Something Wicked This Way Comes, Volume 2

“You want me to do what?”

Carla stopped in the middle of the mall and pulled the cell phone from her ear, staring at the touchpad as if she could read her friend’s face to determine if she was pulling one of her usual practical jokes. From the speaker, she could hear Angie uttering reassurances.

A harried mother pushing a stroller and towing a toddler gave Carla a dirty look for her sudden stop, so Carla put the cell back to her ear and moved to a nearby bench, where she could sit and wrestle with her friend’s request in relative privacy.

“Angie, slow down. Tell me again what you want, in short, simple sentences.”

“Listen then! My partner and I have a great find. I really think this woman’s story needs to be told.”

“What woman’s story? And isn’t that what you usually do?” Carla asked, confused. Angie had been a working archeologist ever since they’d graduated from college together. “I thought you guys dug up bones to find out their stories.”

She heard Angie’s long-suffering sigh wafting through her phone from six thousand miles away. “Among other reasons, yes. But I’m not asking you to write a nonfiction report. This needs something more. It needs a real writer’s touch.”

“Gee, thanks.” Despite Angie’s compliment, Carla couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of her voice. Her career track had been decidedly spottier than her best friend’s.

Graduating with a degree in theater, Carla had begun teaching high school English to pay the bills while she worked to get her acting career on the road to stardom. Although she had managed to get a few small walk-ons, acting hadn’t panned out and she’d turned to writing as an outlet for her creative muse.

While working her day job, Carla began to write romance novels, selling her first manuscript after two long years of collecting rejection slips. She was still proud of her stack of rejection letters. They represented her perseverance and determination to succeed at something.

And she had. Just last year she had finished teaching in June and tendered her resignation, finally making the move from teacher to full-time writer.

She was far from a millionaire, though. While it was true she occasionally traveled to a location to soak up the atmosphere, she really didn’t have the time or money to jet off to the Sahara Desert and research some old bones.

Angie’s powers of persuasion, however, were in full swing. “I mean it, Carla. What we’ve found out is incredible. Josef, my partner—you remember him; he’s the gorgeous hunk I keep telling you about. Anyway, he’s the lead archeologist on the dig and he’s coming back to New York to make a presentation to the museum. Don’t worry, I’m not asking you to fly all the way to Egypt on spec. I want you to meet with Josef in New York and get him to tell you the details. I promise you, you’ll be hooked.”

“Are you sure you’re not just trying to set me up on a blind date from the Sahara Desert?” Carla remembered the disastrous last time her friend had tried to set her up with someone.

Angie laughed. “Not this time. Promise. This is totally on the up and up. Tell you what—just meet with him. Listen to the story. He’ll give you all the bare facts. What I want you to do is fill in the details. I think, once you hear him through, you’ll want to write this woman’s story in all its glory. If I’m wrong, then just thank him for his time and walk away. Deal?”

Carla sighed and glanced around her comfortable suburban setting. At least meeting him in New York meant not flying to the hot Sahara. “Deal.”

* * *

Why am I so nervous? Carla stepped off the elevator and straightened her suit jacket for the sixth time since entering the building. All she was going to do was listen politely to what the man had to say, thank him for his time and send him on his way. Angie’s intentions might be aboveboard, but Carla still suspected she was being set up.

No matter what story the archeologist had to tell, she wouldn’t be interested. She already had far too many irons in the fire, with two books in edits, two more manuscripts partly finished and an article due to The Romancer on how to maintain the delicate balance between character and plot and still keep the romance hot. The last thing she needed was another project.

A middle-aged secretary led her into a small meeting room, informing her that Dr. Anderson was held up in another meeting and would join her as soon as he finished. With a smirk, the secretary closed the door behind her as she left.

Wonder what that was all about? Shrugging, Carla looked around the small, windowless room. Several artifacts hung on the walls and she wandered from one to another, whiling away the time.

When a few minutes stretched into half an hour, she plopped herself into a chair and drummed her fingers on the table in irritation. Her time was just as precious as “Dr. Anderson’s” and she could be home, working on one of the stories currently clamoring for attention in her brain.

The second hand on her watch ticked toward forty-five minutes. With an impatient push, Carla shoved herself away from the small table and yanked the door open, intending to vent her anger on the smug secretary before departing the building in a relieved huff.

“I’m not waiting any longer. You can tell Dr. Josef—”

So intent was she on yelling at the secretary, Carla body-slammed a wall that shouldn’t have been there. She reeled backward, off balance…

A tall, brawny blond god caught her, and she gasped.

Dr. Josef Anderson, Ph.D., caught the woman before she fell to the floor even as he fought to maintain his own balance. Grabbing her waist, he instinctively pulled her close, one part of his brain registering several important things as he battled to keep them both upright…

Her hair was burnished auburn and fell in waves past her shoulders. The waist beneath his hands was small, yet he felt the strength in her muscles as she recovered her balance. And she wore the most wonderful perfume that reminded him of sunny spring mornings in the desert after a midnight rain.

Then she spoke—and his initial image of the woman splintered.

“If you’re Dr. Anderson, you’re forty-five minutes late. I’m tired of waiting. I’m leaving.”

Josef still held her tightly. “You’re welcome for my catching you, Ms. Braun. I’m so happy I could prevent you from falling and hitting your head on the table, saving you some stitches or, at the very least, a big goose egg.”

A very pretty blush rose up her neck and flushed her cheeks. She dropped her gaze, apparently trying to hide her bad manners.

Josef tightened his grip on her waist, just to see how she would react.

He almost laughed at her predictability. With strength surprising in such a petite body, she pushed against his chest and stepped back. But he had caught the slight intake of breath that signaled a very physical reaction to his closeness before she’d distanced herself.

Of course, she’d caused a bit of a physical reaction in him as well. His cock stirred in a most irritating way. Intriguing. He leaned against the doorjamb and watched her brush the hair from her eyes with an impatient gesture as she gathered her wits and sent a venomous glare in his direction.

Finally the woman tugged her jacket back into place and tossed her head, flinging that glorious hair over her shoulder and out of her face. “Thank you. I was just leaving.”

“So I see.” His gaze took in the smart business suit that did its best to hide the slim figure of the woman before him. Taking his time, he let his gaze wander down along the curve of her hip, over the graceful arc of a calf to the sensible pumps on her feet. The navy-blue hue of the suit did nothing to set off the beautiful blush of her cheeks or match the decidedly angry hazel eyes that flashed at him.

“Well, Ms. Braun, I promised Dr. DiPaolo that I would meet you, and you undoubtedly promised you would meet with me. Since we’ve now met, we can just part ways, having fulfilled our word, if you like.” A pang of regret took him by surprise even as he let her off the hook. He hadn’t expected Carla Braun to look so…intriguing.

Her chin came up. “She told me you had a story for me. You might as well tell me the basic facts. She’ll quiz us both and you know it.”

Josef nodded. “She will. But I’d get around her.”