Caden was there, in the flesh . . . and what incredible flesh it was. Tight black T-shirt, faded crotch-hugging jeans, and an expression that said he had more on his mind than business.

He swallowed. And stared. "Is now a bad time?"

"N-no," she stuttered.

After a lingering glance down her body, he swallowed again. "Glad to hear it." Sydney frowned at his odd behavior, then looked down at herself-and gasped.

Her one indulgence was lingerie, of which she was wearing her latest . . . and skimpiest. Pale and silky, the lace-edged straps of the camisole hugged her shoulders. More lace tipped the low-cut V and hugged the swells of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Silk cupped her beneath their curves, just as she'd like his palms to do. The faint outline of her nipples showed through the flesh-colored fabric. His gaze, his stance, hardened as he stared. She wondered what else did, and fought the urge to look down.

He had no such hesitation, his gaze traveling over the sheer boy shorts that showed off every inch of her legs. Sydney suspected he could see a hint of the fiery hair between, as well.

Blast! The sound of Caden's voice had made her utterly forget she was more than half naked before she answered the door.

"Wait here." Sydney jogged away and returned a moment later wearing a matching dressing gown.

Frowning, she belted the flowing garment around her waist. It didn't cover everything, but enough to make her decent.

"Do you want to come in or stare at me like a mutant in a circus freak show?" He swallowed. "You don't look like a freak. At all." That voice of his poured over her like melted chocolate, rich, warm, tempting. Sydney drank it in, though she wondered if he truly meant it. First, a look. Now, a compliment. Uncharacteristic, to say the least.

"Is this a bad time?" he asked. "Too early to talk?" She stepped aside and let him in. "I'm surprised you're here at all. Is something wrong?"

"Must something be wrong for me to want to talk to you?" On a Sat.u.r.day morning? Yes. "How did you find me?" Caden merely smiled. What the blazes did that smoldering look mean?

"Why not simply call?" she rephrased.

"You never gave me your number."

"I never gave you my address, either. How did you get it?"

"I have my ways."

Very cryptic. But since he was here, maybe she could work his unexpected visit to her advantage, see if he had a bit more interest in her than she'd suspected.

He shut the door and approached, standing close, almost touching . . . but not quite.

"I want to talk to you," he murmured. "Say things I couldn't at the office." Her belly fluttered. It sounded s.e.xual. Until five minutes ago, she would have chided herself for wishful thinking. Now . . . ?

She remained close, and his warm breath hit her lips. His eyes locked onto her as if she was the only woman in the world. Forget flutters, her belly plunged to her knees.

Suddenly, he wanted to be cozy? They hadn't worked together long. It was possible he'd simply been cautious. Maybe it was the reporter in her, but she needed to ask questions, get to the bottom of this.

"Sit down and say whatever you've come to say. Tea?"

"No, thanks." He settled himself on her sofa and stretched his arms clear across the back.

The wide span of his arms, coupled with those amazing shoulders, made her salivate in a way she shouldn't about a colleague. But he wasn't helping, drat him, by looking so s.e.xy-and staring as if she was edible.

"Come sit beside me." He patted the sofa cushion.

Sydney looked between the two empty chairs in the room, then again at the sofa. Gingerly, she settled in next to him. "I'm listening and I like having you here, but if your visit has anything to do with my source for the articles, I'm not taking you with me to our meeting-"

"No, nothing to do with that. But it's important and better said outside the office." Right, then. Well, that made her curious, especially when his gaze skimmed down her body, lingering.

Though she wasn't naked, his gaze made her she felt like it. "Go on." Caden hesitated. "Maybe you should change."

He was suggesting that she put on more clothes after thoroughly looking his fill? Odd . . . his burning stare said he was two seconds from ravishing her; his behavior was cagey. Sydney prided herself on being able to read people, but Caden had her baffled.

Instinct told her that something was off. That same instinct told her she wasn't going to solve this mystery unless she played along.

Finally, Sydney left the room, sashayed down the hall, and shut her bedroom door. Caden lamented losing the stunning view. The woman revved his body thoroughly into overdrive. But he was here to find clues to Anka's whereabouts and the book-and to make this magical nightmare go away.

Caden raced into action and began searching. If Sydney had an appointment to see the woman this weekend maybe he could find an address, a phone number, a name that would prove this goose chase worthwhile.

With the clock ticking, he started with a nearby antique secretary propped against the wall between her living area and her kitchen. Immediately he could see she hadn't stashed the little red diary here. Bills, pictures, a list of things to do, a little calendar with various dates written inside . . . like Aquarius being on holiday. No mention of where she was headed.

He sighed, righted everything, then dashed to the kitchen. Next to the phone he found a shopping list and a neat row of phone numbers for restaurants that delivered. Gads, the woman lived by lists.

Meanwhile, the d.a.m.n clock was ticking, and he didn't care that she needed milk from the market and had a local pizzeria on speed dial. Ignoring an odd tingle and a cold sweat, he scanned the room and saw her handbag sitting on a little table near the front door. No time to be squeamish about invading her privacy.

He unzipped the flap, pushed aside her coin purse, keys, and lipstick. A notepad with a pen attached. He flipped it open. Eureka! It was littered with notes. Some large, some sideways, some in an odd shorthand he couldn't decipher. He lifted one page, another, a third . . . at the seventh, he paused. A whole page dedicated to the story of magickind she was slowly, foolishly revealing.

Sat.u.r.day @ 4, A's place, one of her notes said. This Sat.u.r.day? Who was A? Anka or someone else, like Aquarius? Had Anka been free long enough to have her own place? If she had, why hadn't she returned home? Where was this place? Was it possible that Mathias knew who she was and where she lived? Nothing else on the little sc.r.a.p of paper answered any of those questions. d.a.m.n!

Just below that was a list of seemingly random thoughts under the heading possibilities. She had written yet another list with items like "decomposition of bodies," "magickind living among humans," "magical war/other battles," and "origin of the magical diary." Caden took a moment to absorb those horrific possible stories. Sydney had already written about the battle in the tunnel. Any of these would seem like natural follow-up. And if she wrote a single word of the Doomsday Diary in Out of This Realm, Mathias and the Anarki would hunt her down within hours.

Mathias ate sweet morsels like Sydney for snacks. The thought made his blood freeze.

His reaction made little sense; he barely knew the woman, but Caden's first instinct was to protect her with his life. He knew he'd die before letting Mathias hurt her. And he didn't want to question why.

Caden heard fumbling from the end of the hall. With a curse, he shoved the little notepad back into place, then crept to the living room, planting himself on the sofa before Sydney stepped in, wearing a pair of long, flowing pants and a curve-hugging sweater. He liked the lingerie better. But this outfit emphasized how small she was. If he was to lay her down and cover her body with his, he would completely envelop her and mold every lush little curve to him. . . .

Not a smart train of thought. He was losing what little spare room he had in his jeans, and Sydney's quizzical expression told him that she'd done some thinking while she was changing. That was never good.

"What's so urgent that you had to hunt me down over the weekend? That you couldn't say in the office?" She always got to the point. All the women he had dated who chatted endlessly and never really had a point-they drove him mad. The one woman he wished would prattle and simply let him lead the conversation was having none of it. He sighed.

"Sit beside me." He patted the sofa cushion beside him once more. Charm her, he reminded himself.

She settled in, studying him as if she could read his thoughts. He tamped down on the urge to squirm.

"The office is always hectic," he commented.

"We're in a deadline-driven business."

"True, but that doesn't leave us much time to get acquainted."

"And you think that will improve our working relationship?"

"Perhaps, but that's not why I'm here, Sydney." He purposely dropped his voice an octave and leaned closer.

She raised a skeptical brow. "Out with it."

"I want to get to know you, as a person. As a woman. Not as a reporter." She c.o.c.ked her head and stared at him, the wheels in her mind obviously turning. "For what purpose?" b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l, was this woman immune to seduction? "Are you always this direct?"

"Are you always this vague?" she countered.

This was becoming a proper mess. He was ill-prepared for pretending interest in a woman while he was actually mad for her-yet hiding his desire. He had to be flirtatious, but no more. But his fierce desire was interfering with his mission. He knew how magical men instinctively found their mates, and he suspected that one kiss would be his doom.

"I'm trying to say that you interest me without you filing a hara.s.sment complaint." That made her laugh. "I'll tell you if you cross the line. Interesting how?"

"In just about every way imaginable." That, he didn't have to lie about. The lingerie she'd had on earlier told him without a doubt that she'd have a gorgeous body he'd kill to devour. She fascinated him with the wicked sweep of those little auburn brows over sharp brown eyes. The woman brimmed intelligence.

The way she asked questions, deduced the truth quickly, but carried herself with undeniable sensuality, all dazzled him, along with her zest. Had he ever attacked each day with such pa.s.sion? Certainly not since Iraq and being one of the few survivors of his platoon. Perhaps not even since Westin's death.

"You sound as if you mean more than professionally," she remarked.

He shrugged, hating the need to be coy. "We work together, so the situation requires caution. I hoped we could . . . get to know each other first, then see if we wanted to pursue more." Her eyes narrowed. "This is the first I've heard or seen of any interest beyond the professional."

"I've tried to keep unprofessional thoughts to myself at the office." That was the truth, and hopefully enough for her curiosity.

"You've had them?"

Caden chastised himself for underestimating her tenacity. "You're a beautiful woman."

"Thank you." His flattery only sharpened her gaze. "But this seems . . . sudden."

"I could tell you my first thought after meeting you, but it's definitely not fit for the office, nor terribly polite."

Sydney turned sideways, tucking one leg under her and anchoring her arm across the back of the sofa, her fingers so close to his shoulder. If he leaned toward her just a bit, she'd be touching him. The thought blasted heat to his c.o.c.k.

Then she smiled. "That so? All right, I'll play. I've had similar thoughts." "I thought so yesterday. In your office. It was in your eyes."

"So that's why you decided to say something?"

"Yes." It sounded reasonable, though he'd sensed her interest a few days ago.

"What do you think should happen next?"

"We should take it slow," he murmured. "Get to know each other, then decide if we want to proceed, so we don't jeopardize our working relationship."

"Hmm. Very wise and gentlemanly."

Caden exhaled, hoping she believed him. But one look at her, and he resisted the urge to wince.

Something was going on in that head of hers.

"But let me make certain I understand. I'm to believe that you've had lascivious thoughts since meeting me, but hid them until you . . . either broke into someone's filing cabinet to find my address or followed me home, which shows an amazing dedication to seducing me. Then you knocked on my door on a Sat.u.r.day and looked at me as if you'd like to strip me bare in the foyer. And you did all this so that we could take our relationship slowly? Have I got that right?" Well, d.a.m.n. Caden clenched his fists as his brain went into overdrive. Now that she'd seen through his ruse, how did he repair the damage and salvage his mission-without risking their working relationship and his future?

"What I'd like to do and what's prudent are two different things."

"Often, yes. But let me tell you what I think is happening here: You insulted Jamie because he's a slacker, and you object to them as a rule. Very against your military background. You want to be a part of the magickind war story for some reason, and are fixated on my source, and when I refused to let you tag along, you decided to resort to a halfhearted seduction in an attempt to hoodwink me into changing my mind. Is that closer to the truth?"

Dear G.o.d. He'd had undercover missions easier than this. Too smart, she was. "No. What's happening is that I'm far more attracted to a colleague than I'm proud of, and the things I want to do with you would make even your pert little freckles blush. I tried to keep quiet because I need this job, but when I saw it was mutual, I couldn't hold my desire in. I didn't mention it at the office because it's inappropriate there. And as much as I'd like to get you naked in the next three minutes, I don't want to simply s.h.a.g you. That wouldn't help me to know you better. Yes, I'm interested in your source about the magical war story because I understand war, and let's face it, a woman claiming such things is intriguing. But I'm also not trying to rush you to bed because I don't want to build artificial intimacy simply to get my way. I want you to choose to make me your partner at the office, regardless of our personal relationship." That sounded logical. And a bit too close to the truth.

Sydney sent him a considering stare. "What do you recommend next?" Caden released the breath he'd been holding. Maybe she believed him. Perhaps. He had to keep to his role. "Lunch?"

"Actually, I was about to toss together a sandwich. You're welcome to join me."

"I meant to take you out."

"Wouldn't staying here allow for more privacy? If we're going to get to know each other, that's much harder in public."

And much easier for him to put his hands all over her, as he was dying to now. "Whatever you like."

"Perfect." She rose to her feet and headed for the kitchen, grabbing ingredients as she dashed about.

"Tell me about your parents. Are they still alive?" He was supposed to be getting to know her, finding ways to make her trust him, not the other way around. "They are, but I was a late-in-life baby. They're quite elderly. Yours? I want to hear about you."

"Later." She waved off his question. "So you're caring for your brother because your parents can't?"

"Precisely."

"Other siblings?"

Not anymore, and not for anything would he drag up that terrible story. "None. You? Any siblings?"

"Only child. Stop changing the subject," she admonished, opening a jar. "Mustard?"

"Please. I really want-"

"How much older is your brother?"

Three hundred sixty-seven years. He suspected she wouldn't take that well. "Upwards of a decade."

"Significant, then. Tell me more about his illness."

"Lucan is unconscious, they have little idea how to help him, and this isn't the Inquisition." He rose and entered the kitchen. Sydney stood against the counter, spreading mustard on brown bread.

He eased up behind her, placed his hands on her hips and whispered against her neck, "I'm here to get to know you."

With a saucy tilt of her head, she shot him a glance over her shoulder. "As I've said, no siblings. My parents are both professors. My mother teaches history at Oxford. My father once taught, but now conducts very important research to help create a purely artificial fuel source." Caden winced, and Sydney laughed. "You asked."

"They sound very serious, indeed."

"They're even more so in person, I a.s.sure you."

Something on her face gave Caden pause. "And are they supportive of your career?" She hesitated. "I'm a bitter disappointment, and I'm reminded of that every time I see them." Though Sydney said it laughingly, he could read the pain on her face. She was hurt by their lack of support. It was foolish and stupid and dangerous, but he eased his arms around her. "I think you're brilliant, and I have no doubt that someday you're going to be wildly famous for doing exactly what you love."

"Hmm. Flattery." She didn't sound impressed.