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A second later, a frazzled-looking Owen stepped into my office, closed the door, and leaned back against it with a big sigh. “I’m going to kill him,” he said.
This wasn’t quite what I’d expected in our first moment alone since he’d met me at the airport a couple of days earlier, but we were at work, and he obviously was irked about something, so this probably wasn’t the time for a romantic reunion. Knowing that didn’t stop my heart from fluttering at his presence. “Is that a threat or a premonition?” I asked, trying to sound casual. “And who is this marked man?”
He shoved himself away from the door and collapsed into the chair in front of my desk. “Who do you think?”
“Our friend Idris?”
Owen ran his hands through his hair, leaving bits of it standing on end. “That was too easy.”
“How did he earn your wrath? I mean, this time.”
“He’s decided that he won’t talk to anyone but me. I’m a researcher, not an interrogator, but we need whatever information he has, so I’m stuck with the job. And you’ll like this part—he wants to talk to you, too.”
“How did he even know I was back?”
“I think he’s trying to avoid talking by making what he thinks are impossible demands.”
I made a show of moving paper around on my desk, like I was terribly, terribly busy. Never mind that most of the paper was blank. “Well, we can’t always get what we want, can we? He’ll just have to learn to live with the disappointment.”
He chuckled bitterly. “I wish I could pass on that message. Unfortunately, we need him to talk, and he won’t talk unless you’re in the room.” With an attempt at sounding upbeat, he added, “It could be fun to shock him if he thinks you’re not even in town.”
“But I have a job to do! You heard what I have to pull together in less than two months. I don’t have time to spend chitchatting with annoying, mildly evil people.”
“It’s all work toward the same goal, isn’t it?” he said with a weary shrug. “We want to stop the bad guys. We might not even need your event if we can get Idris to tell us who he’s working for so we can deal with him directly and shut him down. And I’m guessing from the way you looked this morning that you know how important this is.”
“Yeah, I got caught in a Spellworks special.”
“What was it this time?”
“Influence spell, used to make someone steal a wallet and hand it over and then used to start a fight. A bystander stopped it with a Spellworks charm. I bet it was a setup—a form of guerilla advertising.”
“You’re okay, though?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. I may have to wear turtlenecks in May to cover the bruises I’m sure to have, but no serious harm was done.”
He leaned forward and touched my cheek, a worried frown creasing his forehead. “Does it hurt?”
I’d almost forgotten about it, but his touch brought up a whole new range of sensations that were anything but painful. “It’s just a scratch,” I said, trying not to swoon.
“Maybe I’d better go back to escorting you to and from work.”
Was that a purely practical suggestion, or did he have ulterior motives? “If you think that’s necessary,” I said, aiming for a mildly flirtatious tone.
“I don’t know if you’re in danger, but with all those influence spells, I may need you to slap some sense into me.” His eyes twinkled with humor and a hint of mischief.
“Well, if you insist, but let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
“Do you think you’re up to dealing with Idris now?”
“This may be the best time. It’ll be nice to take it out on the person who deserves it.”
“Maybe you can terrify him into talking, and then we can get all this over with and go home.”
I got up and followed him out of my office. Perdita jumped when she saw us. “Sorry about that, Miss—Katie, I mean. I tried not to let him through, since you were working, but he just barged in.”
I silently counted to three and reminded myself that she had no way of knowing that Owen had an all-access pass. She acted like she didn’t even know who Owen was. “That’s okay, Perdita. This is Owen Palmer, from Research and Development. His department creates the spells we market, so I’ll need to talk to him often. You can let him in at any time, and you should always put his calls through.” I knew that was safe to say, since with Owen’s funny knack for knowing things, chances were he wouldn’t ever show up at a bad time.
She gasped an “Oops!” and put a hand up to cover her mouth. “Oh, sorry about that. And sorry, Mr. Palmer. I didn’t know.” As she turned to him to apologize, she got a good look at him, and then her eyes got a funny glint to them. Owen had that effect on women. He really was quite gorgeous, with his dark hair, blue eyes, and a face worthy of a sculpture.
