On His List (Entangled Flirts) by Wendy Sparrow

vision from Rick’s attractive face. Over Rick’s shoulder, a man with blond hair and icy blue eyes sat at a table alone. He was staring at her. Staring into her. She trembled, not from the cold, but from the intensity of his gaze. His face and physique could have been carved from ice, he was so pale and his bones so sharply defined.
    He was here.
    The man she’d spent seven years avoiding was beautiful in a way no man had a right to be—slender, tall, pale, like the statues of Roman gods. Not bulky, just smooth flesh and tight muscles. Her fascination ran deeper than his outward appearance, though. She knew him. And, yet, she’d never seen him before—not here, not in this world. This was exactly what she’d worried would happen if she came to a snowy place, if she stepped back within his grasp.
    He looked so calm in the cable-knit, steel-gray sweater and black cords. Almost casual, like he belonged here. He hadn’t been there when they sat down, though it appeared as if he was just finishing a meal. Not even the draw of a crackling fire could have kept her eyes off him. If he’d been within a mile of her that day, she’d have known. He had that kind of presence. She knew he’d simply appeared, just now. As ridiculous as it was, that was what had happened.
    He smiled—just smiled—and a roar beat through her veins, a freight train of heat so at odds with how frozen he always made her feel.
    When she saw him, all she could think about was sex. Cold, frozen sex in a bed with sheets as white and as cold as snow. Sex that left her hungry, dissatisfied, and immeasurably chilled.
    The kind of sex they had every night in her dreams.
    She craved his presence as much as the warmth surrounding her but, at the same time, he terrified her. This terrified her. His ability to grab her attention, to hold her captive—was frightening. Like an unpredicted blizzard, he rushed in and buried her under this avalanche of awareness, of feelings.
    Jack. Jack was here.
    Damn him.
    “Kate? Kate?” Rick prompted before looking over his shoulder. The two men’s eyes met, and Rick’s jaw tightened as his body froze.
    Jack inclined his head and got to his feet, leaving a large bill on the table. He was tall—over six feet. The way he moved on a slow glide was almost otherworldly. No, it was otherworldly. Jack had one foot in a magical world and one in this one.
    As he walked by, his hand brushed hers where it rested on the edge of the table. His skin was freezing, but electric—like that first moment when she’d plunged through the ice. His touch felt as sharp as the frigid water. She heard the whispered words in her head, “at last…” on a long slow exhale. She couldn’t take it as anything less than a promise. She was his again. She’d stepped into Jack’s world, and she was his. She rubbed at her skin, but it was no use, every touch was as imprinted as a heavy winter boot in the snow.
    Her eyes followed him as he wove his way out of the restaurant, and it seemed to her that time had slowed and maybe even stopped—that the crowded restaurant was silent and still. She blinked, and he disappeared.
    She blinked again. Where had he gone? She looked around and tipped back in her chair to look for him. He’d been right next to the hostess’s podium then he’d just melted away. The noise. The crowd. It was all back to how it was before.
    “Where’d he go?” she whispered, already knowing how he’d disappeared. Magic. He’d appeared by magic and disappeared just the same.
    “Kate.” Rick reached across the table and grabbed her hand. The warmth of his skin on hers was jarring. It felt…wrong. She withdrew her hand from Rick’s and wrapped it around the mug. “Sorry.”
    She was imagining things. She had to be. She hadn’t seen him. He hadn’t touched her. None of that made sense. It didn’t. There was no such thing as magic. The dreams were just dreams. Her memories were just hallucinations from the cold and its