Opal's Wish: Book Four of The Crystal Warriors Series

by Maree Anderson

A distinct snort came from Emilie’s direction. “And a bra,” she said.

  Magda flicked her gaze at Opal and gave a slow blink. “What the hell are you wearing?”

  “My shirt.” Danbur crossed his arms across his chest. “I did not think it appropriate for the little one to see her mother half-naked.”

  Magda tried her best to frown but the Botox won. “The ‘little one’?”

  “Sera.”

  Magda seemed to notice Sera for the first time. “Ah,” she said, giving great poker face. “Totally understandable.”

  Her full attention switched back to Danbur. And lingered, Opal noticed, on his bare chest. Unreasonable jealously spiked her heart. She liked Magda. Respected her and trusted her—as much as she could trust anyone she’d recently met and had a professional relationship with. But she didn’t want Magda—or anyone—looking at Danbur like he was a tasty morsel to savor.

  “And you would be?” Magda purred.

  “Danbur. Sera’s caregiver.”

  Magda’s gaze turned speculative. And then she pinned Opal with a penetrating look that had Opal quailing on the inside because it seemed to comprehend far too much.

  “I see,” Magda said before she turned back to Danbur. Her head tilted to one side and then the other, and Opal swore she was mentally gauging his height, weight and other physical attributes. And then she strode toward him, one hand outstretched. “Magda Bliss. Nice to meet you, Danbur.”

  To Opal’s relief, Danbur shook Magda’s hand briefly, and seemed unmoved by her blatant regard.

  “Can you stay a little while?” Magda asked him.

  “That depends solely on Sera.” Almost as an afterthought he added, “And Opal, of course.”

  “Sera?” Magda beckoned her forward. “It’s your birthday on Thursday, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  Magda smiled. And it was the smile of someone who was about to play a trump card. “Well, then, I have a special birthday gift for you. How would you like the lady who did your Mom’s hair and makeup to do your hair, too? And I seem to remember your favorite color is pink. We’re bound to have some pink accessories out back. You can choose one or two as your birthday gift from me.”

  Opal glanced down in time to see Sera’s face light up as she squeaked, “Really?”

  Oh Magda was good. Really good.

  Magda jerked her chin at Emilie, who stepped forward and without missing a beat said, “Really. I think there might even be a pretty little pink handbag. Shall we go see, Sera? And do you think you’d like your hair up or down? We can even straighten it if you like.”

  Sera’s eyes rounded with awe. “You can straighten my hair?”

  “Of course.”

  Sera tugged on Opal’s hand. “Can I get my hair straightened, Mommy? Pleeeeease?”

  “Sure.” Doubtless they’d do a far better job of it than Opal had managed with the cheap flat iron she’d bought. After an hour of wrestling with Sera’s thick wavy hair she’d had to give up.

  She watched her daughter take Emilie’s hand and vanish into the makeup room with Emilie and one of the stylists. One down, one to go. She had a sneaking suspicion Magda’s next move was going to be— What was the word Emilie had used? Epic.

  “Danbur,” Magda said. “You’ve interrupted the shoot and put us behind schedule. This, as you can imagine, is a problem for me.” He opened his mouth but she cut him off with a wave of her hand. “I know how you can make it up to me. All I need is an hour of your time. Deal?”

  “That depends,” he hedged.

  Smart man.

  “Oh, it’s nothing too onerous, I promise.” Magda smiled her shark’s smile and waved an airy hand. “A few photos. And your permission to use them for my campaign if they’re up to scratch. I’ll pay you, of course.”

  Danbur eyed her like she’d turned into something venomous. He opened his mouth but she cut him off again. “All you have to do is be yourself and let Tem do all the work. Deal?”

  He mulled this for all of ten seconds before honor won out. “I acknowledge my debt to you,” he said. “Tell me what I must do to satisfy you.”

  A smile played around Magda’s lips. It was a speculative smile, like she might be contemplating just how thoroughly Danbur could satisfy her.

  As if sensing Opal’s growing desire to smack that smile from her face, Magda dialed it down a few notches. “Excellent.” She snapped her fingers at the head stylist. “Find Danbur a pair of leather pants. No shirt. Just the pants. And bare feet. No need to style the hair—it’s perfect as is.” She made shooing motions at Danbur. “Off you go,” she told him. “This nice lady will take care of you.”

  Opal didn’t have to be a rocket scientist to know what Magda had planned. And, seeing the bewildered expression on Danbur’s face as he fell into line behind the stylist, she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Not to mention she felt weak-kneed and fuzzy-brained at the mere thought of Danbur standing in for Jake and Dominic… and hadn’t the foggiest clue how she would disguise her true feelings for him.

  She pressed the back of her wrist against her forehead. Her skin felt hot, feverish. Her heart was doing the wild thing in her chest. Even her veins buzzed with anticipation. God help her. Keeping it “professional” for the next hour or so was going to be the biggest challenge of her newly launched modeling career.

  ~~~

  Suspecting she was superfluous—for the moment at least—Opal grabbed the opportunity to lean away from Danbur and put some physical distance between them. He got the message, and she tried to ignore the way her body quivered as his hands left her shoulders and stroked down her arms before he stepped back.

  She marched stiffly to the side of the studio, where she leaned her back against the wall and slid down until her butt hit the floor. Even five minutes respite was welcome. It would give her time to calm her hormones. And administer a stern mental lecture about getting carried away by the moment, reading more into each passing minute than she should.

  This was modeling. It was all about faking it—the two of them gazing deep into each other’s eyes and pretending there was desire and need and yearning where there was none. Nothing Danbur had conveyed with his eyes and his expressions and his touch had been real.

  Yeah. Right. And you just keep telling yourself that, Opal. Because the truth was that Danbur wasn’t a professional model. He didn’t know how to fake it. He’d been himself, exactly as Magda had told him. And Opal, unable to deny the attraction that sizzled between them, had responded in kind. She’d armored herself with pretense but within minutes it had melted beneath the raw heat of Danbur’s honesty. And for the past half hour, she’d felt naked and exposed and more vulnerable than she’d ever felt.

  Now she was exhausted. She wanted to cry. She wanted this day to be over.

  “Got it.” Tem’s tone reeked of glee. Opal jerked her head up in time to see him jab at the TV-sized viewing screen hooked up to his digital camera. “That’s the money shot, right there, Magda. It’s everything you wanted. Showcases the jeans. Strong, sexy, provocative—”

  “But not overtly so.” Magda bent to peer more closely at the screen. “The way he’s looking at her, touching her…. It’s… it’s….”

  “Tender,” Tem said. “But there’s desire, too. Is it hot in here or is it just me? I think I need a fan.”

  Oh God. This was more than humiliating. This was like having photos of an intimate, private moment between herself and a lover released into the public domain for everyone to critique. It felt like the worst kind of invasion of her privacy.

  “Yes,” Magda said. “It’s super-hot. But it’s subtle—which is key, don’t you think?”

  Tem loosed a loud snort. “Unless you’re pulling a he-who-shall-not-be-named-in-my presence style of campaign.”

  Magda matched Tem’s snort and raised it. “If I was launching a range of body oil, perhaps.”

  “Let’s be blunt. We don’t want everyone so busy ogling the oiled up, half-naked
models they don’t notice the clothes.” Tem raked his hands through his carefully styled hair and it was a mark of his excitement, Opal thought, that he didn’t immediately pat the locks he’d disarrayed back into place.

  “Luke.” Tem beckoned his hovering assistant closer. “Thoughts? Too far? Not far enough?”

  The slight man pushed his rimless glasses up his nose and stared intently at the screen. “Gorg,” he pronounced.

  Tem rolled his eyes. “Of course Luke knows he has to say that or I’ll make him sleep in the spare room.”

  Luke grinned, blew Tem a kiss, and retreated to fuss with the camera equipment.

  Magda snapped her fingers at Jake and Dominic, who, after giving Danbur some quick pointers about posing, had found a couple of folding chairs and settled back to watch the fun. They were getting paid regardless of whether they were posing or sitting out watching. “Take a look, boys,” Magda instructed. “Tell me what you think. Honest opinions only.”

  The two men bounced from their chairs and ventured over to give their opinion.

  Dominic said nothing but his actions spoke louder than words as he turned to Tem, pressed his palms together, and bowed his head over his hands.

  Subtlety, however, wasn’t Jake’s middle name. “Jesus,” he said. “Looks like he wants to peel those jeans down her hips and—”

  “Do the kinds of things we don’t talk about in front of Jordan’s little girl.” Dominic elbowed him in the ribs.

  Heat flushed Opal’s cheeks. Tem’s gaze darted toward her, and then flicked to Sera, who’d just entered the studio with Emilie. He hesitated and then grinned. “Exactly the look I was going for.”

  “Mommy!” Sera’s smile was huge with delight. “Look at my hair! It’s not frizzy any more! It’s all shiny!”

  Opal squinted at her daughter. And then, absurdly grateful that Sera was still in her original pink pants and t-shirt, and hadn’t been “made over” like some living doll, relaxed and smiled back. “Y-Y-You look b-b-beautiful, b-b-baby. A-A-And so d-d-does your h-h-hair.”

  “I know! And Emilie gave me a pink bag, too. To keep! It’s got beads and glitter and fringe! See?” She waved the little evening bag at Opal, and then remembered her manners enough to thank Magda for the early birthday gift.

  Magda murmured something in a distracted fashion, her mind obviously on other things. Relief swamped Opal. She didn’t want to dampen Sera’s happiness but she had to make her daughter understand that this was Mommy’s workplace and Sera shouldn’t be here. Any time now Magda’s patience could snap. She beckoned Sera and pushed herself wearily from the floor.

  And then Danbur was beside her, cupping a hand beneath her elbow and helping her to her feet, and oh, it was so very tempting to lean on him, give in to her weariness and close her eyes and let him take care of her. Instead, she moved away and braced herself for one of Sera’s enthusiastic hugs as her daughter hurtled toward them.

  Danbur lunged and scooped Sera into his arms before she could reach Opal. Sera threw her arms about his neck, giggling with delight as he spun around in a circle. When he stilled and she’d caught her breath she said, “Look at my hair, Dan. Isn’t it soft ’n shiny? Emilie’s friend Michelle did it for me with special straightener thingies! And I’ve got lip-gloss, too. See?” She pursed her lips and gave him a sticky kiss on the cheek. “And Michelle let me keep it. It’s in my bag!”

  “You look beautiful, little chick,” Danbur told her. “But to me you have always been beautiful.”

  “You look beautiful, too, Dan,” Sera said. “Magda could use you as a model, too. And you could work with Mommy. That’d be cool! Wouldn’t it, Mommy?”

  Opal managed a faint smile. And then she launched into the little speech she’d rehearsed for Sera, and finished with a hug and the suggestion that Danbur confirm it was all right to take Sera home now. She kissed Sera goodbye, and waited, heart in her mouth, until she saw Magda nod and indicate Danbur and Sera should leave the studio with Emilie.

  She watched Danbur walk out with her daughter, and it was as though all the light and warmth and life had been sucked from the studio. She shivered, feeling alone and adrift and empty.

  The stylist hurried over with a robe for Opal to throw on over the bustier she wore with the jeans for these last set of photos. “You okay, Jordan? Can I get you a drink or anything?”

  Opal shook her head. “I’m f-f-fine.”

  “Your daughter is adorable, by the way,” the stylist said.

  It was too much of an effort to speak so Opal smiled her thanks at the compliment to Sera. And then Magda called her over to take a look at the shot that everyone was oohing and ahhing over.

  Opal knew they were all watching, waiting for her reaction. She put on her game face. It was just a photo. One of many. Knowing Tem, the composition would be perfect, Opal would look like a million bucks and the jeans would be showcased to “Buy Me Now!” perfection, Danbur would look smokin’ hot, and the connection between them would be utterly real and believable to outsiders. But it was just a photo. It was a product of faked circumstances, faked emotion, faked connection. Fake. It wasn’t real.

  And then she caught her first glimpse of the “money” shot.

  Her breath left her body in a dizzying rush and her knees turned to Jell-O, and someone was shoving a chair at her. She collapsed into it. She didn’t register their concerned faces or hear their urgently voiced questions. Because all she could process was a truth that couldn’t be denied. No matter how Danbur had acted before, it was plain as the expression on his face, captured forever in that still frame, that he loved her.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Opal dragged herself up the path to Peter’s house. The walk from the bus stop was hardly worth mentioning but she felt like she’d run a marathon or something. She was completely and utterly wiped. Maybe she’d splurge and buy a little car to use for the commute to Magda’s offices.

  Today had centered around another shoot—this one a solo, and even more demanding because there were no Jake and Dominic to buffer her from Tem’s acerbic comments when things didn’t work as well as he’d hoped. She’d worked hard to build rapport with him, and she could now better read the subtext to understand what he wanted from her. But it was harder than she remembered it being all those years ago. Everything was harder when you stuttered and were sleep deprived. She hadn’t suffered this kind of bone-deep exhaustion since Sera had been a newborn.

  Thank God tomorrow was a holiday so she could sleep in and—

  She puffed a sharp breath through her nose. Right. Who was she trying to kid? Tomorrow was Sera’s birthday. She planned to bake the cake tonight—if she could stay awake. In the morning she would have to decorate it, and do all those other little tasks she’d not had time to tackle, before the guests arrived for the lunchtime party. In its own way, tomorrow would be as stressful as posing for a hyper-critical photographer. And then there was coping with the crushing guilt of asking Peter to buy Sera’s birthday gift because Opal hadn’t yet gotten to the mall. It wasn’t like her to be so disorganized.

  Peter’s door swung open and her neighbor greeted her with a smile. “I sent Sera and Danbur to the corner store to buy candles,” he said. “So now would be an excellent time for you to wrap Sera’s gift, don’t you think? I think you will be pleased with my choice.”

  “I can’t thank you enough for doing this, Peter. I—”

  “It was no trouble, my dear. I simply dropped Danbur off at the shelter, and carried on to the mall. There was a pink one in stock so I took the liberty of purchasing it.”

  Pink? Sera would love it. “Th-Th-Thank you.”

  He ushered her into his bedroom, and indicated the small box on the bed. “Take a look. I asked the assistant to recommend a mobile phone that would be simple enough for a child Sera’s age to use. Sera can take photos with it, and even play music.” He pulled a receipt from his back pocket and handed it to her. “I bought gift wrap, too. It’s in that bag on the bureau, a
long with some colored tape.”

  It was a great feeling to give the receipt a cursory glance and not freak out about the price. Even better was handing over the cash she’d taken out to cover the purchase, and not having to worry about blowing her budget. And sure, a mobile phone was an expensive toy for a little girl, but Sera would be able text her whenever she wanted.

  Opal eased open the box, revealing the hot-pink phone. “It’s p-p-perfect—j-j-just what I… w-w-would have b-b-bought for her.” She hugged the old man.

  To her surprise he hugged her back fiercely. “There’s a little something I need to show you—after you’ve wrapped Sera’s gift. I’ll be in the kitchen.” He exited the room, leaving her to wrap the gift and stow it in the plain plastic carry-bag he’d left for her. With luck, Sera wouldn’t even notice the bag and she wouldn’t be subjected to a barrage of questions.

  Opal made her way into Peter’s kitchen and immediately spotted the “little something” sitting there on the counter. A cake. But not just any cake. An ever-so-slightly lopsided cake with lurid pink frosting and a shaky tracery of white frosting that read Happy 9th Birthday Sera! Laid beside it were, yes, nine strawberry-shaped candle holders, waiting for the candles Danbur and Sera had been sent to buy.

  “I hope you don’t mind.” Peter’s voice behind her made her jump like a startled cat. “I mentioned to Danbur that you would have a lot to do tomorrow morning to get ready for the party, and Sera overheard. Between them, Sera and Danbur decided to bake her birthday cake. I helped them make the sponge cakes this afternoon. They sandwiched them together with cream filling and decorated them. Sera told Danbur it’s his birthday gift to her.”

  Peter came up beside Opal and stood, head cocked to one side, staring at the cake. “They did a marvelous job, I think. They made a good team. Danbur was exquisitely patient with her. He would have made a wonderful father.”

  Opal’s heart skipped. “W-W-Would h-h-have?”

  Peter turned to her. “He has told you of his origins.”

  It wasn’t a question. She closed her eyes, wondering how to avoid an awkward conversation about her spacey memories, and what little she could recall of Danbur’s tall stories. She understood it was Danbur’s way of rewriting his past and coping with something traumatic but it still made her uneasy. The past had a way of creeping up on you and biting you on the ass. How would Danbur cope when he had to face the truth about what had happened to him? Would there be someone to help him through it?