Fixation (Magnetic Desires Book 3) Read online

  The following two weeks had been filled with the same routine. Frantic to find her, and praying her fears about Brady had been unfounded, I'd barely eaten and hardly slept. By the time I could no longer ignore the fact I wasn't going to find her, I'd covered every square inch of the city. Then I'd called in a private investigator and gone home. It wasn't until the private investigator gave me his verdict that I'd realized everything she'd said in the note was true.

  I crossed the road when the lights changed, weighed down by the weight of memories I wanted to forget. Would she ever leave me alone? She hadn’t changed much, but then a ghost wouldn’t, and that was exactly what she was. Pushing open the door to Nat’s Sweet Treats I tried to shove the image of the girl out of my head. Behind the register, Natalie glanced up as I stalked over to her. “Hey, Nat.”

  "Hey, Leo, what are you after?" She leaned over the counter, showing a little bit of that cleavage I enjoyed so much, and I focused on her, and not the girl I couldn’t have.

  "Coffee. And you in that pink thing you wore the other night." I winked.

  She nodded at the kid behind the coffee machine. "Make it strong. He’s got a long night ahead of him."

  "You’re going to wear the pink, right?" Flashing a grin at her, I leaned over the counter as she ducked down behind it.

  When she came back up, she placed a paper bag on the counter and took my coffee from the kid. "Sure, Leo, whatever you want."

  Scooping them up, I headed back out onto the pavement. A glance in all directions showed no sign of the woman who had ruined me. She’d been nothing more than a figment of my imagination. It was almost a relief to know my mind had played a trick on me. If she suddenly showed up here, I’d… I wanted to believe I’d be the bigger man, but I’d fantasized too many times about taking everything she took from me out on her. Packing my gear onto the bike, I tore away from the curb into the rush hour traffic. The sooner I sold that painting and put her fully out of my life the way she had me, the better.

  Chapter Four

  Lola

  I hadn’t meant to run into him like that. Thank God, the lights had changed or we would have smacked into each other in the midst of the crowded pavement, and I wasn’t ready for that. The way he stared at me with those pale blue eyes of his had my heart palpitating in my chest. I clutched at my throat as he took a step toward me, his gaze locked with mine.

  Our first meeting in six years couldn’t go like this. I trembled under his intense stare as my heart picked up pace. And then some kid yanked his arm and pulled him back up on the curb as a car cut too close to where he’d been. His gaze dropped to the kid, letting the connection between us break and freeing me from his magnetism. Words were exchanged on the other side of the street, and I took the chance to bolt. Sprinting down a side street, I ducked into the alley that ran parallel to the cafe I’d left, and slumped against the brick wall.

  He’d looked so damn good in that navy suit, the way he had on the day I first met him, when he'd gotten down on one knee and asked me to marry him. We’d had the strangest start but even after all these years, he still stole the air around me. Of course, he’d looked even better in jeans and a wife beater, and my mouth watered at a particular memory. Edging along the wall, I peeked out at the street to see if he’d followed me. Mere yards from my hiding spot, he turned in a circle, probably looking for me. Then he moved out of sight, and I could breathe again. Taking a deep, calming breath, I slipped out of the alley and crossed the street, sticking close to the buildings in case he was still looking for me.

  I wanted to see him, my heart ached to stand in front of him, to tell him that even though we’d been parted under such terrible circumstances, I’d never forgotten him. Brady had ripped our happily ever after from us, and I desperately wanted to offer him that now. But not in the middle of the street, not when I wasn’t sure he’d want me. Throwing a glance over my shoulder in the direction he’d been, I couldn’t help feel exposed, but he was no longer there. My pace slowed when I reached the gallery and pushed open the glass door.

  This was his den I was entering. The lair of the lion, and I didn’t know if he would be coming back. I closed my eyes briefly and concentrated on breathing before I stepped inside. The painting that had enchanted me when we’d spent the day in San Juan hung in front of the window, and I couldn’t help but hope he’d added it to his gallery for me. But it wasn’t the painting I needed to see. It was the photograph. The one of us kissing in Ocho Rios. If he still had it, if he’d kept it all these years, then I’d know there was a chance for us. I had to know if he still thought of me the way I did him.

  Behind a desk at the back of the large space, a woman waved at me as she clutched her phone between shoulder and ear. My footsteps echoed in the almost empty space as I wandered from piece to piece. Leo's photographs were beautiful, and I recognized a few paintings of José’s. The artist's works were amazing, and I wished I hadn’t been so worried about Brady when we’d met him in San Juan. It would have been nice to learn more about his process, his passion.

  Other pieces dotted the walls between the works I knew, but I chose to ignore them. Unable to stop the tremor that came with the worry of him catching me, I darted glances at the door every few seconds, but no one came in to the gallery. Pushing on, I spotted what I was looking for on the back wall. My feet almost glided across the floor, the emotion in the photograph pulling me in. His lips clung to mine, our gazes locked, as he dipped me a little for the shot. It hadn’t been a kiss, not compared to the others we’d shared, but it was the moment I’d realized I'd fallen for him and that I wasn’t going to run from him. My hand came up involuntarily, and I had to check my actions before I stroked the glass covering his face, wanting to remember, wanting to imagine it was his warm skin beneath my fingers. If he still had this, then there had to be a chance for us.

  I studied the photograph, aware that every moment I lingered made it more likely he would find out I was here before I was ready. Still, I couldn’t rip myself away, not until I’d drunk in every last detail and reveled in the vivid clarity of one of the few precious memories I had. Soon, I would stand in front of the flesh and blood version of him, and the six years that divided us would be nothing.

  Making my way back to the door, I couldn’t help but stop in front of the streetscape again. I’d fallen in love with San Juan, with the painting, and especially with the colorful houses. My favorite, the yellow, stood proudly as the first in the streetscape. I’d wanted so badly to live there. This piece held raw emotion for me, both happiness and hope. It spoke of the future I wanted when I didn’t believe I could have one. In the corner of the frame was a price tag, and I stretched up on tiptoe to make out the price. Turning to the girl behind the desk, I asked, "You’re selling this?"

  "Yes, it's a beautiful piece isn’t it?" The young woman tottered around the desk and made her way over to me.

  "It really is." Cocking my head to the side, I took it in from another angle.

  "Are you interested in purchasing it?" She frowned, her eyes widening as she chewed her lip.

  "Maybe."

  "Behind the painting’s joyous atmosphere there is a sad tale of unrequited love."

  I darted a glance at her from under raised eyebrows. "How do you figure that?"

  How much did she know of the story? Leo had been proud and sometimes arrogant, and I hadn’t expected he would have told our story to many.

  She folded her hands in front of her. "To be honest, we’ve had the painting now for six years. It's a great piece and we’ve had offers but Mr. Barclay, the gallery owner, hasn’t been willing to part with it until now. I can only assume it holds memories for him."

  "I want to buy it."

  "Great, let me set up a meeting with the owner. He wants to handle this sale himself," she said, leading the way to her desk. Handing me his card, she pulled a pen from the bun on her head while flipping through the diary on the ipad. "There's a spot open on Tuesday."

  I tappe
d the card against my fingernails. As much as I wanted the painting, I wasn’t ready to confront Leo yet. There were still things I needed to do before I showed myself. "Unfortunately, I can’t do Tuesday. Let me check my schedule and get back to you."

  "Sure. But can I suggest you don’t wait too long? We’ve had queries about this painting already."

  "Thanks, I’ll let you know." I slid the card into my purse. "I’ll give you a call in the next few days."

  She stared at me. "I'm sorry if this is rude, but do I know you?"

  I held my breath. Of course she'd likely seen the photograph so many times, but seeing the subject was putting her off recognizing me outright. "No, I'm new in town."

  "Oh." My answer seemed to satisfy her and she went back to the ipad. Exhaling, I turned and strode back out to the street.

  At the end of the block, Leo meandered in my direction, his attention on his phone while he held a brown paper bag and a coffee cup, his camera bag slung over his shoulder. I bit down on the urge to throw myself at him and instead dropped into the shallow entry between the buildings. He stopped at a motorcycle, glancing around, and I froze until he stowed his bag and climbed onto the bike. Only when he'd torn off down the street did I venture out of my hiding spot and head back the way I had come.

  Chapter Five

  Leo

  I set my camera bag down on the edge of the deck and watched my brother’s guests mingle around the backyard. Taking a swig of my beer, I wished it were Jack, or Jimmy, or even vodka. Right now, anything would be better than this charade of an alcoholic beverage that seemed to be the one constant amongst the guests.

  I sat the bottle down beside me and scanned the yard. Birdie’s brother’s house sprawled across the middle of a two-acre lot, and the man had gone all out on this shindig. Fairy lights hung amongst the trees, creating sharp pinpoints of light and soft ambience in the clear spring night. The smell of roasting meat coaxed my stomach into a grumble, and I licked my lips as I stood up and drained my beer. We’d done engagement shots earlier, before the crowd had arrived in full force, but I still needed to mingle and get photos of the guests. Picking up my camera, I scrolled through the pictures I’d taken. Birdie was amazingly photogenic. She seemed to bring an atmosphere of her own to each shot, and Drake couldn’t keep his gaze off her. I lifted it to my eye and played with the lens to get a random shot of the crowd.

  In the middle of the yard, a group of people had gathered around Drake and his fiancée. I rolled the word around in my mouth. It wasn’t something I was used to, but then I’d have to get used to having my brother back in my life before I got over the fact he’d finally found the girl who made him whole again.

  I made my way over to them, in no hurry to be a part of the crowd, or to join the lovebirds at all. Love in general twisted the knife in my gut more than anything else. Seeing it was a reminder of how stupid I'd been to let it cloud my judgment. Shaking it off, I once again wondered if my imagination was to blame for the vision of her I’d encountered yesterday. For a moment, it had seemed all too real. And the way I’d stepped onto the road as she held me captive to her gaze pissed me off more than anything. It wouldn’t have been so bad if I’d planned to wrap my hands around that pretty little neck of hers, but in that moment I couldn’t be sure that’s what I had in mind. Instead, it had felt an awful lot like I would have fallen at her feet and begged her to come back to me.

  Scratching at my beard, I considered it. No, I would have strangled her, because no matter how good she looked, no matter how my body responded to her, when she opened her mouth, I would have been able to see the lies she weaved. That fool who fell for her when we'd first met was no longer a part of me. I pulled my attention back to my brother, who wrapped his arm around Birdie. She tilted her head to smile up at him, and he leaned down to whisper in her ear. Cringing, I halted in my tracks, wanting no part of this love-in. What I wanted was a bottle of something strong and a body underneath me. Neither of which I could get here. Drake had given me fair warning and for once I'd obliged him. Some damn good photos and support for my brother were the only reason I was here.

  Besides, none of these women mattered. Natalie was on speed dial, and she’d be more than willing to accommodate me. Pulling my phone from my pocket, I banged the call button as I turned around and smacked into someone.

  "Sorry about that." I glanced up from my phone and nearly dropped the damn thing. The vision was back, and I juggled my phone as I tried to regain my grip on it, while she stared at me with friendly hazel eyes and a twitch to her lips. My blood simmered as it raced through my veins and threatened to rip me apart. My fist clenched around my phone, and the crack as the casing bent out of shape and broke was surprisingly loud. Easing my hold, I tried to keep my voice low and even but it came out a snarl. "What the hell are you doing here?"

  Two little lines creased between her eyes and brow. "I was invited. And you are?"

  I stumbled back a step, though I managed to make it look like a swagger. The heat sparking in my veins turned to ice. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t put her behind me, and she didn’t remember me at all? Or was she playing a game, like the last time?

  A homicidal tic began under my left eye as I ground my teeth together. "You really are a—"

  "Hey, Mellie, do you know where Mike is?" Birdie interrupted the insult that was about to fly from my lips. Staggering back, my brow furrowed, I stared at this woman she'd called Mellie.

  "I don't know. I’m sure he’ll be around." Mellie said to Birdie, before she turned her attention back to me, resting a hand on her hip.

  Birdie stepped beside me and gave my arm a squeeze. "Leo, this is Mellie. Mellie, this is Leo." Then Birdie was gone, flitting between the guests on her search to find some guy named Mike.

  Mellie stuck out her hand, and I stared at it for several long seconds before I took it. There were no sparks, no heat, between me and this girl who looked so much like the one I tried to forget.

  "So you’re Drake’s brother. It’s nice to meet you."

  "Yeah. You, too." I managed to get the words out without sounding like a psychopath. "Sorry about that. You remind me—"

  Rooted to the spot, still holding her hand, I was unable to get the rest of the sentence out, because across the yard, strolling arm in arm with some guy, was the girl. The one girl whose face I had never planned on seeing again and hadn't wanted to. Too bad her damn face stayed with me always. Shaking my head to bring myself back to the present situation, I let go of Mellie. She followed my gaze, glancing behind her before breaking into a grin and striding away. "Hey, Mike, Lola. You took your bloody time."

  I couldn’t drag my gaze away from Lola. They were twins, which explained why I’d been confused. Lola stood close to Mike, her hands tucked under her arms. He had his arm over her shoulders and I had the urge to rip it off, not just from around her but right off his body. Steeling my jaw, I glared at him, but he was too busy talking with Mellie and feeling up a woman he had no right to touch, to notice me. I wanted to march right over to him and relieve him of any notions he had in regards to the deceitful cow he was shacking up with. She glanced up as I took a step forward, glanced up and held my gaze with those ever-shifting eyes. My heart stuttered as the air was sucked out of my lungs. Slinking out from under his arm, she crossed the yard to stand in front of me.

  "Hello, Leo."

  So many years and she hadn’t aged a bit. Her face bore not one line more than it had the last time I’d seen her, and the sensual curves that had held me captive still as high and as tight as they had been back then. And I was sure if I reached out to pull her to me, I’d find she still felt as perfect, as satiny smooth as she had the last time we’d been together. She was still as beautiful and sexy as she’d been the last night we’d spent together.

  Where have you been? What happened to you? What are you doing here now when I finally decided it was time to move on? My throat closed up, my questions going unvoiced even while I ached to reach
out for her, but she wasn’t who I’d thought she was. The woman had no heart, and no concept of the damage she left in her wake. Lola hadn’t given a fuck about me. She’d run away without even a goodbye. I cursed myself for still wanting her. My hands clenched by my side, I glared down at her as I made up my mind. I was putting her behind me and letting go of my anger. There was nothing I needed to say to her. Turning on my heel, I stalked over to Drake and snapped a couple of random shots to check my settings.

  Working lent me a focus I wouldn’t have had otherwise, but over the course of the next hour, I found myself scoping her out through the lens. She stayed beside that guy the entire time, and I wondered if he was a poor schmuck like me. Lola was nothing but trouble; sexy, euphoric trouble.

  Earlier, I’d had myself convinced I was ready to let her go, to let the past lie and the emotions she brought up with it. Now she was here, in my face, and I wanted her as much as I had when we’d been on the goddamn cruise liner. By the end of the night, I would have to confront her again. I had no idea when she’d moved to Reverence and shacked up with him, but there was no way I could let it go without asking her why she was here, and why the hell she’d gone so far to destroy me, when I would have handed her the money without a second thought.

  Chapter Six

  Lola

  "You look like you've seen a ghost." Mike leaned down to whisper in my ear. "Are you okay?"

  In some ways, seeing Leo again was a lot like seeing a ghost. Six years hadn't erased him from my memory, but seeing him up close now flooded me with details of what had been. He was older, more chiseled, and sharper than I remembered. He’d added to his ink, the artwork now stretching down past his elbows and over the backs of his hands. But it was his face, the deep etched darkness under his eyes, and the coldness with which he regarded me all evening that hollowed me out.