“No shit. You don’t have any ID or clothing, and you were a cat an hour ago.”
She seemed amenable to helping him, or at least he hoped so. “You’re not kicking me out?”
“You’re the only naked man who’s graced me with his presence in a very long time. No, Emric, I’m not kicking you out.”
I find that very hard to believe. Grace was lovely. He couldn’t help but notice. Tall, hourglass-shaped, with pink streaks running through her blonde hair. But he had an inkling that she wouldn’t appreciate that kind of comment, so he kept it to himself, and dug back into the shrimp lo mein.
****
Given the excitement of her new pet transforming into a man in her bedroom, Grace was unable to go back to sleep. It didn’t hurt that he was easy on the eyes, either, but she forced that observation from her mind. He needed help. She could provide that.
Well, she could try. She wasn’t magical.
He finished all of her takeout leftovers, and caught himself when he licked his hand and was about to rub it over his face. He stared at it, horrified, then embarrassed when Grace giggled. “Do want a shower?”
“I do, and sorry about that.”
“Just don’t start peeing on my furniture.” She retrieved some towels from the linen closet and handed them to him. “Bathroom’s down the hall. Help yourself.”
He walked the short distance to it. “I was litter-trained, I’ll have you know,” he said before he closed the door.
She put the dirty dishes in the small dishwasher, then sagged against the counter. Just because she couldn’t get back to sleep didn’t mean she wasn’t tired, and she rubbed her temples, trying vainly to restore some energy. Maybe that chamomile tea hadn’t been the best idea.
She heard a few snatches of a song that had been popular when she was in high school sung from the bathroom, and she smiled. In the couple of short hours that she’d actually known the guy, he seemed decent.
Seemed decent, her subconscious reminded her. Jason had seemed decent, too.
Emric had been turned into a cat, after all. By an ex, he’d said.
A cold chill gripped Grace through her baggy pajamas. Really, she knew nothing about the guy except that he was a sorcerer who’d been transformed into a cat and knew all the words to a Killers song.
She made the short trip from the kitchen to her home office, her condo’s tiny second bedroom. She picked up her tablet and launched its browser, then chewed her lip. She didn’t know Emric’s last name yet—they hadn’t gotten around to that—but how common was his name, anyway?
She typed emric missing cedar hills into a search engine. There wasn’t anything related to his disappearance in the results, but there was a website belonging to Emric Maier, studio musician for hire.
Huh. She clicked the link.
There was a picture of Emric there, although his dark hair was shorter. According to his site, he had a master’s degree in music and was an accomplished multi-instrumentalist. There wasn’t any reference to his magical abilities, not that Grace expected to see that. But he was somewhat her counterpart in the music industry.
“Checking up on me?”
She jumped and dropped the tablet on the desk. He actually looked amused at the idea. “Yes. You have a distinctive name.”
“That I do. Although I doubt anyone was looking for me.”
“Uh, well…”
“You can be honest with me, Grace.”
“I didn’t see anything,” she said. “Google didn’t have any missing persons notices about you. Are you a hermit or something?”
“Or something, yeah. And before you freak out, it’s nothing nefarious. I have those degrees,” he said. “But my studio musician business is mostly a front. Most of my income comes from sorcerer stuff.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, I can’t exactly tell the IRS about that.”
Grace set aside the tablet and brushed past him on her way out of her office. She tried not to notice that he smelled delectable after his shower, plus he was only wearing a towel. He has visible abs! Why must you torture me, God? “So you’re a sorcerer for hire.”
He nodded and followed her to the kitchen. “Spells and potions. I’m sure you can understand why I only deal with other supernaturals.”
“You never considered hanging out a shingle advertising, I don’t know, tarot card readings?”
“Don’t take this personally, although I’m sure you will, but humans usually irritate me too much to make that worth my while.”
“I’ll try not to, even though I saved you from being neutered.” She put on a pot of coffee. “So, what’s next, Mr. Sorcerer? Is there someone out there who can help you with the supernatural aspects of this?”
He looked a little uncomfortable at the question. Well, maybe that was a good thing. She felt a little uncomfortable with him in her kitchen only wearing a towel.
Emric parsed his words carefully. “I’m a bit of a lone wolf.”
“You’re going to have clarify that for me,” Grace said. “Are you a werewolf, too?”
“No, and would you let me finish? I’m trying to make myself sound as little of an asshole as possible.”
“You’re an asshole, now?”
“I don’t think so, although I’m sure there are some disgruntled sorcerers and witches out there who would disagree with that opinion,” he said. “I can’t get every ingredient out there at the snap of their fingers. There’s a single coven in the Cedar Hills area. I’m the only non-shapeshifting magic practitioner who isn’t a part of it.”
“Are you’re some kind of outcast, then? And shapeshifters are real?”
“I wasn’t officially an outcast, I just prefer to work alone. And shapeshifters are real, although there aren’t as many of them in Michigan as there are elsewhere. They prefer wide-open spaces.”
“I guess finding out werewolves exist is probably the least surprising thing that’s happened since last night.”
He sent a pointed look her way. “They tend to stick together and among their own kind. Anyway, I’m not part of a coven. I’m the person to see if you’re looking for obscure spells or ingredients, and I did occasional business with the coven when they were looking for the twenty-first century equivalent of eye of newt.”
“That’s a thing?”
He gave her a withering look. “Everything’s a thing when it comes to magic.”
“Where does Maisy fit in?”
“I’m getting to that. Maisy moved to Michigan a couple of months ago, from Salem.”
Grace’s interest was further piqued at the mention of Salem. “Were any of your ancestors…?”
He cut her off. “A million times great-grandmother was one of those unfortunate witches, yes. As I was saying, Maisy moved here from Salem and joined the coven here. These days, the coven welcomes anyone with magical abilities, provided they use it for good. It turns out Maisy had an interest in darker forms of magic and thought I would be the person to seek out for that.”
“Are you?”
He paused. “Yes and no.”
Grace raised an eyebrow at him, waiting for an explanation.
“I don’t practice it,” he said. “Nor do I condone it. But there were people in my family tree who didn’t feel the same way and I happen to have an old grimoire in my possession that has a few—controversial spells, I guess you could say.”
“She slept with you so she could get access to the grimoire.” She noticed he didn’t ask how she knew what a grimoire was. She appreciated that.
“Pretty much.”
“Emric,” Grace said. She wanted to tsk at him, but resisted the impulse. She settled for the scold her mother used on her. “Emric, Emric.” An unrelated thought struck her. “Does anyone call you Ric?”
“No, and I don’t want that now.”
“Okay. Emric, how did you not see through that? She hears you have this mysterious old grimoire with murder spells and then gets all cozy with you and you don’t m
ake the connection?”
He didn’t even look insulted at her disapproval. “It had been a very long time for me, and despite what I do for a living and my clientele, I deal with usually decent people. Even sorcerers can believe in the honesty of others. And I should tell you that she didn’t bring up the grimoire thing until the morning after. I’m also fairly certain that the spells in there are too obsolete to be of any significant use, but I’d prefer not to test out that theory.”
The coffee pot burbled, and Grace poured two mugs’ worth. “Cream or sugar?”
“Black, thanks.”
“Emric?”
He looked at her from over the rim of his mug.
“Would you mind putting on some clothes?”
“Oh. Right. One women’s bathrobe, coming right up.” He sent a wink her way and left the kitchen to retrieve it.
“I could go to your house and pick up some clothes for you,” she called after him.
He returned wearing her bathrobe, although it wasn’t much better than the towel. “I don’t think that’s a good idea right now. Maisy probably has wards all over the place that’ll let her know if someone stops by. That’s what I’d do in her situation.”
“What about the grimoire?”
“It’s in a safe deposit box at the bank,” he said. “It’s the safest place for it. Even Maisy isn’t stupid enough to use magic in front of all those human employees for her own ends.”
“Okay, so taking you home is out of the question,” Grace said. “Tell me your sizes and I’ll stop by the mall when it opens.”
Now he looked a little uncomfortable. “You don’t have to do that. I could just order some stuff from Amazon and have it delivered.”
“You could,” she said, “but wouldn’t it make sense that Maisy is watching your online accounts?”
“Fuck.” He took a hard pull of his coffee like it was a shot of whiskey. He didn’t even seem to mind the burn that would have accompanied it. “You’re right. Look, Grace, you’ve been very helpful so far, and I really appreciate your not freaking out over your pet shifting into a human. I’m sorry about that, by the way. You seem like you’d be a good cat owner.”
“I’m thirty and single,” Grace said, trying to keep her voice as light as she could. “Of course I’d be a good cat owner.”
One dark eyebrow lifted a little at that admission.
Somehow, he didn’t seem to be in mockery of her.
Chapter Three
Grace left the condo later that morning, promising to pick up some clothes and food over Emric’s protests. “I’ll pay you back as soon as I can,” he said, but she waved him off.
He had time to ruminate over his situation while she was gone. He finished the leftover shrimp lo mein, savoring it in a way he never expected to, but anything was better than the kibble he’d been eating at the animal shelter. He drank another cup of coffee and then puttered around the condo, looking for a pen and paper. Finding both in her office, he sat down at her desk and made a list of everything that had gone wrong since Maisy came into his life, and brainstormed ways to fix things. The coven members would be the most helpful, but since he didn’t have his phone or wallet, he didn’t have any way to get in touch with them.
His mind wandered to Grace, brainstorming intentions be damned.
It was crazy that she was single. She was sweet, caring, successful—if the condo itself and the artwork adorning its walls were any indication—and beautiful. He’d noticed that even in his cat form. Blonde women had always been his kryptonite, even when they had bright pink streaks running through their hair like Grace did.
He hoped he hadn’t insulted her when he said she’d be a good cat owner. He didn’t think he had, since she was still going out and getting him clothes, but he’d feel better knowing that she didn’t feel badly about herself.
He shook his head as if he could toss aside those thoughts like he would an Etch-a-Sketch. He had no business thinking of Grace in such a way, or wondering too much about her personal life. She promised to help him get his life back, and that was more than he’d expected once the curse had been reversed. A glance at the calendar hanging on the kitchen wall confirmed his suspicions that he’d been a cat for almost a month. He needed to get his outstanding bills paid and find a way to get in touch with the coven without tipping off Maisy.
A knock at the door snapped him out of his thoughts. He looked down at his borrowed pink bathrobe and sighed. Hopefully whoever was on the other side wouldn’t be too scandalized by the sight of a man wearing a woman’s robe.
He looked through the peephole first and saw a tall, sandy-haired man shuffling on his feet, hands shoved in jacket pockets. Emric couldn’t sense any magic coming off him, and he didn’t look like a mail carrier.
He took a chance and opened the door. The guy’s eyes widened at the sight of Emric. “Hi,” the man said. An awkward silence stretched between them.
Emric didn’t let his unease show. “Hi.”
He shuffled his feet again and looked through him into the condo foyer. “Is Grace around?”
“She’s indisposed at the moment.” That was technically the truth, anyway.
He looked around Emric at the condo’s foyer. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Um, why are you wearing her bathrobe?”
“I’m sorry, who are you?” Emric asked.
“Jason.”
The name meant nothing to him. Emric put his hands on either side of the doorway when Jason put a foot in it.
“Jason,” he repeated. “She didn’t mention me?”
A soft ding sounded down the hall, and Grace stepped out of the elevator, hands full of bags. She saw her visitor and stopped dead in her tracks, anger marking her elfin features. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“I came to see you,” he said, twisting his mouth into a smile. It was the expression of a man who knew he’d fucked up and was desperately hoping to make amends.
“How did you get in the building?”
“I followed someone in. Honey, you aren’t answering your phone, and…”
“Get out,” Grace said. She stalked to the open doorway and set the bags on the tiled floor before turning to face him.
“Who’s this guy, Gracie?”
“This is Emric,” she said, linking her arm through his. She looked up at him, adoration across her features.
Pity that it was feigned. But he would play along. “Her boyfriend,” he said.
Jason looked incredulous. “You can’t be serious, Gracie!”
“Why do you think he’s wearing my robe? I shredded his clothes in a fit of passion.”
Emric fought back a smile.
Jason looked unconvinced. “But this isn’t like you, Gracie.”
“Of course it is.” Before Emric’s brain registered what was happening, she’d locked her arms around his neck and branded him with a searing kiss that left him weak in the knees. And he’d be damned if he could remember the last time that happened.
Any thought of their audience vanished from his mind. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her flush against him.
She broke the kiss before he could shut the door in Jason’s face and push her up against the wall. He pulled her against him in a bear hug, not bothering to try hiding his erection from her. She stiffened a little but didn’t pull away.
He planted an affectionate kiss on her cheek. She looked up at Jason, a triumphant grin on her face.
He still looked shocked and a little hurt. Emric almost felt sorry for him.
“Okay then,” Jason said. “I guess it’s really over.” He stepped away from the doorway, back into the hall. His anger at her rejection was palpable.
“It was over when I caught you in bed with Caitlin,” Grace called after him. “And if you come back into this building, I’m calling the police!” She slammed the door and leaned against it. Her face was flushed, but it was undoubtedly due to seeing Jason rather than that kiss.
“Ex?” said Emric.
“Yeah. To his credit, he didn’t turn me into a cat.” She picked up the bags and walked past him to the living room. “I picked you up some stuff. I hope it fits.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine.” He didn’t care about the clothes right now.
“I’m sorry I had to use you as a prop just now.”
“Don’t worry about it.” He’d be thinking about that kiss for a long time. It was a shame it was just to get her ex to leave her alone.
“It was an ugly breakup,” Grace said, unprompted.
“Yeah, I gathered that.” How awful, to find your partner banging someone else.
She didn’t go into the dirty details, though. “He said I was too boring for him. It bugged him that I didn’t want to be a starving artist and busk my way through life, which for him really meant living off other people.” She sank into the couch. “He’s such a leech. God.” She massaged her temples. “That burlesque dancer must have left him, and he wants to come back to old reliable Gracie until someone more exciting comes along.”
Emric was very aware that he was only wearing her bathrobe. He was also aware that he was very much attracted to Grace and that was clouding his judgement. There was also the whole cat thing. He had to tread lightly here.
He sat down next to her. “Grace, you aren’t boring.”
She gave him a look that clearly questioned his intelligence. “You don’t need to flatter me,” she said. “It’s not the first time I’ve heard that.”
His heart lurched a little at her admission. “I mean it,” he said. “You made your art pay the bills. Not everyone can do that. And there’s nothing wrong with being reliable. That’s a good thing.”
“Yeah, probably.” She still sounded unconvinced. Emric wanted to punch her asshole ex just for the look on her face and dejected tone in her voice.
He tried another tack. “Boring people don’t kiss like you do.”
That pulled a reaction from her. Her eyes widened and her pupils dilated for all of a second before she regained her composure.
It was good to know that he wasn’t the only person affected by that. “Let me get dressed,” he said. “And then we’ll take a trip to the bank to see if Maisy’s been sniffing around. That isn’t something boring people would do.”
Her Purrfect Match_Romance on the Go Page 2