by Linda Wisdom
“Interesting that a lingerie shop would smell like a forest,” a woman’s voice murmured. One of the quirks of Stasi’s shop was that each woman who entered encountered her favorite smell.
Interesting that a woman would instinctively choose forest over, say, vanilla or lavender, unless she’s in to pine air freshener. Oh well, to each her own, Blair thought to herself, returning to her post at the window. She watched a figure racing up the street and resisted the urge to duck out of sight even though it was apparent he was heading straight for her. “Yikes!”
“Get rid of it!” The twenty-something man shouted as he ran into the shop and grabbed her arms. “Please!”
“Let go of me, Kyle.”
He jerked away and backed off. “Please, Blair. I swear I’ll never do it again. I’ll be so faithful to Abby, I’ll be a saint.”
Blair watched the man’s face turn a stunning shade of royal blue and couldn’t help but smile. “Wrong answer, Kyle. All you have to do is go one month without lying to or about Abby, and so far you haven’t been able to do either.”
“That other girl meant nothing.” He walked in jerky circles, his arms waving up and down at his sides.
“You’re quickly moving up to cobalt.” She narrowed her eyes on him. “Do you love Abby, Kyle?”
“Yes.” His face lightened to cerulean.
“See, you just told the truth! Keep it up. Don’t cheat on her, and show her just how much you love her,” she advised. “Do you think it was easy for Abby to ask for this revenge spell? She cried the whole time she was here. You got caught and then you tried to lie your way out of it. Dumb, Kyle, really dumb. You broke her heart and she came to me for vengeance. And now you’re paying the price.” She could have felt sorry for him; except she knew as long as he lied to the woman he claimed to love he was doomed to go around with a blue face. But her voice softened. “Be honest with yourself, Kyle. Do you really love Abby?”
The young man looked about as miserable as any guy with blue skin could look. “I love her so much it hurts.”
She nodded at his admission. “Then show her. Don’t tell her you’re working when you’re really out drinking with friends. Don’t make up excuses for forgetting her birthday. Start thinking about her and her feelings, because if you don’t, you will lose her. There are a lot of guys out there who’d love to have her as a girlfriend.”
He looked off into the distance. “Okay, I’m going to prove it to her.” His smile was a bit off-putting, since even his teeth were a pale shade of blue. “I was really pissed at you when this first happened, but now I see that you wanted me to do the right thing. I’m not going to lose Abby and she won’t have to see me with blue skin.” He ducked his head and left the shop.
“How interesting.”
Blair turned around to face a tall woman standing in the open archway to Stasi’s boutique.
Not human and wearing a glamour to hide her true nature.
Blair wasn’t an excellent shopkeeper for nothing. Her smile was welcoming, even if she was on guard against the mysterious woman. She noted that the visitor wore a classic Chanel suit—very overdressed for the casual mountain town. She wondered if she was visiting one of the nearby resorts.
“I hope you don’t mind. The young lady mentioned you are a witch who crafts vengeance spells.”
Blair cast a quick glance to one side and noticed that Horace was posed like a statue. The expression on his face told her he hadn’t missed the stranger’s glamour spell either.
“Yes, I do, for those who deserve justice.”
The woman stepped forward and moved around the shop, glancing at the 1940s vintage items. She paused to study a bronze silk evening gown draped on a mannequin.
“I have a son who has hurt me deeply,” she said, leaning over to closely examine the beading along the deep neckline. “While I don’t believe in revenge, I do believe in justice.”
Blair stood still, her smile fixed, but she was wary. Something wasn’t right. “What has he done to hurt you?”
She straightened up and viewed Blair with dark eyes. “He refuses to help our family. Not financially, but emotionally. To be a part of what we have.”
“Would there be a reason why he’s acting this way?”
The woman reached into her bag and pulled out a checkbook. “Only that he chooses to hurt us all. How much to force him to realize the error of his ways and return to the fold? And I would prefer that his skin not turn colors.” Her lips narrowed with disapproval.
Blair wasn’t sure what the woman’s son had done or why, but she suspected he had done it for good reason. “I would need to meet your son first.”
“Why?”
“Because I can pick up better vibes that way and see what spell works best,” she lied.
“That’s impossible.” Her words dropped like ice cubes.
“Then I’m afraid I can’t help you.”
“All I need is a spell.” She opened her checkbook and drew out a Mont Blanc pen. “If you give me that, I can do the rest.”
Now Blair was really getting ticked off. “That’s not how I work.” Her voice also had noticeably cooled.
The woman’s head snapped up, surprised at the strong negative response.
“Then no wonder you have to work so hard, selling these old toys,” she murmured, dropping the checkbook and pen back into her bag and abruptly walking out of the store.
“What is she?” Blair wished she had the senses to see past a glamour spell, but she had never had that gift.
“Not good,” Horace said, stretching his arms over his head. “And she knew I wasn’t real. You should have seen the look she gave me. You wouldn’t have sold me to her, would you?”
“You were safe.” Blair watched the woman ease her way into the back seat of a black Lincoln Town Car that smoothly pulled away from the parking space. “But there was something familiar about her.”
Now that he considered himself safe, Horace ambled over to the other end of the glass display case and settled down to pore over a colorful catalog. “Cool dollhouses.”
“And expensive.”
“Think whoever makes them could make a pad for me?” His claw traced the lines of a three-story Regency-styled home. “Something with a lot of red, maybe a disco ball and big mirrors over the bed and on the walls.” He wiggled his hips.
“Okay, that is just nasty.” Blair stuck out her tongue. “Thank goodness there’s no way you could afford it.” She returned to her post, gazing idly out the window.
“I need to start asking for a salary. I do my share of work here, too,” Horace said absently, flipping through the rest of the catalog.
“Like that’ll happen.”
“At the rate you’re moving it’ll happen before you manage to seduce Jake into bed.”
“I prefer the subtle approach,” she said primly.
“You? Prim? Yeah, pull the other leg.” He swiveled his head around. “Please. Ow!” He brought the singed tip of his tail around and licked the injured appendage. “Bitchy much?”
Blair knew she should apologize, but Horace ought to know she was a little sensitive where Jake was concerned.
“We’ll have a full moon next week,” Horace commented in a thinly veiled attempt to change the subject. “Anyone coming up for it?”
“We know Jazz will be coming for sure.” And she knew Jazz’s reason for coming. Namely to drop off those damn bunny slippers of hers since she claimed it was Blair’s turn to look after them while Jazz and Nick took a vacation. As far as Blair was concerned, they had plenty of other witch friends who would do a much better job of dealing with Fluff and Puff, the bunny slippers from hell. Jazz could dump them with Thea, who’d take them shopping for designer bunny-ware, or even Maggie, who’d dress them in camo and take them on one of her bounty hunting runs. They’d love either of those options, and Blair would be bunny slipper free. Why did she get all the creature-sitting duties?
“Thea said she would come up, but I�
��ll believe it when I see it—she’s working on her next book. Maggie plans on coming if she’s not on a job. She hasn’t been up here in months,” Blair remarked. Her witch friend Maggie enjoyed working security details with a motley crew of creatures as her backup. She had moves Lara Croft would envy.
Blair sighed. It had been at least two hundred years since all thirteen of the witches who’d been banished from the Witches’ Academy in 1313 had been together at one gathering, but they individually managed to hook up with each other from time to time.
“The good thing is, the lake’s back to normal, we’re back to normal, and the town is even sort of back to normal. Whoa mama!” Horace’s head swiveled almost 180 degrees as he noticed a shapely brunette walk by. “Tell me she’s stopping in the boutique.”
“She’s kissy face with a football player type,” Blair was happy to say as she settled in a red vinyl chair.
“Aw, those guys always turn to fat.” He slowly flew over to the diner table and plopped down next to Blair.
Horace stretched out on the table as if he was sunning himself, even though it was a balmy thirty-two degrees outside. “Maybe if you dressed sexier, the dog would sniff around you more,” he mused, raising one claw upward and examining the long, curved nails. While he was a proud card-carrying coward, Horace had the equipment to fight back if he was backed into a corner. “C’mon Blair, show off the girls.” He eyed her sweetheart neckline with a critical eye. “Shorten the skirt.” He tried again to check under her skirt but smoke curling up from the tip of his tail quickly stopped him. “More uplift here, nip in there, maybe some fuck-me stilettos. You got a smokin’ bod, girl. Show it off more.”
“Wonderful, I’m reduced to getting compliments from a creature.”
“What if we place a personal ad for you again?” Felix, Blair’s Kit-Kat clock, chimed in.
“With you writing the ad, no thank you. Last time a snake shape-shifter contacted me!” She shuddered.
“You should have let me write the ad,” Horace said. “You would have had much better luck.”
“I didn’t even want Felix writing an ad,” Blair pointed out.
“Hey, gorgeous. Having a good day?” Blair turned to see a familiar male figure standing in the doorway.
Her lips opened in a big smile as she looked at the handsome Were who made her heart skip more than a few beats. She was pleased to see that his scratches and cuts were much better and even the bite mark on his neck had healed faster than it would have on a human.
“I am now. You look much better.” And yummy. And kissable. And jumpable.
“I’m feeling more like myself, thanks to you. A good night’s sleep can help the healing process, too.”
“And what about poor Wile E?” she asked, standing up and moving over to one of the glass cases.
Jake grinned. “He’s probably off somewhere licking his wounds and wishing he hadn’t met me.”
“Oooh, puppy with attitude,” she drawled with a provocative smile as she leaned her hip against one of the glass display cases.
Jake’s cocoa brown eyes flared with a speck of heat, but he didn’t move any closer. Then he smiled as the bouncy sounds of the Andrews Sisters’ Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy floated through the air.
“Hey, hexy woman, you look ready to dance at the USO Canteen.”
She gave a hip-swinging movement. “I feel it, too.” She held out her arms. “C’mon on, handsome, give it a try.”
Blair’s smile widened as Jake moved forward and swung her around in jive moves that soon had her laughing and breathless. He may have been tall and muscular, but he was light on his feet and never came close to the display cases or the shelves. Luckily, the shop was large enough they could dance with total abandon to the 1940s hit. She was still laughing when the song stopped and so did they, in total sync.
She looked up, losing herself in his warm gaze and starting to move that extra inch that would put her right against his chest.
The heat in Jake’s gaze cooled as he dropped a kiss on top of her head and moved away. Blair immediately missed his warmth and was tempted to step back into his personal space. As if he guessed her intent, he moved across the length of the store until he stood near one of the display cases.
Rats, bats, and frog tails!
“I wondered if you’d like to go down to Grady’s tonight and get some dinner?” Jake asked idly, seeming to be interested in a collection of metal soldiers in blue and gray uniforms.
Yes! “Why, Jake Harrison, are you finally asking me out on a date?” she asked coyly.
His smile melted her insides until they were all warm and gooey. “Maybe I am, or maybe it’s one of those ‘we both have to eat, so why not eat together?’ And since it’s the twenty-first century, I’m even willing to let you pick up the check.”
She gave him a look that pretty much said not with this witch, pal!
“I’ll come by when you close up.” He tapped the glass case with his fingertips and sauntered out.
Blair took the opportunity to return to the door and look out. There was something about watching a tall, sexy guy in snug jeans walk away. Especially when he had a world-class ass like Jake’s.
“It’s about time that Were got smart,” Horace said. “Although you still could have sped up the process with some sexier clothes. Or no clothes.” He quickly cupped his claws over his tail before she could zap it again.
“Really?” Blair asked, her mind still on Jake’s exit.
“Oh yeah, at this rate the two of you will be getting it on hot and heavy. You’ll get regular sex and not be so cranky,” Horace said.
“There is no way I’ll discuss sex around you.” She really needed to get Horace off the sex issue. Her hormones had been playing havoc with her lately and she didn’t want to talk about it.
Blair returned to the window and watched several men outside hanging glittery white and blue banners across the streetlights announcing the upcoming Winter Carnival. It should be big this year, with the backing of nearby Snow Farms Resort. The resort had recently been taken over by a new owner and, not one to miss an opportunity, Floyd Pierce had immediately offered him the opportunity to help sponsor the carnival. Moonstone Lake’s mayor was a blowhard, but he knew how to bring business into the tiny mountain town, and with Agnes as the power behind him, the deal was easily sealed.
“What to wear. What to wear,” Blair murmured, mentally surveying her closet. Grady’s place was more a tavern than a restaurant and the witches considered his barbecue to die for, but that didn’t mean Blair was going to stint on date wear.
***
Jake returned to the workshop behind his cabin in hopes a few hours of hard work would center him before he picked up Blair for their dinner date.
“Why did I ask her out?” he muttered, pushing the buttons that disarmed the alarm and unlocking the door. With a small fortune invested in woodworking tools, he didn’t take any chances—not to mention his inventory, one of his closely kept secrets. “We’re completely different species. We have completely different needs.” Yesterday’s round with the coyote had proven that. Jake had looked even worse than when Blair saw him by the time he and the coyote had limped away from each other, in unspoken agreement that the battle was a draw. But it had been a good fight, and the two combatants parted with respect. Would Blair understand that?
He clicked on a space heater then turned on his CD player, cranking up Coldplay’s “Viva la Vida” with no concerns, since his nearest neighbor lived far enough away to give him the privacy he desired. He could work late into the night without worrying that the sound of his power tools would disturb anyone’s sleep. Never mind that his own sleep had been disturbed more than once lately by thoughts of a saucy little witch with a quick tongue and a sexy smile.
From the first time Jake had set eyes on Blair, he’d felt a stirring down deep that refused to go away. A part of him yelled that he’d found his mate. Only trouble was, she wasn’t a species his Pack would accept
. She didn’t turn furry—even if she did have the ability to snap and snarl without the benefit of fangs. Although why it mattered to him, he didn’t know. He’d left his Pack years ago because they couldn’t accept that he was a throwback to a different branch of the canidae family. Jake had a hard time knowing just where he fit in, so instead of pursuing Blair full out, he had kept to his Were–Border Collie self. It had been easier to snuggle up to her when he was cute and cuddly, and safer to hop on her bed and settle at her feet while she shouted and waved her arms, trying to remove his furry self.
He grinned at those memories. Especially the knowledge that Blair liked to sleep in the nude. That was a picture he wasn’t about to forget any time soon. Something else ran through his mind. In the few years he’d known Blair, he also knew that no one else had shared her bed. He felt a familiar heaviness in his groin that happened pretty much any time he thought about her.
No, Blair was a big hands off for him. He might have left his Pack—by his choice, not theirs—but he still knew that Weres and witches didn’t mix.
They say that “witches and wizards don’t mix” either, but Stasi and Trev found a way. And let’s not forget the “witches and vampires don’t mix” that Jazz and Nick ignored.
“Yeah, well, they didn’t have to answer to my Pack, which has its own way of dealing with anyone who doesn’t conform to their rules—even if a particular Were no longer considers himself a member,” he muttered, switching on the coffeemaker then heading for his power saw.
An intricately designed dollhouse resembling a British country estate sat on a nearby worktable awaiting his final touches and the custom-made furniture and tiny rugs and curtains supplied by a fellow craftsman. Plans for his next project lay on a drafting table. But it wasn’t easy to keep his mind on work right now.
And once again the question of why he had asked Blair out for dinner raised its furry head.
Hell, he might be Were, but he was also a healthy male and no matter what, Blair was the only one who caught his eye. He picked up his saw and put Blair out of his mind—for now.
***
“You can be one hot little witch when you want to be, Blair,” Felix said, his tail picking up speed as Blair walked back into the shop, having made a quick trip upstairs to change her clothes for her evening out. “Très chic.”