Under Her Spell (8 page)

She was achingly aware of her dripping hair, bare feet, and the fact that she wore nothing at all under the thin robe. Even more humiliating was that Zach seemed to know it too, judging from the heat in his eyes as he stared down at her.

"You're not ready yet," he said.

"Obviously not," she snapped, with more ire than she felt. "I didn't see you downstairs, and I --"

"I took a drive up the coast. Since we didn't set an exact time for dinner, I didn't hurry back."

"Oh." Bryony smoothed her damp hair with her free hand, feeling foolish. He was right. She'd jumped to conclusions again.

"Anyway, I'll be downstairs having a drink when you're ready." Zach looked her up and down again, enjoying the hot flush on her cheeks and the glimpses of bare shoulder he caught whenever she moved.

She looked wonderfully fresh and sweet wrapped in white terry cloth. The steam added a slight curl to her coppery hair and lent a light sheen to her skin. He longed to slide his hands under the robe and push it to the floor. Before he could stop himself, he took hold of her shoulders and leaned down, his lips hungrily seeking hers.

Bryony's breath caught in her throat as he touched her. Her head tilted up on its own accord so she could stare into Zach's face. The hand holding her bathrobe shut unclenched slowly and dropped to her side. She felt the heat of his breath on her cheek and knew he was about to kiss her. Her pulse skittered and a delicious shudder swept through her body. She could feel her heart beating furiously in the hollow at the base of her neck.

Kevin cleared his throat. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

Zach let go of Bryony's shoulders and spun around. Bryony clutched at her robe again, feeling as guilty as a teenager caught with her boyfriend on the couch. "Of course not," she said. "We were just --"

"Discussing our dinner plans," Zach said. Bryony was amazed to see that he was as calm and composed as ever. She wondered if anything ever broke through that iron surface, if anyone could arouse real emotion in Zachary Callahan. Sometimes he seemed as precise and mechanical as a computer. The night before, though, he'd seemed very human indeed. And just now, when he'd lowered his lips toward hers -- but Kevin had come in, and he'd reverted to his usual logical self.

"I have some good news," Kevin said. "Vivien sent me up to tell you, Bryony. The builder called to say our new house is running ahead of schedule."

"Oh! That's wonderful," she said. "When will they finish?"

"That's the thing," he said, grinning. "It's done now. We can move in right away."

"Just like that?" Bryony was stunned. The sisters had lived together since Vivien's graduation from medical school. Kevin had moved in five months ago, right after the wedding. Now they were both moving several miles away, leaving her alone. "Well, that's -- I mean, it's terrific. I guess."

"We were thinking of starting tomorrow," Kevin said. "We've already done a lot of the packing, so it shouldn't take long. Tomorrow and Sunday, and then we'll be finished."

"Tomorrow?" Bryony repeated, blinking in surprise. "So soon?"

"I'd be glad to help," Zach said.

"You don't have to do that," Vivien said. She'd climbed the stairs and come up behind them so quietly that no one had noticed.

"I'd like to do it," Zach said.

"Thank you," Kevin said. "I could definitely use a hand with some of the larger furniture."

Bryony looked from one face to another, a little dazed. Kevin and Vivien were moving out tomorrow. That meant she'd be alone with -- "Vivien," she said. "You can't leave. We have a houseguest, remember?"

"Don't worry," Zach said. "We'll get along fine, just the two of us. Unless you're not comfortable having me here? I can always go back to the Sea View Inn."

"No need for that," Vivien said, fixing her sister with a fierce stare. "Is there, Bryony?"

"No," she said, against her better judgment. "Of course you can stay."

"So that's settled," Vivien said, looking like the cat
who'd
swallowed the canary. "Come on, Kevin, let's go do some more packing."

Bryony had the sudden feeling that her sister had planned the entire scene. She probably thought Bryony and Zach had a better chance of falling in love if they were alone. If Zach hadn't been standing there, Bryony would have corrected her.

Zach might have plans where Bryony was concerned, but they didn't have a thing to do with love. She was too smart to think the light in his eyes a few moments ago was due to anything more than simple desire.

"We'll leave you to dress," Zach said, his eyes sweeping her body again in that infuriatingly intimate way of his. "I'm starving, so don't be long."

"I'll hurry," Bryony promised, easing the door shut behind him. Alone again, she felt the strength drain from her knees. She collapsed on her bed, enjoying the tickle of her crushed velvet comforter against her skin. For a fleeting moment, she imagined Zach lounging next to her, his hand casually brushing her hair from her face.

Then she shook her head, smiling at her own foolishness. No doubt he would hate her bedroom.  She'd decorated it like a chamber in a medieval castle, in silk and velvet and bright jewel tones. Bryony kept a wooden casket full of letters and mementos at the foot of the bed, and the dresser tops were scattered with pretty baubles, colored glass, seashells and dried flowers.

It was far too fanciful a room to please a hard-headed scientist type. She sprang up, the smile still lingering on her face, and began to rifle through her closet for the perfect outfit.

Twenty minutes later, they were in Zach's convertible, speeding north on Highway 1. The ends of Bryony's silk scarf fluttered in the breeze. She had chosen a long moss-colored skirt and a soft white ballet top with a scooped-out neckline. The scarf
around her neck had belonged to her grandmother, and it made her feel safe and happy when she wore it. She'd decided she needed
its
comforting presence.

"The restaurant's just up ahead," she said, raising her voice to be heard over the sound of the motor and the wind whipping the words from her mouth. "See the sign on the left?"

Zach pulled into the parking lot and hurried around to the car's passenger side to open her door. She smiled at the courtesy and extended her hand so he could help her out. Zachary Callahan certainly knew how to make a woman feel treasured.

Bryony reminded herself sternly that the royal treatment meant nothing. It was just a habit, no doubt. He probably turned on the same dazzling charm for every woman he encountered, from his blond heiresses to toll-takers on the Golden Gate Bridge.

Zach proved her right a moment later by reducing the hostess to shy giggles and wangling one of the coveted tables by the window. From her seat, Bryony could look out over the steel blue Pacific. Even without the excellent food, the Eagle's Nest would have remained her favorite restaurant for the view alone.

"I hope the chef at this place is better than the one at Cypress Grove," Zach said, scanning the menu.

"Much better," Bryony said, laughing. "I swear."

"It couldn't be much worse." He joined her in her laughter. Bryony watched, fascinated, loving the way his eyes lit up and his face relaxed when he was enjoying himself. At this moment he was a far cry from the man she had seen the night before, the man who seemed determined to save the world from all superstition and ignorance.

Zach expertly ordered the wine and, once it arrived, proposed a toast. "To love potions," he said.

"You don't believe in love, do you?" Bryony asked. The question had just popped out, and she regretted it instantly when his face froze and his eyes turned cold. She could almost feel him drawing away from her.

"I don't have much reason to," he answered.

"Because of your ex-wife?"

"Yes, and others. It seems to me that love makes a man weak, or at least illogical. People in love do things they would never ordinarily do."

"They trust each other. Is that what you mean?" Bryony asked. She sipped her wine, feeling it burn a delicious trail down her throat. The candle in the center of the table flickered, casting shadows on Zach's solemn face.

"Love makes women stay with men who beat them," Zach said. "It makes people murder each other out of jealousy."

"No!" Bryony burst out fervently, a lump in her throat. "How could you even think like that? That's not what love's all about. Love is . . . caring about someone else's happiness more than your own. It's making another person the center of your universe. It's a partnership, a commitment. You're mistaking it with dependence, or obsession, but neither of those things are love."

She fell silent as the waiter set their meals before them. Her linguine with clam sauce smelled wonderful, but she was too stirred up to eat. She thought of her parents holding hands like newlyweds, her father bringing her mother tea every night before bed, the daffodils she picked for him. Bryony could almost see her mother's face, so pale and strained, after her father's heart attack. Her mother sat by his hospital bed hour after hour, whispering fiercely into his ear until he'd recovered after all, against expectations.

"You're thinking of your parents," Zach said, and Bryony realized the tears trembling in her eyes had given her away.

"Yes," she said. "If you'd known them . . . ."

"I wish I had," Zach said. "My parents -- they're great people.
Very witty, intelligent, well-spoken.
But they've never been terribly warm. Their marriage is solid but more friendly than passionate."

"They must love each other, if they're still together after all these years."

"They have an agreement," he said. "I'm not sure I would call it love."

"That's sad." Bryony tilted her head thoughtfully. "Do you mind my asking -- were you in love with Eve?"

"I don't mind," he said, but Bryony saw the flicker of pain in his eyes and the way his jaw muscles tightened. He was silent a moment, considering. "No," Zach answered at last, staring out at the sea through a gathering darkness. "I thought she would be . . . suitable. We looked good together. She was well bred, well educated, beautiful."

"But not kind," Bryony said.

"I didn't think that was important." He brought his head up suddenly to look at her. "You are. Kind, I mean."

"Yes, and silly, romantic, impractical, superstitious -- all the things you hate."

"Funny," Zach said, his lips twitching into an almost-smile. "You're all those things, and still I have to like you."
Bryony glowed at the tentative compliment. She poked at her linguine, unable to meet his eyes. She knew she shouldn't care so much, but for some reason it meant a great deal that this man should like her. Like wasn't so very far from love, after all.

Or was it? Bryony bit her lower lip and fought to keep her feelings in check. She couldn't afford to forget why they were here together in the first place. It was all a game, nothing more, and against her will she was getting caught up in it. She'd expected to
dislike the man sitting across from her. That would have made it so much easier. The problem was, she liked him too. Maybe more than liked him.

The conversation turned to lighter subjects. Bryony found herself telling Zach about Heart's Desire and her struggle to turn a profit. He listened attentively and made a few good suggestions. As she might have expected, he had an excellent head for business. He told her about buying the
Skeptical Observer
and the lean years before the magazine had taken off. Before she knew it, they were sharing a plate of berries and melted chocolate, fighting over the last of the whipped cream.

"It's been a long time since I've laughed this much," Zach said as he opened the car door for her. "You're good for me, Bryony Lowell."

"Thank you," she said, smoothing her skirt. Inside she was humming with pleasure. Nothing could spoil this most perfect of evenings. She loved sitting here next to Zach, feeling the wind whip at her hair, smelling the ocean, and catching sparkling glimpses of it through the trees lining the road. They began to drive along the edge of Kinney's Lagoon, and Bryony drank in the sight of it. The water lay still and shining in the moonlight, stretching out to the bluffs and the deserted beach.

"This is where they want to build the resort," she said.

"Seashore Estates? The
Mandell
Corporation's project?"

Bryony turned to Zach, surprised. "You know about that?"

"I've read about it in the San Francisco papers," he said. "I hear a bunch of loony tree huggers are opposing the project. They haven't got a chance, though. It'll bring a ton of money into the economy, and
Mandell
has some heavy hitters pushing for it in Sacramento."

Bryony swallowed hard, trying to hide her anger. "Then you think it's all but over?"

"It is over," he said. "Oh, no doubt the granola crowd will scream and shriek and gnash their teeth, but in my opinion it's a done deal."

"Really?" Bryony said, unable to keep the rancor from sharpening her voice. "So much for the democratic process, then. I might as well throw away my petitions and forget it."