Mr. O'Grady's Magic Box (5 page)

Her eyes narrowed then widened when
recognition hit her like a slap in the face. Her book and papers in
her hand were forgotten as everything went numb. The book slipped
from her grasp and smacked the ground like a gavel, startling
everyone into silence.

His gaze riveted to hers while her papers
swirled in the air liked she'd thrown confetti. She turned away.
"Oh dear God, let him stay where he is," she mumbled under her
breath.

No such luck. He flew to her rescue, his
strides long and sure. Flustered, she bent down to pick up the book
at the same time he knelt down. Their foreheads smacked together in
the process.

His deep familiar chuckle strummed down her
spine like caressing fingers, making her heart dance in her chest.
No, it can't be him. This is Mr. O'Grady's grandson. He'd be an
O'Grady, too.

Not if his father married Mr. O'Grady's
daughter.
Her nasty conscience mocked her, not letting her deny
the truth.

Aubrey slowly lifted her gaze to meet his.
Her heart stopped and started again with the intent of bursting
from her chest. His features may have matured from a young man to
now, but the eyes were the same dark blue and the way he smiled
with a crooked curve of his lips couldn't be duplicated by anyone
but him. He wasn't an apparition; he was truly here.

"Are you all right?" he asked, concern
lacing his words as he stared at her.

She shook her head, feeling off centered.
"What?"

"You look like you've seen a ghost." He
handed her the book, his fingers brushing hers. Then he
really
looked at her. His crystal dark-blue gaze locked with
hers, surprise registering before he realized his vision wasn't
playing tricks on him. "Aubrey?" His voice lowered to a husky
timber.

At least the bastard had the decency to
remember her name. "Hello, Ian." She could have won an academy
award with those two words. Her voice sounded cool and calm when on
the inside she wanted to scream. It had been ten years, and in
seconds, all the feelings she thought were buried came blasting to
the surface with a vengeance. "Fancy meeting you here. I believe
the last time we saw each other, you were perfecting your
disappearing act." She moved away, retrieving the papers, hoping
he'd slink off somewhere. He didn't. His quick hands retrieved her
papers near the stairs.

* * * *

Blood pounded in Ian's head, as he absorbed
who stood no more than two feet away from him.
Aubrey Jules.
Not a figment of his imagination, but the woman he thought to never
see again. She was even more beautiful than he remembered her to be
with her blonde hair streaked with gold, and eyes as green as the
rolling hills of Ireland. She looked at him now, her gaze nearly
scorching him. Okay, she had every right to be angry, but at the
time, he thought he'd done a noble thing by leaving her.

"You abandoned me," she accused as if she'd
read his mind.

"Aubrey—" He began only to have her cut him
off.

"Don't say it. It doesn't matter." Even
though her voice obviously indicated that it did matter. Her agile
fingers whipped the papers from his hand before she whirled
away.

Where was she going? Back upstairs to her
room? He ran his hand through his hair knowing if he let her walk
away, he'd never have the chance to make things right. He jogged in
front of her, halting her escape. "We should talk."

Her eyes narrowed and her flushed face
turned a shade darker. "I suggest you move out of my way. Now."

"Aah, there you are." His granddad
approached them. His lips curved into a wide grin, oblivious to the
black rage radiating off of Aubrey like a warning beacon to stay
clear.

Chapter Eight

Aubrey turned to look at Mr. O'Grady, trying
not to grit her teeth as she forced her lips to return the same
friendly gesture. "You were looking for me?" Her voice rose, the
anger still too close to the surface
. Deep breaths, Aubrey. Stay
calm. Mr. O'Grady has nothing to do with Ian.

"Actually, I be looking for the both of you.
I see you met my grandson, Ian."

She didn't want to believe it, but Mr.
O'Grady would have no reason to lie to her. "This is your
grandson?" Her eyes narrowed as she glared at Ian, silently cursing
him for being in such good shape. She'd ogled him last night as he
stood in the parking lot speaking to his grandfather. Ian, the SOB
who'd made her feel like a fool for loving him.

"Oh aye, one of my grandsons anyway." His
gaze landed on Ian's. "This here is the lovely reporter I told you
about last night."

Ian turned his gaze on her, his eyebrows
arching in surprise. "You're the reporter here to see my
granddad?"

Mr. O'Grady didn't give her a chance to
answer. "Didn't I say as much?" He clicked his tongue. "Now where
was I? Oh, yes. I was wondering if you two would be willing to do
me a favor." He started walking away, apparently never doubting
they would follow. "Ian, be the gentleman I know you to be and help
Miss Jules with her things," he called over his shoulder.

Ian went to relieve her of her burden, but
she jerked away, her glare warning him he should stand down. He
lifted his hands in mock surrender. "Suit yourself." He followed
his granddad, glancing back at her. Obviously, he expected her to
go on her way, but she readjusted her load and trailed behind. She
was here to write a story, and she'd be damned if she let Ian stop
her.

Mr. O'Grady led them into the library where
the remnants of the early morning pastries and coffee were on the
back table. Aubrey deposited her things on one of the tables as she
waited for Mr. O'Grady to tell them what he needed.

"Well, are you not going to sit down?" he
asked, waving his hand with impatience.

They both looked to where he pointed. A
table was set for two with teacups and cloth napkins. Aubrey had no
idea what this was all about, but she wasn't going to sit down with
Ian Quinn and share a cup of tea.

Unfortunately, Mr. O'Grady had other plans.
Before she could utter a word, he took her by the elbow and led her
to a seat. "I whipped up something new in the kitchen. I need an
honest opinion from the two of you." Mr. O'Grady turned to his
grandson. "Ian, don't just stand there; sit down." He shook his
head as he headed for the kitchen.

Ian pulled out a chair and sat. He stared at
her from across the table, but she refused to meet his gaze. She
bit down hard and grimaced. If she didn't stop clenching her teeth,
she'd end up cracking a tooth.

Ian reached for the teapot and poured the
liquid into one of the floral teacups Mr. O'Grady had left on the
table. "Would you like some?" he offered, his voice polite and
unnerved as if they shared cups of tea on a daily basis. If Ian
thought he could mend what he'd done to her with a cup of tea, he
would be sorely disappointed.

She leveled her gaze on him. His left brow
arched in question as he waited for her to give him an answer. "Do
I want some tea?" she bit out.

"Yes. If I remember correctly, you like
yours with a little cream and sugar."

She didn't give him the satisfaction of
being right. "I take it without either."

He lifted both eyebrows, but said nothing as
he poured. He placed the teapot down and slid the teacup and saucer
toward her, letting her decide if she wanted to indulge or not.

Her whole body hummed with fury, her
knuckles turning white as she gripped her arms. Ian sat there calm
and collected, watching her over the rim of his cup.

Silence loomed like an entity, making the
awkward situation even worse.

Ian finally cleared his throat. "This isn't
going well." He sat up straight in his chair and leaned forward.
"Let's start over."

She stared at him and waited for the magical
speech he had planned to fix the situation.

He placed his cup down and wiped his palms
on the thighs of his jeans. "Your tea's getting cold."

That was it? Where was the apology? At
the very least, he owed her one.
"This is ridiculous." Aubrey
jumped to her feet in a whirl of fury, ready to storm out of the
room, but Mr. O'Grady returned with a tray in his hands. She
lowered her eyelids in a deliberate blink, praying for patience as
she plopped back down in her seat.

"Meat pies fresh out of the oven," Mr.
O'Grady said as he placed a plate in front of both of them. "Eat
up. I'll be back in a little while to see how you liked it."

"Mr. O'Grady, I can't—"Aubrey began, only to
have him interrupt her.

"Oh, no need to be thanking me."

"But I—"

"No, I insist—Besides, 'tis I who should be
thanking you. I want to add this to the menu for the Spring
Enchantment, but I don't like using a new recipe without first
having an honest taste test." He chuckled.

"Uh…the Spring Enchantment?" Surely she was
missing something here.

"Isn't this why you're here?" Mr. O'Grady
lifted one brow.

Ian cleared his throat, drawing her
attention. "It's the event we hold every year, giving the guests a
chance to see if the faeries will grant their wish."

Loretta hadn't informed her of an event. "Of
course." No sense in appearing ill informed, but she had a hunch
Ian caught on by the way his
oh too sensual
mouth
curved.

"Maybe you can put in a request," he
offered.

"Oh, she's already put in her request," Mr.
O'Grady was too ready to reveal her secret.

"Really?" Ian raised a brow in the same
manner his grandfather had moments before.

Aubrey waved her hand, making light of her
participation. "I'm a reporter. I wanted to see firsthand how the
box worked."

"And did it?" Ian wouldn't let it go. "Did
the faeries whisk away the letter?"

Was he making fun of her or did he really
believe in the magic box? She couldn't tell by his expression, his
Atlantic blues pinning her down as he waited for her answer.

"Of course the faeries took to liking our
lovely guest," Mr. O'Grady nodded. His smug look of approval made
her cringe, but Ian just stared at her curiously. "Now eat up while
the meal's hot," Mr. O'Grady ordered as he turned on his heel,
heading back to the kitchen with a spry step.

"If anything, my granddad does know how to
cook." His gaze met hers. The corner of his mouth lifted in a lazy
half smile, irritating her further. She used to love that smile,
but she refused to be drawn in again by his charm.

"What are you grinning about?" she lashed
out, hating how her emotions ricocheted all over the place, while
he sat there all calm and cool, discussing special events and faery
wishes.

"I'm wondering why you're still angry with
me. It's been years, Aubrey. Surely our romance didn't mean that
much to you." His one brow rose again. "Did it?"

She swore silently at him for belittling
what they'd shared and for putting her mind in turmoil and her
heart in an uproar. Tears of frustration burned her eyes, making
her feel foolish for caring about what they shared, when he
obviously didn't give a damn.
The cold-hearted jerk
. She
rose to her feet, ready to make her escape, but he stood too. His
hand shot out, grasping her forearm to halt her.

"I'm sorry." His voice was an aching rasp, a
plea that caught her off guard and stilled her movements. "Please,
don't go. I know this is a little late, but I didn't mean to hurt
you."

She met his gaze, planning to tell him to go
to hell, but those beautiful eyes of his, didn't lie. He meant what
he said, but she wouldn't let him off the hook that easily. "Well,
you did." Her eyes shifted to where his hand lay on her forearm.
With a raised brow, her gaze met his again, and he let his hand
slip away.

"I know, and if you'll give me a chance, I'd
like to explain."

She hadn't expected him to agree. She
plopped back down in the seat, taking her original pose, crossing
her arms across her chest. "Let's recap, Ian, so we're both on the
same page: we spent three wonderful weeks in Ireland, you told me
how much you loved me. I was stupid enough to believe you. Then you
dumped me without even letting me know that you did. What exactly
do you need to explain to me?"

His brows drew downward in a frown as if he
was bewildered by her harsh rendition of what happened. "I had to
leave in a hurry, Aubrey," he said carefully. "I left a note with
the hotel clerk. Didn't you get it?"

"Note?" Her voice rose, not bothering to
cover her irritation. "What note? There was no note—and what was
wrong with you dumping me face to face?"

"Hold on." He lifted a hand as if to ward
off her onslaught of words. "For starters, I didn't dump you."

She laughed without humor. "You spent the
night with me. Then you were gone."

"You don't understand. That's not how it
happened." His lips pursed together as his hand scrubbed over his
jaw in frustration. When he caught her dagger-like glare, he
back-paddled. "I mean, yes of course it's how it happened, but
there's more to it."

She rolled her eyes as he scrambled for an
explanation, but really, what could he say to make what he did all
right?
Nothing.
"No, I don't understand. You measly bastard,
I sat in that hotel room for two days wondering what happened to
you. Thinking maybe you'd been kidnapped or murdered—but here you
are sitting, healthy and safe."

"I know what I did was wrong, but at the
time I thought it was for the best." There was unmistakable regret
in his tone, but she refused to hear it.

"Abandoning me was
'best'?
" She
didn't care her voice had risen. The old pain of being used
shimmered down her spine until fury burned brighter.

"Aubrey, what we had happened so fast."

"I was there. Don't you think I know?" Her
voice broke and she turned away from him. She wouldn't cry,
dammit.