Page 26 of Charmed

"That's not what I meant, damn it." Though, she had a point. Exhausted, he leaned forward, setting his elbows on his thighs and his head in his hands. "You matter. To those of us blessed to be in your orbit, you matter."

Forget what went down tonight. It was her who'd put a spell on him.

Her clothing rustled. "Look at me."

"Not a good idea." He pressed his palms to his eye sockets as if that would wash away the reminder of the state he'd found her in, would quiet the sultry tone of her voice as it wrapped around him.

"Why not?"

"Because your eyes are this close to being listed as the eighth wonder of the world and if I look at them too long, I'm bound to say something stupid." Scratch that. Too late. Apparently, he simply needed to be in the same room for that to happen. No looking at her required.

Who did he have to maim to get a bottle of single malt and a muzzle?

She was quiet so long, the hairs on his nape rose in warning. Silence and Fiona Galloway had never been introduced. Ergo, his pulse tripped and took a face plant. Heart pounding, he chanced a peek.

Colossal mistake.

Lord, but she was achingly gorgeous. Fair complexion. Toxic eyes. Plush, naturally red-tinged lips. Oval face framed by a cascade of silky chestnut hair. A fan of dense, curled lashes. Finely arched brows and a slender nose. And that was just from the neck up. One of her features, any one of them, was noteworthy. Combine them all, and no man stood to survive.

Pensive, she studied him like he was a complicated puzzle with missing pieces. Which was hilarious because he was about as complex as a blank page. Especially near her. He wondered what she gleaned in her exploration, but was too afraid to ask.

Finally, after an eternity, she crossed one long leg over the other. "You have a habit of dropping compliments often in a pissed-off tone that implies you're forced to say them."

This was a trap. Had to be. "Most women would have a difficult time finding the praise amid all the frustration."

"I'm not most women."

"No shit." He leaned back in his seat, eyeing her with caution.

"The majority of guys who hit on me want to do it. They'll say pithy things about beauty or sexiness."

"I'm not most men." Yeah, her looks and killer figure were a draw, but he'd always been more interested in what lay beneath. She rarely let her emotions or true thoughts out of the bag, and she was an intriguing mystery he yearned to solve.

Perhaps then, at last, he'd gain the upper hand.

For about five seconds.

"No shit," she mocked, tilting her head. "Interesting how you're mad at yourself for wanting me."

Definitely a trap. And he had the sinking suspicion his attraction was the bait.

"I kissed you, didn't I?" God save him, but he wanted to do it again. Often. Repeatedly. His gut clenched with how badly.

"Mmm-hmm. Took you long enough to make a move."

He narrowed his eyes at her. That sounded an awful lot like she'd been...waiting. Fiona waited for no one and nothing. When she desired something or someone, she went after it. Lock and load. "If I had any hint you were attracted to me in return, we'd be in a very different place right now." Like horizontal.

Sweating...

Moaning...

Begging...

Her sly smile made a reappearance. "I kissed you back, didn't I?" She stood and headed for the door. "Get some sleep, Riley. Tomorrow's another day."

She left, but her atmospheric scent lingered. Taunting. Teasing.

And he had to question whether her parting shot or the past ten minutes of conversation had been a ruse to get his mind focused on something other than the woods. It would be just like her to use coy seduction to distract him.

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