By Magic Alone

by Tracy Madison

  He held out the box. “I called Leslie. She said it would do the trick.”

  His words bounced around my brain but refused to stick. “You called Leslie?”

  “Yup. Why? Is that a problem?”

  Hell, yes, that was a problem. See, I hadn’t exactly gotten around to telling Leslie about my night at Magical Matchups, or that Scot was Verda’s grandson. I hadn’t mentioned the soul-mate thing, either. I’d planned to. I would’ve. Probably over the weekend. But as worried as I was about all of that, I was more concerned for Leslie. “Are you insane?”

  “Not that I know of,” he said.

  “Quit being so dense! Is Leslie okay with you being here?”

  Scot stared at me, unblinking. “Is there a reason why she shouldn’t be?”

  I stared back, trying to read him, but came up blank. Yanking the pizza box from his hands, I said, “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe that you two dated? Maybe that I’m her best friend? Maybe that she might feel strange because of everything that went on between you two? Or possibly because she’s been going to Magical Matchups and confiding her romantic dreams to Verda without knowing your connection?” I puffed out an infuriated breath. “Or maybe, just maybe, all of the above? I can’t believe you called her!”

  The easy, relaxed demeanor fled. Scot’s eyes darkened and his mouth tightened. “Leslie and I are over. She knows that. You and I are nothing. She knows that, too. And I didn’t tell her about my grandmother.” Tossing his jacket over the back of my sofa, he said, “So, again, I’ll ask: is there a reason Leslie shouldn’t be okay with my being here?”

  “What did you tell her?”

  “The truth. That there’s something important I need to discuss with you, and I wanted to know the easiest way to get you to agree. She said Vito’s.”

  Oh, no. Leslie, with her new romantic fantasies, likely assumed Scot wanted to talk about her. My cheeks heated with emotion. Anger at Scot, perhaps? But also something else. A craving for something I didn’t begin to understand.

  “Clueless,” I mumbled, no longer sure if I meant him or me. “And if you’re here to apologize, you’re not doing so hot. Should work that into your skill set, Scot. Contrition might come in handy.” I strode to the kitchen without giving him a chance to respond.

  Scot Raymond. In my home. With Leslie’s approval. The complexity of that boggled my mind, so I shoved it away for now. I kept my breathing even and busied myself with gathering plates, napkins, and sodas, all the while ignoring the telltale tremble in my muscles.

  “You have a nice place here,” Scot said, coming in behind me.

  “Thanks,” I said grudgingly.

  My place was nice. The front room was large and airy, with wide windows and hardwood floors. My desk divided the living room and the dining room. A door to the left led to the kitchen, and farther down, a T-shaped hallway with my bedroom at the end. The bathroom had two doors, one off the hallway and one off of my bedroom.

  “But it should look familiar. Kara and Leslie’s place is the same setup, only they have two bedrooms.” I sprinkled an obscene amount of Parmesan cheese on my slices. “Help yourself,” I said when I finished preparing my plate. Then, without so much as a glance in his direction, I left him there alone and retreated to the living room.

  I slid the first DVD in and started the pilot episode before Scot appeared. Hey, I said I’d give him thirty minutes to chat, but damn if I wasn’t going to eat my food and watch my show first. Dumb, maybe, but I desperately needed to find a measure of control, and this seemed as good a way as any to get it. Besides, who doesn’t like Seinfeld?

  Scot plopped down next to me on the sofa and balanced his plate on his thighs. Every muscle in my body tightened at his closeness. Dampness dotted the back of my neck. I scooted to the other side, but even that was too close, so I moved to the chair. Sticking to my plan to ignore him until I had no other choice, I fixated on the television.

  The TV flicked off. “Turn it back on,” I said.

  “Nope. I can’t stand this show.”

  Told you. Zero compatibility. “How can you not like Seinfeld?“

  “I find it annoying,” he said. “And I didn’t come here to watch TV.”

  Whatever. “Turn it on or give me the remote.”

  “Nope,” he repeated. “Let’s just eat and get this over with.”

  “Sure,” I agreed. “Say you’re sorry. I’ll pretend to forgive you, and then you can go about your merry way and leave me alone.” I chewed a bite of pizza and swallowed it down with some soda. “Here, I’ll help you. Just say, ‘Julia, I’m sorry I was a total ass hat this morning. You didn’t deserve that response and I feel really badly about it.’”

  Deep, rolling laughter hit my ears. Setting my plate down, I pushed myself up and glared down at Scot. My temper continued to rise the longer he laughed. “What is so funny?”

  “Ass hat? Your Ivy League education teach you that?” He snickered again. “I am not here to apologize. Whatever gave you that idea?”

  “Gee, Scot. Let me think.” I touched my temple with my finger. “Oh, yeah, that’s it. I remember now. You were rude! You acted as if I’d set everything up with Verda. Which is ridiculous on every level imaginable. And then, before I could even react, you conveniently took off!”

  “You got all of that from the short time I was there? Huh.” Scot deposited his plate next to mine. “And just for the record, the idea of soul mates is not ridiculous. My grandmother—”

  “Is a very sweet lady, but a little off her rocker. Was she serious? Or is this some whacked-out game she plays to get new clients?” Ouch. I didn’t mean that. Not really.

  Scot’s eyes iced over. “My grandmother is far from delusional.”

  “I didn’t say she was delusional. I like her. But you can’t tell me that you agree with her. You made that quite clear this morning.” I sucked in a deep breath. “Unless you’ve changed your mind? Is that why you’re here?”

  His jaw hardened, so much I probably could’ve cracked an egg against it. “I am not here because I believe you are my soul mate.” He laughed again, but the sound held no mirth. “In fact, I’d be willing to bet that there isn’t a man alive who’s right for you.”

  My chest constricted and I bit back shock. “What is your problem?”

  “That’s the same question I asked myself when I found you cozying up to my grandmother this morning.” Scot narrowed his gaze. I felt the burn of it to the tips of my toes. “Maybe I was rude. I’ll give you that. And I probably do owe you an apology, but this”—he nodded toward the pizza—“wasn’t about that. I just needed you to hear me out.”

  “And you thought the best way to do that was to come into my home and insult me?” To give him credit, he looked chagrined. But he remained quiet, so I said, “You’d actually bet money that there isn’t a man anywhere in this world who is right for me? Wow, Scot, I had no idea you knew me so well.”

  “I know enough.”

  A host of stupid, messy, nonsensical emotions swarmed me. It was a first, and I reacted completely on instinct. I lunged forward, grabbed his arm and tugged with every ounce of strength in my five-foot-five, one-hundred-and-twenty-and-a-half-pound frame. His six feet plus of who-knows-how-many pounds didn’t budge.

  That didn’t stop me from tugging harder. “Get out. This conversation is over.”

  His free hand clasped my wrist, the touch of his fingers searing my skin, sending a jolt of electricity through me. With one quick yank, I toppled over, and just that fast I was in his lap. His arms closed in, capturing me.

  “We can sit like this and talk or you can go back to your chair. I haven’t said what I came to say, and I’m not leaving until we’re finished.” Hot breath tickled my cheek. His scent, woodsy and warm, assailed my senses. “Your choice, Julia.”

  “Let go of me,” I said, my voice strangled. “You are in my home. I call the shots here.” Okay, it was rather a ridiculous statement when I couldn’t even move, but that didn’t
make my point less valid. Still, he didn’t so much as twitch, just continued to hold me tight.

  A sob crawled into my throat, but I choked it down. “You said I was the last woman you’d want to date. Really? The last woman?”

  Something about the tone of my voice must have gotten to him, because he dropped his arms. I nearly vaulted over the coffee table to escape. Right at that minute, I wished I knew karate or jujitsu or some other type of dangerous but cool-looking martial art. I’d send a flying kick his way so fast he wouldn’t see it coming. Just to get his body closer to the door, mind you. Not because my feelings were so awfully hurt.

  “You don’t like me. I get that,” I said. “But I don’t get why. Why, Scot?” Maybe if I understood that part of the equation, everything else would slide into focus.

  He ran his hands over his eyes, his face incredibly drawn. “Leslie, for one,” he admitted. “But I’m not here to go into that.”

  “What does Leslie have to do with this? I mean, she didn’t cheat on you with me. I was an innocent bystander.” Oh. Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned the whole cheating thing. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  He didn’t seem to hear. “Innocent? You preached to her constantly about the unreliability of feelings. That her feelings for me couldn’t be counted on. My feelings for her, either. Our relationship consisted of three people: me, Leslie, and you.”

  “What? No! I never did that! I never told her that stuff in regard to you.” Had Leslie blamed me for her mistakes with Scot? I couldn’t believe she’d do that. “Scot, she talked about you a lot, sure. But I never gave her advice on your relationship.”

  “You never mentioned how you think love is for suckers and that she shouldn’t trust her heart over her brain?”

  Oh. That. “Um. Maybe I said that stuff to her. But it wasn’t specifically about you. We’ve had these conversations for almost as long as we’ve known each other.” I fought to find clarity. “And you can’t fault me for her behavior. That isn’t fair.”

  “I don’t,” he said in a pained, quiet voice. “She made her choice. But your opinion weighs heavy with Leslie, and I bet if you go across the hall and ask her, she’ll tell you the same.”

  “So you’re upset because I’ve shared my thoughts over the years with a woman whom you happened to date? That’s . . . well, it’s nonsense,” I whispered, hoping he’d see my point. “I knew Leslie long before you. Friends talk . . . they share opinions. It’s hardly fair to blame me for your failed relationship.”

  “You’re right, and I didn’t. Not really.” Resting his forearms on his knees, Scot bent forward, saying, “Until I walked into my grandmother’s business this morning and saw you sitting there. That reminded me of everything Leslie ever said about you and your beliefs. And honestly, it struck me as the action of a cold, heartless woman. So yeah, I reacted.”

  “I see. I’m heartless. Yep, you’ve figured me out, all right.” Pressure against my eyes told me tears were building, but this guy was not going to see me cry. “You have no idea what happened this morning. I got stuck there . . .” I clamped my lips shut. Really, why bother? His opinion was set. And what he thought meant nothing. Less than nothing. Negative one million degrees nothing.

  Maybe if I repeated that one million times, I’d actually believe it.

  “I protect my family,” Scot said quietly. “And my grandmother is a very important person in my family. I won’t let you use her.”

  I opened my eyes wider, resisting the urge to blink, not able to comprehend anything other than my desire to be alone. “I doubt you’ll believe anything I say.” Somehow, I managed to keep my voice level. “So we’re done here.”

  His face crumpled into a beaten expression. He started to stand, but then shook his head and resettled himself. “I can’t leave. You’ve put me in an awkward situation with my grandmother. I need your help to fix it.”

  “Fix what? I’m at a loss here.”

  “Introductions, Julia. I know what you do for a living, and I’m not some dumb guy who can’t piece together the reason you were at Magical Matchups.”

  My stomach lurched. Oh. Wow. I should’ve seen this coming, but I hadn’t. I’d focused too much on Leslie and the soul-mate garbage. His cold attitude suddenly made a heck of a lot more sense.

  I shrugged, trying to act the part of a heartless woman. “What do you want me to say?”

  In the snap of a finger, his entire demeanor changed. Hope washed into his expression, lightened his eyes. “Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me that you didn’t go to Magical Matchups under false pretenses. Tell me that you’re not out to hurt my grandmother.”

  I wanted to. More than I can say. But the only thing I could say with complete honesty was “I’m not out to hurt Verda. I like her, Scot. More than I expected to.”

  “And the rest of it?” he demanded.

  I shrugged again, not wanting to lie, but not wanting to admit the truth, either. “This is pointless.”

  Disappointment cascaded over him. “That’s what I thought. My grandmother believes we’re supposed to be together, and she’s a woman who cannot be deterred when she sets her sights on something. I promised her months ago that I’d date one woman—only one—of her choosing. She’s chosen you, and I don’t break promises. It’s madness,” he half muttered to himself. “But as long as she believes you and I are fated, then we’re going to have to play along.”

  I stared at my pizza. He couldn’t mean what I thought. “And that means what?”

  “It means that, starting now, we’ll date. It’ll be a charade, so don’t go all woozy and weird on me. We’ll do this to appease my grandmother until I can convince her that she’s mistaken.”

  “Um. No. I’m not doing that.” Leslie would kill me for sure. Beyond that, hanging out with someone who seemed to loathe me? Not high on my agenda. “Have you even talked to your grandmother since this morning? After you left, she didn’t seem as set on this you-and-I-are-soul-mates thing. She . . .” I slammed my mouth shut. I’d nearly told him about my free membership to Verda’s services. Somehow, I didn’t think he’d take the news well. “Maybe you’re upset about nothing,” I finished.

  “She called me the second you left. I’ve spent the majority of the day explaining to her the reasons why you and I are not the match she believes we are.” A rough and ragged sigh pushed out of his lungs. “If you hadn’t gone to Magical Matchups, we wouldn’t be in this position. But you did, so now we have to deal with the result of that action.”

  He might as well have been talking in Latin. “Just tell her I said no. That’s easy enough to do, isn’t it? It’s not your fault if I say no.”

  “You can’t say no. Hell, I realize how crazy this is. But trust me when I tell you that this charade is the easiest way out of this mess.”

  Yep. Latin. “I have no idea what you’re going on about. If this is so important, then lie to her. Tell her we’re going out, make up some stories, and then after a few weeks we can break up.”

  “With my family?” The line of his shoulders tightened and the cords in his neck rippled. “They’ll know. Every last one of them.”

  “Them?” I squeaked. This was getting worse by the second. “What do you mean them?”

  “My grandmother. My sisters. My cousin. Trust me, you don’t want them combining their . . . ah . . . wills to turn us into a couple. And they will, Julia, if they think I’m not living up to my promise. If they think we’re meant to be—”

  “What can they do?” I wanted to laugh. If I dealt with my manipulative, controlling family, why couldn’t he deal with his?

  “You don’t understand,” he said, musing to himself. “You couldn’t. Elizabeth and Grandma are the ones to watch. Alice . . . well, I might be able to convince her to leave it alone. Chloe can’t do a lot, at least not about this, but she’s tight with Grandma.” He shook his head, glanced over at me. “Even if I managed to convince everyone else to turn a blind eye, Grandma won’t. You got u
s into this mess by going to Magical Matchups. I need your help to clean it up.”

  “Oh, come on. You’re a big, strong guy. Are you seriously telling me you’re afraid of your female relatives?” A laugh did bubble out now, which surprised me. But I couldn’t imagine Scot being afraid of anyone, let alone a quartet of women.

  “Trust me. You have no idea what’s going on here.”

  “Then tell me.” I faked a yawn and fidgeted, ready to be alone. Ready to put this and Scot behind me. I wasn’t going to do this fake-dating thing, regardless of what he said, but curiosity made me ask, “Why is this such a huge deal?”

  “You, of all people, wouldn’t believe me if I tried to explain.” He closed his eyes as if trying to find the words that would convince me to agree. Opening them, he said, “The women in my family believe in fated relationships. If they want to, they will invade our lives in . . . well, in ways I can’t really articulate. I’ve given this a lot of thought, and the only way I can see us avoiding their interference is to . . . put on a show. It’s ridiculous, but necessary.”

  Honesty glittered in his voice, in his eyes. Even if I didn’t understand exactly what he meant, I believed he was speaking the truth. I was almost ready to say yes, but curiosity made me ask “And if I say no?”

  His gaze found the envelope from Verda on the other side of the coffee table. While nondescript, the envelope boasted a rather large sticker with the Magical Matchups logo in the upper left-hand corner. I had no idea if he’d just noticed it, or if he’d seen the envelope when he first sat down and waited for the perfect moment to throw it in my face, but his eyebrows bunched together at the evidence of my cold-hearted witchery. Swinging his attention back to me, Scot said, “Looking for a mate?”

  “Maybe. Is that so hard to believe?”

  He ignored my answer. “Really? You’re looking to fall in love?”

  “Maybe I am,” I snapped. “Maybe I’m lonely. Maybe I’m ready to combine my life with another person’s. Maybe I think Verda can help me do that. Have you ever thought of that, Mr. Know-it-all?”