Authors: Rachel Carrington
Heart sighed and tromped forward, her voluminous robe sweeping out behind her. The picture of ancient elegance and grace, Heart closed her hands around her sister's and leaned in close to enunciate each word. “You can't help her. You can't even remember how to reverse the spell on poor old Wally."
Responding to his name, Wally, a three-legged dog with a top knot, bounded into the room. Heart pointed to the mutt's face. “See what I mean? Poor old critter used to have the same colour eyes."
"I was only trying to make him more noticeable, is all,” Jazz responded in a defensive tone. “He had his eye on that poodle up the way, and she wouldn't even give him the time of day."
Heart snorted. “It doesn't change the fact that you turned him into a freak, and I'm sure our dear Noelle wouldn't appreciate your attempt at assistance. She'll figure things out. She always does.” Heart tapped her temple. “She's a smart one, that Noelle."
A sudden light beamed in Jazz's eyes. “That Ella needs her ass whipped."
At the mention of their wayward niece's name, Heart rolled her eyes and smacked her forehead. “Of course! Why didn't I think of that?” She glared at her sister. “Like that'll do any good at this late stage in the game. That one is going to be the death of us all. Why, the coven is talking about giving her the boot, and think of the shame that would bring to our family name.” She shook her head sadly. “Centuries of witches in the Bridges family, and Ella is hell-bent on destroying us."
Jazz came to Ella's defence. “She's just lost her way."
Heart pointed a finger to the oval mirror atop the mantle. “She's insane. If you don't believe me, take a look. You'll see for yourself what she's capable of. The little wench wants to show off her handiwork."
Jazz whispered even more “oh, dears” as she traipsed towards the mirror as directed. The second Noelle's blonde curls came into view, Jazz shook her head. “Ella will help her in the long run. She won't leave her own cousin there to fend for herself, and she really is a dear girl at heart."
Heart patted her gullible sister's back. “Come, dear. Let's rouse Emmie and see if she has any thoughts on the situation. After all, she is the best at spells, now that my eyesight isn't what it used to be."
Jacob didn't know what in the hell his crusty old uncle had been thinking to pick up a beauty like this one. With curves in all the right places, hair that made his fingers ache, and a body young men dreamed about, Noelle Bridges could have her pick of any man she wanted. So why hadn't his uncle thought of that before he brought her home?
Hadn't the old coot realised the woman was only interested in the size of his wallet? Probably not. Uncle Ed wasn't the type to believe a woman would have a problem wanting him just for himself.
Jacob knew it wasn't fair to be angry with his uncle, but how many times had he warned the old codger not to go out on the town waving his money clip? Edward Spencer always knew what was best. No one could tell him anything, and he was always smarter than the average guy. Only, the average guy was still alive.
With the phone in his hand, Jacob hesitated, every instinct in his body telling him to call the police. He needed to make arrangements for Ed's funeral, and the last thing he needed to worry about was a saucy blonde with a smart mouth and perky breasts.
Good God, man. Have a shred of decency
. His mouth thinned. He couldn't be blamed for noticing the woman's attributes, but his uncle had just passed on. At the very least, he should restrain himself until after the funeral.
In all fairness, Ed had lived his life to the fullest, and he'd always said the last thing he wanted was a bunch of weeping women draping themselves over his coffin. Ed had always insisted he wanted a party instead of a funeral.
Jacob's jaw clenched, and speaking in short, clipped tones, he informed the police of his uncle's passing and his suspicions. And wondered why he didn't feel better about it once he slammed the receiver down.
Whipping around, he headed back to his uncle's bedroom. He was almost surprised to find Noelle still standing next to the foot of the bed, right where he'd left her. Wouldn't a typical criminal have at least attempted to haul ass out the window? Of course, this woman looked nothing like a ‘typical criminal.’ Most of them wore clothes.
He cleared his throat. “Ms. Bridges?"
She raised her eyes to meet his gaze, and he noticed she was gnawing on her lower lip. With the innocent expression on her face, she looked like a child. He forced himself to keep his eyes above neck level. “Yes?"
"The police are on their way."
"Oh.” She nodded, and Jacob thought he saw her lips twitch. If the little vixen was laughing at him ... He didn't finish the thought, for Noelle began walking towards him. He eyed her with a tilt to his head. “What are you doing?"
"I have an idea.” Her voice sounded animated. “I mean,” she hurried towards him, “it's a shot in the dark, but it just might work."
He felt himself beginning to frown, and he deliberately hardened his expression. If the woman got any closer to him, something else was going to get hard, and that's the last thing he needed her to notice. “That's close enough to tell me your idea."
Slim shoulders squared, Noelle Bridges lifted her head and in a perfectly haughty voice announced, “I think I have a way to bring your uncle back to life."
Emmie Bridges didn't like being awakened from a perfectly good alcohol-induced dream, but the minute her sisters stirred her, she knew something was wrong. They didn't need to say anything. Just the looks on their faces told her enough. Well, that and the way Jazz twisted her hands in a frantic to-and-fro motion.
Jazz had always been the worrier in the family, and no matter how many times Emmie and Heart reassured her, their baby sister just couldn't seem to control her anxieties. She was a witch, for God's sake. Didn't she realise she had little to worry about?
Emmie sighed and climbed to her feet, her legs a little wobbly. The world spun crazily, and she automatically reached for Heart's arm for assistance. “So what's wrong now?"
"Noelle is in a world of trouble,” Jazz began in perfectly dramatic fashion capable of earning her an Emmy.
Emmie met Heart's eyes over top of their youngest sister's head. Jazz came from a long line of over-reactors, so she couldn't be blamed if she still upheld the same tradition. Their mother had had that gene, as well. Goddess rest her soul.
Heart shook her head almost imperceptibly, and Emmie took that to mean trouble. Nothing that couldn't be solved with a couple of spells and some hair of the dog. The hair would, of course, be for herself and not for their youngest niece. And would, hopefully, come first.
Head throbbing and back aching, Emmie toddled into the living room, snapping her fingers to create a blaze in the brick fireplace. “It's colder than a witch's well in here, you know.” Plopping herself down on the chintz settee, she folded her arms. “Well? Is someone going to bring me the book, or do I just sit here all day?"
Heart plunked the Book of Spells down into her sister's lap. “Here, Your Highness."
Emmie ignored the jibe and thumbed through the pages. “So tell me exactly what has happened.” The printed words clouded before her eyes, and she shook her head. Exactly how much had she drunk last night, anyway? Not enough to wake up in the garden like she had the night before. She was thankful for that.
Jazz spilled the disastrous happenings in a rush of words that only served to confuse Emmie, who held up one hand to stop her sister's babbling.
"Oh, for the love of the saints, would someone please go pour me a shot of tequila and let me think a minute?"
Jazz clamped her hands on her skinny hips and glared down at her sister. “Now isn't the time to be thinking about alcohol, Em."
Emmie massaged her temples while shooting her sister a dark look. “I don't have to have a certain time of the day to think about tequila, dear sister. Besides, if I don't get that shot, I'm not going to be able to think properly. And an improperly thinking witch can't work magic!” Her voice rose on the last word, and Jazz smacked Heart's shoulder.
"Go get her the tequila."
Emmie bobbed her head, and her precarious bun slipped another notch. “That's more like it.” She cracked her knuckles and began thumbing through the pages. “Now, it seems to me, we only have to bring Noelle back to Betony."
Jazz scrunched up her face. “Which would be simple enough, except...” She broke off, unsure of how to continue.
Emmie stopped turning the pages and looked up. “Well? Finish what you're dying to tell me."
Heart strolled back into the living room, carrying a glass of brown liquid. “Noelle is trying to bring a man back from the dead, dear. Here. Drink up."
Eyes squinting, Emmie slammed the Book of Spells shut, snatched the shot glass, and drained it. Feeling a little clearer, she peered at both of her sisters, wondering if this were some kind of a trick to pay her back for yesterday's practical joke. Was it yesterday? She couldn't remember, but she could recall the looks on her sisters’ faces when she'd collapsed before them on the ancient rug imported from Thailand. That still brought a chuckle.
Heart snapped her fingers in front of Emmie's nose. “Will you please pay attention? Jazz is about to stroke out."
Emmie waved a hand, and a chair bumped against the back of Jazz's legs. “Sit down, dear, and let me take a look-see. I'm sure I can find something in here to bring our niece back.” She aimed a glance at Heart. “Any idea how she got herself into this situation?"
Heart folded her arms over her breasts while Jazz gave a wail of dismay. “One word,” Heart replied. “Ella."
"Remind me to kick that girl's ass once this is all over. Ruined a perfectly good buzz, she did,” Emmie grumped.
"Do you think you can bring her back?” Jazz scooted the chair forward to peer over her sister's shoulder at the Book of Spells.
Emmie tamped down her irritation.
What kind of a question is that?
There was very little she couldn't accomplish once she set her mind to it. “You woke me up to doubt me?"
Heart edged in between her sisters. “Actually, we woke you up because you were snoring."
The book fell open in Emmie's lap again. “Both of you go rot somewhere and let me work."
Noelle knew she should have thought before she spoke, but really, she didn't have a lot of options. Her practical joker of a cousin had placed her in one helluva situation. But as the dark eyes looking down into her face began to glow with suspicion, Noelle figured she'd picked the wrong solution to her problem.
"Mr. Sanders?"
He held up one hand. “No. Just stop. I don't believe I want to hear anything more from you.” He blew out a long breath, and Noelle caught the scent of coffee and mints.
Her womanly parts tingled, which surprised her, considering they hadn't tingled in quite some time. Being so busy learning the magic of the coven and following all of their damnable rules, she didn't have a spare moment to engage in any extracurricular activities.
Besides that, the male witches in Betony just weren't her type. Most of them were too smug for their own good and thought they hung the moon. Noelle's nose wrinkled as she thought of one witch in particular. Braxton Hills. The name alone sounded like a neighbourhood in the suburbs.
With a start, she realised Jacob Sanders was still staring at her. She fisted her hands on her hips and tried for a sophisticated look. “Look. You don't have a lot of options here. Do you really want to tell the rest of your family that your dear old uncle is dead?"
"What choice do I have?” His voice sounded tight with anger, but she didn't need to hear the words to know that. Though gorgeous, Jacob Sanders definitely had a temper. She could see it in those sexy eyes of his.
Great. More tingling. Didn't her body recognise the face of the enemy? Well, one thing was for sure—her pussy didn't.
Noelle gnawed at her lower lip. Should she tell him the truth? Instinct told her no. Then again, she'd never been good at following instinct. She was more a live-by-the-rules type of person. Give her a manual and she could follow it to the letter.
Jacob cleared his throat. “I take it by the look on your face you think there is another option besides informing my family of my uncle's demise. This ought to be good."
She didn't particularly care for the snide response, but he did, at present, have the upper hand since she still didn't know how in the hell she'd gotten there.
"I'm listening."
More snideness. Her own temper began to escalate. “Do you have to be so unpleasant about it?"
"Unpleasant? My uncle is dead, and you were the last one to see him alive. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't be ‘unpleasant’ to you."
All right. That does it.
Noelle glared and blurted, “I'm a witch."
One eyebrow rose. “Aren't most women?"
She glowered at him. “I'm not talking about my temperament.” Close to showing him just exactly what she meant by witch, Noelle gritted her teeth.
He crossed his arms over his chest and rocked back on his heels, drawing Noelle's eyes to the bulge in his jeans. “Oh. You mean witch as in Samantha. Sabrina. And all the other characters on television.” He gave a short bark of laughter. “You're a piece of work. If you're a witch, I've got a three-inch dick."
Her eyes narrowed. Oh, the many wonders she could work with this arrogant, yet delicious, man's nether regions. “I can make that happen."
His head whipped up, and his hand dropped to his crotch. “What?"
"If that's what it will take to prove to you that I'm a witch, I can give you a one-inch dick.”
Not on your life, buddy. Not until I see for myself what size it really is.
The naughty thought made Noelle's eyes widen. Okay, now she was beyond tingling. She was practically vibrating.
Could he see her nipples poking against the sheet?
Goddess, help me
, she begged. Any moment now, this man was going to see the attraction in her eyes, realise she wasn't breathing normally, and perhaps even smell the scent of her arousal. Unfortunately, witches gave off a distinct aroma when sexually aware, but she wasn't quite sure if mortals could smell it.