Enchanted

by Judith Leger

Genres: Contemporary Romance; Paranormal Romance

Synopsis

She knows how to unravel secrets, but getting to the bottom of this one might just kill her. Magic is for fools, television news reporter Caitlyn believes. And she's no fool. She's determined to prove master illusionist Shay a fake. Somehow though, with Shay the lines between magic and reality blur. Perhaps it's his charisma, or being in Ireland with him, but now she's dreaming of a magical place. One that seems oddly familiar. . . Shay hides a terrible secret. He's to blame for Caitlyn's separation from her family and the world she doesn't remember. She must go home to the Sidhe, and to recover his honor, he must be the one to bring her. He'll willingly lose everything he is to help her break the curse binding her. But time is of the essence--the old evil has surfaced. He must make Caitlyn believe in magic, and his love, before she becomes its prey. 75,874 Words

Release date: September 1, 2012

Publisher: Lyrical Press

Print pages: 210

Sample

 

Chapter 1

 

Caitlyn. Two weeks until her birthday. Two weeks until her death.

The words seeped through Shay’s mind, filling every fissure to overflowing. He had to save her. Time ran too fast, and even magic couldn’t slow the days ahead.

Hoping for distraction, he glanced out the tinted window as the limousine glided along the curb in front of a sleek, mirror-glassed building where his agent, Lance Parker, leased office space. There, an array of reporters, with their corresponding photographers, milled about on the sidewalk.

Shay likened them to wolves, seeking to devour him whole. He hated the rangy beasts, having been attacked and severely wounded many years before. Now these human canines waited, some in dull wrinkled clothes, others in expensive suits or dresses. Yesterday, his requested press release had informed them of his arrival in Los Angeles for tonight’s performance. Today, they lay in wait for him at all the places listed on the press release where he might show up during his stay. He doubted Lance had missed a single tabloid with the announcement.

The limo pulled to a stop at the corner. The dark tint on the windows dulled the camera flashes as the photographers rushed forward. His heartbeat accelerated with excitement when he noticed his dark-haired agent elbowing his way past the crowd.

A bodyguard’s suited arm appeared and pulled the door open. Crisp, cold air mixed with exhaust fumes poured through the opening, ruffling Shay’s hair. Heels clacked on the concrete, and shouted questions spewed from the crowd as they shoved and pushed to take advantage of the chink in his protective barrier.

Shay shot a glance at the golden-haired man sprawled on the leather seat next to him. Rhys, casually attired in dark slacks and navy sweater, lifted a brow in return. Sudden panic came over Shay, bringing a contrary need to laugh. Uncontrollably. His freedom would soon end. Rhys would see to it. His long-time friend’s faith had ended years ago, and it was his fault.

With his power, Shay had been lucky he still lived. If only he’d not listened to one woman, none of this would have happened. With the news he hoped to get, for the first time in twenty-five years, hope for Caitlyn bloomed, but also for a possible healing of his friendship with Rhys.

Until he met Rhys’s eyes.

Was that hatred he saw darkening the blue? Shay swiped sweaty palms over the leather pants encasing his thighs, but his hands stuck for a second. No doubt, it’d take much more than saving Caitlyn for Rhys to forgive him.

When he faced the door’s opening, Lance dove through the crowd, stopped for a second to speak to the guard, then ducked into the limo. The door swung shut, muting the clicks from the cameras and the onslaught of questions. Shay studied his agent as Lance settled against the seat backing the driver. His skin prickled in anticipation for whatever news Lance brought him about Caitlyn.

Lance extended a plastic case containing a DVD. “I knew I could count on you to be on time. This just arrived by special courier. Reiley’s last newscast. All the arrangements have been made.” Breathless from his dash to the vehicle, he spoke faster than normal. His gaze shifted to Shay’s left and snagged on the other occupant of the limo. “So. Who’s your friend?”

Glad for the distraction, Shay held back a smile and took the case. He stared at the silver disk through the milky cover. “He’s an old friend of mine. Rhys. Lance Parker, my agent. Rhys is in town on business.”

“What do you do? Acting, music? Illusions like Shay’s?” Lance reached out with a neatly manicured hand and shook Rhys’. He shifted back and tugged his suit sleeves. Charm oozed from the practiced smile plastered across his face. When Rhys didn’t reply right away, Lance surveyed the slender blond man and continued, “If you need an agent, let me know. With your looks and body, you can go a long way.”

Unable to think of a better profession for Rhys, Shay commented. “He’s a gardener.”

His long-time friend deserved a reduction in status for arriving in Los Angeles without warning. Shay angled a remote at the divider next to his agent. A built-in, flat-screen DVD player rose from the seat and the drawer slid open. Handling the DVD with care, he placed it in the tray and closed the drawer.

Lance frowned. “Gardener?”

Shay glanced at Rhys and resisted the urge to grin. Rhys wouldn’t like the idea of everyone believing he worked for Shay. The slender man sat relaxed, his long legs propped up on the opposite seat. His finely etched features complemented the white-blond hair tied back with a black leather strip. He radiated quiet confidence and superiority, belying the tension seething beneath his calm facade. Muscles taut, Shay waited for the first words from Rhys. The older man had to follow his lead or all his well-laid plans would fall apart.

Rhys’s keen gaze turned toward him for a moment before moving onto Lance. “Yes, a gardener. I supervised the landscaping for Shay’s home.”

The low, accented voice flowed over Shay. He loved sounds. Loud, quiet, tinkling, clunks, all sounds. Even silence pleased him. Some, like heavy machinery, distracted him. Listening to Rhys’s lyrical Welsh tones soothed him. He needed soothing. Time was disappearing too fast.

“You did that?” Lance stared open-mouthed.

Ignoring the two men, Shay focused on the voice coming over the speaker. His heart pounded once before speeding up. He tried to slip from the leather seat, but the leather on his pants caught and halted his forward motion. As he teetered on the edge, an urge to fall to his knees in respect came over him. Instead, he leaned closer to the screen and stared at the dark-haired reporter, his breath suspended at the back of his throat. Excitement over finally finding and seeing her filled him, and he had to struggle to keep his expression noncommittal.

Caitlyn Reiley.

Her name meant pure beauty. Shay searched for the evidence on her face, but from what he could tell, her years in the human world had concealed her true beauty. Plain, perhaps dull, better described her.

Her slender figure was adorned in a simple navy suit. She appeared fragile. The genuine texture of her skin lay hidden behind a coating of makeup. The light coloring seemed wrong on her, and even caused her features to appear vague and unattractive. Dark-rimmed glasses obscured the beauty of her green eyes. Those eyes lacked the magical vitality that existed in every daughter of the Sidhe. Yet, she was the one he had been searching for the past four years. He sensed a different aura about her than what he noticed in normal humans. Almost as if her powers leaked through the cracks in the spell placed on her.

Lance frowned as he turned to the screen. “Why her? You could have anyone–Barbara, Joan, Maria–but you chose this.”

Rhys coughed, and Shay sensed his friend’s increasing hostility at the unintentional insult to the woman. Lance didn’t need to realize how important Caitlyn was to him, so Shay murmured, “I want to keep the viewers focused on me, not the reporter.”

With his gaze centered on the young woman reporting in clear and precise phrases, he waited to see if he had succeeded. He held his breath, not sure of what to expect with Lance’s response.

His agent stayed silent for a few seconds. Shay’s eye twitched as a bark of laughter erupted from him. “I should have known. You don’t want to share the limelight with a famous reporter.”

Excellent. He exhaled a slow breath, releasing the tight knot which had formed at the back of his throat from holding in the air. His agent had responded just the way he wanted. Greed and egotism were two human aspects Lance Parker understood. He would never comprehend any other motive behind Shay’s choice.

“This is great.” Lance grinned and tapped on the window behind him. “I’m out of here. I told your bodyguard to drop me off. Have a lunch appointment. Do me a favor?”

“Hmm?” Shay didn’t look away from the screen. Caitlyn was talking to another woman. In a span of one moment, she smiled. His heart skipped a beat, and an answering smile budded on his lips, but he stopped. His body swayed closer to the screen. In that brief second, he witnessed a fragment of her beauty. He remembered her smile.

“Keep your secrets. Remember, the more mysterious you are, the better your fans love you,” Lance remarked, slapping him on his shoulder before the limousine stopped. The door opened and with a backward wave, the agent was gone.

Shay eased back into the seat.

Rhys lowered his feet and sat forward, gaze trained on the screen. “Is it her?”

“It’s her. I can feel her. She and I–we don’t have much time.”

“No, she does not.” When Rhys spoke, his voice trembled.

Hearing the words from him served to emphasize Shay’s need to help her. Rhys took a deep shuddering breath and turned a cold gaze on him. “For you, though, eternity is before you. In hell, I hope. Remember–bring her home no later than two weeks from today. You should, at this time, have had some luck in releasing her from the curse. Otherwise, she will be lost.” He waved his hand in a helpless gesture.

Shay didn’t respond. He had to find a way to help Caitlyn. She was doomed if he failed. He stared at the screen, concentrating. He knew where she was and now he could focus on capturing her attention.

The low hum from the limo’s engine helped alleviate some of his tension. Pressing the Pause button on the remote, he narrowed his eyes and stared past the dark frames into Caitlyn’s. He wished he could freeze her life as easily. Pity for her ignorance concerning her fate engulfed him. He switched off the player, faced the window next to him and tried not to think about the future.

 

 

Chapter 2

 

“Hey, Reiley. Kramer wants to see ya.” The male voice came from the opening to Caitlyn Reiley’s cubicle, reaching her over the cacophony of others speaking, phones ringing and keyboards clicking in Channel 52’s newsroom. She groaned and pivoted toward the opening. By the time she turned to question the unseen messenger, he had disappeared.

She exhaled slowly, faced her desk and set her purse down. Sharp pains radiated from her tired, cramped feet and sped to her brow. She rubbed her fingertips against her throbbing temples. With a glance at her wristwatch, she frowned. She had just stepped into the newsroom from reporting on a tiny-tots pageant seminar for most of the day. The seminar had taken longer than she’d originally planned. Now, when she should have been able to sit and go over her report for the seminar coverage, she was told to see Kramer.

The station’s business manager, Mike Kramer, didn’t like to wait. First, though, the makeup had to go. She reached inside her purse for her compact. Ever since she was old enough to wear cosmetics, she’d tried but failed to grow accustomed to the pasty feel of it on her face. Added to the fact her biological mother wore heavy cosmetics, Caitlyn refused to associate anything in her life now to her turbulent childhood. An image of her mother’s face loaded with thick foundation and sky blue eye-shadow appeared in Caitlyn’s mind. She shoved the picture aside, cringing at the remembered texture of the cracked lipstick and flaking mascara.

The dull ring of the telephone set off tingling explosions in every nerve ending connected to her skin. Frowning at the compact, she shoved her purse out of the way and jerked up the receiver. With a deep breath, she answered, trying to keep her voice calm and even. “Caitlyn Reiley. May I help you?”

“Catey? What’s up, girl?” Marcy’s chirpy greeting caused Caitlyn to sag.

“Oh, not much. Just about to face Kramer in his office,” she said with a sigh.

“Huh?”

“My boss wants to see me. We’re not a major TV station locally, and the management’s making cutbacks. I think I might be one of them.” Caitlyn sat down at her desk and twisted and untwisted the telephone cord.

“Is it that bad over there?”

“Yes. When they opened this station six months ago, they hired too many people. The administration let four people go last month. They weren’t reporters, but that doesn’t mean management isn’t going to start cutting us next. Why today? This rates as one of the worst days of the year for me.”

Marcy released a short laugh. “Come on, it can’t be that bad.”

“Wanna bet? I just finished filming a piece on tiny-tots pageantry. I didn’t know there were so many little Miss America wannabes in this area. When I arrived back here, someone told me Kramer wanted to see me. He never sends for me.”

Dropping the cord, she pressed the compact latch and it opened with a snap. She glanced at her image in the small mirror and wrinkled her nose. Still the same. Nothing spectacular there. Dark hair held tight in a bun at the base of her neck, black-rimmed glasses framing dull green eyes, rouge-covered cheeks and matte lipstick. With her glasses, she didn’t need the added cover of eye shadow and liner.

“Calm down. You’re overreacting. They’re not gonna let you go.” Her friend’s voice took on the familiar big-sister tone she used on Caitlyn when she wanted to get her point across. “You worry too much. Get your butt up and go see the man. You told me the other day the polls chose your segments above all the other stations. He might have an achievement award for you, not a pink slip.”

“I doubt that,” Caitlyn muttered. Not wanting to pass her rising depression onto her friend any longer, she tried to sound cheery. She needed the makeup off before facing Kramer. The cakey stuff made her uncomfortable and vulnerable. A minute or two wouldn’t hurt. She hoped.

“So, what’s up with you?”

“I just went shopping and bought the cutest shoes. They’re wedges, red skinny straps, very sexy. You’ll simply die to have a pair…”

Half-listening, she allowed Marcy to rattle on so she would have time to remove the makeup. She held the phone to her ear with her shoulder, tugged open a desk drawer and removed a box of damp wipes. Makeup was a necessity in front of the camera. She didn’t mind making concessions like that if it meant moving forward with her career. Since she wasn’t scheduled to film again today, a few swipes with the damp cloth and the face paint disappeared. Satisfied after another quick pass over her cheeks, she closed the compact and threw the cloth away.

“–Shay Evers–”

At the mention of the famous illusionist’s name, Caitlyn grabbed the phone in her hand and straightened. “Wait, what did you say?”

“The performance. Tonight. Front row seats. Backstage passes. Erica bugged out, going south to meet Paco.” Marcy stopped and groaned. “Let’s not go there. You’re second on my list of stand-ins. You simply have to go with me. So, be ready by six, okay? You’re gonna love Shay. He’s fabulous to look at and after tonight, I hope he’ll be all mine.”

Heart racing, Caitlyn struggled to control quickening breaths. This physical reaction had become normal for her during the last four years at the very mention of the illusionist’s name. From the moment she had turned on her television that warm summer night four years ago and caught one of his performances, she had developed a strange dislike for the handsome Welshman.

Her heartbeat would speed up, sharp twinges would shoot through her middle and heat often soared through her veins to the degree she had to sit down and fan her face. She refused to call what she experienced an infatuation, and she didn’t believe in love at first sight. She didn’t believe in that overrated emotion at all. All her life, she had seen the results of that sappy feeling. Her mother and father had cared about her so much they both lost her to the system and never came back to claim her. Honestly, she didn’t know what love comprised, but it certainly wasn’t what she experienced when seeing the illusionist.

She was tempted to take Marcy up on her offer, but she resisted. When she answered, she kept her voice even, refusing to allow her emotions to show. “I can’t believe you’ve fallen under that guy’s spell.”

“Everyone has. I thought for sure you would too, but–”

Caitlyn interrupted her. She didn’t want to open a conversation concerning Shay Evers. “Thanks for the invitation, but no. If Kramer doesn’t do what I know he will, I want to go home and relax in a hot bubble bath. Given a choice between Shay Evers and suds, I’ll take the suds.”

Without meaning to, she mentally compared her tub filled with warm water and brimming with bubbles to meeting and speaking to the superstar. An image of Evers reclining in the tub appeared in her mind, his dark hair shining in candlelight, a lean hand raised, beckoning her to join him. She straightened, fighting the sudden heat pumping through her veins. “Listen, I hate to cut you short, but Kramer doesn’t like waiting.”

“Oh, sure thing,” her friend said. “Call me in the morning so I can fill you in.”

Caitlyn agreed with a laugh and placed the receiver on its cradle. No use putting it off any longer. She needed to accept the fact that after she left Kramer’s office she would probably have to start job hunting. After a deep breath she stood, locked her purse in her desk and tugged at the hem of her business suit jacket.

With her chin up, she headed for Kramer’s office. The labyrinth of the newsroom outside her cubicle stretched in front of her. Desks and hinged partitions sectioned the area for the reporters and other employees. The huge room, flanked on one side with windows, smelled of burnt lint from the heating unit. The unit didn’t do a great job keeping the chill out, but the sheer number of the bustling news people kept the temperature bearable. When she reached the far end and came to a short hallway, she slowed. Kramer’s office was the second door to the left.

For a moment she considered how she would respond if he laid her off. Not good. She gritted her teeth as pride forced her forward. Her knock landed harder than she intended, stinging her knuckles.

She’d worked relentlessly on her college degree in mass communications just to become a reporter. She wasn’t going to exit this job with meek submission. Her inner strength had sustained her through the time social workers removed her from her parents’ house and placed her in several foster homes. She’d been bounced around, but she’d never allowed the fear of the unknown to show.

Even at this moment, her fear remained hidden. She wasn’t about to let Kramer see any weakness in her now. She swiped her damp palms over the sides of her jacket, hoping he wanted to compliment her and not lay her off.

The low response through the door tightened her nerves. The knob twisted under her palm, and she pushed the door open. When she crossed the room, the burnt smell from the furnace heating the building sharpened in the enclosed space. Her eyes burned. Afternoon sunlight poured from the windows behind the manager’s desk and filled the office. She stared for a second at the shiny spot on top of Mike Kramer’s bald head, amazed at the slickness of the surface.

“Reiley. Take a seat.”

Caitlyn tried not to stare but after not seeing her boss for a few days, she had forgotten his size. The middle-aged manager’s abdomen ballooned from an excessive habit of fast food and more than a few beers. The buttons on his white shirt strained for freedom. With him sitting forward, his belly nearly flowed over the edge of the desk. He filled his chair like a packed sardine.

For several moments, a calculating expression covered his ruddy face. The dark moustache over his upper lip twitched as he stared at a yellow tablet centered in front of him, his right fingers sliding back and forth along the paper’s edge.

She took another deep breath, mentally preparing her rebuttal should her job be threatened. With her back straight, she moved to one of the two chairs angled in front of the desk.

After she was settled on the edge of the leather chair, she glanced up and found Kramer still sat unmoving. Silence filled the room for several minutes. The faster the seconds flew by, the tighter her insides coiled. He had asked to speak to her. Now that she was here, he sat daydreaming.

She covered her mouth and forced a little cough.

Sharp gray eyes focused on her. “Oh, Caitlyn. Sorry, I still can’t believe this,” he muttered. “The sponsors will go nuts for a time slot.”

“Believe what?” She relaxed enough to scoot back in the chair and cross her legs.

“I received a phone call.”

When he didn’t continue, she leaned forward and studied him. His coloring seemed paler than normal. Two months ago, shortly after the station opened, he’d suffered a series of light heart attacks.

“Kramer, are you okay? Do you want me to call someone?” She half rose to go to the phone, but he motioned her to sit.

“No, no, I’m fine. Do you know Lance Parker?”

“The big-name agent?” Settling once more, she frowned. Everyone in Hollywood knew the name. He represented the best performers in film, stage and music. He even represented Shay Evers. . .