Love in Fantasy (Skeleton Key) (4 page)

“It’s been a while,” I remark, leaning back into my plush leather. “What can I do for you?”

“Yes, it has.” James frowns as he leans forward, elbows on knees, and steeples his fingers. “But, it was time I came home. I probably should have applied and sent you a resume, like all of the other stiffs applying for a job, but here I am anyway.” His mouth quirks up in a crooked smile that doesn’t reach his brown eyes, and he reaches into a folder I didn’t realize he was carrying, then slides a piece of paper across the desk.

I pick it up and scan it. His resume is certainly impressive. However, on my second glance, I stop at a gap of time where he has no listed employment. I look closely and realize I missed it the first time because it isn’t blank. The time is filled with what looks like an internship working with a trial program in. . . “Cancer research?” I ask curiously. I’d thought his specialty was anesthesiology.

James nods, his steady gaze never leaving mine. I don’t know what it is about his look, his countenance, but a thought enters my mind and won’t go away. “Were you a participant?” I ask.

“Yes. It was an experimental treatment for cancer patients who were given a terminal diagnosis.”

“Well, fuck, James,” I breathe, “I had no idea.”

He shakes his head, a rueful frown on his face. “Nobody did. You know I don’t have any family left, and I preferred not to have my friends and . . . other people, watch me waste away as their last memory of me.”

My head cocks to the side and I study him thoughtfully. I can see his point, but he’d taken the choice away from everyone. People who probably would have preferred to be by his side until the end. And, knowing exactly who this “other people” is, I wouldn’t want to be him when he has this conversation with her.

“Well, I’m glad you made it,” I tell him honestly. “You know you’ve got a job here, if you want it. Go and talk to the head of HR and we’ll find something that fits both our needs.”

“Thanks,” he says, then his face clouds with some dark emotion. “I don’t want to disrupt her life, so I’ll stay out of her way,” he informs me. “I’m sure she moved on a long time ago.”

I don’t respond, particularly because the last comment seemed to be introspective. We both stand and shake hands. “Let’s catch up some time,” he suggests, his voice genuine, and his smile reaching his eyes for the first time since he stepped into my office.

“Absolutely,” I agree, returning his smile. “The next twelve days will be . . . busy, but catch me after and we’ll go for a beer.”

With a nod and a wave, he departs from my office and I sit down to get back to work. Fifteen minutes later, a throat clears and I look up to see Willow standing in the doorway. All of the St. Claire girls favor each other, though they have varying shades of dark hair and green eyes. However, Willow looks the least like Pippa, her dark hair short and straight, and her eyes a brighter green. Yet, if they were together, no one would have any doubt they were sisters. I wave her in and she removes her suit jacket before sitting in the chair James recently vacated.

“I heard James Pierce is back,” she states without preamble.

“Yes,” I confirm, curious what her reaction will be.

“I’d um—I’d rather not work with him. If you don’t mind,” she says hesitantly. “I don’t want anything to do with him. He obviously hasn’t felt anything for me in a long time.”

“Done.” I nod to accentuate my agreement. They will be in completely different departments of the company anyway. The last thing I need right now is drama from star-crossed lovers. Besides, it looks as though I’ll be helping her find her true love soon.
I sound like a motherfucking fairy godmother.

“Thanks,” she murmurs as she gets to her feet. “By the way,” she adds with a smirk. “My sisters and I are rooting for you. We think you’re good for Pippa and we’ve done our best to sway her.” Her smile turns rueful. “But she’s stubborn as an ox. Good luck, Oliver.” With a small wave, she leaves, turning left, back to the offices rather than the parking lot.

I lean back in my chair, contemplating the circumstances of the day. My wandering eyes land on the empty chair and I realize she’s left her jacket hanging on the back. She appeared to be going back to her office, so I think I can catch her. I’m ready to head out for the day and grab my things. As I pick up her coat, I’m suddenly imagining myself dropping Wilhelm into her pocket. The thought sets the little bugger humming and I take it out and slip it into her jacket. Wait . . .
Did that little fucker just Jedi mind trick me?
I groan silently to myself.
This is really getting out of hand.

Tossing the piece of clothing over my arm, I set off for the back of the building where there are offices and labs. When I find her alone, I frown. “You left your coat.” I hold it up for emphasis. She smiles in thanks as I hang it on the hook beside the door. “Make sure somebody walks you to your car tonight, Willow. Royalty or not, it’s all the same to someone bent on doing harm.”

“I’ll have a security guard escort me,” she agrees. I stare her down for a moment, trying to decide if she’s taking me seriously. When I’m satisfied that she is, I lift my chin in farewell and head out to my car. Once I’m inside and driving home, a question occurs to me—how will I get Wilhelm back?
Shit.

I get home and find myself spending the evening brooding in my library, sipping on scotch and staring at my fireplace. My vision is getting fuzzy, and I blink a few times to clear it, because what I think I’m seeing can’t possibly be what I’m really seeing. Images in the flames? For fuck’s sake, is this
Harry Potter
now? I had hoped we’d confined this lunacy to fairy tales.

A glance at the clock above the mantle tells me it’s a few minutes after midnight. It’s not exactly shocking, at this point. I look back to the fire and the images—no—the movie has become clear, almost as though it’s being projected onto the flames. That’s when I realize, it’s my fantasy. Okay. This is more like it. I refill my drink and relax into my comfy chair, visions of my woman and our life together dancing in my head.

Meanwhile. . .

Willow’s Fantasy

W
illow lifts her head from where it was cradled in her arms on her desk and looks around, confused at finding herself still in her office at work. She sighs, so desperate to avoid her empty, lonely home, she fell asleep at her desk, again. She can’t avoid it forever, so she stands and lifts her purse over her shoulder, then meanders over to her jacket, hanging by the closed door. Lifting it off the hook, she notices a distinct weight on one side and realizes there is something in the pocket. She reaches inside and her fingers wrap around a cool object that causes a tingle in her hand as she pulls it out. It’s a key. A very unusual key.

She doesn’t know where it’s come from, but for some reason, it feels at home in her palm.
Odd
. She decides to worry about it in the morning, putting the key back in the pocket and draping the coat over her arm. She opens the door to her office and pauses in shock. Rather than the neutral-toned walls and grey carpet of her office hallway, she finds herself standing in a foyer. It’s tall and round, the walls covered in an intricate, gold-swirled pattern, with a cream, travertine floor, and ornate sconces that match the ambiance. Not to mention the sparkling chandelier hanging in the center.

She looks around in awe, her jaw practically on the ground, until her gaze locks onto a set of carved, gold double doors. Without thinking, she steps towards them, giving into a pull she feels, knowing there is something special beyond them. The key glows brighter the closer she comes to the doors and she spies a lock with a small engraving above it. It matches the key. Despite a small, rational part of her brain warning her to be wary, curiosity and an overwhelming sense of rightness has her unlocking the door and swinging it open.

Leaving the key in the lock, she steps into the family room of an unknown castle and gasps. It’s beautiful, but comfortable and lived in. Somehow, she knows this place is everything she could have imagined for her dream home. It even has scattered toys all around to indicate a child or children live there. Her every wish, deepest desires, and perfect fantasy have always been to have a home and family. She didn’t need a prince; she wanted her own sweet farm boy. She’d always assumed she would live in her family home when she became queen, but this, this is really what her heart desires—a place that belongs to her and her little family.

Walking into it with trepidation, she jumps when the door behind her closes and glances back to see it’s disappeared. Her heart speeds up with nervousness and she calls out, “Hello?” She immediately hears the sound of footsteps coming towards the room. The doorway is suddenly filled by the overwhelming presence of the man she’s loved since she was fifteen years old.

“Hey, buttercup,” he says with a gentle smile, walking towards her, his eyes twinkling with . . . love? Buttercup? He used to call her that all the time, telling her she looked like the blooms in spring rather than a drooping tree. He reaches her and pulls her into his arms, planting a scorching kiss on her still mute mouth. She is helpless to keep from melting into him, remembering what this used to feel like, and realizing she’s been craving it ever since she lost it. It’s followed by a rush of love so intense, it consumes her. Apparently, she hadn’t moved on as far as she thought she had if it was so easy for him to bring it all crashing back.

James finally lets her up for air and his mouth tips up into a crooked smile. “You slept a long time, buttercup”—he winks roguishly—“I hope you were dreaming of me.”
Had she been napping?
His beautiful mouth grows into a grin and he pats her stomach. “Is my boy wearing you out?” Willow’s head snaps down to stare at her belly and, sure enough, there is a little baby bump.
What the fuck?
She looks back up at James and he eyes her curiously. “You’re not going to argue with me about it being a girl?” he asks in mild surprise.

“Um. . .” She scrambles for what to say, then remembers. They used to argue about the kids they would have. He joked that he was made to breed superheroes and predicted they would only have boys. She told him to get over himself and buy a shotgun because being scared to raise daughters didn’t mean she was going to pop out the cast of
The Avengers
. Besides, it was enough that their children would be princes and princesses, they didn’t need to add superpowers to the mix.

“I don’t want to argue,” she blurts.

He raises a brow questioningly, but then shrugs with a smile. “As you wish.”

A picture on the wall behind him, of two familiar little boys, draws her attention and before she knows it, it all comes screaming back to her. James showing up after he graduated from college, proposing, their wedding, and the birth of their two rowdy little boys. Had she been dreaming of his leaving with a promise to return and then never coming back? Was all of the time apart—the pain and heartache—all a nightmare? “I had the most vivid nightmare,” she tells him in a trembling voice, tears gathering in her eyes.

“Hey now, Willow,” he soothes as he runs a hand over her hair and kisses her forehead. “Don’t cry. Want to tell me about it?”

She begins to cry in earnest and he scoops her up, taking her to the couch and holding her while she sobs into his shirt. “You—you left and didn’t come back. No explanation, nothing. When I tried to contact you, you were just . . . gone. Never to be heard from again.” Her tears begin to thin and she stares up at him, her eyes containing all of the despair from years of a broken heart. “For eleven years,” she sniffles. “You must have gone through your cancer all alone. In fact, in my dream, I never even knew about it. I—I don’t want to rule without you.”

“Shhh, it was just a dream, buttercup,” he says, placing soft kisses all over her face. “I’m here. What did I tell you when I left?” He grasps her chin so she is forced to look him in the eye.

“Listen to me, what we have is true love. I will always come for you,” she repeats his words from when he left.

“You were what kept me going. Always. You’re mine, Willow. I’ll never let you go.” His mouth crashes down on hers and she feels his love surrounding her. She revels in it, letting it wrap her up like a heated blanket, warming her from the years of cold and loneliness.

“Ewwww!” The disgusted voice of a child breaks them apart and Willow flushes with embarrassment. Their little four-year-old boy, Eric, stands with his feet apart and his little fists planted on his hips. “Do you guys hab to do dat? It’s gwoss.”

Willow starts giggling as James snickers in her ear, “Cutest little cock blocker in the world,” he whispers. Then to Eric he says, “Yup, I have to kiss your mommy. Don’t you want another brother?” He grunts when Willow jabs her elbow into his stomach.

Eric’s eyes squint as he thinks hard about the question. “You hab to kiss mommy for me to get anodder brodder?” James nods solemnly. Eric shrugs. “Okay.” He spins around to leave but calls out, “Be careful, Daddy. My friend Jason says girls hab cooties. Even Pwincess Buwwercwup.”

James laughs then nibbles on Willow’s ear, causing a shiver to run down her spine and her panties to become damp. Her breath catches when his hand slides up her skirt, beneath her underwear, and one long finger dips inside her pussy. “You have the best cooties, buttercup.” She whimpers as he extracts his hand, bringing it to his mouth and sucking it clean. He licks his lips and his eyes scorch her with promises she knows she’ll have to wait for him to fulfill. “Tonight, when the boys are gone for their sleepover at your sister’s house, I’m going to remind you that you’re mine. I’ll fuck the nightmares right out of your head.”