Charmed: Destiny Romance (8 page)

‘Oh! Michael!’

Michael looked up and then smiled easily. ‘Hi, Kate.’ He reached out and shook the guy’s hand. ‘Tim.’

‘I didn’t expect to see you,’ the woman said. Stylish and smart with her grey hair in a neat bob, she looked a little nervous. Mel was tempted to reach out and probe her mind, but she didn’t want to spoil the peace of her time with Michael, so she refrained. She knew from hard-won experience that sometimes it really was better not to know.

‘This is my friend, Mel,’ Michael said. ‘Mel, this is Kate – we work together. And this is her partner, Tim.’

‘Nice to meet you, Mel,’ Tim said. ‘And nice to see you, Michael.’ He looked around the bustling restaurant. ‘It’s busy tonight, isn’t it? Must be the sunshine today, bringing everyone out. Hoping summer’s on the way.’

‘Yeah. It has been a great day.’

Michael and Tim exchanged pleasantries a while longer while Kate’s nerves seemed to increase. Mel didn’t need to reach out her mind to sense the other woman’s growing uneasiness – her clasped hands and the way she was dancing from foot to foot as if she needed to go to the bathroom were telltale enough.

Finally, the other couple moved on – clearly much to Kate’s relief – but Mel’s curiosity was piqued.

‘You guys work together?’ she prompted as their food arrived and they made short work of it.

‘Yeah, Kate is a bookkeeper who works really closely with me. She’s kind of my right-hand man – no one knows more about Australian tax legislation than she does and she’s always reminding me to eat and go home. I’ve already told her she’s never allowed to retire.’

Mel smiled. ‘I keep forgetting you’re an accountant.’ Michael struck her as the Indiana Jones of finance.

‘Well, more of a financial planner, really.’

‘But still – you don’t look like one.’

Michael popped another piece of satay-dipped roti in his mouth with a smile. ‘Really? What is an accountant supposed to look like?’

‘You know, three-piece suit, shiny shoes.’

‘I do wear a suit to work – although usually only two pieces. And my shoes
are
pretty shiny.’

Mel blinked as she pictured Michael in a suit. Suddenly accounting seemed like the sexiest profession in the world.

‘Tell me more about it. I know you’re on leave right now.’ She recalled the agonised look on his face this morning when he talked about making some kind of mistake that had forced him into taking leave.

Michael grimaced. ‘Let’s not spoil the night.’

‘Didn’t you say that your father was your boss?’
Some
curiosity was next to impossible to ignore.

He gave her a look that let her know that he didn’t want to talk about this, but was going to allow her some leeway. ‘Yes. The company is Richard Harrison and Sons.’ He winced. ‘I mean, “and Son”.’

Mel reached across the table to squeeze his hand. It was a good lesson – if she needed one – on leaving well enough alone. She’d seen the pain etched on his face when he’d talked about his brother’s surfboard. She’d had no idea they’d worked together, too. How could she? She wished, for the billionth time, that her powers worked selectively – telling her the information she needed to know, leaving out what she didn’t.

‘Oh, Michael. It’s okay, we don’t have to talk about it.’

He shrugged. ‘It’s a good company. Great reputation – the family thing, people really trust in that with their money, you know? My sister, Annie, doesn’t work in the business, but she’s so involved in it, she might as well be. My mum’s like the chairman of the board, while my dad’s the CEO. And me and Dad, we work together pretty well most of the time. Even if he’s always treating me like a kid. You know, the
youngest
son.’ He paused, looking hurt. ‘Dave . . . well, he kind of stood up for me. And he was the peacemaker between us. We miss that. A lot.’

The lonely echo in his voice told Mel that it was way more than Dave’s peacemaking skills that Michael missed.

‘What happened?’ Mel asked quietly. ‘At work, I mean. Why are you on leave?’

Michael shifted in his chair and his mouth twisted into a grimace. ‘It doesn’t matter. I fucked up and Dave wasn’t there to sort it out with Dad. I thought I was good at what I did. But maybe . . .’

‘Dave was that kind of big brother, was he?’ Mel didn’t have siblings. It was probably for the best, but she liked the idea of a protective older brother, there to help out.

Michael nodded. ‘Yeah. He was everyone’s white knight.’

‘He sounds like he was a great guy.’ And it sounded like he’d been enshrined in everyone’s memory – especially Michael’s – as the perfect human being.

‘Yeah.’ He mumbled something else that Mel didn’t catch.

‘What was that?’

Michael cleared his throat. ‘I said, he was an arsehole, too.’

That was a surprise. ‘Why?’

‘Because he didn’t tell anyone he was sick. Not until it was too late.’

Mel frowned. ‘Was there anything you could have done if he’d told you earlier?’

‘That’s not the point!’ Michael’s fork clattered to the plate. ‘He didn’t tell anyone. He didn’t tell
me
! He let me go to South America when he
knew . . .
’ He blew out a breath in frustration. ‘You don’t have something
that
important going on and not mention it. It’s simple courtesy apart from anything else.’

‘I guess.’ Mel wanted to argue, but Michael was already angry and she didn’t want to further raise his ire. She, perhaps better than most, could certainly understand why someone might keep something so crucial to themselves.

A weird shot of guilt ran through her. Here she was, keeping one of the biggest secrets in the world . . . Lucky this thing between them expired at midnight – even if that thought did make her suddenly feel cold.

‘Do you want dessert?’ she asked, deciding it was time to change the subject.

Michael ran a hand through his hair and gave her a wonky smile. ‘I didn’t mean to . . . to get all het up.’

‘It’s okay.’

‘It’s not really.’ He shifted his feet until his knees bracketed hers. ‘I don’t want to spoil the night. And we’re not finished yet.’

‘No, we’re not.’ Three hours and forty-seven minutes until midnight. Correction, three hours forty-six minutes. ‘Let’s get out of here.’

‘My thoughts exactly.’

It took way too long for the waitress to get the bill. Mel gazed around the restaurant impatiently – Michael’s fingers were stroking her palm and she was afraid that if she paid close attention to that she’d embarrass herself with a
When Harry Met Sally
kind of scene.

Her eyes lit on Kate and Tim, sitting at a table opposite them. Kate shot a glance her way and obviously got a shock when she met Mel’s eyes. Mel smiled automatically, but it took a moment for Kate to return the greeting and she hurriedly turned back to her meal.

Strange.

Mel reached out. Kate’s frantic thoughts weren’t hard to locate in the busy restaurant.

I hope he never finds out. He can never find out.

Finds out what? And did she mean Michael? Or Tim? What was she hiding? Mel’s mind instantly went into overdrive. Did the woman have a crush on Michael? She’d have to be twenty years older than him, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. No . . . she was sure it wasn’t that. The auras of Kate and Tim were intermingled in a way that indicated a deep connection between them.

Mel probed a little further, but Kate was guarding her secret tightly. Mel needed to be able to touch her – or maybe, if she just concentrated
really
hard . . .

‘I’m not sure if this wait is a good thing or a bad thing,’ Michael said, breaking into Mel’s inner debate.

‘Hmm?’

‘I just want to get you home.’ His voice was low and seductive. ‘But waiting here is giving me time to think about all the things I want to do when we get there.’

That stopped all Mel’s curiosity about Kate in its tracks. ‘Really?’ She licked her lips in nervous anticipation and Michael’s eyes followed her tongue. A fuse lit between her thighs.

‘Really.’

He leaned closer and so did she, as close as they could manage over the barrier of the table. Michael reached out and brushed a lock of hair behind her ear.

His voice lowered even further. ‘I want to taste you, the way you —’

‘You can pay at the register,’ their waitress announced, shoving a torn scrap of paper on the table between them.

Mel couldn’t help but laugh at the injured expression on Michael’s face at the abrupt intrusion.

‘Come on,’ she said, grabbing for her bag.

They paid the bill and found themselves laughing as they both broke into a run on the way to the car.

Inside Michael’s apartment, they only just made it past the surfboard before Michael pushed her against the wall with a punishing kiss.

Mel was wet and desperate and unable to catch her breath within a split second of his lips touching hers. And when he coaxed her out of her jeans, kneeled down in front of her, and proceeded to show her what he hadn’t been able to tell her in the restaurant, all she could do was hang on.

Michael tasted her deliciously wanton body until she came and she pushed him away, insisting that her legs were going to fail her. So he led her to the sofa and she sat in his lap and they kissed and kissed until she freed him from his jeans, dressed him in a condom and took him deep inside herself. He lost himself in the pure bliss of it.

When they were done, he carried her into the bedroom and dumped her on the bed where she landed with a squeal and a bounce.

This was too good. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so light-hearted. The day hadn’t exactly been free of thoughts about Dave or about work – 
what day ever was?
 – but it had been easier to put those things aside, to
be in the moment
.

Maybe it was the time limit? No. What it was, was the girl. It was Mel. She was the reason he’d had this ‘day out’ in the first place. And she was the reason he’d enjoyed it so much.

Michael finally understood what it meant to be ‘rested’. And he knew now that some of his father’s accusations had been fair. Michael hadn’t been fully present at work these past few months. He hadn’t been concentrating. He still had no idea how the mistake with the Johnstone account had happened, but that was obviously part of the problem. It wasn’t enough of a reason to get benched – to not even have the opportunity to try to work out what had happened – but he and his father had become embroiled in one of
those
arguments, and without Dave around to broker the peace, things had just escalated.

Michael would do things differently if he could have a another chance. Be rational. Calm. Take a leaf out of his big brother’s playbook. Show his father the maturity that the old man had decided was missing in his youngest son.

In fact, that’s exactly what he’d do. Go back to work. Have a discussion with his dad. Get back on top of things. Work it out.

Lying in bed, with Mel’s lithe body curled around his, Michael could begin – for the first time in forever – to see the future. It’d start with that meeting with his father. He’d accept it if the old man decided Michael needed another week’s leave, but then he wanted to be back. Back to work with his old – no,
renewed
 – focus.

He checked his watch: almost eleven.

Beside him, Mel made a purring noise and stretched.

‘How are your muscles?’ she asked.

‘Huh?’

‘After yoga. And, well . . .’ She giggled.

Michael gave an exploratory stretch of his legs. There was definitely a slight twinge there – a twinge that would likely be an ache by morning. ‘I think I’m okay. For now. Why?’

‘Just wondering . . .’ She turned her head into his shoulder and gave him a little nip with her teeth before licking the hurt with her tongue.

‘Just wondering what?’

Her fingers threaded through the hair on his chest to tweak one of his nipples. The sensation made him twitch. In a good way.

‘Wondering if . . .’ One of her legs was thrown over his thighs. She brought it higher, just enough to stroke his now-recovering cock. ‘. . . we had the energy for one more go before it hits pumpkin time.’

He gave a half-laugh, half-groan, and ran his hand down Mel’s side so he could cup her bottom and pull her closer to him.

Mel propped up on one elbow and looked down at him, her eyebrow arched. ‘I was thinking the shower? For purely therapeutic reasons – your sore muscles and all.’

‘Minx.’

‘You don’t agree?’

‘Oh, I agree.’

Although when he collapsed back into bed half an hour later, he wasn’t sure the shower had done much at all to
help
his muscles. He was tired now, though. Worn out physically, and sleepy mentally – he was looking forward to a solid, restful night’s sleep with a warm body by his side.

Perhaps the tiredness was why it took him a moment to register that Mel hadn’t fallen into bed beside him.

He blinked. She was gathering up her clothes, laying them in a pile on the end of the bed.

‘Do you want a clean T-shirt to sleep in?’ he offered. ‘I can find you something.’

She gave him a measured smile. ‘Thanks, but no.’ She gestured to the clock on his bedside table. ‘It’s almost midnight. Better get moving before my horses turn back into mice. Speaking of which, you could call a taxi for me.’

Michael shook his head, trying to clear it. ‘Oh, the pumpkin thing. You don’t have to take that literally.’ It was nice of her to stick to what they’d agreed, but it wasn’t necessary. Then again, perhaps he hadn’t made that clear to her.

He sat up, swinging his legs onto the floor.

‘Mel – seriously. You’re welcome to stay the night. We can have breakfast in the morning and then I’ll take you home – or work, or wherever you need to go. And we can talk about when we’re going to do this all again.’

She stepped into her underwear. ‘Thank you, I appreciate the offer. But I’m going to get moving.’ That damn smile was still on her face. She looked all calm and regal – like she was in a yoga class.

Maybe she’d missed the point. He stood up and swept her into his arms, pressing her body into his. He knew it’d be more effective if he had a rock-solid hard-on to poke into her belly, but his cock was definitely down for the count. He couldn’t blame it.

She gasped, but then bit her lip as if to hold the noise inside. He took a deep breath, deliberately ensuring his chest brushed against her nipples – he’d learned she liked that.

‘Stay with me,’ he said, before pressing a teasing kiss to her neck.

For a moment she went limp in his arms, her head falling back to open herself to his caress. But then she stiffened and pushed him away.

She laughed awkwardly, and busied herself with putting on her clothes. ‘I thought I’d worn you out.’

‘You have. Which is why I want to go to sleep with you.’

She pulled her blouse over her head and wrapped her scarf around her neck. ‘You’ll sleep better if I’m not here. Besides, I’ve got to get to work tomorrow. I need to go home.’ She smiled at him again – all calm and serene and somehow blank.

The smile was doing him in. He tried to stem the strange sensation rising inside him – if he didn’t know better, he’d call it
panic
. He wasn’t about to beg for her to stay. But some instinct compelled him to give it one more try.

‘Why do you have to leave?’

‘I just do, Michael. This was our day. And it was wonderful.’ That awful smile slipped for a moment and she swallowed hard. ‘I really hope everything works out for you at work.’

It felt like goodbye. She hadn’t said those exact words, but it felt that way. And Michael had to grow up and cope with it. Wasn’t this just the kind of life experience that his newly decided maturity was going to have to deal with? He pulled on his boxer shorts and found a T-shirt. ‘I’ll call a cab.’

They waited together for the cab to arrive, making polite small talk as if they were strangers on a bus, not two people who’d been naked, sweaty and entwined with each other just minutes earlier.

When the buzzer rang out in the quiet of his apartment, Michael accompanied Mel down to the street – against her protest that he not come out into the cold – and helped her into the cab. He hoped for a farewell
something
 – a kiss? a hug? a genuine facial expression? – but it didn’t come.

Back in his apartment, chilled to the bone from going out in the icy night air in barely more than his underwear, he stripped off his clothes and sank into bed, pulling the covers around himself.

His magical day had just had a very
un
magical
ending.

Mel unlocked the front door of Crystal Gaze wearily the next morning. She was sapped. Her body ached in the most glorious ways possible, but her grey mood meant she couldn’t even enjoy that.

She sat beside the huge amethyst near the counter, hoping to soak in some of its energy. If she’d thought her life before Michael had lacked spark, that was nothing compared to now. It was as if he’d shone a bright light in her eyes, and now everything else was dimmed in comparison.

All she could do was put on her practised smile, the one she’d had to paste on last night to be able to say goodbye to him, and deal with customers as they walked in the door. Anything else would just have to wait.

She was shuffling through the stack of angel cards they left by the register – finding the Michael archangel card turning up far too often for her liking – when Aunt Gertrude waltzed through the door, setting the chimes jangling in a way no one else did. She paused for a moment, as if waiting for an imaginary studio audience to applaud her arrival.

Mel had to blink at the blur of scarlet red and burnt orange chiffon that cut a swathe through the shop as her godmother made her way to the counter. Aunt Gertrude had obviously decided to match her outfit with her makeup today – a new twist – because her powdery cheeks were apple-red and her lips coated in garish neon-orange lipstick.

‘Good morning,’ Mel said, wincing – partly at Aunt Gertrude’s face, partly because that was totally a lie. It was the worst morning ever.

‘Something’s rotten in the state of Tasmania. What’s up with you?’

‘Uh . . .’ It took a moment for Mel to get her head around Aunt Gertrude’s twisted saying. ‘Nothing. I’m fine.’

‘Pish.’ Her godmother waved a ring-encrusted hand. ‘I know fine. You aren’t it.’ She leaned over the counter towards Mel and took a long, deep sniff before her face broke out in a grin. ‘Oh! You finally got yourself some!’

‘Aunt Gertrude!’ Mel’s face flamed against her will. ‘That’s disgusting. You can’t . . .’ she sputtered. ‘You just can’t . . .’

‘Smell it on you? Yeah, I can. Hot stuff, too, by the whiff of it.’

Mel shuddered at the idea of her godmother smelling sex on her, but decided to put it out of her mind and never think about it again. Ever.

‘It was jacket guy, wasn’t it?’ Aunt Gertrude said with narrowed eyes.

‘No.’ Mel didn’t need to give anything more away. Her godmother would only use it for teasing and ammunition sometime down the track anyway.

‘Liar. It was. Just as well I cursed Dorothy so you were here when he came back to collect it.’

Mel gasped. ‘You didn’t! Poor Dorothy! She had a terrible morning.’

Aunt Gertrude clicked her fingers on the glass countertop, her expression set at nothing less than
glee
. ‘She’s fine. But I want to know more about jacket guy! Tell me all the juicy, gory details, and don’t leave anything out,’ she said, pulling up a stool and settling in. ‘I’m too old to bother with all that stuff myself these days, but I don’t mind a bit of vicarious shenanigans!’

Mel rubbed her forehead, hoping she could somehow make herself disappear. For a while she glared at the front door of the shop, willing a flood of customers to walk right in. But she was wearing her ring, so her mind control powers were limited – and besides, yesterday’s sunshine had vanished as quickly as it had arrived, and there was no one out on the cold, wet streets this morning.

‘It was good, he was lovely, and now it’s over, okay?’ Mel could only pray to the goddess that just this once Aunt Gertrude would leave well enough alone.

She should have known it was a fruitless wish.

‘You’re not getting out of it that easily. And why is it over? If it was
good
and
lovely
 – though I’m guessing it was more like
saucy
and
steamy
 – why wouldn’t you go back for more?’

Mel shook her head. ‘You know as well as I do that I’m not allowed to have a relationship with a non-magical person.’

‘Relationship, schmelationship,’ Aunt Gertrude scolded. ‘Who said anything about a relationship? I thought we were talking about sex!’

Just as she was in the midst of saying that, a customer opened the front door. Unfortunately, the chimes were nowhere near loud enough to drown out Aunt Gertrude’s voice, and whoever had walked in had just heard her joyfully announce that last part.

And then, because clearly the universe had it in for Mel this morning, the customer was . . . Michael.

‘What are you doing here?’ Mel gasped, then clapped her hand over her mouth. That wasn’t what she’d meant to say at all. She didn’t know
what
she’d meant to say. All she could think about was overcoming the almost instinctual urge to run over and press her body against his.

‘Now, now, is that any way to speak to a customer?’ Aunt Gertrude tutted. ‘Good morning, dear,’ she said to Michael. ‘Welcome to Crystal Gaze. How can we help you? A book? Some incense? A dreamcatcher, perhaps?’ She got off her stool to sidle up to him, giving away that she knew perfectly well who he was. ‘Though if you ask me, the dreamcatchers have already done their work. You’re even dreamier than I imagined!’

As if the whole thing wasn’t mortifying enough, Aunt Gertrude pinched Michael’s bum.

Michael jumped about three feet into the air and his eyes opened wide. ‘Oh! Uh . . .’

‘Aunt Gertrude, you didn’t!’

‘I, uh, actually was hoping to talk to Mel,’ Michael said, looking bewildered and embarrassed in equal measure.

‘Mel’s my god-daughter,’ Aunt Gertrude said, leaning in close. She sniffed Michael, just as she’d sniffed Mel earlier, and she shot Mel an unsubtle wink. ‘We’re very close,’ she said, looking up at Michael as she took a step closer to him, her chiffon hem brushing his shoes. ‘Anything you have to say to her you can say to me, too.’

The difference in their height was almost comical. Aunt Gertrude barely made it to Michael’s chest – she looked like a rotund pixie, or Michael looked like a giant, Mel wasn’t sure which. When Michael had been in the shop the first time, Mel had noted his bulk and his grace. While the bulk of him was still very much evident, the grace had vanished, along with Aunt Gertrude’s manners.

Michael looked between Mel and her godmother, a faintly panicked look in his eyes. ‘Well, I was . . . kinda . . . hoping we could talk in private.’

He took a step back from Aunt Gertrude, colliding with a display of ceramic angels – appropriately enough. One of them toppled but with lightning-fast reflexes, Michael grabbed it before it hit the floor.