Believe In the Magic

by Cait Miller

  “Well, obviously he was tame and well-trained.”

  He shook his head. “Will you at least give me time to prove it to you? I want to see you again, Megan. I need to see you.” Jack followed as she started towards the door. He thought she looked a little less skeptical but that could just have been wishful thinking. They stood face to face once more by the front door and Jack couldn’t resist tracing one finger down her flushed cheek. He could see her anger, hurt and confusion. Her voice was clipped as anger again won the battle.

  “I’ll think about it, but for now I want you to leave.” She reached behind her and opened the door.

  “All right, I’ll go, but I won’t wait around for you to call, Megan. I want you and I am going to have you.” He stepped out the door, wincing as she slammed it shut behind him.

  Megan slumped against the wall by the door, closed her eyes and let her head drop back with a thud as the anger began to slip away. I really hope Mrs. Timms was out walking with George, she thought with a sigh. I will never hear the end of it if she saw Jack leaving. I can’t even think about her reaction if she heard us shouting or…other things. At the thought, her eyes flew open and her temper flared again as she pushed away from the wall and headed for the living room.

  “What was he thinking? Does he think I am stupid?” Angrily she swept around the room gathering her discarded clothes and straightening the cushions on the couch. “Actually, I take that back. He doesn’t think it, he knows it. I believed that poor example of an excuse, after all.” When she tripped over the end of the throw again, she tossed it on the floor in front of the washing machine and continued her tidying frenzy naked. Thankfully she came to her senses just as she was contemplating dragging the vacuum cleaner out of the cupboard. “See what he’s done to me?! I almost vacuumed!” Dragging her hands through her tangled hair, she caught her reflection in the mirror on the living room wall. She looked like some kind of fanatical nudist, her cheeks flushed and her curly hair like a bird’s nest. How come Julia Roberts’ hair never looked like this after she spent all night rolling around with Richard Gere?

  “Okay, maybe I overreacted a bit,” she said to her reflection, “After all, the man can’t help it if he’s got a few screws loose.” Megan would be the first to admit that she could have a short temper, but it was not like her to blow up like that. She could only assume that her insomnia was catching up with her.

  A long, hot bath followed by dinner restored her humor but also gave her too much time to think. When she found herself alternately fantasizing about Jack and watching the fire escape window for the cat, she knew she had to do something. Hands on hips she surveyed her empty flat, picked up the phone and did what women have no doubt been doing for centuries when having man troubles. She called on her best friend.

  * * * * *

  “All right, care to tell me exactly why I am going to work tomorrow with a hangover?” Jayne Davis was tall and slim with fair skin, fiery red hair and light green eyes that Megan admitted she was a little jealous of. She had come straight from work and was still wearing black trousers and the bright green shirt with the company logo in red on the pocket.

  They had been friends since they had been three years old and their mothers had met on the beach. After a short disagreement when Jayne dumped a bucket of sand on Megan’s lap, the toddlers had become inseparable. The car crash that had killed Megan’s parents had also killed Jayne’s mother. The two couples had decided to go out for the evening but Jayne’s father had to work late and was going to meet them later. It was Megan’s dad who had been driving the car when it skidded on ice and hit a railway bridge, killing him and the two women. Jayne’s father had never forgiven himself for not being with them and had begun drinking. Four years ago he got drunk one last time and crashed his car into the same bridge and died.

  Jayne had retreated from everyone but Megan. A gifted artist, she gave up her teaching post at the nearby university and took a job at a supermarket. No matter what Megan said to her, she no longer joked about “drawing her way around the world” as she had once. In fact, she rarely went out at all. When she wasn’t at work or with Megan, she spent all her time reading.

  Megan retrieved two wineglasses from the cupboard before turning to answer her friend. “I told you I needed to bitch about a man.”

  Jayne leaned against the counter and studied her. “Yes you did, what you did not tell me was which man.” She tilted her head. “Nor did you tell me he made you cry. What happened and who is the guy?”

  She had always been able to tell Jayne anything but, strangely, Megan found she was reluctant to tell her what exactly had happened. It was ridiculous but in the back of her mind was a little voice saying what if… “Did I tell you I was almost run over last night?” She knew it was a pathetic attempt at stalling. Jayne had known her too long to fall for it.

  “No, you never mentioned that either and I would like to hear it, but first I want to hear about the man. Stop trying to change the subject.”

  Megan opened her mouth to tell her it was part of the subject before deciding to start at the beginning. Finally she said, “I met him at work.” Guiltily, she glanced at the kitchen table and heat crept up her cheeks. Jayne’s eyebrows lifted, she picked up the bottle of wine she had brought in one hand and the two wineglasses in the other and shepherded Megan into the living room. Megan turned on a CD and sat on one end of the couch while Jayne shoved the coffee table out of the way and sprawled on the floor, leaning her elbow on the other end.

  “Tell me,” she said, simply.

  “I do not think I will ever be able to sit at your kitchen table to eat again!” They both looked towards the item of furniture in question then at each other and dissolved into laughter.

  “You are just jealous,” Megan stated as she reached for the half-full bottle of wine and filled both glasses.

  “You bet I am. I swear to god, Meg, if you have found a real live shapeshifter, you will have to fight me for him. You’d probably win, too. It’s been so long since I dated that I’ve forgotten how.” Jayne lifted her wineglass and saluted her with it.

  Megan shook her head, ignoring the dating comment. Jayne knew her feelings on the subject and this was not the time to fight about it again. Jayne could have her pick of men. It used to be a challenge to find a night when she wasn’t out. “Come on, Jayne, this is not one of the paranormal romances you like to surround yourself with.”

  “Hey!” Jayne interrupted, “You read them too!”

  “All right, okay, but this is real life and people do not turn into animals. Jack really seems to believe what he’s saying and I just don’t know what to do about it.”

  Jayne looked at her. “Has he hurt you?” Her eyes promised retribution at the mere thought.

  “No. Well, not physically.”

  “Face it, he hasn’t really hurt your feelings either. You’re mostly angry at yourself for sleeping with a near stranger.”

  Megan considered that for a moment in silence before stating softly, “That’s it, though…he doesn’t feel like a stranger. I feel as if I know him. It’s really bizarre, Jayne.” She watched the knowing smile appear on her friend’s face. “Not in a warm, fluffy way,” she preempted. Definitely too many romances. “I’m not talking star-crossed lovers here. More like… Oh! I don’t know but it does not feel like we just met.”

  Reading the message loud and clear, Jayne laughed quietly and changed the subject. “Do you think he is dangerous?”

  “No. I don’t know why I believe that, but I do.”

  “Well then, you have three choices. Never see him again, see him and put up with this little quirk in his personality…”

  “Quirk!” Megan exclaimed.

  “Yes, quirk, like you talking to yourself all the time.”

  “Everyone talks to themselves,” Megan said defensively.

  “Yes but not everyone has whole conversations,” Jayne stated calmly.

  “Okay, what’s number three?”
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  Jayne took a sip of wine before meeting Megan’s gaze. “Believe him.”

  Megan stared at Jayne for a moment while her words seemed to echo in her head. “What do you mean, ‘believe him’?” she exclaimed.

  Jayne moved to the couch beside her. “He could be telling you the truth.”

  “Jayne, if there were real shapeshifters, don’t you think someone would have told the rest of the world by now?” Megan smiled and voiced her earlier thought, “You are clearly reading far too many of those books.”

  Jayne dipped the tip of her finger into her wine and ran it around the rim of her wineglass, drawing forth a clear tone. “I just want to believe in the magic. Meg, you’re being given the chance to do that. Aren’t you the one who is always complaining that nothing exciting ever happens to you?”

  “Yes, but…” Megan broke off, shaking her head.

  “He’s offered to prove it to you, Megan. What are you going to do if he does?”

  That was a question Megan was not ready to answer. She looked at her friend’s serious expression and said flippantly, “Then I suppose I’d better buy a cat flap.”

  Jayne studied her briefly then accepted the subject change, her lips quirked. “From what you told me about last night… I think you already have one!” Both women laughed uproariously.

  “Jayne! Oh God, that’s disgusting!”

  * * * * *

  Frustrated, Jack paced the floor of his suite and tried to think what could possibly have gone wrong. Megan had thrown him out! This was not the reaction he had expected the first time he told someone that he was a shapeshifter. It was a secret he had never shared with anyone before and a tremendous risk, and now she wanted proof. Although it had always been part of his life, he had never really had to deal with the mating and transforming part of his heritage before. Up until now he had just been able to enjoy the benefits like his enhanced senses, speed and stamina. So far nothing was going as he had planned.

  Megan filled his thoughts in a way that was unfamiliar to him and although he wanted to put his trust in her, he was still afraid of her reaction when she saw him change. She might be his Dearbh Ceangal but at the moment she just thought he was a lunatic. What would she think of him then? It really made no difference whether he told her now or later anyway because once they were mated, she couldn’t help but find out. Maybe this would give her some time to get used to it. Then again, perhaps she would run as far and fast as she could and he would spend the rest of a very short life as a cat.

  Jack suddenly wanted nothing more than to talk to his family. Unfortunately, his parents really were on vacation. Every year they retreated to their mountain cabin and it didn’t have a phone—they relied on a friend in a nearby town for contact in an emergency. The cabin was one of his father’s favorite places for that very reason. Head of a major computer software company, he enjoyed getting away from the ringing phones. Another reason he loved the cabin so much was that he could shift whenever he felt like it—as Jack had recently discovered for himself, it was not easy for a huge cat to go undetected in a town or city. He knew there was little his parents enjoyed more than running together in the surrounding woods.

  Then there was his gregarious brother, Nick, who embraced his animal side. Nick had been one of the few people who understood his determination to find his true mate and Jack missed his support. He would never have gotten himself into this situation. Nick was more the kind to take what he wanted and answer questions later. Jack had always warned his younger brother that his approach would get him into trouble. A year is too long to be out of contact with your family. Nick had come here to Scotland a year ago to bring some new computer software to Cameron Murray, a family friend. It could just as easily have been couriered but Nick, being Nick, had decided he would deliver it personally. He had joked that it was time someone prodded the reclusive Cam into leaving the house again and tried to badger the man into picking him up from the airport. Their friend had dug his heels in and refused, telling Nick that if he was so desperate to see Scotland he could rent a car and drive.

  Nick had never arrived.

  Jack pushed away the worry that tried to surface when he thought of his absent sibling. Nick was alive, he would feel it if he wasn’t. Jack was going to pound him into the ground when he finally appeared. He shook his head and returned his thoughts to the present. He would give Megan until tomorrow, and after that she had better get used to his presence because he wasn’t leaving her side until he could prove his case.

  Chapter Five

  Jack was surprised to find the blinds on Megan’s windows were closed when he looked up at her apartment. He had the impression that she usually woke early. He had waited as long as he could stand before leaving the hotel, hoping to give her some time to cool down. He couldn’t remember whether they had shared their dreams last night, but given his state of arousal this morning, he could only assume that they had. As he stood on the sidewalk, he became aware once more of the prickling feeling that told him he was being watched. It had happened a few times over the last couple of days and he wondered if he really did have a rival. Paranoia… Cautiously he glanced back at the windows above, assuring himself that all was clear, and headed into the building.

  A few minutes later Jack was still standing outside her apartment door. He had knocked twice and received no answer. She was definitely there, he could feel her presence. It was possible that Megan was just ignoring him but there was no way he was leaving without making sure she was okay. Kneeling on the rough doormat, he called in her letterbox. “Megan, I know you’re in there. Are you okay? Answer the door.” Along the hall a neighbor’s door opened a crack. “I’m not leaving until you open the door.” Getting to his feet, he raised his hand to knock again, but the door flew open and Megan stood before him.

  “What the hell are you doing?” she hissed.

  “Hello to you, too.” Jack replied wryly. He wasn’t sure whether to laugh or hug her as the teddy bear on the front of her nightshirt suggested. Her curly hair was standing on end all over her head. She was pale as a ghost, had dark circles under bloodshot eyes and she was fuming. If the look on her face hadn’t told him so, then her accent would have. He wondered fleetingly if she was aware that the more angry she was, the more Scottish she sounded. It probably wasn’t the best time to ask.

  “Can’t I die in peace?” She glared at him. “Never mind…just come in,” she said wearily and shuffled away, her knee-length bed socks falling to her ankles. “And don’t slam the door!”

  Jack followed her down the hall and found her perched on the couch in the dim living room with her head in her hands and her elbows resting on her knees. A rush of emotions filled him. They pushed out the brief flare of amusement and made him catch his breath at the intensity. He wanted to protect her, comfort and soothe her, then throw her onto the couch and take her. Instead he merely sat beside her. Her hair had tumbled forward to cover her face, leaving the nape of her neck bare and tempting him to press a kiss to the vulnerable skin. Taking his life in his hands, he asked carefully, “Hangover?”

  She raised her head enough to glare at him. “What do you want, Jack?”

  “I told you I would be back.” He couldn’t resist stroking a finger down her pale cheek. “Why don’t you go take a shower and I’ll make some coffee. I’ll even try to find you some aspirin.”

  Megan stood resignedly and ran a hand through her hair. “All right, I have some questions for you anyway.” He watched her walk her away, confused by her easy acceptance. She paused at the door and looked back at him. “Cupboard above the coffee machine.”

  “Huh?”

  “The aspirin.” The door closed behind her with a click.

  Megan wiped off the steam and looked at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. “I cannot believe I answered the door looking like this.” Her head was still splitting but at least the nausea was fading. She and Jayne had finished the bottle of wine between them and then moved on to her bottl
e of apricot brandy. Their serious conversation had dissolved into innuendo and laughter and it had been very late when Jayne caught a cab home.

  Megan had stumbled to bed with the room revolving around her and thought about Jayne’s words while she waited for sleep to claim her. In the end she had decided that if Jack showed up again it wouldn’t do any harm to listen to what he had to say. She had also realized that there were a lot of questions she wanted to ask him, she just hadn’t expected to be hungover when he appeared. Smiling, she stripped off her nightgown and socks and wondered how he would have reacted if he had known she had nothing on underneath. Why can’t I control my hormones around the man? She stuck her hand into the shower to test the temperature and stepped under the hot water with a groan of pleasure.

  When Megan walked into the kitchen a while later, her hair was still damp but she was a little more presentable in jeans with an oversize white shirt. Jack sat at the table with a cup of coffee. At the opposite place, buttered toast, hot coffee and two headache pills waited. She sighed and sat down. Neither of them spoke while she finished the toast and took the pills. Jack looked as good as ever. Doesn’t the man ever get messed up? His well-worn jeans hugged his body and he had on another polo shirt, this one pale gray. Before she could ask, he got up to refill their cups, then sat back down and gave her his attention again. Megan sipped the coffee, wondering where to start.

  “So tell me, Jack, how did you become a shapeshifter?”

  He looked at her warily. “I didn’t actually ‘become’ a shapeshifter. I was born one. My whole family are shapeshifters.”

  She tilted her head. “Do you all turn into different animals?”

  “No, just cats, but not all the same type.” Jack met her eyes, his expression grave.

  “How did that happen? Are you all under a curse… Did one of your ancestors get on the bad side of a witch?” she said, playing along. “Oh! Are you from…” she glanced towards the ceiling, “…up there?”