Finding Haven (34 page)

None of it made sense, but what makes sense when you realize you’re in love with the
one person who keeps you breathing, who simultaneously spins and stops your world.
You don’t close the door on that person—not a second time.

“What are you thinking about over there, pretty girl?” He flashed his killer smile.
I didn’t want to fall for it the first day I saw it on the docks, but I did—right
into the creek.

“I’m thinking about my meeting with Bruce and Carly tomorrow, and how I’m going to
tell my parents I’m on a plane with you right now, and I’m wondering—”

He was out of his seat and his hands planted on either side of my head. “Am I going
to have to kiss you all the way to Texas to keep you from worrying?” He brushed his
lips against mine.

I couldn’t help but sigh and drink in the kiss that tasted like champagne. Private
planes were even better than I thought. “No, but it’s a lot to sort through.” I raised
my eyebrow.

He slid back into his seat. “Yes, it is.”

After he had started driving, we started talking. It was as if we were never apart.
We fell back into our same dance moves, only this time it felt like they were stronger
and sharper. We were going to Austin together. We were going to be
together
. There wasn’t a label or a promise tagged to the conversation, but our hearts understood.

The captain announced that we were about to take off. I watched as the runway peeled
past us and we shot into the air, headed for the Lonestar State. The state responsible
for creating Evan Carlson.

Evan was reading something he had pulled from his bag. I bit on my lower lip. Just
watching him made me happy. When he was gone, everything hurt. In only eight hours,
all of the ache that had circled and clamped on my heart had removed its talons. It
was beating again, wildly and hurriedly for him.

“What are you reading?” I asked, noticing his hands were stretched over the title.

He blushed and his fingers moved to the side.

“You’re reading
Red Lines
?” I giggled. It was a chick book. The kind that girls at school couldn’t stop talking
about. It was popular, erotic, and hot. I had read it before graduation.

“Should I not read it?” He folded it in his lap.

“Oh no, read it. Definitely read it.” Evan didn’t need pointers, and he certainly
didn’t need any creative suggestions in bed, but there was always the chance it might
inspire him. My chest tingled with the idea.

The captain announced we were at a safe altitude to move about the cabin. I smiled
as the flight attendant appeared to refill my champagne.

I wondered what Evan would be like in Texas. Could he be more cowboy than he already
was? He had told me he didn’t want to make any more movies for a while, but he still
had responsibilities with a staff, and he had loose ends to tie up with the latest
press fiasco.

He had made it abundantly clear that he would do anything and everything I needed
for my music. I loved that about him; he was filled with more good than I had ever
seen. He helped everyone, and put him or her first—always.

I felt my shoulders relax. That protective nature kept him from telling me the truth.
Honestly, I don’t know what I would have done if I had known who he was from the beginning.
I didn’t care that he was a celebrity, but it might have kept me from giving him a
chance. It would have been too intimidating to know I was dating the World’s Sexiest
Bachelor. I giggled, realizing I had caught the biggest fish of the summer.

I unbuckled the belt around my waist and moved next to Evan. He reached for a pillow,
shoved it at the end of the loveseat, and laid down, giving me the perfect nook to
cuddle into.

I nestled on his chest, settling into the rhythm of his breath. He held the book up
with one hand. I loved the way he felt under my palms. I loved his cologne. I loved
his hand resting on my hip. I loved everything about him.

He might have been cussing about something he read, I wasn’t sure. I closed my eyes
and let my body melt into his. Nothing felt better in the world than sleeping next
to my very own movie star. And he was mine.

Read other books by T.A. Foster

(On Safe Sex)

The author would like to note that the characters in this book are extremely responsible
and practice safe sex measures: condoms, birth control, and annual physicals. In the
interest of maintaining the appropriate pace of the storyline, some of these details
are left to the assumption of the reader. All characters would like you to know they
are responsible and promote the safest of sex ;-)

Keep reading for previews of Cover Spell, when the world meets Evan Carlson for the
first time, and Kissing Eden.

Cover Spell

T.A. Foster

Description

Trying her best to mend a broken heart, Ivy Grace travels to hot and sultry New Orleans,
the set of her latest novel turned movie. There, she does her best to focus on polishing
the screenplay when the film’s lead actress goes missing. A budding romance with the
movie’s heartthrob and the reappearance of an old flame, test Ivy’s strength, resolve,
and heart as she works to solve the mysterious kidnapping. The undercover witch, who
craves a regular life, learns she will need more than her
Time Spell
to fight the evil plaguing New Orleans. New spells, new adventure, and new love take
Ivy on a whirlwind journey of magic that unlocks more questions than answers.

CHAPTER ONE

W
HEW!
I didn’t remember New Orleans being this hot on my last trip. I pulled my shirt away
from my chest and fanned myself. The sun scorched my skin. I looked around for a cold
drink.

“Cut! Cut! Cut!” The director’s voice boomed overhead. “You’ve got this all wrong.
Let’s take a break and start over in thirty minutes.” The mob holding lights, microphones,
and fans scurried like ants in all directions.

I jumped up from my seat, and made a dash for the drink cart tucked under one of the
few umbrellas on the set. I let my hand linger a little too long in the ice bucket
of sodas.

“Darlin’, you need some help cooling off?” The deep sexy voice and Texas drawl ebbed
over my ears like a slow wave.

Startled, I pulled my hand out of the ice bucket, and with it, a Diet Coke. I laughed.
“Yes, you caught me. I didn’t know it was going to be so hot today.”

He laughed and reached in front of me to grab a water, his arm barely grazing my stomach.
“I take it you’re not used to being on a movie set? We’re in for the long haul today,
darlin’.” He twisted the cap off the water bottle and chugged the sixteen ounces.

I watched him wipe the water off his full lips. “That obvious? Yeah, it’s my first
time. I’m Ivy. Ivy Grace.” I smiled at the tall actor who had me smitten about five
movies ago.

“The writer? I know who you are. I was just waiting for the director to yell ‘cut’
so I could walk over and say howdy to you.” His perfectly white teeth peeked through
his lips.

I was smitten just a little bit more. It was the combination of the Texas accent and
the perfect-teeth smile. He had warm gray-green eyes that lit up when he smiled. I
liked the way he paused between his words and wasn’t afraid to look into my eyes,
even if we were only talking about the weather.

The sweat trickling down the back of my neck was my cue to step away from the drink
cart and America’s heartthrob, and perform a quick outfit change.

“Well, it was nice to meet you, Evan.” I wiped the palm of my hand off on my hip and
held it out to him.

His hand clasped around mine. “Nice to meet you, Ivy. Catch you around?”

“Of course, looking forward to it.”

“Stay cool.”

I smiled at him again and watched him saunter over to the rows of talent trailers
bordering the side of the set. I squealed on the inside. I couldn’t believe I had
just met
the
Evan Carlson, hottest movie star, playing the lead in my movie. I looked down at
my shirt and saw water droplets bleeding through the cotton fabric.

Great—movie star encounter with a wardrobe malfunction. I grabbed my leather bag with
the loose pages of the script I was working on, and found a makeshift ladies room.
The talent had individual trailers, where they could escape from the oppressive New
Orleans humidity, equipped with air conditioning, televisions, and cold drinks, but
the rest of us on set had community lounges.

The ladies room was empty, so I opted to use my
Glamour Spell
. It was quick, easy, and never failed me. I watched my reflection in the lean-to
mirror transform from one of sticky clothes, damp blond tendrils, and the beginning
traces of football player mascara to one of a new crisp shirt, shorts, and fresh makeup.
I smiled at my reflection. Now, I felt ready to flirt with hunky movie stars.

I was in New Orleans for a few days to work on the last-minute changes for
Masquerade’s
screenplay. I wrote the book a few years ago, but after the wildly successful novel
and movie for
Vegas Star
, my second novel, my team at Raven Publishing pushed
Masquerade
on Hollywood, and it worked. The movie executives wanted to bring more of my characters
to life on the big screen. The creative team invited me to the set today to watch
the behind-the-scenes action unfold in person. Little did they know, I had seen all
of this in person once before, only then it was actually 1945.

I grabbed my bag and headed out just as a few girls from the sound crew headed in.
They couldn’t stop giggling about something they heard Evan say. I paused in the doorway,
hoping to girl talk with them, but they clammed up and waited for me to leave.

The production of
Masquerade
took place all over the city. Today’s scenes were located in the far-reaching fingertips
of New Orleans. The director wanted to capture as many of the outdoor shots while
the forecast predicted sunny days. According to the local meteorologists, a hefty
early summer storm was brewing in the Gulf, and our daylight opportunities would be
limited.

The set designers had settled on a plantation house to stage the romantic scenes between
Josette and Luke. It was hard for me to let go of the story, and hand over my creative
license to a group of people I didn’t know, but it was all part of the screenwriting
package. I was starting to accept that the movie world was a unique place from where
my literary roots were planted.

You see, I’m not just a writer or your average girl. I’m a witch. I’ve been writing
stories about the places I’ve been and the people I’ve seen. The hard part is I can’t
share my magic with anyone in the non-magical world. I can’t tell anyone about my
Time Spell
. With a lot of practice, I perfected a spell that allows me to travel through time.
What I see along the way manifests itself in the pages I write at night back at home
in Sullen’s Grove, North Carolina. The spell almost cost me my family and Jack, but
I’m not going to fall into that trap again. After everything that happened in Las
Vegas last month, I vowed to avoid stories involving danger. I can’t jeopardize the
lives of the people I love. I won’t.

I surveyed the majestic main house. Monstrous columns anchored on the porch, reminiscent
of architecture I had seen on most every plantation house in the South. The columns
reached to the second story roofline, and flowed through the upper level balcony.
A wrought iron railing fenced in the second story plaza. Black shutters hung on either
side of the plantation windows. I loved the ripple effect of the waves in each pane
of window glass; it gave them such character and charm.

Massive, ancient oak trees bordered the road to the main circular drive. The moss
entangled in the oak branches hung low, just grazing the tops of the fence posts careening
visitors to the tour office. The production studio purchased a week of filming at
Magnolia Plantation, so the crew wouldn’t worry about tourists milling about trying
to catch glimpses of the film’s stars. Occasionally, I saw a local reporter on the
side of the set interviewing someone in the cast or someone on the production crew.