by Eton, Kris
* * *
Justin leaned back against a barstool near the pub entrance. He'd looked for Marissa all day today, but she was nowhere to be found. He kicked himself for not getting a phone number from her. He had no idea where she lived, where she worked. He only knew the location of a few of her favorite haunts in downtown Santa Cruz, and none of them had panned out.
John was smart enough not to ask him anything. They'd carded pub goers in complete silence.
"Hey, I gotta take a leak," Justin told his co-worker. "I'll be right back."
"No problem." John turned to handle a large crowd of college students who'd entered the bar all at once.
Justin made his way to the bathrooms at the back of the pub, skirting around a cluster of women in their forties celebrating someone's engagement. A pretty typical Thursday night.
When he finished using the restroom, he headed back out to his post. Someone sitting at the bar caught his eye. A pair of long, sexy legs, and a red dress that hugged the curves of a very familiar body. Even from behind he could recognize Marissa. His heart swelled. He headed toward her. She must be there to talk to him. Now he could ask her all the questions he'd thought of last night after she'd left. When he was just a few feet away from her she turned. A buff black guy in a tank top had a hand on her knee. She leaned in toward him to whisper something in his ear, and the man's hand slid up under her skirt.
A seething cold ran through his gut. He stood rooted to the spot, unable to believe what he was seeing.
Marissa cupped the man's chin in her hand and pressed her lips against his. The man's hand clamped onto her thigh.
Justin clenched his fists. He wanted to pound the other man into the floor. Turn him into a bloodied mess. All the old feelings came back. The day he'd caught Jana with that jackass, Tom, in his bed. Now it was happening again. He took a step forward, the tension rising, and his anger boiling over.
Their kiss deepened. Marissa shifted her head, her hair spilling over one shoulder.
Even though anger and hurt raged through him, he couldn't move. He couldn't fucking move. Because it was Marissa who deserved all his anger, not this guy at the bar. He was nobody. He was only another guy for Marissa to lure into her web. She was no good. She'd used him for her own sick games.
Their kiss ended, and Marissa stood. The man seemed unwilling to leave his spot and pointed at his drink. She tugged at him.
"Give me a sec, baby."
"Let's get out of here," she said.
Justin stepped back, not wanting her to see him because he knew that hurt would be etched all over his face, and she would win. He ducked his head and disappeared into the crowd of women he'd passed by earlier. From a safer distance, he watched them. The black guy finished his drink. Marissa stood there, waiting. He finally got up, threw a few bills on the bar, and grabbed Marissa by the arm, leading her toward the front door.
She followed him into the night.
John watched the pair pass him and turned to scan the pub. His gaze caught Justin's. They exchanged a look. John understood. The anger that had been roiling through Justin dissipated quickly, leaving behind only a heavy weight on his heart. She was gone, and he was alone and hurt once more. Something he'd never wanted to experience again.
Someone tugged on his arm. "Can you kiss me?"
"What?" He shifted his gaze from John to the forty-something woman next to him.
"I have to kiss a stranger, and then you have to sign my card." She held up an index card. All the women in her group laughed uproariously. "I'm the bride-to-be. Give a girl a break."
The smell of her breath told him she’d had enough liquid courage for the night. "I'll sign the card without the kiss." He held out his hand for her pen.
Before he could put up any kind of defense, the drunken bride-to-be launched herself at him and planted a wet, sloppy kiss right on his mouth. When she finished, he played along. He smiled and signed her card. He let the group of women fawn over him and draw him into their little party. And, even though he was strictly not allowed to drink during work hours, he let them buy him a few shots of tequila, which he quickly downed.
The haze of the alcohol numbed him from the pain and hurt. He was barely aware of the giggling crowd of women who surrounded him, danced with him, pulled him into their group.
He had another shot in his hand when John approached him and clamped down on his wrist. "You don't want to do that, man. Why don't you just go home? Frank is here; he can take your post for the rest of the night."
Justin wrenched out of John's grasp and tequila sloshed out of the shot glass. "I'm done with 'em, John. Women? Fuck 'em."
"I know." His friend led him toward the storage room. "You sit tight in here. I'll call a cab."
Justin sat heavily on the cold tile next to boxes of liquor. "They're all liars."
"Not all of them," his friend said as he walked back into the pub.
While Justin waited for the cab, he thought over what had just transpired back at the bar. His heart sunk further.
Chapter Eleven
Marissa clasped the necklace around her neck and adjusted her cashmere sweater. She wanted to look her best. She'd been keeping to herself for the last day or so, thinking things over. Okay, so she'd made a huge mistake using magic. What an idiot! She was so used to having men under her spell, knowing they'd lose all memory of her by morning. It had been an automatic reaction. A very stupid reaction. Although she hadn’t told him she was a witch, her actions might have compromised her chances at winning the bet.
The idea of losing Justin forever chilled her to the core. She had to find him and give him some logical explanation that would stick to salvage her end of the bargain. Give him something to latch onto that made sense, and he would forget about what he’d seen last night. They could chalk it up to too much wine and be done with it.
Mink rubbed against her leg.
Marissa picked up her cat and held him close. "You aren't afraid of my powers, are you honey?" She kissed Mink on top of his furry little head.
She headed out the door a mass of nerves. Only a few more days remained before the bet was over. She couldn’t screw this up now, not when she was so close.
* * *
"What do you mean, he's not working tonight?" Marissa stood right inside the pub's entrance, hands on her hips. John shrugged. He hadn't looked pleased to see her when she walked through the entrance. "Do you know where I can find him?" Her stomach dropped at the thought that Demetria might have found out about her magic display last night.
John scratched the back of his neck, his discomfort obvious. "He went out of town." A couple walked in the door. He stamped their hands after they showed him their IDs. "Look, I'm kinda busy here. Justin's back-up didn't show, so I've got to work the door by myself tonight."
Marissa persisted, blocking people from coming into the pub. "Where did he go?" So perhaps Demetria didn’t find out about last night. The bet was still on.
John chewed on his lower lip.
"Please," she said. "I have to explain something to him. I want to tell him in person. It's very important."
"Look, I'll tell you right now, he doesn't want to see you."
God, she really had scared him the other night. "John, please . . . ."
The clamoring of the small crowd that had gathered behind her must have gotten to him. He took a napkin and wrote something on the back of it. "He went up to Clear Lake. Here's where he likes to camp." He handed it to her. "Fuck, he's going to kill me for this."
She kissed John on the cheek, and her spirits lifted. "Thanks, John. You won't regret it."
"I doubt that very much." He waved the crowd toward him and began rapidly checking IDs and stamping hands.
Marissa pushed through the throng of people and back out into the night. Clear Lake was quite a distance away. Typically, she would have transported herself there with a snap of her fingers, but she couldn’t risk Justin finding out she was a witch, or it would all be over. No, she needed to do this t
he right way. It was a four-hour drive to Clear Lake from Santa Cruz. Better to wait until morning, drive up, beg him to listen, and lay her heart out there. Whether or not he chose to stomp on it would be up to him once he heard her out. It was the best she could do. Time was running out.
Chapter Twelve
The fire crackled as Justin cooked his eggs. It'd been a long time since he’d gone fishing up at the lake. The bass were really biting this time of year, and he couldn't wait to get out on the boat he'd rented yesterday. It wasn't a big one, but it was enough for a one-man fishing trip. He had his lures and rods in the back of his truck, and a cooler full of beer, water, and ham sandwiches.
This is what his life should be like: having a job that paid the bills, hanging out with the two or three guy friends he had, and absolutely no women. Ever. They screwed up everything.
His coffeepot boiled over. He swore and dropped the pan of eggs onto the grill. Using the edge of his plaid shirt, he gripped the metal handle of the camp coffeepot and poured himself a cup. Then, he finished cooking his eggs.
Yeah, this was the life.
He ate his breakfast in four or five bites, finished up his coffee, and packed up his boat. Jana had always hated fishing. She found it boring. Would Marissa enjoy an afternoon on the lake with him? He shook his head, banishing the thought. No more Marissa.
When he started the motor and sped off across the lake he took in the early morning mists rising off the lake's surface and the way the sunrise hit the Klamath Mountains in the distance. The conditions were perfect for a good day of fishing, but for some reason his eagerness to get out the lake had waned.
Last night, alone in the tent, he'd had several hours to contemplate life without Marissa by his side. Life without any woman, for that matter. His pain at Marissa's betrayal eventually subsided into sorrow and regret. She'd reached out to him that night in his apartment, and he showed her his fear. It wasn't an excuse for the way she treated him the next night, but at least it was a reason he could grab onto.
All this relationship shit was too much work. It exhausted him. Better to drink a beer and try out the new lures he'd bought.
He guided his boat to a part of the lake known for waterlogged timber and rocks, which made for good hiding places for the elusive bass he sought. He cocked back his arm and sent his lure sailing over a rock and into a patch of calm water between two half-sunken timbers.
* * *
"Excuse me, sir." Marissa waved her arms at a man backing his boat into Clear Lake. "Can you help me?"
The older man set the brake on his truck and rolled his window down the rest of the way. "What's the problem, young lady?"
"I just missed a friend." She pointed out at the small metal boat speeding away. "Can you tell me where I might be able to rent a boat?"
"Over yonder." The man nodded down the road. "The State Park rents 'em by the hour."
Marissa smiled. "Thanks!" She took off running down the gravel road. If she didn't act quickly, she'd lose Justin out on that big expanse of blue water. She'd thought for sure she'd gotten there early enough to track him down, but she'd found his campsite a few minutes too late. The campfire was still smoldering when she'd pulled up.
Oh, how she wished she could use her magic right now and whisk herself out to his boat, but there were too many people around. She'd have to go the human route: rent a boat, follow him, and give him a believable explanation for her actions the other night.
A few minutes later, Marissa directed her blue-and-white swan paddleboat to follow Justin. It had been the only option at the rental place. Ridiculous looking, but it worked.
Justin was little more than a silver blip on the horizon.
Her legs already burned. At this rate, she'd be pedaling all day to catch up with him. She pumped her legs, and water churned underneath her feet. For a moment she panicked. Only a few inches of hard plastic lay between her and the depths of Clear Lake.
"Get a grip, Marissa."
She pedaled harder and focused her attention on the beauty around her . . . the distant mountains, the pine trees that ringed the edges of the lake, the gentle lap-lap of the water against the sides of her sturdy little boat. She'd be caught up in no time.
Chapter Thirteen
Justin hauled in his third bass of the day. The limit was ten, which meant he could stay out on the lake for the rest of the morning. His mind focused on one thing: fishing. It was good to be focused. Good to think only about his line, his lure, and the best place to put them in the water.
He looked up. The sun still rode low in the sky. Midday was several hours away and with the clouds drifting in from the mountains, the conditions were near perfect to catch a big one. He switched out lures, picked a spot near a particularly large, sunken tree limb, and . . . .
"Justin!"
The woman’s shout shattered his concentration. He let loose his line, and it sailed too close to the limb, snagging on a branch which stuck out above the surface. "Shit." He glared across the blue-green water at the plastic monstrosity coming toward him.
"Justin, I need to talk to you."
"Marissa?" He curved a hand over his eyes, but all he could make out was a dark shape inside a blue-and-white plastic swan as big as a compact car. "Jesus, what in the hell . . . ?" How did she find him here? This was supposed to be his no-women weekend. As she approached, there was an instant heaviness in his groin. Goddamn his cock for not remembering that.
The paddleboat kicked up foam and water. She attempted to steer the unwieldy vessel with the bicycle handles that served as a steering device, but ending up ramming the back of his boat. The water didn’t quite muffle the sickening crunch. "John told me where you'd be, and I had to talk to you."
"Go back, Marissa. I don't know why you wasted your time finding me. Am I really so much better than Mr. Tank Top? There're plenty of guys back at the pub. You don't need me." He jerked on his fishing rod to dislodge the lure stuck in the branch.
"Mr. Tank Top? What are you talking about?" She gripped the edge of his boat to keep hers from drifting away. "I wanted to explain."
"You don't need to explain." He tugged harder. "I get it. I knew what you were before we ever got together. I knew it wouldn't last. It was my own fault."
"You knew what I was? What was that, exactly?" She leaned out of her boat, gripping the slippery edge of his metal boat. A pretty brave stance for someone who couldn't swim.
A speedboat flew by just yards away. A huge wake rolled in their direction. Before he could put down his rod and reach out for her, Marissa was flung off her paddleboat and into the murky lake. Justin dove in after her. In a matter of moments he'd wrapped one arm around her waist and tugged her above the surface. She sputtered, water exploding out of her mouth.
"Are you all right?" Justin treaded water, making sure he had a tight grip on her.
The minute her head was above water, she flailed and twisted. She gasped to catch her breath.
He held her fast, and he kicked back toward his boat. The paddleboat had drifted away. Too far for him to reach at this point. He helped her to the side of his boat, where she clung to it silently, her hair a tangled mess around her head. Holding onto the boat's edge calmed her. He scrambled back into the boat and reached over the side to help her in.
"Grab my hands, and I'm going to pull."
She nodded, her face pale.
He pulled as hard as he could, but the boat tipped precariously in her direction and he stopped. His vessel was too small for that kind of maneuvering. He saw the fear in her eyes, though. The abject terror. She breathed shallowly, and her face was white. Regardless of the instability, he had to try once more. He moved his cooler to the opposite side of the boat, hoping for a more even weight distribution. On his knees this time, he grabbed her under her arms and pulled with all his strength.
He managed to get her up over the side, but the extra weight made the boat dip so low that it took on water quickly. Marissa scrambled out of his grasp, but
the boat tilted wildly. Before he could tell her to sit still, the tiny watercraft flipped over and dumped them both back into the lake.
She flailed wildly. He swam with a sure stroke toward her and locked his arm around her. Once she realized she wasn’t going to go under, she relaxed, but he could feel her shivering in his arms.
He couldn’t flip over his boat and hold onto her at the same time. “I’m going to get us over to that island.” He kicked in the direction of a small piece of sand and trees about fifty yards away. As he paddled them toward shore, he looked back at the small metal boat, upside down with the cooler bobbing next to it.
Marissa went limp, her body drifting with his strokes, floating on the surface of the lake. Although it was difficult to swim with her extra weight, he managed to get them to the island in record time.
As soon as his feet hit bottom he let go of her. “You can stand now.”
Marissa stood in the waist-high water. Her clothes clung to her like plastic wrap, tight and revealing. Although he’d sworn off women, especially this woman, his damned body couldn’t help but react to the puckered nipples so obvious beneath the wet fabric, and the full curves of her breasts and hips. He turned away before he did something stupid.
“Thank you.” Her voice was a bare peep over the sound of waves lapping the shoreline.
“I hope you’ve got cash on you because you owe me for the boat . . . .” The cooler floated past, its lid open. One soggy sandwich trailed behind. “And my lunch.”
Chapter Fourteen
Marissa waded out of the cold lake water. If she’d been alone, she could’ve saved herself with magic, but that was the one thing she had to avoid. His anger was palpable. He’d rescued her, sure, but he seemed to be anything but happy about it.
Anger.
That was an odd reaction.
She thought he would be fearful of her, not angry. Her mistaken display of magic was what sent him running, right?