The Contestant Flies Off the Handle: Moonchuckle Bay Romantic Comedy #7

by Heather Horrocks

  Then, finally, she looked up at him, still encircled by his arms, and whispered, “Just a kiss? And then you can send me back to the party you think I came from, then?”

  He shook his head, enjoying the feel of her in his arms and the Irish lilt in her voice. “I want much more than just a kiss.”

  She shook her head. “Too much has happened for this to work.”

  “Will you go to dinner with me?”

  “Absolutely I will not.” She pushed against his chest a little. “I think you’d better be letting me go now.”

  Reluctantly, he did, and immediately wanted her back in his arms. He fisted his hands to keep from grabbing her.

  “Don’t you dare kiss me again, Isaac Murphy, do you hear?”

  And then she slapped him!

  After a long surprised pause, he said, calmly, “I think you owe me dinner if only to make up for the spells you put on me.”

  She blushed. “You knew about those, then?”

  “Oh, yeah. I was itching to find a remedy, as it were.”

  She coughed into her hand to stifle a giggle when she thought of him trying to reach that itchy spot on his back. She tilted her head and looked at him, searching his eyes, though he didn’t know what she was looking for.

  “Please, Cara. Please let us talk and clear the air between us.”

  “Don't kiss me again.”

  “All right.” At least not tonight. He tried another tack. “Would you like to hear Elvis sing?”

  “Are you kidding?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Actually, I would like that.”

  Well, that certainly surprised the heck out of Isaac, but he wasn’t going to complain.

  Cara didn’t know why she’d agreed. Isaac took her to Elvis Sightings and so far they’d shared pleasant but stilted chit-chat.

  As they walked from the Town Square parking lot, he told her, “Human tourists think the proprietor, Elvis Smith, is the best Elvis impersonator they’ve ever heard, while paranormals know he’s the real deal, the original Elvis Presley.”

  She nodded as the realization struck her. “Ahh. So that’s why there are so many Elvis sightings. Clever name for his diner.”

  “I’ve heard that the Bananas Foster is delicious. Caramel & bananas over ice cream. There’s even a Bananas Elvis version with a peanut butter-caramel sauce. And he’s hired a pastry chef to make his desserts. Sugar Hamilton.”

  “I met her.”

  He pushed the door of the diner open to reveal what looked like a 1950s diner — red tablecloths, black-and-white tiles on the floor, metal-rimmed tables, and a retro jukebox that played CDs rather than LPs, colored lights flashing. The place was about half full of people eating and casting surreptitious glances at the “Elvis impersonator” proprietor.

  “Love the ambiance,” she said, following their gazes to the famed singer.

  A young-looking Elvis was chatting with a tableful of people. Dressed in jeans and an “I had an Elvis Sighting in Moonchuckle Bay” T-shirt, he looked like the younger, better version of himself. In other words, he was charming and handsome.

  A pretty woman asked, “Two of you?”

  Isaac nodded. “Please.”

  “Are you here for the performance?”

  “Sure and I am,” Cara said. “I can hardly wait.”

  “He usually only sings on Friday or Saturday nights, so you’re in luck.” She led them to a booth and set menus before them. “I’ll be right back with water.”

  Cara studied the menu, smiling as she recognized many of the dishes that are synonymous with the King. Under “Elvis Favorites” were several foods, including a peanut butter and banana sandwich, Fool’s Gold Loaf sandwich, rich pound cake, and fried pickles. There was also more standard 1950s fare like burgers, chips, and chocolate malts.

  The waitress came back and set water glasses before them. “Ready to order?”

  Isaac nodded. “I’ll have the Fool’s Gold Loaf sandwich and a Stake Your Claim smoothie with special ingredients.”

  The woman scribbled down his order and turned to Cara, who said, “I think I’ll have the Rock ‘n’ Roll Burger and fries, and an order of fried pickles. I’ve never tried those before, so then I can say I ate the same food that Elvis did.”

  “Still does,” the waitress said with a wink, and walked off, leaving them alone.

  This was the moment Cara had been dreading. With no more driving or walking or studying the menu, she couldn’t help but catch Isaac’s eye.

  She still wasn’t sure why she’d agreed to this dinner, which was far too much like a date for her liking. Oh, who was she fooling? It was that kiss. That kiss made her wish they did have something between them. Especially when Isaac was looking at her with such longing in his eyes. And then there was the “please.”

  He smiled. “How do you feel you’re doing in the pageant?”

  She shrugged. “Who knows? I don't feel like I’m the prettiest woman in the competition—”

  “I beg to differ.”

  She tilted one corner of her mouth up in a half-smile. “Thanks, but I know the truth. And that’s okay, because I held my own in the talent competition.”

  He nodded. “Yes, you did. You rocked that swimsuit, too.”

  She blushed. “Thanks. And I already have my answer planned for the question portion of the event.”

  “Let me guess — you want afterworld peace.”

  They smiled together. “You nailed it.”

  She glanced out the window and saw someone she knew. “There’s Augusta.”

  “Who?” he asked, leaning toward the window and peering out.

  “Augusta Quigley, one of my flatmates. Miss London.”

  “Flatmates, eh?”

  Without taking her eyes off the other witch, she clarified, “Roommates.”

  Augusta was hurrying across the street where she stopped to talk with a tall man in what looked like wizard robes. “Is that guy a warlock or something?”

  “He sure looks like one,” Isaac said, “but I don’t recognize him.”

  The two were in animated conversation, perhaps even arguing, judging from their body language.

  “Can you hear what they’re saying?” Cara whispered.

  He shook his head. “Not with all this background noise and the glass between us and the distance across the street. Does it matter that she’s talking to a warlock?”

  “I don't know.” She watched the two. Something was off, but she had no idea what it was. “It just seems a little ... I don’t know, is suspicious too strong a word?”

  “If I remember from the cruise, you do tend to have intuition. If that’s your intuition, then perhaps you should trust it.”

  Finally, she shrugged. “I guess it doesn’t really matter.”

  He reached across and took her hand.

  She let him, but when warmth tingled up her arm, she pulled free and frowned.

  He smiled. “Chicory removed the spells for me. She thought it was pretty funny.”

  Feeling guilty, Cara grimaced. “I agree to cease and desist all my minor spells against you.”

  “Does that mean you’re moving on to the big guns?”

  “No. As long as you don't do anything really obnoxious.”

  “Moi?” he asked innocently.

  No Goodnight Kiss Today

  AFTER THEY’D EATEN, ELVIS SANG sang “Love Me Tender” and had some of the women practically swooning, and then moved on to “Can’t Help Falling in Love.” Isaac studied Cara and reveled in the delight on her face as she listened.

  A little jealousy crept in, even though he knew she was just enjoying the music. He was Elvis Presley, after all.

  When the song ended and Elvis went back to the kitchen, Cara turned to him. “That was great. Do you sing?”

  He laughed. “Not like that, I don’t.”

  “My sisters and I like to sing together.” Cara sounded wistful. “They’re all engaged, did I mention that?”

&nbs
p; Surprised at the topic shift, he said, “No, you didn’t.”

  “I always thought I was the spontaneous one, but apparently my sisters have me beat there.”

  She’d been spontaneous on the cruise, but too young, needing to get the partying out of her system. She didn’t seem like a party girl today; she seemed melancholy. “Spontaneity can be good, but so can measured responses.”

  She studied him. “Sure and I suspect you over-measure.”

  “And I suspect you under-measure.”

  She nodded. “You don’t like to take risks, then?”

  “No. But you do. Look at you here at the esteemed Miss Paranormal Universe Pageant, leaving country and home to compete.”

  “I had no choice.”

  “We always have a choice.” Isaac said, thinking of his choice to let her walk away, thinking he’d give her a few years to grow up — and then not being able to find her again. “I couldn’t find you, you know. After the cruise. I looked.”

  She tilted her head. “You did?”

  “Yes.”

  “I thought you didn’t want anything to do with me because I was too much of a party girl.”

  He could hear hurt in her voice, pain that echoed his own when he couldn’t find her. “Didn’t you remember that I said you were my lifemate?”

  She sighed. “What I remember is that vampires say you're their lifemate when they want a shipboard romance.”

  “I still have that silly ship on a stick.”

  “You do?” She sounded surprised.

  “Yes. At first it reminded me of our romance.”

  “And then...?”

  “Then it reminded me not to fall in love because it hurt too much.”

  She looked out the window again.

  He followed her gaze. People moved past the diner on their way to and from the stores around Town Square. He turned back to watch her and was mesmerized by the tendrils of unruly red curls that framed her pretty face and the little crease in her forehead as she thought. He wanted to run his finger down that pert little nose, caress her cheek, get lost in those emerald eyes — and kiss her again.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked.

  Continuing to stare out the window, she said, “Sure and a lot can happen in five years.”

  Had she gotten involved with someone else? She was supposed to be unattached to enter the pageant — but perhaps she was seeing someone and just wasn’t engaged yet. That thought depressed him. “Yes. We’ve both changed.”

  Finally she looked at him. “No doubt about it. But I think you're still too practical.”

  He had to smile. “Perhaps you’re right.”

  Then she smiled at him — and his heart was hers. Again. “You could have found me if you'd really tried, you know.”

  “I suspect your family worked a spell to keep me from doing that.”

  She shrugged. “I told my family you’d lied to me.”

  “You always seem to assume the worst of me.” Strong emotions swirled through him. He willed them back so he wouldn’t lose control. He’d forgotten how hard they could be to handle.

  She shook her head. “I thought you were telling me the truth all week — and then you said we needed time away from each other. Lifemate and time away from each other seem like opposites to me.”

  “I just wanted to give you time to grow up a little, to learn to exercise restraint.”

  “And what’s wrong with letting loose now and then?” she asked. “Everything isn’t about restraint.”

  Within him, at this moment, it was all about restraint. “I find you to be impractical and irresponsible.”

  “Well,” she said, puffing up in offense. “I find you boring and predictable.”

  “Let me finish.” He held up a hand. “Impractical and irresponsible—”

  “You said that.”

  “—and totally delightful.”

  Her eyes widened. “Really.”

  “Yes.”

  She quirked her lips. “Well, in that case, I find you to be boring and predictable—”

  “You said that.”

  “So I did.”

  They stared at each other, an odd mixture of hostility and amusement in Cara’s eyes. Then, finally, she laughed. “Maybe if we look at the positive, we can at least survive this week without bloodshed. Delightful is good.”

  “You didn’t say anything positive about me.”

  “I’m still thinking.”

  He shrugged. “I’ll drink to that,” he said, and lifted his Stake Your Claim smoothie.

  Cara held up her water glass and they clinked them lightly together. “To no blood shed.”

  “No blood shed.”

  “And no more kisses,” she insisted.

  He paused. “Really?”

  “Don't you think it’s for the best?”

  “No. I won’t drink to that. I want to kiss you again.”

  “Exercise restraint,” she said, lightly, tossing his words back at him.

  “I’m beginning to see the appeal of throwing caution to the wind.”

  She shook her head.

  He held up his glass. “How about no more kisses today?”

  She smiled. “Could you look any more hangdog?”

  “I’m not a werewolf. Could you use an expression that’s a little more dignified?”

  “Okay. Could you look any longer in the tooth, then?”

  On the short walk back to the parking lot, Isaac took Cara’s hand. She tugged, but he held it firmly, needing the contact. “We did not drink to no holding hands.”

  Still, she pulled her hand free. “It was implied.”

  “I’m an attorney, remember? It has to be implicitly stated.”

  “Okay, how about this? No holding hands.”

  “That’s a little too implicitly stated. What if we modify that statement somewhat? No holding hands today.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Today only.”

  She beamed up at him. “You look adorable when you’re frustrated.”

  “I’m sure I do.” He tipped his head toward the parking lot across the street. “Want to explore town?”

  She glanced at her wrist. “It’s time for me to go back. We have a curfew.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  As they walked, he caught the scent of her perfume — a light, citrusy, flowery fragrance that tickled his nose. Underneath that was the scent of her — a light, clean, womanly scent that tickled his fancy.

  How on earth was he supposed to be this close to his lifemate when the buzz was practically screaming in his ears and all he wanted to do was kiss her again?

  They strolled across the street and he opened the door of his car for her, then climbed in.

  “I suppose there are no moonlight drives today, either?” he teased.

  “Now you're catching on.”

  “And no nightcaps in the hotel bar today?”

  “None at all.”

  “And no goodnight kiss today.”

  “We’ve already covered that, counselor.”

  He pulled into the Wildwood Hotel’s lot and found a spot, then turned off the car. “Stay put.”

  When he opened her door, she pulled herself up to her full height — reaching his shoulder. She was adorable.

  They turned toward the entrance — and saw people rushing in. Sheriff Deputies. “That’s not a good sign.” He took her hand and said, “Come on.”

  This time she didn’t resist as they raced toward the entrance.

  At the door, Isaac stopped to ask the security guard, “What’s up?”

  The man looked frantic. “Part of the pageant’s grand prize is missing!”

  Isaac’s heart rate sped up. “Missing? Misplaced?”

  “Stolen. The runestones have been stolen!”

  Cara gasped as if in physical pain.

  You Want to Work With This Vampire?

  “ARE YOU OKAY?” ISAAC ASKED.

  “The runestones are gone?” It was a rhetorical ques
tion; she couldn’t feel their presence.

  “Let’s go find out what’s happened.” Isaac’s voice was gentle and he squeezed her hand.

  She nodded and followed him to the reception area, where deputies and pageant security guards milled about.

  “Sheriff, what’s going on?” Isaac asked a big man.

  The man looked up from a notepad and frowned. “We just had a theft. Part of the grand prize.”

  “The runestones?” Cara asked, her voice catching.

  The man looked at her. “Yes.”

  Isaac said, releasing her hand, “This is Cara O’Sullivan. Cara, this is Sheriff Samuel Winston. Cara is the contestant from Ireland.”

  “Ms. O’Sullivan.” Sheriff Winston nodded at her, then turned back to Isaac. “We’re taking fingerprints. Also the Connolly Coven has been called in to cast a spell that will help us track the stones. It would help if we knew what kind of power they have.” The sheriff spoke to the crowd in general. “Does anyone have information on what the stones do?”

  Cara caught herself before she told him about her family’s connection with the stones. Not sure what her family would want her to do, she needed to talk with them before offering any information. “I’m going to go to my room now, if that’s all right.”

  Isaac and the sheriff nodded in unison. Isaac said, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Cara.”

  She stumbled through the lobby and through the guards at the elevator doors, showing them her pageant ID.

  At the door of the suite, she paused. She didn’t want anyone to overhear her and she wasn’t ready to face her flatmates. Roommates. She was still shaking.

  The runestones were gone! Her family might never get them back — this was the worst-case scenario!

  She got back on the elevator and went to the third floor, where the Empress Tea Lodge was, as well as a large sitting area. She wandered until she found a small, deserted alcove. Then she pulled out her phone and called her sister Mary’s number.

  “Cara, sweet, it’s nearly five in the morning here.” Mary’s voice was sleep thickened. “Couldn’t this have waited?”

  “The runestones have been stolen!”