Authors: Tracy Madison
“How can you say that? I know how Grandma’s mind works, and she’ll focus in so hard on this that she’ll believe in everything that dream is telling her. And if that dream says…” Alice stood and strode to the sink, filling a glass with water. “I can’t lose her. Not yet!” She drank a gulp and turned back to me. “Just promise me that if she comes to you, if she asks you to try this, that you’ll say no. Please?”
I looked into the pain-filled eyes of my best friend and I did something I never wanted to do. I outright lied. By omission, but still. “If from this moment on, Verda comes to me and asks for her magic, I’ll tell her I can’t give it to her. That’s my promise.”
Alice’s entire body slumped in relief. “Thank you. And you’ll tell me if she does ask, right?”
Hating myself, I continued. “Of course. If she makes this request in the coming days, I’ll tell you at once.”
Under normal circumstances, Alice would’ve caught on to my odd wording, but with so much on her mind, she heard only what she wanted, what she expected to hear. She thanked me again, and shortly afterward, I took off for home.
I should’ve been angry with Verda, but I wasn’t. Sure, she’d manipulated me by not giving me the entire scoop, but I didn’t really blame her. Especially now that I understood Alice’s and Elizabeth’s issues. Verda in her wisdom probably figured I’d react similarly, because she knew how much I loved her, or that I, at the very least, would insist on talking with Alice and Elizabeth first. But honestly? She needn’t have worried, because even knowing what I now knew, I wouldn’t have done anything different. I trusted Verda, and if she said she needed her power back, then I believed her,
no questions asked. My only real fear resided in Alice, in what her reaction would be when the truth came out.
Suddenly, five weeks and five days seemed way too short a time. I should’ve given Verda a couple of years to come clean. Maybe a decade.
“Why haven’t you phoned your sister, Chloe?” Miranda asked in her oddly lilting way.
I’d just arrived home from Alice’s to find the ghost of my great-great-great-grandmother reposing like a queen on my bed. It was slightly disconcerting. Mostly because she looked like she belonged there.
“Were you here the other night?” I asked, rather than responding. “I felt but didn’t see you.”
She shrugged, a light grin playing across her lips. “I check on you every now and then.”
I scowled. “So, what? You’re like a Peeping Tom? Hovering around to see what I do and how I do it? Not cool, Miranda.”
“Oh, hush. I leave when you’re involved in”—she cleared her throat—“intimate matters.”
Yeah, that made me feel better. Not. “So were you here for a reason? Or just to spy.”
“I wanted to be sure you’d help Verda. You did, so there was no reason to make myself known.” She spoke with such conviction that my lingering stress over Verda lightened. “But tonight, I want to know why you haven’t contacted your sister.”
“Sheridan has my phone number. She can call whenever she wants.” I made my voice as cool as possible. “If you’re here to push me into mending fences with her, you’re wasting your time. ’Cause that is so not going to happen.”
The colors around Miranda bounced and shimmied. “She needs you, but she’s too proud to tell you that herself. And you’re too stubborn to make the first move.”
“I’ve made the first move, and the second, and the third. She isn’t interested.” I kicked off my shoes and heaved myself up on the dresser, taking a seat there, pretending unconcern. “But what do you mean, she needs me?”
“I mean exactly that. You might be surprised at how interested she is.” Miranda lifted her hand and an image appeared between us, like a movie screen suspended in thin air. It showed my sister sitting in what I assumed was her living room. Of course, I didn’t know this for sure, as I’d never visited her in Seattle. She had a photo album in front of her, and she was crying as she slowly turned the pages. “Those pictures she’s looking at are of you and her, of your life before your parents died. She misses you, Chloe.”
My sister. How had I not realized how fully
I
missed
her
? I reached out toward the image as if I could touch her, soaking in every detail: her chin-length strawberry blonde hair, her wide blue-green eyes so much like our father’s, her long, narrow face with a spattering of freckles. Oh, how she hated those freckles. Whenever I thought of Sheridan, I thought of her laughing and smiling, of her sunny, optimistic outlook on life. But this image of my sister was anything but happy.
“What’s wrong with her?”
“Maybe you should call her and ask her yourself?”
I cannot even begin to express how much I wanted to. But you can only get burned so many times before you quit reaching into the fire. “She knows how to get a hold of me,” I said again. “If she wanted me in her life, she’d let me know.”
“Why do you try so hard to dismiss the connection between you? You need Sheridan just as much as she needs you.”
I continued to stare at my baby sister as she wept. The anger and hurt from years of avoidance softened, bringing tears to my eyes. “I thought she was happy,” I murmured. “I thought she was so happy, she didn’t want me around, because I just remind her of everything she’s lost.”
The image disappeared, and I had to force myself not to cry out, not to beg Miranda to bring it back. I turned my focus to her, tried to empty my mind and heart of my sister’s tears.
“What you’ve
both
lost,” Miranda pointed out. “But you still have each other, and I’m growing tired of waiting for one of you to get off your ass and do something about it.” Yes, the ghost actually cursed. If I weren’t so upset, I might have found it amusing.
“Is this what you were talking about before? About all of your daughters recognizing each other? Because I’m not going to tell Sheridan about the magic, or you, or about our connection to Verda, Elizabeth and Alice.” I pushed myself off the dresser, annoyed and angry and sad and scared.
“And why is that?” Miranda tipped her head, looking as if she could see my soul.
“She’s like Isobel!” I shouted, referring to Verda’s daughter, and Alice and Elizabeth’s mother, who knew about the magic and Miranda but wanted nothing to do with either. “Sheridan is ridiculously practical. She organizes her cupboards in alphabetical order, she buys clothes that never go out of fashion and she follows the rules and does every last thing by the book! She thinks my business and my beliefs are ludicrous, and I’m telling you now that she won’t believe in any of this. If I try to convince her, it will just make things worse between us.”
“From what you say, things can’t really get any worse, can they? So, what do you have to lose? Perhaps opening up to her will draw you closer.” Miranda beckoned. “Come here, child. Sit next to me.”
With jellylike legs, I stumbled across the room and perched on the edge of the bed. Instantly, and weirdly, my swirling emotions calmed. “I know Sheridan better than you do. She will not accept this. Besides, you told Isobel it
was her choice to take the magic or not, to accept it or not. Why is this any different?”
“Because Isobel knows the truth, accepts the magic as being true even if it scares her but chooses to turn away from the gift. That is her right. However, Sheridan does
not
know, so you are making the choice for her. And that, my dear, cannot be.”
“Then you tell her. You go and give her the news.”
“I’ve tried,” Miranda admitted. “But she doesn’t see me. She isn’t ready to see me. And my time is growing short.”
That startled me. “I thought you were here to stay. Elizabeth said that you planned on being here to help Rose grow up.”
“I’m still hopeful that will be the case, but I’m feeling a pull, a very strong pull, and I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to resist it. So I need you to go to Sheridan. Even if you aren’t ready to tell her everything, you need to begin to find a way to cross the chasm between you. Then someday, when the time is right, you can tell her the rest.”
My jaw twitched. “I don’t know. I’m tired of her rebuffing me.”
“She’s ready to hear from you. Trust me in this,” Miranda pushed.
Feeling as if I had no choice but to agree, I made the promise. “Okay. Fine. I’ll call her.”
Miranda smiled, and a luminous glow shone over her. “Thank you. I think you’ll find her far more receptive than you imagine.”
I nodded, still unsure about following through but knowing I would. Eventually. However, at the moment my entire attention was drawn by the light surrounding Miranda. While different, it somehow reminded me of Mari. “Last time, you said I had a journey. Does that journey have anything to do with helping others?”
Miranda’s smile broadened, and a glint of satisfaction gleamed in her dark eyes. “Yes. You have the ability to heal, Chloe.”
I frowned. “Like Rose?”
“Rose will have many abilities. Your healing power isn’t for physical wounds, but those of the heart…those of the soul.” Again, Miranda looked at me so deeply that I felt as if my entire being was opened up to her. “Your magic is already growing and changing, yes?”
“Yes,” I confirmed, thinking first of my sparkly veins, and then of the strangeness of Mari’s last visit. “And there’s this girl, she—”
“Everything has a connection,” Miranda interrupted. “Your abilities, the people who come into your life…even the drawings that Alice has created. All of these are connected to each other. It’s up to you to figure out how. It’s up to you to decide how to use your power properly, which future you will claim and which futures are there because of, shall we say, certain choices and decisions.”
I let out a sigh. “Can you possibly be any more evasive?”
She laughed like a tinkling bell. “If you’d like me to, then yes, I’m sure I can pull it off.”
“Stop, Miranda. Everything is a mess. Between Kyle and Ben and those drawings and this girl…I don’t know which way is up. I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing.”
“Trust in yourself. Trust in your instincts. And Chloe? Your gift is very powerful. As I said before, you’ve always had the ability to sense magic in objects and people around you. Because of this, your magic can do so much more than either Elizabeth’s or Alice’s.”
She rose from the bed, hovering above it as if residing on an invisible throne, sparkling with colors and light. Really, not all that different than what I saw running through my veins when my magic was strong. “But I’m confused by the drawings, by—”
“I have to leave now, granddaughter. If you look inside of yourself with complete and utter honesty, you will find the answers you seek.”
Annoyance zipped into me, but before I could speak, her form glimmered and then faded away. I was left sitting with an open mouth and a rapidly beating heart. “Come again soon,” I muttered.
Laughter echoed through the room. “Oh, I will return. When you’re ready.”
“Lovely,” I whispered. “Just freaking lovely.”
“Is this sexy enough for you, Ben?” I asked my reflection in the mirror, my hands skimming over my sheerer-than-sheer black lace negligee. This little number came from a shop across the street from the Mystic Corner. I’d popped in earlier on my lunch break, and one look had sealed the deal. I’d even paid full price. Not only was the lingerie the sexiest garment I’d ever owned, but my plan was to greet Ben that evening while wearing it.
I know. Crazy.
And if this evening worked out as well as I thought, Ben would be staying over. For the whole night. Seeing how Paige had asked for more hours and was now taking over Saturdays for a while, that left me free and clear to spend the entire next day with Ben. Assuming he stayed the night, of course.
I sort of thought he would. Because rather than continuing to be upset about his rebound comments, I’d decided to use our fun-and-games agreement to full advantage. And that meant no rules. Not one. I was going to do whatever I wanted. Even if that scared me senseless.
Meeting Ben and then dropping into the drawing of our wedding scene had changed the course of my life. And while I knew we were just getting started—had barely met, even!—I wanted to move forward as quickly as possible. I figured a night of passion would help hugely in that regard, and that after we had mindboggling sex, he’d start to come around to my way of thinking. And yes, if our kisses were
anything to go by, then I was fairly certain that sex with Ben would definitely be mindboggling.
Narrowing my eyes, I tried to see myself as Ben would. The negligee was open in front, held closed by a tiny black ribbon under my breasts, and the hem skimmed high on my thighs, leaving very little to the imagination. Skimpy black silk panties made sure I didn’t show everything. Because yeah, I’d like him to have to work at least a little. I tipped my head, giving myself a once-over, wishing for ampler curves and longer legs, for a body that called out to the other sex. But my muscles were firm, and while my breasts barely weighed in at a B cup, they filled out the negligee well enough.
I tightened the spaghetti straps a bit more, helping to push those barely B-cup breasts up, to give the illusion of greater cleavage. I’d already brushed my hair until it gleamed and had applied my cosmetics expertly enough that my eyes had a smoky, sultry look. No lipstick, though. I didn’t want anything between my lips and Ben’s.
“You’ll do,” I murmured. I mean, hey, if the guy found me sexy in full clothing, then this should blow him away. And if not, I was definitely doing something wrong.
I slipped on the matching black lace, barely-longer-than-the-negligee robe and tied the ribbon at my waist. My eyes darted to the clock, which ignited the nervousness I’d thus far ignored. Twenty-five minutes until Ben arrived. If I stopped dawdling, I had just enough time to finish setting the stage.
In the kitchen, I placed onto a tray the various bowls and dishes I’d prepared earlier, along with the bottle of wine I’d already opened, and carried everything into my bedroom. I returned to the kitchen to get the wine glasses, some napkins and a few other items that hadn’t fit on the tray. Once those were also in my bedroom, I pushed out a breath. Fifteen more minutes.
I lit some candles, closed the drapes, folded the bedcovers back and plumped the pillows. I didn’t bother with music, because the only sounds I wanted to hear were the ones that Ben and I were bound to make. As he ravaged me. As I ravaged him. As we kissed, talked and touched each other. I brought my fingers to my lips, already feeling the effects of his kisses, already feeling the heat. With great effort, I shook myself out of my daydreams and got back to work. I didn’t want to leave one thing to chance.
When all was ready, I stood in the doorway, taking it all in. I had never, ever, not once in my life gone to such extremes. Up until now, I’d totally been the type of girl who let the guy make the first move. Another shimmer of excitement whipped through me. This was fun! Scary, yes. Nerve-racking, yes. But also a hell of a lot of fun. And I couldn’t wait to see his expression when I opened the door.
I didn’t have to wait long. The knock came five minutes early, fueling my excitement and nerves to a degree just short of boiling over. Before letting him in, I closed my eyes and silently wished that this night would bring everything I hoped and yearned for, everything I wanted. Then I formed my lips into the best sultry smile I could and answered the door.
Ben opened his mouth to say something, probably just a greeting, but then he closed it. Fast. In barely a breath, his eyes darkened with desire and longing. Oh so slowly, his gaze dropped from my face to my chest, to my stomach, to my hips, to my legs and then back up. A sigh whispered out of me as my skin warmed beneath his intimate appraisal. I felt completely naked, as if he truly saw me. The real me, the entire me.
“You are luscious.” His baritone held the slightest of tremors. He stepped inside and closed the door, locking it. The click echoed in my ears. “Exquisitely luscious. And totally unexpected.”
Butterflies swam in my stomach. I tipped my chin up, so I could see into those remarkable eyes of his. “I told you I wanted us to be alone.”
“So you did. I—”
I didn’t wait for whatever he was going to say. Standing on tiptoe, I grazed my lips over his jaw. “I hope you don’t mind a slightly unorthodox dinner.”
“I’m”—he coughed, as if to clear his throat—“fine with whatever you’ve planned.”
“I’ll remember you said that.” Hooking my finger into his waistband, I batted my lashes. “Dinner and entertainment is this way.”
A rough-and-tumble laugh poured out. “What type of entertainment?”
“You’ll see.” I tugged him toward me and led him to my bedroom. We stopped just over the threshold. Nervousness made my hands shake as I started to unbutton his shirt.
His hand came down over mine, stilling my movement. “Look at me, Chloe.” I did, and he brushed my mouth with his thumb, as he had at the Mystic Corner. “This is pretty much every man’s fantasy,” he admitted with a wicked gleam in his eyes. “But Red, don’t you think we’re going a little fast here? We’ve only known each other a short time.”
“Trust me. I’m not going to rip off all of your clothes and leap on you. But…well, I thought we could have a little fun getting to know each other better.” A shiver coursed through me. “And then we’ll see where that takes us. Maybe you’ll be ready to leave, or maybe we’ll decide to watch a movie, or maybe”—I whisked my knuckles lightly over his still-clothed chest—“
you’ll
leap on
me
. I’m happy no matter how it goes.”
“Sounds…more than fair.” His voice had deepened. “I’m in your hands tonight.”
Liking the sound of that, I finished unbuttoning his shirt and with his help slid it off. “Oh!” I said in a very mouselike
squeak. “You’re…Wow, Ben. How many days a week do you work out?”
“Almost every one,” he said, sounding embarrassed. As if he were caught doing something naughty. “As a stress reliever.”
I nodded and swallowed. My gaze drifted slowly down his torso and then, just as slowly, back up. His muscles, rather than being huge and bulging, were tight: hard and smooth, both well proportioned and extraordinarily well-defined. He looked like a Roman gladiator. And he was mine, all mine. At least for tonight.
I swallowed again. My tongue darted out, licking my lips. Yum. Just
Yum
. And yes, I totally mean with a capital
Y
. He was without a doubt, absolutely mouthwatering, the hottest guy I’d ever dated, let alone had shirtless in my bedroom.
I slid my palm up from his washboard abs, feeling the soft dusting of curly, dark blond hair on his chest, muscles rippling beneath my touch. “I—I’m breathless.”
“I take it you approve?” When I nodded, he breathed in deeply through his nose. His eyes drifted over my head, taking in the scene. “Are we eating in bed?”
Again, I nodded. My hand went to his belt. “What do you have on under your pants?”
He pushed out a short, ragged breath. “Boxers. Why?”
I began working at his belt, undoing the buckle and sliding the belt from the loops. “If you were going commando, that might”—heat touched my cheeks—“make what I have in mind a little difficult.” Because as much as I wanted to see him naked in my bed, that wasn’t how I wanted to start. Mostly naked would do just fine.
“And what devious plan is in that mind of yours, Chloe?”
“I’ll tell you. But first I need you to take your pants off.” I rolled my bottom lip between my teeth. “If you do that, I’ll take off this robe. Then”—I flipped my head toward the bed—“we can get started.”
He worked his jaw as he looked at me with questioning desire. For a split second I worried what he might be thinking, but then a dark and dangerous smile split his face, and he bent over and unlaced his shoes. When those were off, he unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. He removed and folded them into a neat square and placed them on my dresser. Then he grabbed his discarded shirt and draped that over the pants.
I held back a smile, which was hard. He stood before me in nothing but a pair of navy boxer briefs and black socks. The boxers fit him like a second skin, hugging his hips, his butt and the tops of his muscular thighs in such a way that I rolled my lip between my teeth again. My God! How could any man look this good and not be taken?
His hand shot out and tugged the bow that held my robe together. It slithered apart, and I pushed my shoulders back, letting the lacy piece of fabric fall to the ground. A groan choked out of his throat. His fingers brushed the negligee’s gap, softly and languorously stroking my belly. “I might very well die tonight,” he said in a very serious tone. “You are bewitching.”
I arched a freshly plucked eyebrow. “Like ‘Witchy Woman’ bewitching?”
“Maybe.” His fingers wrapped my waist, his touch searing, branding me. “But you’re definitely bewitching. And bewildering. And breathtaking.”
“Damn straight,” I teased, as if I were used to hearing such compliments. In truth, his declaration zipped through me, filling me with pleasure, heating my cheeks another degree. Most of my life I’d heard how cute and perky and girl-next-door-like I was. Not bewitching. Not bewildering. And most definitely not breathtaking. I found I liked his assessment quite a bit.
“Can I kiss you, Chloe?”
“Not yet.” I walked to the bed and climbed on. Crossing
my legs, I patted the space next to me. “Will you join me? Please?”
He did and, mimicking my position, crossed his legs. I carefully lifted the tray I’d prepared earlier and put it in front of us, within both of our reaches. I picked up a bowl off of the tray and set it down between us.
He gulped. “Are we playing a game?”
“We are. In this bowl”—I nodded to it—“are questions. I’ll ask you a question, and if you answer it, then you get to choose something off of the tray to eat…and you can choose anywhere on my body you want to eat it from. Then it’s your turn to ask me a question.”
“What happens if I don’t answer?”
“Then I get to ask another question. Until you answer one, you don’t get to eat.”
“But if I do…” His eyes swept my body. “Anywhere I want?”
“Within reason,” I said, my voice way breathier than normal. “You can’t remove any of my clothing. That’s the only rule. Do you want to play?”
“I do.” He gulped again. “Yes, Chloe. I want to play.”
A surge of power—not of the magical variety—rushed into me. It was the type of power that being a woman, a desired and sexy woman, brings. I found I liked the feeling quite a bit. It was new, exciting and more than a little heady. “Do you want to go first, or shall I?”
The blue in his eyes became dark indigo. “Your home, your game, your rules and your bed. You should go first.”
Heat and hope brought a tremor to my body as I dipped my hand into the bowl, selecting a folded slip of paper. I’d written down every question I could think of, from the silly to the mundane to the serious, that just might help us get to know each other better. I’d also thrown several away, deciding they were either too serious or too silly.
“Okay. My question is ‘How old were you when you had your first crush, and what was this person’s name?’”
“That’s an easy one. Her name was Wendy LeBlanc, and she was my nanny when I was ten.” He whistled. “Dark brown, almost black hair, brilliant blue eyes, and she had a mole”—he pointed to the spot just above the left side of his mouth—“right here. I asked her to run away with me when I was eleven.”
I grinned. “What did she say?”
He pouted. “She said her heart belonged to another, but that someday I’d make some girl a very lucky woman.”
“And did you?” The question came out before I could stop it.
“Play by the rules, Red. Unless that question is in that bowl and you happen to choose it, I don’t have to answer.” His eyes locked with mine. “Besides, I’m suddenly starving.”
I dropped the slip of paper on the bed. Stretching my arms behind me, using my hands to brace myself, I arched my back into a curve. My negligee fell open, draping backward at the sides, baring everything from the line of my panties up to the ribbon beneath my breasts. “What are you hungry for?” I asked, another tremor tickling along my skin.
“Most men would go for your breasts.” He reached over and plucked a strawberry out of a dish. “Maybe they’d put this in your cleavage and bury their heads in your”—he waggled his eyebrows—“heaving bosoms.”
The image sent a wave of heat through me. “What about you?”
“I am not most men.” He very purposefully and slowly dipped the strawberry into a bowl of chocolate syrup and then held it over his tongue, letting chocolate drip into his mouth. My body quivered.
“So…um.” I swallowed again. “What’s your choice?”
Sliding the question-filled bowl to the side, he leaned over and drizzled chocolate from the strawberry onto my navel. The muscles in my stomach clenched, then the ones in my thighs. Another quiver stole over me. His hand dropped
down and he skimmed the berry along my skin, the syrup spreading into a thin, warm layer. My muscles bunched again and then released in a jerk. I tried to breathe, but my lungs refused to cooperate.