Chapter One
The nagging pinging of the seatbelt light sounded above her head.
Sleepily opening her eyes, Jess looked out of the plane window to see the Thames beneath her, winding through London. Straightening up as best as she could manage in the tiny seat, she stifled a yawn and checked her watch: 1.30pm.
They’d be on the tarmac at Heathrow within the next thirty minutes, but it would be gone three before she got her luggage and grabbed a cab across London, and that’s only if the M4 was feeling cooperative.
She had to be at Tower Bridge for the gala dinner by 7.30pm.
Rapidly running through her mental check list, she added in an hour at the museum, to check on the arrival of the artifact from Rome.
Rolling her eyes at her chances of getting everything done, she sighed and turned away from the window. The last thing she needed was to watch London rush up towards her.
The pressure in the cabin intensified as the plane began its descent.
Closing her eyes, she forced herself to relax back into her seat, and mentally cursed not being on the earlier flight, and having to go to the bloody gala in the first place…and anything else she could think of.
A smirk crossed her lips. She’d get Jason back for palming the gala into her lap. He knew she hated these things: all those people and cocktail conversation, all the hidden agendas, and the desire to increase their networking reach. She quelled a mock shudder at just the thought of it. Oh yeah, she’d get him back alright.
The wheels touched the runway with a small double bump, and she released a breath. Being a passenger just didn’t work for her.
Standing in the aisle, Jess tucked her dark hair behind her ear. In a plea for patience, she began mentally counting as she eyed the woman at the front of the queue. The woman had got her hand baggage stuck on the overhead door, and instead of moving into the now empty row of seats in front of her so that people could get off, she’d decided to block the aisle while the flight attendant was trying to unhook it.
Despite being asked to move by several passengers, she continued to stand there, huffing that people “shouldn’t be so impatient.”
The tempers of the passengers were rising, and Jess took in a slow breath and pushed energy out from her center, creating an intangible barrier, defending herself from the waves of negative energy that flooded the cabin; she didn’t need to be soaking that up.
Looking down at her watch, she frowned: 2.15pm. She could do with being off this plane and away from the thrum. Staring at the offending piece of hand baggage, she muttered a release spell beneath her breath.
The hinge on the overhead door gave way with a clatter, barely missing the over-tired flight attendant as it thudded onto the seat, and the bag fell into the aisle.
Rolling her eyes, Jess looked up. She really needed more time and focus when it came to spell-work.
As the woman faffed about with her baggage, the man behind her finally gave up and pushed past, and the queue began to edge slowly forward.
As she approached the flight attendant, Jess lightly touched her shoulder, passing her a little energy boost. “Are you alright? That came down with some force.”
The petite blonde offered Jess a warm smile, the tight lines around her eyes easing away as her tiredness abated. “Oh, don’t worry about me. I’m all finished for a few days.”
Smiling at her, Jess shuffled off the plane. Guiltily sliding her hands into her pockets, she made a mental note to add ‘release spells’ to the ever-growing list of things that she should work on.
Pulling the soft leather strap of her messenger handbag over her head, she adjusted it across her body, and weaved her way through the crowds. The wheels of her neat suitcase made a pleasing rhythmical sound as she strolled from baggage claim across the packed airport.
As she approached the vast row of automatic doors, bitterly cold air raced across the tiles, whipping round her ankles. Rome may have only been a couple of hours ago, but it had been a balmy 28 degrees—while London was ranking high on the grey, wet and freezing-o-meter.
They’d been in the throes of a heatwave before she’d left, and she’d only been gone for two weeks.What was with this weather? When had the summer gone on hiatus?
Adding the moan to her already pissy mood, she headed for the line of taxis, nodding her thanks at the driver when he opened his boot, and reached to take her case from her.
Settling into the back of the cab, Jess lightly cleared her throat, before asking for Exhibition Road.
She pulled her phone from her pocket as the cab eased into the traffic. It had switched over to an Italian phone provider a few days ago, and for reasons unknown to her had stopped receiving, so she’d been cut off from the rest of the world. If only it had frazzled out before getting that one last message… Opening her texts she re-read it.
Having to fly to Ireland, can you take my place at the gala dinner? Left tickets with front desk. See you when you’re back from down south. Jason :)
The rain was pounding against the taxi roof, hitting the windscreen with heavy splats, and Jess couldn’t think of anything worse than having to drag out heels and slap on a smile.
One more week and she was officially on holiday for three glorious weeks.
And she was going home. Going to surprise her sister, and hope her brother might even be in the vicinity. She was planning on dragging them to the pub, sitting on the beach, and seeing what trouble she could entice her brother’s Labrador, Murphy, to get in to.
It had been too long since they’d all been together.
Finding them firmly in her thoughts, she let her mind drift, until she could gently detect their energies. Happy that everything felt okay, she stared back down at her phone; still no signs of picking up a signal, she couldn’t even text them.
With a sigh, she blinked dry eyes at the too bright phone screen. Shutting it down, she dropped it in her pocket—getting it sorted would be tomorrow’s job.
Jess turned to stare out of the window and looked at the westbound traffic heading out of the city; it was gridlocked. She supposed she should be grateful that she had this bloody do to go to tonight. Or else she’d most likely be sitting on a gridlocked M25 as well.
Huffing under her breath, she rolled her eyes at the thought. She wouldn’t care if she sat in traffic all night if she could get out of going to this gala.
Pointing at the plain gated entrance, she caught the driver’s eye in the rear-view mirror. “Just here is fine.”
The wet wind blasted her as she lifted her small suitcase, and raced round the taxi, swiping her ID card in the entrance panel. She was glad of the looming museum, shielding her from the worst of the weather as she pushed through the door to the staff entrance.
The warmly lit reception was a haven from the chaotic wind.
Jess clicked the door shut behind her, grappling with her hair, and blowing it from her eyes she came face-to-face with a laughing Steve.
“Miss Jess! Fine weather, if you’re a duck.” His bright blue eyes sparkled, as he clasped his hands over the desk and grinned at her. “How was Rome?”
Heading over and leaning on the reception desk, she wiped the last remaining droplets of rain from her face. “It was a heck of a lot warmer than this. What’s happened to our summer, Steve?”
Briefly smoothing back his silver hair, he shrugged, spreading his hands wide. “Don’t you worry, Miss Jess, it’s just a quick storm to release the heat, I’d say. I had a call from Jason. Understand I have to pass some tickets your way?” He raised his brows at her, pulling two tickets from the drawer, holding them towards her.
Pinching one of the tickets from his grasp, she read it. “This is it, for tonight’s gala. Who’s the other ticket for?”
Smiling, Steve looked over her shoulder. “Ah, perfect timing.” Placing his clipboard on the desk, Steve busied himself updating his records, as a slight cough behind her had her turning around.
Jess faced the smiling, hoodie-wearing man coming towards her.
“I’m Sebastian. Glad you got back in time.”
He held out his hand, and Jess looked at it, before looking back up at him. “Sebastian?”
“Um, sure.”
His hand remained between them.
Shaking herself, she offered him a quick smile. “Sorry, still a bit frazzled from the flight and all. Nice to meet you.” Sliding her hand firmly into his, her eyes widened as a little frisson of energy travelled up her arm. Her smile lifted into a smirk as she held his hand for a fraction longer than necessary, enjoying the buzz.
How interesting.
Reaching behind her, she grabbed the second ticket from the desk. “So this is yours?”
His dark hair had clearly been pulled through his fingers too many times today. She looked into his warm brown eyes, bright with intelligence and laughter. His grey hoodie was spattered with rain marks. Dark jeans encased solid thighs, and a day’s worth of stubble gave him a relaxed look.
But the Cartier diving watch wrapped round his wrist, and the expensive, but well-worn walking boots hinted that he had some very interesting pastimes.
He, most definitely, was a picture.
Jess held the ticket towards him as she studied him; a touch of mischief lit his eyes as he held her gaze.
“I’m afraid so. I believe Jason is hoping I’ll take over some of these god-awful functions from him, and he said you’re the expert to walk me through the dos and don’ts.” Sliding the ticket into his back pocket, he shrugged. “I gotta warn you, though, I’m crap at the meeting and the greeting.”
Briefly acknowledging that she’d now be making more of an effort with her own attire for tonight, she nodded at his jeans. “Duly noted. But you do have a suit, right?”
His laugh was deep and easy, and she found herself smiling at the rich sound.
“Sure—don’t get me wrong, black tie would be a stretch. But a suit, I can manage.”
“Okay then.” Turning to Steve, she gestured to the clock. “Can you sort out a car to collect us both? Get me last at 7.15.”
“Sure thing, Miss Jess.”
Grabbing the door, she threw him a smile. “Thanks, Steve. Oh, has a delivery come for me?”
Looking at her, Steve’s white head bobbed in acknowledgment as he gestured at Sebastian with his biro.
Sliding past her through the door she was holding open, Sebastian waited in the empty corridor.
“I signed for it this morning.”
The scent of the rain lifted from him as he passed her, the wind had clearly blown him about too.
Not used to feeling short, she mentally added ‘taller heels’ to tonight’s dress code.
“Oh great, thanks.” She fell into step beside him as they headed for the storage department, curious as to why Jason hadn’t mentioned they had a newbie on the team.
“So, have you been here long?” What. The. Hell? Jess gritted her teeth at the ridiculous words that had just fallen from her lips. Why hadn’t she just asked him if he came here often?
“Technically, I’m not actually here.”
Looking him up and down, she lifted her brows at him. “No? Could’ve fooled me.”
He pushed his hands into the pockets of jeans as they walked. The long hallway ran the entire length of the museum; gothic arched windows lined the walls, taking the brunt of the rain.
His lips lifted in a slight smile, and as she studied the shadow dusting his jaw, she wondered what time he’d arrived this morning. What could Jason possibly be up to?
“I don’t officially start until next week. So I’ve got a few days to find my feet before you go on holiday.”
“Uh-huh.” Her brow arched as she looked at him. Curiouser and curiouser. “And I suppose Jase flying off to Ireland has thrown you in the deep end?”
He shrugged. “I’m sure I’ll manage.” Swiping his security card, he held the door for her.
Riffling through the pile of clipboards, he pulled one out, handing it over. “It arrived by courier. I thought you’d want to open and check it yourself.”
Taking the board, she read the delivery note. She had to give him a tick in the box for professional etiquette; it narked her something rotten when her stuff got interfered with. Not that the artifacts were hers, but that wasn’t the point. Putting a halt to her mind’s crazy rambling, she murmured her thanks, noting the aisle number.
She could feel the expectation pouring from him, but he merely gave her a polite smile and walked away, leaving her to it.
Stopping at the door, he turned back. “I’ll see you later, then?”
She raised her brows in question, giving him a smile. “Don’t you want to have a look?”
A grin split his face, heavy dark lashes swept down as he gave her a deliberate nod, purposefully coming towards her. “You betcha! I love a good libation bowl. But I didn’t want to interfere, you know? Drives me mad when people go rummaging through my artifacts.”
Releasing a pent up breath, she gave a relieved laugh. “I do know. I know exactly what you mean.” Heading down the aisles of storage boxes and crates, she grabbed an abandoned trolley, while he traced the box numbers until he found hers.
He lifted the packing crate down onto the flatbed trolley and waited beside her.
She could tell he was barely restraining himself from rubbing his hands together with glee, and she couldn’t help but smile. She felt the same. Each new find gave bigger glimpses of the past, filled more gaps in her knowledge.
Snipping the straps, she levered off the lid. She could feel the hum from the bowl already reaching her palms as she carefully eased the packaging aside.
His head bowed close to her as they both leant over the crate, and she heard his breath catch in his throat as he waited. Excitement trickled along his skin, reverberating against her, and the wintery scent of him held hints of the sea.
He’d pulled up the sleeves of his hoodie as he reached into the crate, holding back the straw-like packing as she moved it.
His forearms were tanned, dusted with dark hair and strong. Each muscle flexed as he carefully helped her. She found herself ‘accidentally’ brushing his fingers as she freed the large bowl.
The hammered silver pounded with so much energy, it still surprised her that others couldn’t feel it.
Lifting it from the confines, she held it out to him.
His eyes widened as he traced the engraved chariots. “That’s beautiful.” His hushed whisper brushed across her, tickling her nerve endings.
She watched his fingertip trace the filigree markings, catching her breath at the sudden buzz of desire that shot through her.
Heavy silence filled the air as he studied the bowl, and she studied him. His brows furrowed as he took in every mark, as his fingers searched for signs of use and age. His full lips parted, revealing the edge of straight white teeth, his tongue caught between them as he concentrated.
Lifting his gaze to clash with hers, heat flooded her face at being caught staring at him. He stood silently facing her, and she unconsciously lowered the bowl, her gaze locked with his, her breath coming in shallow pants.
She had no idea what to say, or how to break the intense current running between them, as he cautiously took a step closer.
His hands joined her own on the bowl, the ancient silver clasped between them as they faced each other.
The sharp clatter of noise from the next aisle had her jerking away from him, like a teenager who’d been sprung, and the bowl slipped from her fingertips heading for the concrete.
Their fumbled scrabbling saved it from hitting the hard floor; a nervous laugh breathlessly escaped him, as he looked up at her from his bent position, the bowl clutched to his chest.
Jess held both palms against her pounding heart, a smile slowly creeping up on her as she stared down him, shaking her head. “Phew. Good catch.”
Coming to his full height, he patted the bowl. “Tell me about it.” His expression teasing as he raised a brow at her. “I got a bit distracted there for a minute.”
Heat flooded her system, rushing back to her face as she took the bowl he now held out to her. Tilting her head, she let her hair hide her from him as she placed the bowl back in the crate.
Ugh, he was funny too. Dammit; fit, fine and funny. Dammit-bloody-dammit.
Giving herself an inner shake, she sealed the box back up, busying herself with completing the documentation.
“How did you convince them to let us have it?”
Signing her signature, she collected the box, sliding it back on the shelf, using it as an excuse to move away from him. “No such luck. They’re just lending, for the Gods and Worship Exhibition in October, then the Museo di Roma will be wanting her back.”
Feeling like she had herself under slightly tighter control, she gathered up the paperwork. She’d have to have her wits about her when it came to dealing with him; a little flirting was good for the soul, but he was potent stuff.
“Come on.” Turning back, she grinned, waving him to her. “You’ve got a suit to shake out, and time is ticking.”
Shutting the door with a foul glare at the now pouring rain, she and her luggage made for the elevator to take them up to her flat. The building was a mix of VIP and employee accommodation provided by the Museum, and after being stuck for three years in the basement flat, she’d finally managed to snag a gorgeous little slice of heaven, three floors up that overlooked the private garden.
Turning the key, she pushed open the front door, before stepping inside. She left the suitcase in the little hallway and walking through her apartment began turning on the lights.
She headed for the bedroom, and opened the floor to ceiling fitted Victorian wardrobe doors, and stared in at work suits and neat, sensible, black, work suitable cocktail dresses. And that was the only problem with this place; other than a couple of pairs of jeans, she kept it kitted out for work.
And that just wouldn’t do. Not tonight.
Catching her reflection in her dresser mirror, she stopped. Her long dark hair was a windblown mess, but what had been tired brown eyes now held a glint of excitement, at the prospect of having a flirtatious evening, with the charmer that Jason had left her to babysit. She’d find out what his motives were later—and damn well get her own back. But for now, she hadn’t had a little fun in far too long.
“Time to get my act together.” She had just shy of two hours, and she’d had enough of the dark-grey afternoon for a start. Rushing round she drew curtains and turned on lights, liking the nice peachy glow that warmed everything up.
Spying the speaker across the room, she pulled magic from her core, and with a point of her finger, sent a buzz towards it, requesting music pour out. She grinned. It had been six years ago when magic had all but tossed her from her bed, and every little aspect of it still filled her with pleasure.
Drifting towards her en-suite, the music followed her, the flush-ceiling-lights reflected from all the glass and silver, and the mirrors reflected the travertine tiles. This room had been dire when she’d moved in; she would’ve rather washed in a bucket on the roof. But Jason and her brother had helped her to work wonders.
She played about with soaps and shampoo bottles, lining everything up the way she liked it, before turning on the shower, letting the room fill with steam.
The hot spray washed away the last of the flight and the unseasonably wet and grey day.
Wrestling her waist-length hair up onto her head, she lathered it up, softly singing.
She wondered what had been so important that Jason had needed to rush off to Ireland, and she couldn’t believe for a minute that he was going to cut down on attending all the functions and events. She snorted at the thought. “That would put a serious dent in his extracurriculars.” She smirked to herself at her own joke. She’d be sure to text him that when her phone was back in action.
She rinsed out the conditioner, before shutting off the shower.
Jess grabbed a towel and padded back to her bedroom, drying the last errant droplets from her skin as she went. Bending from the waist, she flipped her hair forward and wrapped it up in the towel, eyeing the wardrobe as she did so.
Lightly biting her lip, she headed for her dresser. Opening the drawer, she looked in at the small amount of supplies she kept here, and selected two violet candles, and a piece of ribbon the same color, to amplify energy.
She stood in front of the south facing mirror and placed the tapered candles in plain ceramic holders. Lightly wrapping her hands around the wicks, she closed her eyes and felt the flame rise from within her. Felt the magic trickle through her veins and settle in her palms, sparking the candles alight.
The dual flames burnt high for just a brief flash of time, bathing her skin in the ancient energy that danced all around. Whispering thanks she lifted the candles and placed them on the floor, either side of the tall wardrobe doors, before taking the violet ribbon, wrapping it around the two crystal doorknobs, and tying a loose knot.
Lifting her palms, magic hazed, trickling a blue spark across the engraved wood.
Whispering beneath her breath, she chanted the spell times three.
“From here to there,
No distance will be,
As I open these doors,
So Mote It Be.”
The candles sparked and flickered at her feet, as the energy pounded between her palms and the doors, before the flames finally hissed out.
Clenching her hands to fists, she waited a heartbeat before opening her palms, releasing the remnant power, offering it up to the ether, before untying the ribbon.
Holding the crystal doorknobs, she slowly pulled the doors wide, to find herself looking into her wardrobe that was back home, in the bay. Rolling her eyes, she grinned. “Goddess, yes.”
She ran a fleeting hand across the coat hangers and selected her favorite dress. A simple black shift that fitted like a dream, with a halter neckline that did wonders for her. The back and wrist-length sleeves were black and completely sheer, and she loved it.
Rummaging through far too many shoeboxes, she came up with her cherished suede pumps with a wicked heel and a dainty ankle strap.
Sitting back on the carpet, she crossed her legs, still smiling to herself as she closed the doors.
Pressing her palms flat against the wood, she closed her eyes, and waited for her energy to focus and still, before clearly stating, “Reverse.”
A chill wind blew across her bare skin, and she felt the shift as everything returned to normal.
Well, mostly normal; the shoe box sat next to her, and her dress lay across her bare legs.
“Time to get motivating, woman.”
Pushing to her feet, she caught her reflection in the mirror; lavender flecks still shimmered in her eyes and the hazey magic was slowly fading.
She smiled to herself as she laid the clothes on her bed, before attacking the towel on her head, shaking out her wet hair.
Forty minutes. She had forty minutes! She applied a little makeup, a little lotion and a little perfume, all in-between bouts of giving her hair a cool blow dry, and smoothing on lacy shorts and thigh highs. Tucking the lace and silks back into her lingerie drawer, she acknowledged the madness of owning what seemed like the entire Agent Provocateur collection. But she loved it. Did anyone ever get to see? No. But that wasn’t the point. She liked it, and that was good enough for her.
Nearly strangling herself trying to do up the zip on her dress without catching her skin or her hair, Jess wondered if these designers thought women were contortionists?
Gathering her hair over her shoulder, she deftly wrapped it into a side chignon, securing it with bobby pins, before finally sitting on the edge of the bed, to slip on and fasten the buckles of her favorite Alexander McQueens.
She grabbed her little black clutch, throwing in a lipstick and her bank cards.
Picking her phone up off the side, she headed for the window, pulling back the curtain to see if the car had arrived, before checking her phone. It was still flashing a ‘No Carrier’ message. Tossing it on the coffee table as she passed, she picked up her door keys and went down for the car.