Love Potion #7

by Tara Kingston

  “I don’t know what to think, Elise. Other than this is way too much, way too soon.”

  Elise tapped a perfect nail against a bookshelf, her ladylike façade doing a poor job of masking her fury. “I thought you’d be happy for me,” she repeated. She turned frigid blue eyes on Chelsea, and suddenly, it seemed the friend Chelsea had known for so many years had gone for good. “But why would you? You’re stuck here, in this moldy little shop, wearing your glasses and your sensible shoes, going nowhere. You can’t tell me this is what you really want. I saw how you looked at my ring.”

  “It’s beautiful. But how much is that ring gonna cost you in the long run?”

  “You just don’t get it, do you? Kent is crazy about me. He’ll do anything I want as long as I keep him happy. And believe me, I know how to keep a man happy. His wife certainly doesn’t give him what I do.”

  A concrete block landed in Chelsea’s gut. “Wife?”

  “Why did I have to go and tell you that? You’ve always been so straitlaced. So…Puritan! Jesus, you sound just like my daddy. Who cares that he’s been screwing his secretary for years and Mom looks the other way. Of course, she’s had her fair share of tennis pros and personal trainers.”

  “Elise, what about his wife? If she finds out—”

  “If she finds out, so much the better for me.” Elise’s laser-sharp voice could have cut diamonds. “He’s got enough money to go around. And he can open some very big doors for me.”

  “But how…how did you ever get to this point?”

  “How did I meet Kent? Is that what you mean?”

  Not exactly, but at least that revelation might provide some insight into what was driving Elise. “Yes, how did you manage that? Last I’d heard from you, you were auditioning as part of the Greek chorus for his play.”

  “Let’s just say I made a point of making myself stand out whenever he stopped by. There were others vying for his attention, of course, but I guess they don’t have what I have.” She held up her hand and bestowed another adoring look on her ring. “I made sure he noticed me. Kent appreciates me. Men like him are often, shall we say, neglected. He’s not flashy and isn’t in the spotlight very much. He’s relishes being treated like he’s something special. He’s not used to it, like some men with his kind of money.”

  “Like an athlete, you mean.”

  Elise’s perfect brows quirked. “You’re referring to Jake Wilder again, aren’t you? Wow, I really had you convinced I was head over heels. I’m a better actress than even I thought.”

  “But that day…the day you left…what else would I have thought?”

  The ice melted in Elise’s eyes. She patted Chelsea on the shoulder, shaking her head as though Chelsea really was the most unbelievably naïve creature since Dorothy flew out of Kansas. “Oh sweetie, you thought I was in love with him? After three dates? Jeez, he wouldn’t even sleep with me. Kept saying it would violate the agreement he signed.”

  “Agreement?”

  “The bachelor auction agreement, silly. Apparently, the organizers of the event include some legalese about permitted activities with the winning bidders. Liability issues and such. Seems sex was a no-no according to his contract. And he had no intention of breaking it.”

  “Bachelor auction?” Elise may as well have been speaking in code for all the sense her words made to Chelsea’s ears.

  A little laugh trilled from Elise’s lips. “Ah, that’s right. You didn’t know.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I never told you how Jake and I met, did I? You assumed it was some cute little accident like in those sappy romances you read. Well, it wasn’t, but I wasn’t about to advertise the truth. If you’d take your face out of a book, you would’ve seen it on the eleven o’clock news.” She dropped her voice to a conspirator’s whisper. “I bid for Jake at a charity auction. The one for the children’s hospital, I think. Daddy told me to spend as much as I wanted to get a chance with a big-time football star. Jake Wilder would’ve been Daddy’s dream son-in-law. My winning bid nearly set a record.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Elise’s shoulders rose and fell in a dainty shrug. “I guess I wanted you to think the fairy tale was happening to me. It’s a lot more romantic to think he just spotted me and couldn’t resist asking me out than the truth. Daddy’s check had a lot of zeroes, I’ll tell you that.”

  Had the world actually tilted on its axis? Chelsea struggled to ground herself, like a sailor bracing against rough seas. “But you were so upset. Of course I thought it was real. I thought Jake Wilder broke your heart.”

  “I was humiliated, Chelsea. Let’s just say I’m not used to a man who doesn’t even want to get my clothes off. And I was angry. I wasted a lot of money…a lot of money…only to be dismissed without so much as a parting gift.” Her nails drummed against the shelf. Much harder, and she might actually leave dents. “It was Valentine’s Day, after all. How cheap can you get?”

  Oh God. Oh God. She’d made a terrible mistake.

  An unforgivable mistake.

  Oh God.

  Her stomach lurched. She’d been seasick once, in high school. Hanging her head over the side of a dinghy-sized fishing boat, praying she’d make it back to shore before she lost her lunch in full view of the high school big-man-on-campus and his swagger-filled entourage.

  This was worse.

  “I’m sorry, Chelsea.” Elise seemed more like the friend she’d known for so many years. “Sorry I’m not the person you thought I was. You’re happy here. You’ve never wanted more. I’ve been raised to want more. Jeez, I’ve been prancing around with crowns on my head since I was in first grade. Might as well put that smile to use.”

  “Yeah, might as well.” Chelsea forced out the words. All she wanted to do was curl up in a ball and cry.

  What have I done?

  Beyond the closed door, Kent fumbled with the knob. “Guess our little chat is up. I’ll try to drop by later without him. Maybe we can have a drink.” Elise caught Chelsea’s hands in hers and gave them a reassuring squeeze. “You have to think bigger than this. You deserve better. And you’ve got to learn to go where the men are. They’re not going to just walk into this little hole in the wall and sweep you off your feet. I don’t care how many romance novels you read. That doesn’t happen outside of the pages of a book.”

  How Chelsea longed to correct her. Jake had done a pretty good job of walking right through that door and sweeping her away. Too bad it couldn’t last.

  Kent strolled out of Chelsea’s office and draped a gangly arm around Elise’s shoulders. “We’re close to getting what we want, darling,” he said. “There are a couple of hitches, but aren’t there always. I hate to rush you, but we’ve got to be back to the hotel for a conference call in an hour.”

  “I want to get together over drinks,” Elise said. “Talking about old times is always such a blast.”

  “Yeah, we can do that,” Chelsea mumbled, the lie not quite flowing from her tongue.

  “And I meant what I said. You’ve got to go after what you want. You’ve got to make it happen.”

  * * * * *

  Chelsea flipped the Open sign to Closed, trudged into her office, and flopped in a chair. Her eyes studied every crack and mar in the ceiling. Damn. Damn. Damn. Why had she ever concocted this cockamamie scheme to teach Jake a lesson? She’d had it all wrong.

  Completely. Utterly. Wrong.

  Had she really been so blind that she hadn’t seen the truth? Elise always had a way of using her beauty and her smile to get what she wanted. A place on the Homecoming court. An easy A in chemistry. A string of boyfriends, each one wealthier and more influential than the last. Chelsea had refused to acknowledge the increasingly materialistic nature of her friend’s romantic attachments. She’d let her loyalty to Elise cloud her vision and drive her to ridiculous lengths.

  She had to fix this. She had to fix what she’d done. And fast.

  Hands weighted w
ith lead, she reached for the phone. Good thing she had Bridget in her favorites. She doubted she’d think clearly enough to dial the number.

  “Hey, Chels,” the voice on the other end chirped. “What’s up now? Mr. Wonderful need a refill?”

  “I’ve done something awful.” Chelsea launched her confession, regaling Bridget with all the details of how badly she’d misjudged Jake.

  “Oh dear.” Bridget offered no condemnation and no reassurances. “Oh dear.”

  “So, what do we do about this? How do I fix it?”

  “Fix it? Uh…”Bridget sounded like she was stalling. Not good. Definitely not good.

  “How do I fix…him? How do I remove the spell?”

  “Ah, sweetie, I’m not sure you want to do that.”

  “What choice do I have? I’ve love-hexed an innocent man.”

  An innocent man I’m crazy about—an innocent man who can make my toes curl with just a look.

  “Look, Chels, you need to think about this.” Bridget was probably twirling her hair, just like she always did when she got nervous. “I suggest you let the spell run its course. The potion will dissipate over time.”

  “You said three months.” Did she sound as panicked as she felt? “I can’t do that. I can’t leave him under his spell for months.”

  “Why not? You like him. I can tell. Have some fun with this. Enjoy it while it lasts, then see what happens when it wears off.”

  “You mean just use him ’til the potion wears off? Take advantage of the spell?” Come to think of it, the notion was tempting.

  “The effects will wane over time. He’ll come out of it and just assume the novelty has worn off. Just like with all his others.”

  “He’s not like that.” Chelsea sounded defeated even to her own ears. She rested her forehead on her fist and closed her eyes. “He’s different. Nothing like I thought. I’ve got to make this right.”

  Bridget’s breath whooshed against the phone. Chelsea’s eyes flew open. Was the spellcaster hyperventilating?

  “Bridget, talk to me. It’s not that bad, is it?”

  “Well, there is a way to reverse the spell, but the side effects aren’t pretty. I just want you to know what you’re in for.”

  “Side effects? Like he’s gonna grow a tail or horns or wings? Out with it.”

  “He’ll hate you, Chelsea. I don’t mean he won’t love you anymore. I don’t even mean he won’t know you’re still alive. I mean full-on loathing. Hollywood divorce hate. He won’t be able to stand the sight of you. You’ll probably even smell bad to him. Are you sure you can deal with that?”

  The realization came like a punch to the gut. Chelsea forced herself to breathe.

  What choice do I have?

  “I can’t deceive him like this. He doesn’t deserve that. How long until you can get me the antidote?”

  “Give me a couple of hours to whip up a batch. If you change your mind, I’ll destroy it.”

  Chelsea leaned back in the chair and let her gaze fall on the smiling face in Jake’s promo photos. How would he look when his eyes reflected nothing but contempt? How would she survive his hatred when she ached for him even now? The worst part was, she had no one but herself to blame.

  “I won’t change my mind. I intend to fix this.” A lump scalded her throat. “Tonight.”

  Chapter Ten

  Chelsea mounted the steps to her townhouse as if she headed for a date with the hangman. She might as well have been marching up a gallows. After this evening, any chance she had with Jake would be as dead as the lead bimbo in some slasher flick.

  She glanced at her watch. Daryl had showed up late for his shift—again. Normally, she didn’t mind. But this time, he’d put a crimp in her schedule. Jake would be here in less than an hour, expecting a home-cooked dinner and Chelsea for dessert. He’d offered another night on the town. Ritzy restaurant, elegant cuisine and the finest wine. Tempting, especially given the time crunch, but she preferred to seize home-field advantage. Enduring Jake’s reaction when the antidote took effect would be hard enough. Facing the stares of strangers peeking over their Pinot noir and filet mignon would be unbearable.

  Half an hour later, freshly showered and dressed in an emerald sheath and strappy little sandals, she touched up her lipstick and hurried to the kitchen. She wanted this meal—her last meal with Jake—to be perfect. There was no time to put on a show of her culinary skills, limited as they were. No, witchcraft would have to do.

  She marched into her kitchen, a woman on a mission. Retrieving hearts of romaine, salad fixings and grated cheese from the refrigerator, she placed the items in a mixing bowl and sprinkled on a hearty portion of olive oil and balsamic vinegar. “Toss.” In a blink, the heap of lettuce transformed into a delectable salad, each leaf precisely coated with the optimal amount of dressing. On to the main course. This would be a little trickier. Chelsea opened a cookbook to her favorite recipe, placed it on the counter, then removed a prime rib from the fridge. Gathering the listed ingredients and equipment, she peeked at the instructions, then swished her palm over the items she’d collected.

  “Prime Rib au jus. Baby red potatoes, roasted until tender. Prepare.”

  The scent of expertly cooked beef and vegetables filled the kitchen. Now, to keep it warm until Jake arrived. A few more soft-spoken commands, and the oven warmed to the exact temperature required to warm the entrée without drying it to shoe leather.

  The doorbell chimed. Such a happy sound to be the harbinger of her unhappiness. Jake stood on the porch, a delightfully haphazard bouquet and a bottle of what looked to be very expensive wine in his hands.

  His smile as she greeted him would have reduced an arctic snowdrift to a puddle. “Wow, you look beautiful.” He presented the bouquet with a sheepish shrug of his shoulders. “I know you prefer wildflowers to roses.”

  “Ah, you listened.” Her heart melted just a bit more. At this rate, there’d be nothing left.

  He eyed her from head to toe, appreciation clear in his gaze. “Sure you want to stay in? I’d like to show you off.” He motioned to his truck. “Your chariot awaits.”

  He stopped, sniffing the air. “On second thought, your cooking smells terrific.”

  “Just a little something I put together. I think you’ll like it.”

  He coiled an arm around her waist and pulled her to him. His head dipped to nuzzle her neck. “If the food smells half as good as you, how could I resist?”

  * * * * *

  “The recording session went well today,” Jake said between bites of beef and potatoes. “I was in and out of the studio in about an hour. They really know what they’re doing.”

  Chelsea stared at the piece of potato she’d skewered on her fork. The promo would most likely never air. After all, why advertise an event that wouldn’t happen? Jake would probably never want to see her again on any level after she undid the spell. It would be better that way. Especially for her heart.

  She hiked her mouth into a placid little smile. “Well, you’re kind of an old pro at this. You’ve done television commercials and even commentary during games.”

  “I never got used to it. I never could get rid of this drawl.”

  Ah yes, the drawl. One of his sexiest features. Surely he knew how women flocked to that raw, masculine sound.

  “You’ve had no shortage of women melt over your voice,” she pointed out.

  His brows rose. “Still believing everything you read in the grocery store checkout line?”

  “You must admit those mags made a pretty convincing case.”

  “Entirely circumstantial.” He reached for her, resting one hand over hers. The simple contact stirred her heart to a little shimmy against her ribs. So warm. So right. “Just wait ’til you show up on the cover of the Snitch. I’m sure they’ve snapped your picture by now.”

  “At least my mother will have something to talk about.” She forced herself to down a couple bites of potato. The food tasted like paste against her tongue. Her
appetite had deserted her.

  Her gaze drifted to the nearly empty glass beside his plate. The hearty red wine had been an excellent choice to harbor the antidote. By now, he’d consumed nearly all of it.

  Ticktock. Ticktock. The clock pendulum’s steady beat taunted her. Twenty minutes after the formula first touched his lips, the love spell would begin to unravel. Within an hour, he wouldn’t be able to hide his revulsion.

  Chelsea swallowed against the scalding heat in the back of her throat. He’d come to his senses soon. She’d be alone then. Missing him and regretting the day she’d heard of Love Potion Number Seven.

  Jake speared another bite of his entree, then another and another, mixing in conversation along the way as he cleaned his plate down to the dusty-blue stoneware. Ticktock. Chelsea didn’t need to glance at the clock to know nearly an hour had passed since he’d first tasted the potion. Her stomach clenched in knots. She’d shored up her defenses, guarding her heart against the impending transformation. By all rights, he should have thrown down his napkin in disgust and stormed out the door a half hour earlier.

  So why was he still here, pouring himself another glass of wine and eying her nearly untouched goblet with concern? He settled back into his chair and tipped her chin with one finger.

  “Look at me, Chelsea. You’re as skittish as a cat at a dog show. If you think I’m going to pounce on you and carry you off to bed, I won’t.” His serious demeanor eased into a hint of a grin. “Unless you want me to.”

  He looked…well, he looked hopeful. Damn him, where was the Jake Wilder swagger, the stuff of legends and scandal sheet headlines? Walking away from that man would be easy. But the Jake Wilder who looked at her with a hint of vulnerability in his dark-chocolate eyes would leave an indelible mark on her heart.

  Invisible talons tore at her heart and twisted her insides to knots. She couldn’t pretend any longer. But how did one go about telling a man she’d put a spell on him?

  She couldn’t. He’d never believe her. He might believe she’d gone insane, or he might believe she’d adopted the story to avoid offending him. She dropped her gaze to her clenched hands. Even if she couldn’t explain her actions, she had to end this, one way or another.