Page 58 of Sigils & Spells

That morning, I spent my time pulling mundane articles that actually hid factual magic. National Geographic and the Smithsonian were the worst perpetrators when it came to exposing magic to regular people. Of course, they had no clue what it was they were looking at, so pretty much no harm no foul. What that meant for us, at the Archives, it meant that we kept at least one copy of the documentation.

I balanced a stack of magazines in my arms when Dr. Bronson’s door opened. Merle stepped out. My stomach dropped. Like some idiot, I hadn’t even realized he was there. I should have recognized the deep tones of his voice earlier. In my defense, I was distracted about thinking what could I do for Claudette that would make up for not turning Eric Dupree into a frog.

That was my excuse, and I was going to stick with it, because I didn’t like the truth. I hadn’t even noticed Merle was in the building. It felt like proof that maybe there wasn’t something between us. When I desperately wanted there to be.

I liked that he was jealous over Darren. But I didn’t like that he was pissed at me, and I didn’t like the feelings of guilt that were slipping in over it. I had done nothing wrong. Merle hadn’t even let Darren know he was interested. What was I supposed to do? Become a nun until Merle noticed me?

No, I was living my best life. And right now my best life was riddled with guilt when I should have been enjoying the memories of Darren instead of contemplating performing a banishing spell on that part of my memory.

Maybe I should ask Merle about that? Would he stop being pissed at me and maybe actually make his own move if I could no longer remember Darren’s abs?

“Pandora.”

I jumped at the sound of my name. So lost in my guilt laden thoughts, I hadn’t noticed Merle walking up to me. The magazines slid from my hold.

“Sorry,” he said before I managed to start babbling. We both crouched down to gather my dropped collection.

As he reached out for the spill of magazines, I placed my hand on his wrist. “No, Merle, I’m sorry. I really am. I need you to know that.”

I would have loved to have some spark between us when I touched him, but there was nothing. At least not until his crystal blue eyes locked with mine. It wasn’t so much a spark as it was a complete meltdown. I felt like goo in a Pandora skin suit.

I might have blinked, but it seemed like one second we were staring at each other, and the next second Merle’s mouth was on mine. His hand cupped the back of my neck, and he pressed me back. I fell onto my ass, and we crashed against one of the bookshelves.

Fortunately, there was no cascade of toppling shelving units. Those suckers were anchored to the floor for safety reasons, I don’t care what the movies show.

His face was warm and his lips soft. I tried to record every sensation of him, his scent, the demanding way his hand on my neck held and released like he wanted to control me, but he also didn’t want to force me to do anything.

I sucked on his lower lip, and felt his teeth scrape against mine. Our tongues danced, and I stopped trying to identify the sensations and let them happen, and reveled in them. He did that sexy romantic move from the movies and all the books of resting his forehead to mine when he ended the kiss. He didn’t let go of me. And I wasn’t about to release the hold I had on his coat.

“I’m the one who should apologize,” his voice was a rumble.

“Don’t you fucking dare apologize for kissing me.”

He chuckled. His face was still so close. Focusing on him was not going to happen, so I closed my eyes. I leaned my forehead more against him, not wanting him to back up.

“Never. But I should apologize for not kissing you earlier. Like six months, maybe even a year ago.”

My throat went dry. Six months to a year? How much self-doubt would that have saved? So much, so fucking much.

“Look.” He sat back on his heels and gazed over his shoulder.

I opened my eyes, the distance between us now something my vision could handle. I followed his gaze, but had no idea what he was looking at.

“Could we talk? You know, go somewhere and sit and talk.”

I nodded. “Yeah, of course.”

He looked over his shoulder again before standing up. He held his hand out to me and helped me up. As I straightened my dress, and regathered my composure about me, he bent and picked up the spilled magazines.

He dumped them back into my arms.

“I’ll give you a call, and we can set something up.”

“Tonight?” I asked.

He shook his head. “I don’t think so. I’m going to have to go. Pan.” He leaned in and placed a long kiss on my cheek. “The next day or two. I’ve already wasted enough time.”

With a swirl of his coat, he took off down the row between the shelves and was gone.

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