Charmed: Destiny Romance (4 page)

Did this guy ever give up? ‘Um . . . coffee.’

‘Perfect. I’ll buy you a cup of coffee.’

‘No. I can’t do any kind of readings outside of the shop.’

‘Then we’ll just talk. Please?’

Michael reached out and put his hand over hers. Mel started, anticipating yet another full-body blow from an X-rated vision, but that didn’t happen. Instead, she found herself suffused with warmth – a soft, gentle heat that radiated from where Michael’s hand touched her, up her arm and throughout her body. It was like submerging herself in a luxurious bubble bath, with some kind of silky oil in the water that made her skin tingle.

Her lips parted to let out the sigh she just couldn’t keep inside.

He smiled and his eyes darkened perceptibly. Did he have any idea what sort of reaction he caused within her?

‘Are you from the council?’ she asked. It was an innocuous enough question on the off-chance he wasn’t from the magical world. She slipped her hand out from under his and instantly regretted the loss of the warm, floaty sensation.

‘The council? No, I’m an accountant.’

‘You?’ He did not look like an accountant. Accountants were not six-foot-plus with too-long hair and melted chocolate eyes. No, he looked way more like a witch investigator, one of those rogue ones, only just on the right side of the law, chasing down bad guys and dispensing justice, getting into trouble with his superiors but still fighting the good fight, standing up for what he believed in, and riding off into the sunset bareback on a horse . . .

Stop it.

‘Why? Are you having some kind of problem?’

‘You have no idea,’ Mel muttered.

He checked his watch. ‘Twenty-six minutes, now. The coffee’s better down the street, but there’s a place close by that’s not too bad. Come on, chop chop.’

Somehow, a minute later, Mel found herself locking up the shop and walking down the street to a nearby cafe. Michael ordered them both lattes and steered her to a table in the corner. He put the bag containing his card purchase between them.

‘So,’ he said.

There was a long moment of silence and Mel nervously sipped her too-hot coffee. How exactly had she let herself get talked into this?

‘So,’ she echoed, hoping to prompt him into conversation. Perhaps all he wanted was to tell her that she was a crappy psychic. But no, she had a feeling it had something to do with what had happened while she was in the trance. And she had no idea what any possessing spirit might have said.

That made her nervous.

He
made her nervous. There was only a handful of people in the entire world she couldn’t read. Aunt Gertrude, most of the time. A few members of the Magic Council. That was it. Mel was used to
knowing
. The good, the bad and the ugly. She knew when a guy was looking at her and thinking: ‘She’s quite pretty.’ Also when he was realising: ‘She’s kind of annoying.’ And when his thoughts turned to: ‘I’d really like her to give me a blow job while wearing a nurse’s outfit and spanking me with a riding crop,’ because it was pretty much true what they said about men’s minds.

But Michael was a blank slate.

Was this what it was like for everyone else? Having to negotiate everyday encounters – not to mention friendships and relationships – without any insight into the other person’s deepest thoughts? How terrifying! More to the point, how did anyone survive?

‘I’d just . . .’ Michael began. He stopped and sucked in a deep breath, then gave her a determined look, his hands balled into tight fists on the table. ‘I want you to tell me why Annie set me up. What did she pay you? And what were you supposed to tell me if I hadn’t walked out?’

Mel frowned. ‘Who’s Annie?’

‘Right,’ Michael said, sinking back in his chair.

He looked annoyed, but also hurt in some way. Yet again, Mel wished fervently she could read his mind. As it was, her instincts told her to be kind. ‘Michael, I can’t give you any more information about yesterday than I already have,’ she said gently. ‘When I go into a trance, I don’t remember anything of what’s said. But, if you want, we can go back to the shop and I can book a time for you with Dorothy—’

‘No.’ He shook his head. He seemed to be waging some kind of inner battle. Then he ran a hand through his hair and shrugged, as if giving up. ‘It doesn’t matter. I believe you. I shouldn’t have dragged you out here.’

‘What’s going on?’ It was probably rude, but with her inability to read him, unless she asked direct questions, she’d have no idea what was happening.

He took a long sip of his coffee before replying. ‘What’s going on?’ He rolled his eyes and slumped back in his chair. ‘I have too much time on my hands, that’s what’s going on.’

‘I thought you said you were an accountant?’

‘Yeah, an accountant on indefinite leave.’

‘Why?’

‘My father . . . my boss . . . It’s a family business.’ He drained his coffee and replaced the cup on the saucer with a loud clatter. ‘I made a mistake. A costly mistake. The public reason is “exhaustion”, but the private reason is that they just don’t think I’m up to it. So I’ve been benched.’

‘I’m sorry.’ Automatically, she reached out to put her hand over his. Just like before, her body was suffused with warmth. It was the most blissful feeling, even if it was totally inappropriate given the tortured expression on Michael’s face.

‘No,
I’m
sorry. I don’t know why I’m burdening you with this. You don’t deserve it.’

‘Sometimes it’s easier to talk to a stranger.’ It happened all the time to Mel. Maybe because she almost always knew exactly what questions to ask. Maybe because it was so much easier to make sense of someone else’s mind than your own.

‘Yeah, I guess.’

Silence fell again and Mel realised that as they’d talked, Michael had turned his hand over. They were just sitting there, their hands loosely holding each other. Because of his height, his knees were so close to hers she could feel the warmth of his legs. They both had their other hands around their coffee cups – Michael’s empty, Mel’s still half-full.

She sat there, with this man she didn’t know and couldn’t read and it was . . . 
peaceful
.

It was like a glass of wine and a blanket on the sofa after a long, busy day. It was like snuggling into the doona on a cold winter’s morning. It was like turning the final page of a really good book and reading, ‘The End’, and knowing everything was right in the world.

It was also nothing at all like peaceful, because his mere presence still made her pulse race and her
lady parts
, as Aunt Gertrude would call them, go into meltdown.

But Mel couldn’t remember a time she hadn’t talked with someone one-on-one and not had to manage the inner conversation as well as the outer one. The many contradictory, nonsensical, outrageous and mundane contents of another person’s head.

It was . . . 
freedom
. Freedom was something Mel hadn’t experienced in a
very
long time.

‘What are you doing today?’ she asked, surprising herself as well as Michael with the sudden question.

‘Uh, I don’t know. Why?’

‘I’ve just decided I’m taking the day off. Let’s play hooky. A day out. A day off. Let’s have fun.’

‘Fun?’

The way Michael said it was equal parts amusing and devastating. As if he seriously couldn’t remember the last time he’d said the word, let alone experienced the feeling.

‘Yeah. I need a break.’ Again, the words popped out of her mouth before she’d thought them through. But the truth of them struck her as soon as they were out. She really did need a break.
A day of freedom.
The restlessness, the boredom . . . Her life was what it was, and it would always be that way because of her ‘talent’ – but everyone deserved a day off from their fate every now and then. And despite the fact that she couldn’t read his mind, she had a feeling that Michael needed one, too.

‘Really?’

The fact that he hadn’t outright declined outright sealed her determination. ‘Really,’ she said. ‘You’re at a loose end, and I need a change. Maybe we can both help each other out.’

She grabbed her phone and called Dorothy, letting her know she’d need to re-open the shop when she got back from her errands. She thought about ringing Aunt Gertrude, but changed her mind before hitting the number. The old woman would most likely never know that her store’s doors had been closed for a couple of hours between now and when Dorothy returned. There was no point asking for permission – Mel would simply beg for forgiveness later if she was found out. Besides, what choice did Aunt Gertrude have? It wasn’t like Mel could get fired – she couldn’t work anywhere else.

Michael watched as she made her call and then as she hesitated over her phone before shoving it away in her handbag.

He gave her a quizzical look. ‘You’re sure you want to do this? With me?’

Mel shrugged. ‘Why not? You don’t have anything better to do, do you?’

He opened his mouth then closed it again with a rueful smile. ‘I guess not.’

A horrible idea struck Mel. ‘That is, of course, unless you don’t want to. Spend the day with me, I mean.’
Damn not being able to read his thoughts
.

‘I think I can manage it.’

Phew
. It wasn’t the most enthusiastic of answers, but he was smiling and there was gentle laughter in his voice. ‘Good. Now, first off, let’s order some real breakfast. I’m starving and I want eggs benedict.’

It was crisp and cold but sunny outside. Michael stretched and suppressed a burp as they walked out of the cafe half an hour later. He’d already eaten breakfast a couple of hours ago, so there was no reason at all for him to have just devoured a massive plate of eggs, bacon, sausages, spinach and mushrooms. Except for the fact that it had all been delicious. And he’d wanted to. And he had already been to the gym this morning, anyway. So far, this strange day was off to a good start.

‘Where to next?’ Mel asked.

‘I don’t know.’

‘It’s your choice. We’ll take it in turns. I made the first choice – breakfast. Now it’s your turn.’

‘Hmm.’ Michael stood for a moment, considering. Mel wandered a few steps away, turning to look in the window of one of the groovy art and design stores that lined this part of Brunswick Street.

What to do? That was his exact problem! He’d been on leave for a week already and had been going out of his mind with boredom.
What was there to do?

After his silence stretched out too long, Mel turned back to him. She gave him an encouraging smile. ‘Anything. Pretend you’re a tourist. Pretend
I’m
a tourist and you’re showing me around.’

‘I guess . . .’ He cast his mind around for nearby Melbourne landmarks. ‘I’ve never been to the museum.’

‘Perfect. We can walk from here.’

She set a cracking pace, which Michael liked. With his height and long legs, he was used to slowing his gait to match others, but he and Mel fell right into step, despite her being a good few inches shorter than him.

‘Are you cold?’ he asked. She was wearing another of her modern-day-gypsy outfits. Jeans and boots and a floaty blouse covered by a yellowish jacket that looked like it was made of corduroy. A string of beads and a long scarf were wrapped around her neck. Her blonde hair was once again tied back in a ponytail, wisps of it escaping around her face.

‘Nope.’ She turned her face up to the sun. ‘I love that in winter here the sun is still warm. I visited Europe in winter and even on sunny days there you can’t feel the sun on your skin. I couldn’t live with that.’

‘Are you a skier?’ he asked.

She shook her head. ‘No. I hate winter.’

‘Me, too. That’s why it’s good being an accountant.’

She gave him a quizzical look. ‘Why?’

‘End of financial year. June and July are our busiest times and I’m so busy I barely notice them. Then I usually take a break somewhere overseas for the whole of August, and by the time I get back, it’s spring. So winter kind of passes me by.’ None of his family understood his wanderlust, his love of travel. They’d all chuckled, shaken their heads and waved him off with fond but puzzled expressions.

‘I like that idea.’

‘It works.’

‘Where did you go last year on your break?’

‘South America. The Inca trail.’

‘I’ve always wanted to do that!’

‘It was . . . Yeah. The ruins are amazing.’ He hoped she didn’t notice the sour tone in his voice. The trip itself had been great. It was what had been waiting at home for him when he’d got back that had been the problem – Annie at the airport, her smile wobbly, eyes red.

‘What about this year? Do you have your August trip already lined up?’

He shook his head. ‘Not yet.’ Didn’t know if he would. Maybe he’d never leave home again. Or maybe he’d travel forever. Maybe he’d be on indefinite leave eternally.

Mel gave him a smile. ‘Maybe that’s one of the things we can do today? Visit a travel agent and see what’s on offer.’

‘Perhaps,’ he said. But hopefully not. He still wasn’t ready to think about it.

‘Look!’ She pointed at the banners flapping in the wind along the entrance to the museum. She turned around and began walking backwards in front of him, her face the very picture of eagerness, blue eyes sparkling in the sun. ‘I know what I want to do next – we’ll go see an Imax movie! There’s one about Egypt. Maybe that could be your next trip. I’ve always wanted to see the pyramids.’

Her enthusiasm was infectious and Michael couldn’t help but smile, even if his gut felt sick at the idea of even stepping on a plane. ‘Yeah, that could be fun.’

‘I’ve heard that the Valley of the Kings is – whoops!’

She tripped, the heel of her boot catching on a flagstone, and flung her arms out wide to regain her balance. Michael only just had time to brace himself and put out his hands to steady her before she face-planted straight into his chest.

‘Careful,’ Michael mumbled, although the word left his mouth without his conscious effort. His brain was too otherwise occupied by the sensation of the woman in his arms.

She smelled of flowers and sunshine and her hair tickled his chin. And she was so soft and fit so perfectly against him, he wanted nothing more than to stand there in the sun and hold her to him for as long as possible.

But while his brain thought that, his body had other ideas. It was focused on the fact that while his right arm was wrapped around her back, steadying her, his left hand had landed pretty much straight on her right breast. It wasn’t like he could feel much through her jacket, and he was pretty sure the hard nub beneath his palm was a bead on her necklace rather than a perky nipple, but his cock was having none of it. He was instantly hard – zero to sixty in less than a second.

As strangers, there was the moment they should have sprung way from each other, embarrassed and full of apologies. And it did happen. Only nowhere near as soon as it should have.

‘Oops, I —’

‘Silly me, I —’

Michael paused. Mel did, too. Somehow, her ponytail had come undone and a long lock of hair was hanging down her cheek.

They were strangers. He had no right to touch her beyond the general human necessity to prevent her falling flat on her face on the pavement. But without his conscious permission, his hand reached out and tucked the hair behind her ear.

‘No harm done,’ he said.

Her cheeks pinked and she ran both hands over her hair, smoothing it back and retying it into its elastic restraint.

‘I’ll walk forwards from now on, I think,’ she said.

‘Good idea.’

They continued on towards the museum entrance. But Michael couldn’t shake the feeling of her pressed against him. The soft curve of her belly against his hard length. Had she felt his desire? Seen it in his eyes?

A group of schoolchildren went running past, their energetic shouts interrupting Michael’s inner monologue. He pulled his jacket around him self-consciously.

‘Let’s start with the forest gallery, yeah?’ Mel asked.

He was sure that he wasn’t imagining the newly soft tone in her voice. The invitation that lay beneath it. But then again, maybe he was. His
judgement was impaired
right now, wasn’t it? That was why he was here, goofing off, in the first place, after all.