ensure neither of them drove. Even though Sandra didn’t need a guy looking out for her, it was kind of nice that he did. Devlin was a good friend.