Authors: Kerrie Dubrock
“Most
of the damn steps were rotted when I bought the place,” Chase explained.
“Actually, the whole house had to be reworked to make it livable.”
Grace’s
hand landed on the banister. “So, this isn’t your design?”
“Pfft,
no. Ideally I wanted to raze the place and put in homes. I’m a city guy. I
brought Emily here for a nanosecond and she instantly fell in love with the
place. So I bought it and renovated it…for months! But I wanted to keep the
original design and as much of the original woodwork as possible,” Chase
replied.
“It
was a work of love,” Emily grinned, walking into the foyer. “Hi Grace, Rick.
It’s lovely to see you!”
Rick
glanced around and lifted his eyebrows to Grace.
“Sorry
for the intrusion, but I cast a spell so Rick could communicate with spirits
and he wants to see if my spell worked,” she apologized to Emily.
Rick
yelped when someone grabbed his ass. He turned and spotted a rather tall
greaser looking guy. He looked like a young Tony Curtis.
Grace,
Emily and Chase laughed when Rick scurried away from the greaser.
“Rick,
this is Frankie,” Emily mumbled, giggling.
“Daddy-O,”
Frankie winked.
A
shrilly peal of laughter erupted behind Rick, causing him to jump. “Hi Doll,”
she murmured to Grace. “He’s a daisy, huh?” she asked, gesturing her thumb
towards Rick.
Rick
shook his head. “Holy shit.”
“There,
there. It’ll be okay,” Grace smiled, patting his chest. She glanced at Emily
and Chase. “Big tough guy wanted to see ghosts and now he’s scared of them.”
Three
hours later Rick drove down I-57 towards Grace’s home. “Sorry. I said five
minutes…”
Grace
pulled her sunglasses from her purse and placed them over her eyes. “No
problem. I had a good time. I really like them.” She paused and added, “All of
them.”
“Yeah,
they like you, a lot, too.” He glanced at his watch. “Um, do you have any plans
for the rest of the day?”
She
tore her eyes from the road and looked at him. “Not really. I was going to work
in my garden today, but someone hogged my time,” she teased.
“I’m
sorry. I can help you when we get back to your place.”
He
has a magnificent profile. Strong, angular jaw line, nose is perfect. Can’t
forget those deep dimples and great laugh lines around his mouth. He’s really
quite handsome. Damn my luck!
“Grace?”
“Huh?”
He
grinned, “Well, I offered to help you garden then I asked if you’d be
interested in meeting some of my teammates tonight.”
“Now?”
she squeaked, looking at her bra-less bosom.
“No,
later. A few of them are meeting at Murphy’s and I thought…”
“Sure.”
Rick’s
eyebrows lifted. “Really?”
“A
few conditions first.”
“Okaaaay…”
She
held her hand up and lifted a finger with each condition. “I get to go home and
change my clothes first. I’ll follow you there because I can’t stay late and in
case you find a girl to go home with.”
“I’m
taking you, so I’m driving. And, if I happen to find someone to go home with,
I’ll simply bring you home and go back and get her.”
Grace
looked away from him and stared out the passenger window with a frown.
* * *
“You’ll
need a list of her current clients,” Ratman muttered, scratching his stubbled
jaw.
“And
how do I conjure up one of those?” Janice snorted.
“Take
me to her office. I’ll find the information and from there you’ll work your
magic to steal them away from her,” he replied matter-of-factly.
Janice’s
eyebrows knitted together. “Why can’t you just appear at her office? Why do I
need to take you?”
“I’m
a demon, not a fairy,” he glared.
* * *
When
Grace came down the stairs, Rick’s breath caught.
She
wore a black and white checked mini-skirt along with a black silky tank top. A
narrow black leather belt completed the outfit.
Her
hair hung in loose waves at her shoulders and she wore modest make-up. In her
hands she carried white low heeled sandals.
Grace
caught him gaping at her. “Too dressy?” she frowned.
Unable
to form words, he shook his head.
* * *
“So,
how are things progressing with your internet guy?” Rick asked as he drove down
the Dan Ryan expressway.
Grace
shrugged. “We keep missing each other. I call and leave a message and vice
versa.”
“Seems
if you really wanted to meet each other one of you’d make it happen.”
Grace
laughed, “Good point. The trouble is he’s a photographer and travels a lot.
Bewitching Designs is kicking all forms of ass right now and I’ve been really
busy.”
“Yeah,
Blake’s told me how you work weekends, too.”
She
nodded. “Yeah, normally I do.” She fidgeted in the seat. “It used to keep my
mind busy from thinking about Ben.”
Rick
quirked a brow. “Do you still think about him a lot?”
She
cocked her head. “Nope.”
Someone else is occupying my mind.
Grace
sighed. “His candor yesterday forced me to believe that he didn’t really love
me.”
Rick
grasped her hand. “Well, maybe Mr. Photographer is the guy for you.”
Grace
tightly squeezed his hand and released it. “Maybe. Or maybe it’ll be someone
else entirely. At any rate, I’m not looking too hard. I’ll meet the right guy
when I least expect it.”
* * *
Ratman
attempted to walk through the doorway of Bewitching Designs when he hit an invisible
shield. He closed his eyes tightly and willed his corporal self to the other
side of the door. A low growl escaped his lips which made the cleaning crew two
floors below shiver in fright.
* * *
“Trump
Tower?” Grace gasped. “What are we doing here?”
Rick
maneuvered his car into the parking slot. “I live here.” He glanced down at his
shorts. “Thought I’d change my clothes before we head to Murphy’s.”
Grace
nodded, unsure.
Please don’t let me say or do anything stupid!
* * *
“What
do you mean you couldn’t get in? You’re a demon for fuck’s sake!” Janice
screeched.
“The
damn office has a spell around it or something. This Grace must be more
powerful than you know, in order to keep
me
out,” Ratman ground out.
Janice
sniffed, “Now how am I going to get her clients?”
Ratman
lifted a brow. “Work over your soon to be ex-husband.”
“Excuse
me?” Janice asked, pointedly.
“Seems
to me that since your spell wore off, he’s more than likely still in love with
the witch. Offer to barter. Together you and I can conjure a spell to reunite
them. All he has to do is get you a client list.”
* * *
“Wow!”
Grace exclaimed. “You have a great view!”
Rick
walked out of his bedroom and glanced at Grace’s ass. “Yeah, I do,” he replied
huskily.
He
strolled to the floor to ceiling window and stood next to her, admiring the
view of Lake Michigan.
She
gasped when she turned. “What are you doing?”
He
shot her a lazy grin. “Lookin’ at the view, why?”
She
waved her hand at his chest. “Well…you’re shirtless,” she mumbled,
embarrassed.
He
gasped in mock horror. “You’ve never seen a man naked from the waist up?”
A
slow, heated blush painted her cheeks before she stomped away. “Are you trying
to seduce me?” she snapped.
Rick
crept towards her, a sexy smile tugged at his lips. “I’m waiting for the iron
to warm up so I can get the wrinkles out of my shirt.” He walked into his
bedroom and poked his head out the door. “You know we’re just friends, right?”
Grace
nodded feebly and when he turned away, she smacked herself in the head.
Reverse
psychology just may work!
Rick thought happily, gliding the iron across his
shirt.
* * *
Janice
tapped Ben’s number into her cell phone. When she received a change of number
message she cursed. “Great! He’s changed his number! Now what the hell do I
do?”
Ratman
scratched his stubbled jaw. “Let me work on that.”
* * *
The
ride to Murphy’s was an uncomfortable silence. Grace wondered why his comment
on being ‘just friends’ annoyed her?
She
was the one who wasn’t looking
for a relationship…
especially
one with a younger man.
* * *
Murphy’s
was packed, considering it was a Sunday night. Grace tugged on Rick’s arm. He
lowered his head and she said loudly into his ear. “How are you going to find
your friends?”
His
eyes swept the crowd. Grabbing her hand, he towed her along until they stopped
in a corner near the large bar.
Grace
peeked around him and quirked her brows. “These are your friends?” she yelled
up to him.
He
nodded and began introductions. “Guys, I’d like you to meet my friend, Grace
Ryan.” He pointed his finger. “Grace, this is Dmitri Vanek.”
Dmitri
flashed a toothy grin and extended his hand to her. “Grace,” he replied,
kissing the back of her hand.
Rick
shot Dmitri a glare and continued. “This is Alexi Kopsov.” Alexi nodded and
shot Grace a wink.
“Jonas,
or Kanga, as he’s known,” Rick muttered, pointing to the blond haired man.
Jonas
extended his hand. “Very nice to meet you Grace.”
“And
this is Mike Jutras,” Rick mumbled, pulling out a stool for Grace to sit.
“Nice
to meet you,” Grace smiled. “All of you are hockey players?”
Dmitri
laughed. “She doesn’t sound or look like a puck bunny, Ricochet.”
Rick
shook his head when Grace shot him a questioning look. “A puck bunny is a woman
who, well, is like a groupie.” He said, uncomfortably. “She sleeps with a
player just to say she slept with a hockey player.”
Grace’s
eyes narrowed and she glanced around the table. “I’m definitely
not
a
‘puck bunny’ and I don’t know a thing about hockey!”
Rick
grinned uneasily. “Hey, I’m buying! You guys want another pitcher? Grace, would
you like wine?”
“I’ll
start with Stout and a shot of Jameson, please,” she replied sweetly, batting
her eyelashes.
“Okaaaay,”
Rick mumbled. “Be nice, you guys,” he warned before walking away.
“Nice?
What nice? We’re always nice,” Dmitri groused. He shot her a heated gaze,
making her uncomfortable. “You two dating?”
Grace
shook her head adamantly. “No, we’re just friends.” She smoothed her skirt,
nervously. “His brother, Blake, and I are co-owners of a home design business,”
she amended.
Hockey players are damn fine looking
.
Dmitri
took a swig of beer. “You build houses?”
“No,
no. We only design the inside.” When he looked confused, she giggled. “We
decorate them.”
He
considered her words while she considered his appearance. His chocolate brown
eyes expressed mirth, he was definitely a troublemaker, she noted.
“Do
you make all the girls swoon with those eyes?” she asked pointedly.
The
guys around the table erupted in laughter. Rick returned with the drinks and
placed them on the table. “What’s so funny?”
Kanga
pointed at Grace. “She’s a funny girl!”
Grace
turned her attention to Kanga. He had a baby face and she wondered if he was
old enough to be in the bar. He had sweet blue eyes and blond hair and seemed a
bit shy. “Why do they call you Kanga?” she asked.
“Cause
he hops around the ice,” Mike interjected, laughing.
Jonas
shrugged, “My last name is Roos. Kanga’s been my nickname for years.”
Rick
handed Grace a shot glass and tapped his against hers. Together they drank the
shots of Jameson and slammed the small crystal glasses on the table.
“Do
all of you have nicknames?” she asked, after taking a sip of beer.
“They
call me Harpo,” Mike grinned broadly.
Alexi
grinned, “We call you a lot of things!”
Laughter
erupted around the table and even Grace laughed along.
“Harpo?
Is that because of your blond, curly hair?” she giggled.
“Sure
isn’t because he’s quiet,” Alexi snorted.
“Um
hm and what’s your nickname?” she asked the dark-haired man.
“Kop,”
he replied simply. “My last name’s Kopsov.”
Harpo
pointed at Dmitri. “His nickname is Gramps.”
Grace
cocked her head. “Is it short for your last name?”
“Nah!
It’s because he’s the grandpa of the team!” Harpo razzed.
Grace’s
brows knitted together. He didn’t look a day over thirty to her.
Dmitri
shot her a crooked grin. “I’m the oldest on the team.”
“You
don’t look very old to me!” Grace snorted.
Dmitri
nodded and stood. “Well, Gramps can dance as well as play hockey. Grace? You up
for a dance?”
“Um,
sure.” She mumbled, glancing at Rick. He lifted his shoulders, indifferent.
Dmitri
wiggled his eyebrows at Rick when he placed his hand on the small of Grace’s
back and steered her towards the dance floor.
* * *
Dmitri
pulled her against him when they hit the dance floor. The top of her head met
his shoulders, unlike Rick. Her head just made it to his chest.
“Your
accent is…”
He
pulled away and grinned. “Russian.”
“Thought
so,” she smiled in return. “Do you like living here?”
He
considered for a moment. “Yes and no. I miss my family back home, but love the
freedom I have here. Although, I have to say your government is getting as bad
as ours.”
She
nodded in agreement. “We could talk all night about politics, but I prefer not
to. I mean, why spoil the evening?”