Jodi Redford - Maximum Witch

When put that way, it sounded damn ridiculous. But he had little else to go on. Sometimes even the tiniest clue that at first light appeared completely inconsequential ultimately offered up the biggest solution to the puzzle. He scrolled through the entries but found nothing dated before yesterday, and that number was linked to her work listing. Reluctantly admitting defeat, he stuffed everything into Willa’s bag and returned it to the passenger seat. He glanced up and caught the wry twist to Boone’s mouth.

“I’m going to give you the same advice I gave Willa. Relax. Her memories will come back soon enough, and she’ll be able to fill in all those missing blanks that are driving you crazy. In the meantime, you’ve got a sexy, beautiful woman lying in your bed. Wearing your T-shirt and some skimpy panties.” Boone’s grin turned wicked and challenging. “Why the hell are you still sitting here?”

Willa glanced at the bedside clock for the millionth time and gusted a heavy exhale. Okay, in reality they hadn’t really been gone that long. There was no reason to assume they were standing over her stripped-down car, scratching their heads over why anyone would want parts from a fifteen-year-old Taurus.

Unable to take it anymore, she jumped off the bed and began pacing the carpet. Her attention fell on the cordless phone on the nightstand. As much as she appreciated Max’s offer to let her stay the night, she felt kind of weird about taking him up on it. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him. He’d been nothing but an absolute gentleman from the moment she’d regained consciousness. But it’d probably be better if she found someone else to watch over her tonight.

Unfortunately, the only person she could really ask was her best friend, Marabella. Willa’s aunt Aurele lived all the way in Atlanta. Definitely not convenient. Plus she didn’t like the idea of worrying Aurele. Hoping Max wouldn’t mind her using his phone, she picked it up and punched in Marabella’s number. Almost immediately, a computerized female voice came on announcing that Marabella’s voice mail was full and to try the call again later. Scrunching her lips in frustration, Willa hung up and settled the cordless into the charger. More than likely Marabella was out on a date. Which meant she wouldn’t be available to come pick Willa up anytime soon.

Looks like I’m stuck with Max . What a hardship that was. Ignoring the sexy shiver that shimmied down her spine, she abandoned the bedroom and walked down the hall. She passed a room that appeared to be a den. Or maybe a small home office. Nosiness getting the better of her, she stepped inside the dimly lit space. A black modular desk was tucked against the farthest wall. Silver-framed photos lined the upper shelf. Lured by the possibility of learning more about Max, she crossed to the desk and clicked on the candlestick lamp so she could inspect the pictures. There was one of Max receiving some kind of award. She leaned forward, squinting as she tried to make out the words inscribed on the plaque in his hands. Finally she gave up and moved on to the next photo. This one was of Max again, only this time he was flanked on either side by a beaming older couple. Max and the other man shared a remarkable resemblance, leading her to believe it must be his father.

She took in the obvious love and affection radiating from the trio and was reminded of her own parents. The photo blurred as her eyes became misty and a cramp squeezed just above her rib cage. Even after all these years, she missed her mom and dad with a fierceness that ached in her soul. Although her aunt Aurele had tried her best to make up for the loss of Willa’s parents all these years, nobody could completely fill the void of their absence.

Her mind returned to Max’s startling—and completely erroneous—conclusion about her being anything other than human. She’d had time to think about it and kept circling back to the one damning thing that proved him wrong.

Her parents drowned, her nearly along with them. They hadn’t possessed some miraculous ability to breathe under water.

Neither did she.

A beam of light glanced off the frames and expanded, imprinting the stark silhouette of her head against the wall. Headlights. Her morose musings scattered. She pivoted and spied her Taurus pulling into the driveway. Giving a happy yip, she rushed from the room. She reached the front door the same time Max did. The second he stepped across the threshold, she flung her arms around him. “Thankyouthankyouthankyou.”

Something plunked onto the tiled entry, and an instant later Max’s palms slipped around her back, their heat sinking through the thin cotton of the shirt. His scent enveloped her, heady and fresh as the ocean. She shivered, swimming in sensory overload.

His fingers splayed and tightened in a tempting caress before sliding free. He swallowed, the intriguing flex of his throat muscles working when his Adam’s apple bobbed. “Sorry, I dropped your bag.”

Snapping out of her sensual haze, she lowered her scrutiny to the floor. And gasped. “My purse!” Relief sweeping her, she crouched onto her haunches and hugged the bag to her chest. “Amazing how you don’t realize how much you rely on something until it’s not handy.” She plopped the oversized tote between her feet and rifled through the compartments until she located her spare glasses. After wiping a tiny smudge with the hem of the T-shirt, she tucked the tortoise frames in place and smiled. “Case in point—being able to see clearly again. Hallelujah.”

She looked up and found Max staring at her. He mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like sexy librarian , and she blinked. “What?”

He shook his head. “Nothing.” Shoving a hand through his dark, close-cropped hair, he eased the front door shut with the heel of his shoe. “How are you feeling?”

“Okay. A little tired.” Her stomach rumbled, the noise making her blush. “Hungry too, from the sound of it.”

“I could make us something to eat.”

She gaped at him. “You can cook?” A grin tipped the corners of his mouth and she chuckled. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make it sound like you being able to cook was a miraculous feat or something. It’s just that most of the guys I know can barely figure out how to work their microwave.”

“My mom is the executive chef at a restaurant in Galveston. She taught me everything I know.”

Her sigh broke free before she could snuff it. “You’re gorgeous and can cook. Please let me have your babies.” No sooner did the statement escape and a pregnant silence blanketed the foyer. Eyes widening, she met Max’s intense gaze. “Could we, uh, pretend I didn’t just say that out loud?” She nibbled her bottom lip, her skin flushing.

His focus drifted to her mouth, lingered there for a moment before he took a deep breath and scratched the back of his neck. “I think we better figure out the food situation.”

The idea of following him into the kitchen and watching him do questionably sexy things, like brown butter or chop onions—shirtless, no less—sounded way too inviting. And risky, considering her mind couldn’t seem to stop conjuring images of them getting busy beneath the sheets. Still, she couldn’t exactly bow out of helping without looking like a spoiled princess who expected to be waited on hand and foot. Biting the bullet, she traipsed after him, trying not to ogle his ass.

Max’s kitchen was a testimony to his obvious passion for the culinary arts. Moss-green granite countertops blended seamlessly with stainless-steel appliances. The crown jewel was a large center island housing a Jenn-Air range. She waited next to the counter, eyeing the delicious selection of oranges piled in a red-and-white speckled colander. The sound of water splashing while Max washed up muffled the resulting grumble of her stomach. She couldn’t understand why she was so damn hungry. Famished, actually. Like it’d been days since she’d last eaten, rather than hours.