Michelle Rowen: Inevitable

Emma’s heart pounded hard. “Bad idea.”

He had the audacity to smile at her. She felt his gaze on her like a brand. It slid over her breasts and stomach, and her insides tightened with an unwanted but impossible-to-ignore desire.

“See, I knew you knew words other than no, Em.”

“I need to get out of here.” But she didn’t move. They were alone in the library of Xavier Franklin’s mansion with a party going on outside the heavy closed doors. She could hear the voices, the laughter, the band playing some classical number.

“So, you’re still maintaining that you hate me,” Ryan said.

She nodded. “I can’t stand you.”

“But you want me.”

Unfortunately, yes. Damn it.

It was Emma who closed the distance between them. Her mind was foggy, but her body knew what it wanted. It wanted Ryan. It had wanted Ryan since almost the first moment she’d met him. And the lust potion, just a small splash of it, had heightened that need inside of her to an uncontrollable level.

Just because it was inconvenient didn’t mean it wasn’t true.

Dear Reader,

I think some things are Inevitable.

When Emma and Ryan—both agents for the Paranormal Investigation and Recovery Agency—met, it was difficult for them to keep their hands off each other. But between maintaining their self-control and holding on to a friendship they found too valuable to risk destroying with a fling, things just didn’t work out. As they meet again after six months apart, the sparks fly…but they still have those pesky walls getting in the way of their happiness.

That’s why I’m here! (evil laugh) I like to give my reluctant characters a little push in the right direction. For Emma and Ryan, I chose a lust potion. Instead of waiting for things to happen naturally, they fall into each other’s arms…and bed!

Between misunderstandings, magic potions, heartbroken ghosts, stolen goods and masquerade parties, I think they just might find their way toward their very sexy—and inevitable—happily ever after!

I hope you enjoy Emma and Ryan’s story as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please visit my website anytime at www.michellerowen.com. I love hearing from readers!

Happy reading!

Michelle Rowen

National bestselling author Michelle Rowen writes all sorts of paranormal romance—light and dark, sexy and sweet, and has won an RT Book Reviews Reviewers’ Choice Award and a Holt Medallion for her work. A voracious but picky reader, TV viewer and movie watcher, she prefers all her entertainment to include a happily ever after…or else! Michelle lives in Southern Ontario. Inevitable is her third foray into the marvelously sexy fictional world that is Harlequin Blaze. Please visit her online at www.michellerowen.com.

For Eve, Jackie, Jill, Michele, Charlene, and Megan.

Write on, ladies!

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

“I’D BET YOU’VE NEVER SEEN one this big before, have you?”

Emma Black forced a smile to her face. “Wow. It’s really big.”

“Thank you, my dear.” Eighty-year-old billionaire Xavier Franklin gently placed the eighteen-inch-tall antique perfume bottle on a shelf along with other examples of his priceless glassware collection. The brightly lit glass and chrome showroom felt more like something out of a museum than one that would be found in a private home. “But enough about my hobbies, I’ve been monopolizing your time for far too long. You likely want to get back to the party, don’t you?”

No. What Emma really wanted was to get her hands on the potion bottle she’d been sent here, to New York City, to retrieve. When she’d arrived at Franklin’s twelvethousand-square-foot mansion on Central Park West, it had seemed like such a simple assignment.

That had been two hours ago.

She’d arrived to find one of Franklin’s infamous masquerade parties going on. She’d read about them before—glitzy events put on by a man who still thought of himself as one of the city’s most eligible bachelors. With a lot of time on his hands and a ton of money at his disposal, his parties had become the place for the most beautiful and important people in the Manhattan social scene to meet up, drink fountains of champagne, and— Well, whatever happened, happened.

And here she was, being given the grand tour by the eighty-year-old bachelor himself. She supposed she should feel honored. There weren’t a lot of glitzy parties in Mystic Ridge, the town where she lived, unless you counted going for a few drinks at the local bar.

Since Emma had arrived sans costume, she’d been handed a mask at the door. The billionaire also wore a mask, a green one with a large feather.

“Actually, Mr. Franklin—” she said, wanting to move things along.

“Please, my dear. Call me Xavier.”

It was obvious he’d had a few too many glasses of champagne. He grinned at her like a tipsy teenager, the deep wrinkles fanning out around his eyes.

Maybe he needed a little direction to remember the task at hand. “Xavier…you called us, remember? I’m here to pick up your potion bottle and take it back to PARA.”

PARA was an acronym for the Paranormal Assessment and Recovery Agency, of which Emma was an agent. She assessed. She recovered. Since her psychic ability was clairvoyance, she sometimes spoke to ghosts to help direct them on to the next plane of existence—kind of like a supernatural flight attendant. Some of the ghosts even listened to her.

If someone had something they believed was enchanted or cursed, PARA would send an agent to check it out. If it was determined to be dangerous, the article in question would be kept under lock and key in the vault until it could be disenchanted, decursed or destroyed.

PARA was a privately funded business and Xavier was one of its biggest benefactors. Basically, whatever Xavier wanted, PARA provided for him. He’d just acquired a rare bottle of potion, but the potion wasn’t working as he’d been told it would. He wanted it assessed to see if he’d been duped into buying a fake. It wasn’t an important or a dangerous job. It was simply time-consuming. Since her car was in the shop, the bus ride from Mystic Ridge to New York City had taken three hours.

Yes, Xavier Franklin always got what he wanted. He’d, in fact, requested Emma by name after they’d met at a fundraising cocktail party a few months ago put on by the PARA board of directors. She was trying to take it as a compliment, even if it meant she was being used as a glorified courier.

Xavier’s cell phone buzzed and he pulled it from his pocket. “Yes, the bottle. Of course. I’ll get it for you in a moment, my dear. In the meantime, please enjoy yourself. Have some champagne.”

He wandered off with his phone pressed to his ear, the enormous peacock feather set into his mask flopping around at the top of it with every step he took.

The shoes Emma wore pinched her feet. Since she’d always disliked how short she was—all of five-foot-one—she never left her apartment without high heels, the higher the better. This pair had been on sale for a price she couldn’t resist, but she’d been paying the real price for her frugality every minute since she’d put them on.