Be Careful What You Wish For Read online

  She glanced in the mirror and ran a brush through her black fly-away curls, trying to achieve some semblance of order. Wide violet eyes and dry lips started back at her.

  We’ll fix that. She reached in her medicine cabinet and pulled out a tube of lip gloss. Then it occurred to her that she was doing exactly what O’Shea probably thought she was doing—primping for him.

  I am not! Cass argued with herself, as she used the gloss. I’m just trying to look a little more human! Not that being human is apparently a good thing where he comes from.

  She surveyed the results of her hasty make-over in the mirror and decided she might look human but she still looked pretty plain since she had no make-up to speak of and she was wearing her work-out clothes. But at least she had a bra on which made her feel much more comfortable—she was way too big up top to go around without one.

  It was irritating that even though she disliked the big elf, she still felt the need to fix up at least a little to be around him. Of course, she couldn’t have gotten much less fixed up than she’d been during her unplanned trip to the Realm of the Fae that morning. Going to court in your night shirt and slippers definitely pushed the envelope for business causal and Cass wasn’t eager to repeat the experience, especially in the company of the annoying Jake O’Shea.

  With a final pat to her hair, she grabbed his jacket and opened the bathroom door trying not to feel self conscious.

  Now to give him his jacket and get rid of him once and for all, she told herself. Just hope he’ll leave quick so I can get back to work and try to fix the damn mouth on Brandon’s portrait.

  Eleven

  Taking a deep breath, and clutching his jacket by her side, Cass stepped out of the bathroom.

  “Here you go. I want to thank you for loaning me thi—” she began holding out the jacket to him. She broke off abruptly when she saw that he was standing in front of the easel that held her unfinished portrait of Brandon, studying it intently.

  “Your technique is excellent,” he said without turning around. “But there’s something wrong with the lower part of the subject’s face.”

  “Thank you, Mister Art Critic,” Cass whispered sarcastically. “It’s his mouth—it’s not quite right. As soon as I get him in here to sit for me again I’ll fix it.”

  “No.” O’Shea shook his head, still frowning. “It’s more than that. His chin is weak—he doesn’t look dependable. And the set of his jaw says he’s extremely self-absorbed.”

  “You can’t tell all that just from looking at his portrait!” Cass was indignant.

  O’Shea looked up from his study of Brandon’s picture at last.

  “I appear to have struck a nerve. Who is this man—someone special to you? You paint him as if you know him.”

  Cass cleared her throat, feeling awkward.

  “He’s my, uh, model,” she whispered. “And my boyfriend.”

  “Boy…friend?” O’Shea raised one black eyebrow. “I’m not sure if I understand the term. He appears to be a man and not a boy from your painting. Or is he younger than he looks?”

  “No.” Cass coughed to buy time. “No, he’s my…my significant other.” She shook her head impatiently as O’Shea continued to frown. “You know—we hang out together, spend time, go out on dates—that kind of thing.”

  “Oh.” He nodded. “Your lover. Why didn’t you just say so?”

  Cass felt her cheeks getting hot.

  “Because that’s not how we usually put things in the human world. But I guess it’s different in the Realm. Are you always so blunt?”

  “I prefer to think of it as being direct. It saves a lot of trouble. Thank you.” He accepted the still damp jacket Cass was holding out to him and folded it over his arm. “You’ll be certain to contact me if the slightest thing goes wrong with your birthday wish.”

  He made it a statement instead of a question and Cass nodded uncomfortably, knowing that she had no intention of doing so.

  “Sure, but how am I supposed to…to…” She lapsed into a coughing fit, feeling like her throat was being ripped into little pieces. Even as a little girl she had always had a lot of ear and throat infections. In fact, she’d been the only one of her three sisters that had to have her tonsils out. “Sorry,” she gasped at last when the coughing eased. “What I was trying to say is, how am I supposed to contact you?”

  “You have only to call my name and I’ll hear you, wherever you are.” But O’Shea sounded distracted. He was frowning at her again, his leaf green eyes filled with something that might almost be concern, if he was concerned for anyone but himself, Cass thought. “I almost forgot that I promised to see to your throat.” He draped the jacket across the foot of her bed and beckoned to her. “Come here.”

  “Look, unless you’re an ENT as well as an elf…” Cass began in a hoarse whisper, shaking her head. She’d been pressed up against him during the couch ride and spent most of the morning with him leading her around by her arm but she still felt nervous at the thought of getting so close to the big elf in the privacy of her room. Maybe it was the proximity of the bed or the focused look in his pale green eyes. She almost felt like if he looked at her hard enough, he might stare a hole right through her with the laser-like intensity of his gaze.

  “Cassandra…” His deep voice was slightly gentler. “Do you still not trust me? I have no wish to harm you—I only want to heal your voice. I believe the voice loss charm the trows cast on you has been exacerbated by the magical rain in Judge Rosinbloom’s courtroom and you’re suffering some kind of reaction.”

  “And…you can heal that?” Cass whispered uncertainly. If he wasn’t just blowing smoke up her skirt, she was willing to let him heal her despite her nervous reaction to his nearness. After all, it was going to be next to impossible to teach art at the Academy tomorrow sounding like she did now.

  O’Shea nodded patiently.

  “I believe I can lift the spell and restore your voice to normal if you’ll just come here.” He seated himself on the side of her bed and gestured for her again.

  Yeah right, come lay on the bed with you, huh? I don’t think so, buster. Cass frowned and crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Look, if you think that just because I let you into my bedroom and you saw me, uh, exposed that I’ll—”

  “I think no such thing.” O’Shea frowned warningly. “I am not interested in trying to take advantage of you, Cassandra. And even if I did have that kind of interest in you, you’re a client of mine and you’ve made it clear you’re involved with someone. I just want to heal your throat and get on to my next appointment. So if you would please come here.”

  He beckoned to her sternly and Cass found herself going to stand between his thighs even though she was seething at his condescending tone.

  “You don’t have to talk to me like I’m some kind of a child,” she whispered fiercely.

  O’Shea sighed wearily. “My apologies if I offended you, but compared to me you are a child.”

  “I’m going to turn twenty-three in less than twenty-four hours,” Cass reminded him in an indignant whisper. “And you can’t be more than thirty yourself.”

  O’Shea looked thoughtful. “I guess that my age might translate roughly to that in human years. Actually, I am considerably older than that but elves age more slowly because of the magic in their bloodlines.”

  “Like fairies?” Cass asked, interested despite herself.

  “No.” O’Shea’s voice was abruptly sharp. “Not like fairies in the least. Fairies are the only fae that are truly immortal and they never let the rest of us forget it.” He took a deep breath and his voice became softer. “Despite what I said earlier, I truly didn’t mean to treat you like a child, Cassandra. Would it help if I told you that the last woman I had a relationship with was more than ten times your age and had less than a tenth of your intelligence and talent?”

  Cass blinked. “Whoa—the last woman you had a relationship with? That sounds kind of…I mean, I thought y
ou said you weren’t interested in…”

  “I’m not.” O’Shea sighed again. “I was trying to give you a compliment. But never mind. Let me heal your voice so I can get going. I have several important appointments and I can’t afford to stay here all day.”

  He sounded so businesslike that Cass allowed him to pull her down onto his lap without making any further protest even though it was an awkward position. O’Shea settled her on one of his knees as though it was no big deal and he was so tall their eyes were still even when he looked at her. “Relax, Cassandra.” His deep voice was amused. “You’re as stiff as a piece of wood.”

  “Because I don’t know what you’re going to do to me,” Cass whispered hoarsely. “Is this going to hurt?” She was very aware of being perched uncomfortably on his knee, a position that made her feel helpless and out of control of the situation. She hated feeling out of control.

  “I’m just going to heal you, and no, it won’t hurt. You may even feel some slight pleasure or at least a lessening of pain,” O’Shea told her. Cass felt one of his large warm hands slide up to support her back while the other began to stroke her throat. A strange shiver ran through her and she felt hot and cold at the same time. “Relax,” he said again. “My power will be more effective if you don’t fight it.”

  “I’m trying,” Cass whispered through gritted teeth.

  Honestly, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt more tense. O’Shea’s hand on her throat felt warm and soothing but his gentle touch built an undeniable tension in the pit of her stomach that wasn’t exactly conducive to relaxation.

  I’m just uncomfortable because I barely know him and he’s touching me in such an intimate way, she told herself.

  Intimate but not sexual—his stroking hand never once wandered lower than the hollow of her throat and Cass became aware that he was murmuring something under his breath that sounded like an incantation.

  She couldn’t be sure exactly what he was saying because the words were in a different language, but she could tell that they carried power. She felt the same invisible waves of force coming from O’Shea that she had when he threatened the trows that had tried to abduct her.

  But this time instead of an icy blast, she felt a gentle warmth that was nearly indistinguishable from the warmth of his hand. A warmth that seemed to penetrate her entire body despite her discomfort at the awkward situation.

  Feeling hypnotized by his tender caress, Cass allowed her eyelids to flutter closed. If he keeps this up I may go to sleep, she thought drowsily. She felt the tension in her muscles begin to loosen and her body started to feel like it was made out of butter. Without his strong hand supporting her back she was certain she would have melted all over his lap. But just when she was almost completely relaxed by the gentle stroking O’Shea stopped abruptly.

  “Speak,” he said, his deep voice soft and intense.

  “What do you want me to say?” Cass asked, opening her eyes. She was pleased to hear her voice coming out in more than a whisper. “Hey, I’m almost better,” she said, sounding only a little hoarse. The barbed wire that had been lining her throat was mostly gone and she only had minimal discomfort when she talked. It was like she was getting over a bad throat infection and was only a day or two from being completely recovered.

  O’Shea frowned.

  “Almost isn’t good enough. That was an exceptionally strong spell the trows laid on you,” he said, pulling her back down when she tried to get off his lap. “Settle down, Cassandra. If I don’t finish the job you’ll only get worse instead of better.”

  Cass settled back onto his lap feeling foolish and vulnerable all over again.

  “Honestly, I feel so much better. I really think—”

  “Shh.” O’Shea surprised her by sliding his fingers into the curls at the nape of her neck. The intimate touch sent a shiver down her spine and she took a startled little breath. Then he surprised her further by pulling her head gently but firmly back until her throat was completely exposed and her back arched under his arm.

  “Hey, what—?” Cass began with real fear. Her heart was suddenly racing and all the anxiety he’d stroked away was abruptly back, knotting her muscles like fists. What the hell did he think he was doing? Whatever it was, she didn’t like it—didn’t like feeling so vulnerable and out of control.

  “Shhh,” O’Shea murmured. His other large hand anchored her hip firmly and with a fresh surge of panic, Cass realized it was going to be impossible to get away. He seemed to feel her anxiety because he whispered, “I’m not going to hurt you, Cassandra. You must never fear me.”

  “But I—” Cass began.

  Then she felt his breath, warm and gentle against her exposed throat and heard him murmuring the soft Gaelic-sounding words once more.

  This time she felt the power flowing more strongly, like a deep soothing caress that penetrated her skin and tissues and stroked down her body like a warm, knowing hand.

  Okay, all right, Cass told herself, trying to keep her panic at bay. He’s just getting closer so he can increase the power. There’s nothing to get excited about. Just hold still—he’s almost done.

  But despite her inner pep-talk, she could feel the tension in the pit of her stomach building to an almost unbearable pitch and her breath began to come short. The warmth of his breath, the whisper of his lips as they just barely brushed over her skin sent chills down her spine and made her body react helplessly.

  Cass bit her lip. There was no way she was getting turned on by this, she told herself sternly. Her nipples were hard because it was chilly in her room and the heat she felt growing between her thighs was purely coincidental.

  It’s no big deal…no big deal, she repeated to herself like a mantra, her eyes squeezed shut as the warm tide of pleasure continued to rise inside her. But then Jake O’Shea’s narrow but sensual mouth met the tender skin of her neck more fully and she felt a wave of pure and undeniable desire surge through her.

  God, what is he doing to me? she barely had time to think and then he was covering her throat in slow, hot kisses that made her feel like she couldn’t get a deep enough breath.

  Cass bit back a moan as the need spiked inside her, twisting in her lower belly like a live thing, making her press her thighs together tightly and clench her fists at her sides. God, if he didn’t stop soon she was going to go right over the edge, and he hadn’t even kissed her anywhere but her throat!

  Her mouth was suddenly dry and her nipples were so hard they hurt. From the waist down she was absolutely molten. His power was stroking her like a knowing hand, touching her like a lover intimately familiar with every inch of her skin even though O’Shea still hadn’t touched anything directly but her throat and her back.

  This has to stop! Cass thought wildly. This has to stop now or I’m going to embarrass myself.

  She didn’t know if his power was affecting her differently because she was mostly human or if he was doing this on purpose. But she did know she didn’t intend to have a screaming orgasm in the lap of a man that she couldn’t stand.

  His hand was holding the back of her neck firmly, keeping her in place, but Cass reached out blindly, her hands coming to rest against his broad chest as she tried to get away from the relentless pleasure he was pouring through her with his heated kisses.

  Unfortunately, she didn’t make much progress. She felt the hard planes of muscle under her palms, the heat of his skin, the beat of his heart and somehow she couldn’t make her arms stiffen to push him away.

  “Please,” she gasped, reaching up to bury her hands in his thick blue-black hair. “Please, I just…I can’t…” To her horror she found she was pulling him forward instead of pushing him away and the growing dampness between her thighs made her legs feel like helpless jelly.

  “Oh…Oh, God…Oh, please!” she heard herself begging aloud and she no longer knew if she wanted him to stop or not. As the pleasure built inside her, losing her dignity by coming on his lap seemed less and less imp
ortant. Cass pressed her legs together and moaned, her thoughts racing as O’Shea’s hot mouth continued to trace the vulnerable arch of her throat.

  Oh, God, I can’t believe he’s doing this to me! I can’t believe I can’t make him stop! I can’t believe I’m not sure if I want him to stop!

  Just as she was teetering on the brink, her body burning and her mind an unfocused mess, she became aware that the slow, hot kisses had stopped and Jake O’Shea was talking to her again.

  “Come back to me, Cassandra,” she heard him murmur as he loosened his grip on the back of her neck. “It’s all right now. It’s over—you’re healed.”

  Cass pushed away from him and stood on wobbly legs.

  “It’s not all right,” she nearly shouted. Her voice was back to normal but she was too upset to notice. She stumbled and would have fallen if he hadn’t caught her by the wrist, but she resisted when he tried to pull her back into his lap. O’Shea remained seated but he was frowning at her in confusion.

  “What’s wrong now?” he asked. Cass couldn’t believe he had the nerve to act surprised that she was upset.

  “What’s wrong? What’s wrong? How can you ask me that?”

  She crossed her arms over her chest protectively. Her nerves were tight as wires and her body was still right on the brink. The mixture of physical pleasure, mental confusion and anger was almost too much—it felt like her brain circuits were going to overload and this big asshole had the gall to sit there and ask her what was wrong.

  “What the hell did you just do to me?” she demanded, glaring at him.

  “Just what I said I was going to do—I healed you.” O’Shea was glaring back now. “Do you have a problem with that?”

  “I have a problem with you lying to me,” Cass shot back. “You said you weren’t interested in taking advantage of me. And then you…you…” She shook her head, unable to continue.