by Tina Donahue
Becca nodded.
Zoe didn’t budge from the doorway.
“You too,” Becca said.
“You heard the lady.” Constance grabbed Zoe’s arm and pulled her into the hall. Puffs of smoke poured from Zoe’s hair.
“Don’t pull that shit on me,” Constance warned. “I’m not impressed.”
“She needs me to protect her,” Zoe argued.
“No she doesn’t. She’s only going to call her mom.
“Do it,” Constance yelled at Becca. “You’re killing me with the suspense.”
It wasn’t doing Becca any good either.
She closed her door and leaned against it. After several calming breaths that didn’t do zip to relax her, she speed-dialed her mom.
“Baby,” Rowena said in greeting. “I’m so glad you called.”
Renewed worry twisted Becca’s insides. “Why?”
Rowena didn’t answer. In the background, Becca heard a chair’s legs scraping the floor. No doubt her mom had been in the kitchen when she’d answered the phone. “Because you’re my daughter?”
“No other reason?”
More silence, then, “Should there be another reason?”
“I don’t know. Look, Mom, I’m not accusing you of anything.”
“Accusing me?” The chair’s legs scraped again, followed by tapping sounds. Rowena pacing. “What’s going on?”
“I’m not sure. Those potions you came up with for Eric—”
“Your Greek god.”
“He’s not mine. What did you put in them?”
“Don’t you remember?”
“Of course I do,” she growled.
“Is there a problem?” Rowena asked.
“You tell me.”
“Wait—has something happened to him? Is he growing hair again? Losing it?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen him for nearly a week since our date.”
Rowena inhaled sharply. “You had a date? That’s wonderful. How did it go?”
“How do you think?” Becca shouted, then cried. “It was magic. The best time I ever had.”
“Then why are you so upset?”
“I know you worry about me. I know you want me to find someone.”
“Well yes, I do. Is that wrong?”
“Not unless you tried to make it happen. I’ve always wanted what you and Dad have. Not magic. Not spells. The real deal.”
“Eric isn’t giving it to you?”
Becca bounced on her heels. “I don’t know. That’s the problem. Please don’t lie. Did you put something into that second potion to make him like me?”
“I don’t understand. You’re calling me because he likes you?”
“That’s an understatement. He was all over—” She stopped and tried to calm down. “He was attentive, interested, he couldn’t look at me enough like I’m really something.”
“Becca Salt, you listen to me,” Rowena scolded. “You are something. You’re everything that’s right with this world. How many times do I have to tell you that?”
“You’re my mother. Of course you think I’m wonderful. It’s him I’m worried about.”
“Why? Sounds as though he’s seriously into you.”
Becca strode from one end of her office to the other, unable to settle down. Every part of her ached with tension and uncertainty. “You didn’t answer me. Did you put anything in his second potion to make him think I’m pretty, sexy, hot, whatever you want to call it?”
“No. Of course not. Why would I? You’re all of those things already. He’d have to be blind not to see it.”
Becca rolled her eyes and stopped pacing. “You’re sure? I’m not accusing you or anything, but maybe you did it by accident?”
“I know how to make a potion. If you’d studied a little harder, you would too.”
That again. Becca gritted her teeth and spoke through them. “What did you have the second potion do? What were you expecting?”
“Exactly what you wanted. To turn him back to the way he was before you gave him the first potion.”
“Nothing else?”
“You didn’t ask for anything else.”
Then it was true? Eric liked her because he actually liked her? Becca felt so suddenly dizzy, she could barely stand. She sank to the sofa, ready to cry in relief and joy when she had an awful thought. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“Why not?”
“When I gave him the second potion, he went back to looking like the regular Eric, but he definitely didn’t act that way.”
“What do you mean?”
Becca recalled his command for her to go to him, them kissing, him ordering her to strip, the triple-X rated activities that followed. She gave her mother the G-rated version. “He acted like he was interested in me. Really interested.”
“And you’re convinced the second potion was responsible?”
“Either that or how it interacted with the first one. What else could explain it? The man was on fire. He wanted to be sexy, commanding, all that bad boy stuff, and he was. Your potion, or potions, did that.”
“No. They. Did. Not,” Rowena shot back, sounding pissed. “They don’t interact with each other. One simply cancels the other out, which is what you asked me to do. To get him back to the way he’d been. You’re the one who brought out that other aspect of his personality. Not that I approve.”
“That’s impossible. The potions had to have done this.”
“Becca, I’m your mother. I wouldn’t give any man anything to make him behave that way around my daughter. I want you to be with a nice guy. Not some jerk who treats you badly.”
“He didn’t. He was just more confident than he’s been in the past, according to him. But that doesn’t make sense.”
“Why?”
“He’s dated thousands of women. All of them gorgeous, I’m sure. Oh hey wait, that’s probably it. I’m not gorgeous, so he could be however he wanted with me. Why didn’t I see that before?” She hit the heel of her hand against her forehead. “That explains a lot.”
“It doesn’t explain anything, unless he did treat you badly.”
“I swear he didn’t. He couldn’t have been nicer, yet assertive…in a good way.”
“And that doesn’t tell you anything?”
“Like what? He’s beyond hot?”
Rowena sighed, then murmured, “Maybe he’s finally met the woman he’s been looking for all along. The kind he needs. The one who lets him be who he really is.”
Becca rested her hand on her chest. Her heart whapped away, trying to break through her ribs. “You mean me?”
“Who else? Sounds as though he really likes you. The way mortals do. When it comes to love, mortals have it all over witches, warlocks, gods, and what-have-you. They take risks we’re too afraid to even think about. We rely on magic or powers. They expose themselves, right down to their souls.”
Tears stung Becca’s eyes. “Mom, do you really think he feels that way about me?”
“He’d be crazy not to. But,” she added quickly, “speaking as one woman to another, not as mother to daughter, I’d say it definitely sounds like he wants you.”
Becca moaned.
“Baby, that’s a good thing.”
“What if I waited too long? He’s called several times. I’ve been dodging him. I didn’t want to get hurt. What if he’s given up?”
“Then he’s not the man for you,” Rowena said. “Your father would have braved everyone in my coven to make me his. Isn’t Eric like that?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then you better find out. Oh, and Becca?”
“Yeah?”
“There is one way to tell if magic, not you, changed Eric.”
“How?”
A smile filled h
er mother’s voice as she told her.
Chapter Eleven
Sprawled on his sofa, Eric clicked the TV’s remote repeatedly. Dozens of sports channels zipped by with none of them appealing to him.
He tried the adult channels next. They were just as bad, failing to hold his attention for more than a few—whoa. He leaned over to follow the angle of the actors’ bodies.
One played a schoolteacher, the other a principal. The teacher, a guy who looked dumb enough to have failed kindergarten, bent backwards over his desk. The principal, a young woman who didn’t seem old enough to have graduated high school, crawled all over him, her skirt hiking up over her lacy white thong.
The camera zoomed in on her perfectly shaped ass, then moved to her pinned-up hair. It came loose on its own, her chestnut curls tumbling to his bare chest.
They went at each other, moaning and panting, scattering the teacher’s pencils, papers, books, making a racket.
Yeah, like that wouldn’t bring the school board in to get them both fired. Eric sniffed derisively and tried to find a storyline on one of the other adult channels. Something with a financial analyst and a witch.
Ten minutes later, he’d come up with squat and returned to the first film. Apparently, his profession was so damn dull even mortal women wouldn’t frolic naked in any analyst’s office.
He glanced at the phone and debated whether to call Becca. Again. Four times, he’d left her messages. Four times, she hadn’t called back. Twice, he’d driven by her office, wondering if he should corner her there, finally deciding against it. He had some pride left. Granted, not a lot, but he wasn’t going to grovel. At least not tonight. Maybe next week?
Growls and squeals poured from the TV. A pizza delivery guy had just joined the action with the principal and teacher. Books and notepads really flew now.
Like that was realistic. Eric had ordered his pizza an hour ago, and it still wasn’t here. He frowned at the time. Where was the guy?
“You come to me for your pies,” Desi had always insisted. “They get cooked right and delivered when promised.”
Sure. Trouble was, Eric couldn’t recall when his uncle had guaranteed delivery of tonight’s damn food. His belly growled. He grabbed his phone. His doorbell ding-dong-dinged.
About fucking time.
He was going to give the guy hell and not tip him more than three dollars. Maybe four. Okay, five. The poor slob had to make a living, didn’t he? Besides, it wasn’t his fault the delivery was so damn late. Desi had done this on purpose, still pissed because Eric had dared ask if he’d messed around with Becca’s food and his.
“I should have,” he’d kept yelling. “But I didn’t.”
Right now, Eric kind of wished he had. He could try out some of the teacher’s moves on Becca.
The guy was finally naked as the day he’d been born and tearing away the teacher’s slutty-prim clothing. She scratched his pecs with her blood-red nails. The pizza guy dropped pepperoni on her waxed cunt and ate it off as the teacher dipped his cock between her willing—whoa. The football captain had just come on the scene for some remedial math and was tearing off his school jacket, tee, jeans…
Desi’s delivery boy hit the doorbell again.
With his attention riveted to the porn, Eric padded to the damn door and swung it open. “Here.” Blindly, he shoved a fistful of bills in the direction of the guy.
The guy ran his fingers down Eric’s arm to his chest.
Eric dropped the bills and jerked away, ready to slug…Becca?
She still had her hand raised to his chest. Her other gripped the handle of a large wicker basket with gingham napkins, a bottle of Desi’s most expensive wine and a boxed pizza from his place.
Eric stared. She was actually here, ready to see and feed him, in more ways than one?
She’d certainly dressed for it. Her top tied beneath her breasts, the neckline cut low enough to accentuate her sensational cleavage. It and her harem pants were made of a lustrous silver fabric that brought out the blue in her eyes. She wore toe rings, delicate chains around one ankle and her starry navel jewelry. Those baubles rolled across her sweet belly with each breath she took.
She was taking a lot of them, the same as him, with both of them using up the oxygen.
Eric opened his mouth to say something, anything.
The football star’s loud, pleased grunt blasted from the TV.
Becca leaned to the side to see past Eric’s arm. “He sounds happy.”
He did. Suddenly, Eric wasn’t even close to pleased even though she was only inches away from him. Finally.
He’d called her four damn times with no response. He’d tried to talk to her in his car. She’d fled. She’d made herself scarce. She’d made him want. And now that she was finally ready to move forward with their relationship—if that’s what this was about—she expected him to greet her with open arms?
Eric crossed them.
The principal whimpered then let out a lusty moan.
Becca’s cheeks colored slightly but still looked pale in contrast to the black stuff around her eyes and her maroon lipstick. Stuff she’d worn the first time he’d seen her. When she’d ordered him to get naked and he’d obeyed without question.
Remembering, Eric tightened his arms and kept on his clothes. No more Mr. Nice Guy for him.
She finally brought back her hand. “Hi.”
His legs went rubbery with how breathless she sounded, while his cock went to full alert. Ready to roll. Uh-uh. This wasn’t some dumb adult film where she could just waltz back into his life, cover him with pepperoni and lick it off. What they’d shared had been real magic, and she’d refused to believe it.
He regarded the pizza box, then her. “Clearly you need a financial analyst.”
Her reddish eyebrows lifted at his comment or coolish tone. She chose to ignore his pissy mood and offered an unhurried smile that went beyond suggestive, straight into wanton. “That’s why I’m here. For you. A financial analyst.”
She trailed her finger over his crossed arms, down his tee to the waistband of his jeans.
His cock responded like a lovesick puppy, trying to wiggle above his balls to her hand.
Before she noticed and knew how much he’d missed her, Eric stepped back. “That’s not what I mean. If you’re delivering pizza for Desi now, your business is obviously in trouble.”
Uncertainty replaced her kittenish come-on. She ditched her smile. “It’s fine.”
“And yet you’re here, not there. Why? Isn’t this your busy time? All those vamps hiding from the sun. The weres looking for a full moon.”
The blood drained from her face. She glanced down the hall to see if any of his neighbors were around and had heard what he’d said.
They weren’t and hadn’t.
At last, she sighed. “I know you’re pissed and you have every right to be.” She lifted her face to his. “I’m so sorry. Can we talk inside? Please?”
The pizza delivery guy groaned. “More, dammit more.”
Becca’s blush stained her throat and chest. Her breasts lifted and fell with her heavy sigh.
Eric watched those soft globes quiver slightly. His shaft thickened beyond what he’d believed possible. Not trusting his voice, he moved aside to let her pass.
She stopped to the side of his TV’s one-hundred-and-ten-inch screen. “Wow, that’s big.”
The teacher’s cock looked like an anaconda even from where Eric stood. He slammed the door. Becca flinched but didn’t look at him. Oh no. She was still running away, preferring to glance at his living room’s vanilla-white walls, the glass-and-chrome furniture. Nothing quirky like her office décor…or possibly her apartment that she’d refused to let him see.
She put her basket on his coffee table. The metal base was pure Star Trek, circles within circles similar to Saturn’s
rings. His leather sectional was large enough for four couples to screw on comfortably.
The actors were really going at it now. Becca watched for a second then turned to him, pouty lips parted, nipples erect, expression yearning.
Aw hell. Eric had to lock his knees to keep from moving closer, gathering her in his arms. They couldn’t just jump each other as though nothing had happened. So much had changed. After dating too many women who’d treated him as a diversion until someone better came along, he’d found Becca. He’d opened up to her as he’d never done with another woman. And she’d fucking run away.
The last week had been the worst in his life, and Eric wanted her to know he wasn’t playing at this or at them. With her, there would be no games. “You said you wanted to talk. About what?”
She shifted her weight and ran her fingers down her silver stars, obviously nervous or trying to turn him on.
He was far beyond that, straight into raw desire.
“Us?” she finally said.
“You’re not sure?” Still?
“Us,” she said more firmly.
“Why? All of a sudden?” He padded closer. “I called you four times. You never answered or got back to me. You did get my voicemails, right?”
“Uh-huh.”
“You don’t seem so certain.”
“I am.” She nodded so vigorously a strand of hair fell past her ear and skimmed her cheek.
Eric wanted to ease it away. He forced himself not to move. “Then you knew days ago that I wanted to talk, but you didn’t bother to call back.”
“I was scared.”
“And I wasn’t?”
She came around the table and stopped when he stepped back. “I didn’t think about that.”
“You didn’t think about that,” he mumbled, then frowned. “So, I’m made of stone?”
“No, of course not. It’s just that no one’s ever wanted me before. Not like you did. I couldn’t believe that you really felt that way on your own.”
Eric wasn’t certain what pissed him off more. Becca not seeing how hot she was, or that she hadn’t had enough confidence in his feelings to trust her own, or that she finally had proof of what he felt and had relied on it—rather than her intolerable need of him—to come here.