Dates From Hell (12 page)

“Still, Kyle’s right, we can’t leave you alone this weekend,” Jill said firmly.

Claire shrugged, uncomfortable with all the concern.

“Although I’m not going to be any fun tonight,” Jill added with a grimace, then brightened, her expression that of someone who’s just had an idea. “You two could go to the reunion together, though. That way Kyle could go and still keep an eye on you.”

Claire flushed, knowing Jill was playing matchmaker. Her friend had known about Claire’s crush on Kyle for years and thought they would be perfect together. As far as Jill was concerned, the only thing keeping them apart was their own shyness. Claire didn’t doubt for a minute that Jill was trying to push them together, and while she appreciated it, one glance at Kyle’s reluctant expression told her it wasn’t working.

“Well, I’m not certain it’s a good idea to take Claire anywhere until we’re sure she’s okay,” Kyle said slowly. Turning, he moved back up the hall toward the front door, saying, “Keep an eye on her while I go to the grocery store. Okay, Jill?”

“I won’t take my eyes off her,” Jill promised.

2

“H
e is
so
not interested in me,” Claire bemoaned
as the door closed behind Kyle.

“Yes, he is,” Jill said with exasperation. “I’ve been telling you that since we were all twelve. He’s crazy about you, Claire.”

“Yeah right,” she snorted. “That’s why he jumped at the chance to go to the reunion with me tonight.”

Jill tsked with disgust and snapped the lid back on the container of Ben & Jerry’s. “You two are so pathetic. Honestly. You’ve adored him for years, and he’s been following you with calf eyes just as long, yet neither of you has the balls to do anything about it. When he comes back, you should just follow him into his room, jump his bones, and get it over with. I bet the two of you wouldn’t surface until Monday…if then.”

Claire imagined what would happen if she followed Jill’s advice. She imagined Kyle coming home, putting away the groceries in the kitchen, then going to his room for something. She would follow, close the door, then…then…

Then what? Did she throw off her clothes and wait for him to do something? The only problem was, he’d likely assume her behavior was a result of being subjected to the destabilizer. Then he’d start checking her pulse and such.

What if she just walked in, closed the door, then kissed him? Claire bit her lip at the idea. He’d probably blame that on the destabilizer, too. He’d think her brain had been destabilized by the exposure. Blowing her breath out on a sigh, she shook her head. “If he were interested, he’d have done something about it.”

“Like
you
have?” Jill asked archly, taking the ice cream with her as she stood up. “What makes you think he’s any less shy than you are? Besides, he’s in a much more delicate spot than you. He’s your supervisor at the lab. Asking you out could be considered sexual harassment.”

Claire frowned over that as Jill carried the ice cream out to the kitchen. She’d appreciated Kyle getting her the job at the lab. While he’d gotten his bachelor of science and continued on for his master’s and doctorate, Claire—to avoid costing her parents too much money—had stopped with her bachelor’s. Since then, she’d taken courses toward her own master’s at night, while bouncing from contract position to contract position during the day to support herself and her further education. Then, last year, Kyle had gotten her a job in the lab where he was interning under Dr. Cohen. At the end of this year, she would have her master’s and Kyle his doctorate. Now, Jill’s comment made Claire wonder if she should have taken the position in the lab after all.

“The mail’s here. God, they deliver later and later all the time.”

Claire glanced toward Jill as she returned to the living room carrying a stack of mail.

“Bill, bill, bill,” Jill muttered, leafing through the envelopes. She paused at a magazine, stared at the cover, then heaved a depressed sigh. “I bet Ted would have picked me for his wife if I looked like her.”

“You’re better off without him,” Claire murmured.

“Yeah, but if I looked like her, I probably would have been the
dumper
rather than the
dumpee,
” she pointed out, dropping the magazine on the coffee table. “It’s always better to be the dumper.”

Claire peered down at the magazine, noting who was on the cover. Brooke Jordan, one of the world’s most popular—not to mention successful—models. Tall, leggy, slim, and gorgeous, the woman exuded both beauty and sex appeal in megawatts. Men all over the world would kill to be with her, and women all over the world would kill to be her. Apparently, that included Jill.

And me,
Claire acknowledged to herself, then said aloud, “Well, I wish we both looked like her. Then you could dump Ted and maybe I could get Kyle. I bet he wouldn’t be so shy if I looked like her.”

Jill made a clucking sound and propped her hands on her hips as she glared down at her. “He likes you just the way you—”

Claire glanced up in question at the way Jill suddenly cut herself off mid-sentence. The blond appeared frozen, her mouth still open, and eyes wide with shock. Claire felt herself go stiff in reaction as concern welled up within her. “What is it?”

“Oh…my…God!” The words were drawn out and spaced apart for emphasis.

“What?” Claire asked, getting to her feet. She peered down at herself in a panic, afraid she’d suddenly taken on the paisley pattern of the couch, but her hands were still her hands. She peered back to Jill. “What?”

“You look like…
her,
” Jill said faintly.

“What?”
Claire asked, her heart beating wildly in her chest. “I look like who her?”

“Like what’s-her-name. You look like that model, that—” Jill snatched up the magazine off the coffee table and shoved it in her face.
“Her!”

Claire peered down and found herself staring at the photograph of Brooke Jordan. She shook her head slowly with disbelief. “I can’t—I don’t—”

“The hell you don’t!” Jill grabbed Claire by the arm with her free hand to drag her across the living room. She was muttering the whole way. “I can’t believe this. I just can’t believe it. Oh my God, this is incredible. Do you realize how incredible this is?”

Claire just stumbled along behind her, anxiety and confusion rife in her head. She
couldn’t
look like the model. It was impossible. Jill was playing a joke on her. That thought gave her some relief from the welter of emotions whirling through her head. Of course! That was it! Jill was playing a joke.

“Here!” Jill slammed through the bathroom door. She tossed the magazine on the counter, then shoved Claire in front of the mirror.

Claire stared at herself. And stared. Jill wasn’t playing a joke. Claire was staring into the mirror, but the stunned face looking back was Brooke Jordan’s. She tentatively touched her face. It felt normal, both in that her fingers felt like they were touching skin and her skin felt the fingers touching them, but it wasn’t her face she was looking at and those gorgeous chestnut waves were not her hair, either. Claire was a natural redhead.

“You look exactly like her.
Exactly,
” Jill breathed with awe. “Right down to her clothes.”

Claire blinked, then switched her gaze to her body. At first, she didn’t understand what Jill was talking about. She was still wearing the white smock and black pants she’d left work in. Then Claire noticed the pink collar of a T-shirt was visible under the open neckline of her white blouse and smock.

“What…?” Bewildered, Claire stripped off the smock and unbuttoned several buttons of her white blouse. Underneath was the same pink T-shirt Brooke Jordan had been wearing on the magazine cover.

“Are you wearing her capri pants too?” Jill reached for the waist of her black dress pants, but Claire danced instinctively away, then paused and undid them herself.

“Holy Jeez,” Jill breathed as baby blue linen was revealed poking up from under her white lace panties. “You’re wearing her capri pants, too.”

“I can’t be,” Claire said faintly, then finished stripping her own clothes away until she stood there in a pink T-shirt, blue capri pants and Brooke Jordan’s face. She stared at herself in the mirror with bewilderment.

“You’re a dead ringer.”

“But how?” Claire asked faintly. “This doesn’t make sense.”

“Of course, it does. It makes perfect sense. It’s the destabilizer,” Jill said triumphantly, then tilted her head and asked, “Do you think Kyle would let me try it out? Just imagine what I could—”

“It can’t be the destabilizer,” Claire argued. “It’s supposed to cause a chameleon effect. The ability to change skin tone, not
shape.
”

Jill paused to consider that, then suggested, “Well maybe you haven’t really changed shape. Maybe you’re still under there and it’s just like a painting over your skin.”

Catching Claire by surprise, Jill suddenly reached out and began to feel her face. A frown immediately tugged at her lips. “This doesn’t feel like your face.”

“What do you mean?” Alarmed by the statement, Claire put her own hands to her face once more, but this time doing more than just touching her cheeks. She began to explore her face like a blind person examining features.

“Your nose should be turned up,” Jill pointed out. “You have the cutest little turn at the end, but Brooke has a straight nose, kind of Roman. Your nose feels Roman now. I guess it isn’t just a chameleonlike painting on your face.”

Claire immediately shifted her fingers to her own nose. It
didn’t
feel like her nose. It was too straight.

“You’ve actually changed shape,” Jill said, then brightened. “Like a shape-shifter. The destabilizer made you a shape-shifter! How did you do it?”

“I didn’t,” Claire said faintly as she tried to absorb what had happened to her. “John did.”

“Not that!” Jill said swiftly, then waved to her face and body. “This. How did you…you know…shift?”

“I don’t know,” Claire admitted, glancing down at herself with bewilderment. “I just stared at the picture thinking that Kyle might be more interested in me if I looked like her…and wishing that I did…look like her, I mean.”

“I’ve told you and told you, Claire. Kyle likes you as you are,” Jill insisted, then paused, frowned, and amended, “Well, he
did
like you…as you were.”

Claire blinked at the correction, anxiety crowding in at what it suggested.

“Never mind.” Jill waved the problem of Kyle away and snatched up the magazine she’d tossed on the counter. “Here, look at another model and see if you can do it again.”

“I don’t think I can,” Claire admitted. “I don’t know how I did it the first time.”

“Just try,” Jill insisted, leafing through several pages before settling on a short-haired blond. “Here. Do her.”

“Jill, I—”

“Try,” Jill ordered.

Claire hesitated, then peered down at the blond. She was beautiful, with full red lips and big green eyes. Claire took the magazine from Jill and concentrated on the picture, trying to put herself in the same frame of mind she’d been in earlier while looking at Brooke…Trying to drum up the same longing to be so beautiful and attractive to the opposite sex…To Kyle.

“Oh my Gawd!!” Jill squealed suddenly.

Concentration broken, Claire glanced up. “Did it work?”

Kyle’s sister nodded dumbly.

Claire turned to the mirror and found herself staring at yet someone else’s face; this time, the blond with short cropped hair and large red lips. Her body shape and clothing had also changed, her breasts appearing larger as they pushed up out of the strapless black blouse she was now wearing with black satin pants.

“How do you do the clothes?” Jill asked with amazement, reaching out to touch the pants.

“I don’t know,” Claire admitted. “It must be me. I mean the pink T-shirt and capri pants were
under
my own clothes.”

“You mean…like this is
you
?” Jill asked, touching the satin. “Your cells?”

“It must be,” Claire repeated faintly. It was the only thing that made sense. They weren’t really clothes at all, just her body shifting and changing color to look like them. The chameleon effect was there after all. It just wasn’t alone—the ability to shift her shape was there as well.

Jill nodded slowly, then stiffened and said, “Hang on!”

She glanced around with confusion as Jill rushed out of the bathroom. Claire had no idea where the other woman was going, but couldn’t seem to care much at the moment. Her poor mind was struggling to accept her new abilities. She peered at herself in the mirror with fascination until she heard Jill cursing and the sound of thumping and drawers and door slamming in the room across the hall, Jill’s bedroom.

Claire started out of the bathroom, then paused to snatch up her clothes. The last thing she needed was for Kyle to come home and stumble over her bra and panties in the bathroom.

“What on earth are you doing?” Claire asked with amazement as she entered Jill’s room to find it in chaos. Jill was a whirlwind, rushing about her room, searching drawers and closets and tossing things willy-nilly. “What are you trying to find?”

“I had a magazine here,” Jill explained, kneeling to look under her bed. “I know I put it—aha!”

Claire raised her eyebrows at this triumphant cry as Jill dragged a magazine out from under the bed and got back to her feet. It was a celebrity magazine, she saw as Jill began to leaf through it. Suddenly, her friend paused, folded the magazine over, and thrust it forward.

“Try this.”

Claire tossed her clothes on the bed and took the magazine. She peered down at the picture it was open to and blinked, then glanced up, asking with disbelief, “Brad Cruise?”

Jill nodded. “Yes.”

“But he’s a guy,” Claire protested, which was something of an understatement. Brad Cruise wasn’t just a guy. He was
the
guy. He was the male equivalent of Brooke Jordan. He was also the biggest action movie star of their time, raking in double-digit millions for each role he took. The most familiar face in film, Brad Cruise was the man women lusted after and
men
would kill to be.