She doesn’t believe in magic—or love. Until a spirit goes walking on the wild side…
Spells, Secrets and Seductions, Book 2
Maggie O’Neill goes along with her two best friends’ candle-magick spell to summon a lover only because, well, they are her BFFs. She doesn’t really believe in this stuff. Yet the aftermath of the spell leaves her strangely hot and bothered, and then the dreams of a man start—and not just any man. Jed Bearson. Pity, since she’s sworn off men for the foreseeable future.
Jed, part-time deputy and painter, doesn’t tell many people that he has the ability to let his spirit travel outside his body. One night, despite his self-imposed rule to never invade anyone’s privacy, he follows an irresistible pull to Maggie’s bedside. He’s astounded to find her crying out his name in private pleasure. After months of giving her space, maybe it’s time to approach her.
Maggie and Jed’s first touch is lightning hot—and their passion is a thunderclap of erotic pleasure. But when Jed reveals he’s a spiritwalker, Maggie’s reaction is like a curtain of cold rain descending between them. Leaving him wondering what she’s afraid of. Magic? Him? Or of following her heart?
Product Warnings
This book contains erotic dreams and fantasies, a candle magick spell, spiritwalking, lots of hot, sweaty sex, and a happily ever after that will make you sigh.
Placing the candle on the bedside table, she stared at it for one long moment. “It’s just a candle,” she muttered.
And truly, that’s all it was. The spell they’d cast was nothing more than words. It had no power, no magick. The wind chose that moment to whip up and beat at the closed window. Maggie shivered, but briskly turned away and began to pull off her clothing.
Gathering the discarded garments, she made her way to the bathroom and dumped them into the laundry hamper. It didn’t take her long to wash her face and brush out her waist-length hair. She tossed her brush onto the bathroom vanity and reached for her nightgown that was hanging from a hook on the back of the door.
She paused, looking at her reflection in the mirror. Green eyes peered back at her. It wasn’t a bad face, just not an overly beautiful one. Like the rest of her, her face was a bit too rounded. With a smattering of freckles covering her nose and cheeks, she looked more like the girl next door than a sexy siren. She’d always felt so out of place in California among the tall, thin blonds. With her curvy body and her long red hair, she’d always stood out, and not in a good way.
Sighing, she slipped the nightgown over her head. The silky fabric slid over her body, leaving goose bumps in its wake. All that talk of sex tonight over at Rhiannon’s had reminded her of how long it had been since she’d had any. Six months since she’d tossed her ring back at her ex-fiancé, and even before that, it had been several months. That should have been her first clue that something wasn’t right in their relationship.
She’d been so busy at her job with a large advertising firm and planning the wedding that she hadn’t questioned the lack of passion in her relationship too deeply. Mostly, she hadn’t wanted to see the truth about Mitchell Michaels, the third.
She’d settled because she hadn’t wanted to be alone and because she hadn’t thought she’d get another proposal. She’d ignored his veiled hints that she should lose weight and think about dyeing her hair, or at least cutting it. She’d ignored the fact that it didn’t seem to bother either her or Mitchell that they hadn’t slept together in months. She was thirty years old and it was time to get married. God, she’d been so pathetic.
But those days were over. It had taken her long, hard months to get past the pain of the betrayal. Not only had Mitchell and Barbara betrayed her, she’d betrayed herself by settling. No more. She’d rather be alone than live with a man who didn’t love her for who she was.
And sex. Well, she was quite capable of taking care of her needs herself.
Hurrying back to her bedroom, she tugged back the covers and climbed into bed. She turned off the light and lay there listening to the creaks and groans of the house as it settled for the night. Rolling onto her side, she peered out the closest window. The stars twinkled against the inky curtain of the night like her own personal nightlight.
A sense of restlessness possessed her. It was all that talk about sex tonight. This was all Rhiannon’s fault.
Flopping over onto her back, Maggie closed her eyes and sighed. What she needed was a lover. A dream lover. A man who came to her bed at night and loved her until she was breathless and sated. A man whose touch ignited flames under her skin, whose voice made her shiver with longing.
An image of a man popped into her head—Jed Bearson. Heat suffused her face, flowing down to her breasts and lower still. Her sex pulsed and she could feel the sensitive flesh swelling slightly as blood rushed to the area. Her breasts ached with the need to be touched.
Now there was a man worthy of fantasizing about. He was tall, his legs thick with muscles, his chest broad. Dark black hair fell to his impossibly wide shoulders. He was a self-contained man, but anyone with half a clue could feel the quiet power radiating from him.
He was at least six inches taller than she was. Which meant that he was at least six-three. His face wasn’t exactly handsome, not in the classic sense, but rugged, a mixture of rough-hewn features that somehow came together to look completely right on him. His nose was large and slightly hooked, yet it suited him well. His eyebrows were thick slashes of black that sat above his expressive eyes. Thick, dark lashes framed eyes the color of old amber. His cheekbones were high, his lips full.
She shivered beneath the covers. What would those lips feel like against hers? What would they feel like brushing against her skin? Maggie groaned and shifted restlessly against the sheets. The bottom of her gown slid upward, pooling around her hips.
And those hands. Oh God, he had the most incredible hands. Large and work-roughened, they were the hands of a man who worked hard. Yet she knew he could be gentle too.
She knew all too well what those hands felt like.
She’d been coming out of the grocery store a few weeks ago when he’d been going in. Paying more attention to him than to where she was going, Maggie had tripped in the doorway where the edge of the door met the pavement of the sidewalk. Jed had caught her before she’d taken a header straight to the ground. His hands had lingered on her hips before sliding around to her stomach and then dropping away. She’d felt an acute sense of loss when he’d released her.
“Are you okay?” Goose bumps ran down her arms as she remembered the exact tone of his voice—a low and intimate rumble that seemed to stroke her skin from the inside out. She’d managed to stammer out her reply and then he was gone.
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