Aeromancist - The Beginning (Seven Forbidden Arts 2)

Kat gave her an exasperated look, but her curiosity was too big not to tear open the envelope and pull out the card. After reading, she handed the gold-trimmed card to Diana.

Diana’s gaze moved over the card as she read. “Wow. Shit. That’s such a lovely poem. Are you going to call him? I thought he never gave out his number, at least not according to the tabloids.”

Kat released the breath she was holding. “Of course I’m not calling him.” She wasn’t going down that road.

“Don’t you want to at least see what it is?”

Kat stared at the box. Who was she kidding? There was no way she wasn’t taking a peek inside. Carefully, she wiggled the lid loose and lifted it. Frosty vapors escaped. Inside, a portion-sized, delicate, blue cake with intricate frosting and sugar flowers sat on a golden plate.

“Holy cow,” Diana said. “Is that ice cream?”

Wow. It was the most beautiful cake Kat had seen. A pleasant glow of appreciation heated her body despite her resignation to remain indifferent.

“He sure as hell isn’t average.” Diana sighed. “Then again, the usual flowers and chocolates are too average for you. I’m envious. Can I call him if you’re not going to?”

Pushing away the fuzzy feeling Lann’s attention ignited, Kat said with renewed determination, “I’m not having dinner with him, and neither are you.”

“Why in the world not?” Diana exclaimed.

“Because it’s not a dinner invitation. It’s an invitation to have my heart broken.”

Diana batted her eyelashes. “I’ll gladly take him up on the offer.”

“You’re beyond saving.” Kat took the cake and made her way to the kitchen. “Go to work,” she called with a smile over her shoulder. “You’re late.”

Alone in the flat with the cake melting in the kitchen sink, Kat pulled her notes closer and tried to focus on what she was going to write. It wasn’t easy with her stomach in a knot and her mind pulling in a different direction.

Finally, she gave up, went to the kitchen, took a spoon, and installed herself at the breakfast nook with the cake. It would be a sin to waste something that obviously took so much effort to create. Dipping the spoon into the soft ice cream, she took a bite. Flavors of blueberry and litchi exploded on her tongue. The creamy ice-frosting balanced the tangy fruit flavors perfectly. She closed her eyes and hummed in ecstasy. It was the most delicious ice cream she’d tasted. The cake was the perfect portion for one person, and in a few minutes she’d cleaned the plate. It didn’t mean Lann Dréan could buy her agreement with ice cream and coffee, she told herself as she went back to her work.

Just as she finally managed to focus on a full sentence, the doorbell rang again. She gave a start, knocking her knee against the table.

Ouch. Damn, that hurt.

For a full ten seconds, she sat very still, and when the buzz wasn’t repeated, she got up quietly and tiptoed to the door. Looking through the peephole, she saw no one. After another cautious second, she dared to open the door on a crack. The hallway was empty except for a small box wrapped in blue rice paper and a white card that sat on the doormat.

Sighing, she snatched up the box and card, and shut the door. Adamant to ignore both items, she left them on the table in the entrance and went back to her work, but the box had a magnetic pull that interfered with her concentration.

Ah, darn it.

Curiosity won again. She stomped to the entrance, grabbed the gift, and pulled off the wrapping paper to reveal a silver box. She pushed on the release mechanism to open the lid. The inside was lined in blue silk, and in its folds lay a silver hairclip. She held it up to the light. It was shaped like a butterfly, its wings encrusted with red stones—rubies maybe. It was a piece of art. The craftsmanship stole her breath. Carefully, she replaced the precious object in its box.

From a drawer in the desk, she took a padded envelope on which she scribbled Lann’s address. After sealing the box inside, she called a courier company and paced the lounge until they arrived. When she closed the door on the deliveryman, she blew out a heavy breath. That should do it. Lann would definitely get the message now. Only then did she dare to open the card that had come with the box. This time, there was no poem, only two lines written in Lann’s immaculate handwriting.

I’d give anything to know what it would feel like to tangle my hands in your hair. Name it, and it’s yours.

She bit her nail. She had to admit, the lure was strong. Of course she wanted him. After all, she was only a woman, but she’d worked too hard for what she’d achieved to be distracted. No, that was an excuse. The truth was that she was frightened. Mac had hurt too much. Getting over him was hell. She couldn’t go through that again. What she needed was reliable and stable, not mysterious and dangerous.