Under Her Spell

by Isabella Ashe

  "I suppose," she said. "But I'll reserve my own judgment, thank you very much."

  "You're a hard nut to crack, Bryony Lowell," Zach said. He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully at her. "I'd like to interview you, if you'll agree to it."

  "Interview me? Whatever for?"

  "I'm a writer," he said. "I'm always looking for likely subjects to profile."

  "But -- but there's nothing interesting about me."

  "Of course you're interesting," Vivien said. "You've built Heart's Desire into a moneymaker. You're Cypress Point's youngest Chamber president ever. Besides, there's always the love potion angle."

  "That's right. I'd want to hear more about that," Zach said. He turned to Vivien. "Do you believe it really works?"

  "Absolutely. It worked for me," she said, grinning. Bryony smiled back. She was almost jealous of Vivien and her husband Kevin. They seemed to glow with the special aura of two people deeply in love. Sometimes living with them was difficult. Though her parents' house was spacious enough for everyone, Bryony couldn't help feeling like a third wheel since the wedding. She had to remind herself that the Vivien and Kevin planned to move out as soon the builders finished work on the couple's new home.

  "So?" Zach asked. "Will you do it?" He turned the full wattage of his smile on Bryony until her knees turned to water and she was glad to be sitting down.

  "All right," she said. "If you really think it's not a waste of your time." His request still puzzled her, but she couldn't bear the thought of never seeing him again. Once more, Bryony told herself, and he would be out of her system. He would leave and she would stop acting like a schoolgirl with a crush.

  "What's the best time for you?" Zach asked.

  "Um, well . . . ."

  "Come for dinner tomorrow," Vivien said. "About six o'clock. I'll cook."

  "Perfect." Zach whipped a reporter's notebook and a pen from his back pocket and took down the directions Vivien gave him. "I'll leave you ladies to enjoy your coffee. Until tomorrow," he said, his voice a little husky, and though he addressed them both his words were meant for Bryony alone.

  He stood and strode over to the lunch counter. Bryony followed him with her eyes, unable to tear them away. She noticed how his Levi's hugged his hips and the slight, unconscious swagger in his step.

  When the waitress laughed at something he said, her throat tightened in instinctive jealousy. The woman tossed her platinum hair and fluttered her lashes. Zach rested his arms on the countertop and said something else, obviously enjoying her flirtations. Bryony sighed heavily. Of course Zach would be the kind of man who drew women like flies to flypaper.

  "Bryony?"

  "Um?" She blinked twice and refocused her eyes on her sister. "What?"

  "You like him, don't you?"

  "I don't know what you're talking about," Bryony said. "That's ridiculous. Maybe I think he's good looking . . . ."

  "He certainly is."

  " . . . but so what? He's a tourist, Viv. He'll move on in a few days and that will be that. Besides, there's something funny about him. I can't put my finger on it, but I think he's hiding something."

  "Like what?"

  Bryony shook her head and rolled her bottom lip between her teeth. "I wish I knew. I just got this feeling, when he came into the shop today, that he had some ulterior motive." She shrugged. "Never mind. It's not important. Let's talk about how we're going to beat the Mandell Corporation."

  Her sister let the subject drop. They talked about phone trees, fund-raising letters, and political strategies. Bryony tried to remain focused, but it was no use. Her mind kept drifting back to the way Zach's shirt had felt against her skin, the masculine smell of him, and the way her stomach had tightened at his closeness.

  "Enough," Vivien said at last. "Let's go home, Bryony. You haven't heard a word I've said in the last fifteen minutes. Either you're falling asleep or your mind is somewhere else entirely."

  "It is not," Bryony said, but it was a halfhearted protest. She slipped on her coat and followed Vivien outside for the short walk home. The cold air touched her cheeks like a caress. As they started up the winding path to the beach house, Bryony couldn't help wondered whether Zach was seeing the same moon-kissed waves as he looked out his window tonight.

  Then she shook her head and told herself to stop being such a romantic fool. She could only get hurt, falling for a man like that. She tried to picture him as he'd been when she'd refused to sell him the love potion, with his jaw clenched tight in anger.

  Instead, against her will, she kept seeing his eyes when he'd found her face in the crowded restaurant. Had it been a trick of the light, or had she seen a softening, a hint of real gladness?

  The Lowell house was just a quarter-mile from the Sea View Inn. Set well above the beach, the porch-enclosed structure sprawled gloriously over the bluffs. Zach admired its beautifully weathered outer walls and the cedar-shingled roof as he began the climb up a winding path of wooden steps. A wind had just sprung up. In the fading sunlight, the ocean had gone gray and fierce.

  As he rounded toward the front of the house, he spotted Bryony standing on the front deck. Her hair, loose around her shoulders, gleamed like spun red gold with more than a touch of fire. The wind whispered through it and lifted it strand by strand. She wore a simple slip dress, cut from gray silk but with a subtle silvery sheen. It fell almost to her ankles, thin enough that Zach could see the outline of her small, firm breasts and slim hips. He paused a moment to watch her as she gazed out at the sea, oblivious to his presence.

  "Daydreaming?" he asked, when he couldn't bear to remain silent any longer.

  Bryony jumped at the sound of his voice. "That's me, always dreaming," she said. "I often prefer the worlds I imagine to the real one."

  "You see, that's where we're different," Zach said. He drew closer and leaned back against the wooden balustrade. Bryony struggled to keep her eyes from his full, sensuous mouth. He was close enough to touch. Close enough to kiss.

  "I want to see things as they really are," he said, "without euphemism or illusion. Fantasies may be pleasant, but they distract us from the truth."

  "From your version of truth, perhaps. I happen to believe our dreams do contain certain truths. The kind science and logic will never uncover."

  "That's all very well," Zach said, "but I don't have time to daydream, not in my business."

  "Writing? But . . ."

  At that moment, Vivien stepped through the French doors to announce dinner. "We're having salmon with dill," she said as she led them inside. Zach glanced admiringly around the house. The decor in the sun room was simple and clean, with hardwood floors, wicker furniture, and a sofa covered with chintz-glazed linen. In the dining area, fresh wildflowers filled a crystal vase resting on the tile-topped table. The mouthwatering aroma of grilled salmon wafted through the room.

  "This is Zach Callahan, the writer," Vivien said as husband stepped out of the kitchen.

  "Pleased to meet you," Kevin said, extending his hand. He was clean cut and handsome in an All-American way, with sandy blond hair and a boyishly friendly smile.

  Zach Callahan.

  Bryony felt a shock of recognition as her sister said the name. She shook her head, trying to remember why it was so familiar. She knew she'd heard it before. He was a writer, so maybe she'd seen his byline somewhere. She closed her eyes, straining to recall exactly what he'd written.

  "I hear you're staying at my mother's bed and breakfast," Kevin said.

  "Yes, I --" Zach began.

  Then Bryony remembered.

  Hot rage exploded in her chest, along with a searing feeling of betrayal. She whirled on their guest, green eyes blazing with fury. "You!" she cried. "You're Zachary Callahan! How -- how dare you --" She sputtered to a stop, flushed red with indignation. Her sister and her husband were staring at her as if she'd gone mad. "Were you going to tell me first," she said, "or simply humiliate me in print?"

  "Bryony, what in the world --" Vivien said.
<
br />   Zach held up a hand to stop her. "It's all right, Mrs. Barker. I'm afraid I owe you all an apology."

  "You certainly do," Bryony said. "You can apologize and then leave." She folded her arms against her chest, which rose and fell rapidly with her breathing. The color had drained from her face, leaving only two bright stains on her cheeks.

  "Would you mind filling us in?" Kevin said, gazing from Bryony and back to Zach with a puzzled frown. "I, for one, would like to know what this is all about."

  "Ask him," Bryony said, pointing at Zach.

  He heaved a sigh. "I suppose she's upset because I didn't tell you about my magazine."

  "The Skeptical Observer," Bryony said.

  "I'm the editor and publisher," Zach said. "We're dedicated to promoting science over superstition. In pursuit of that mission, some of my columns can be a bit, well. . . . harsh."

  Bryony snorted. "That's an understatement. You tear people apart. That column reprinted in the Chronicle, the one you did on the doomsday cult leader --"

  "Made him look like a hypocrite and a fool, and I don't regret it for a minute," Zach said. "All I did was quote him word for word. And the cult disbanded a week after the article came out."

  "Maybe that was a bad example," Bryony said. "How about the piece in January about the woman selling crystals? That poor, harmless old woman . . . ."

  "Who made promises she couldn't keep. Why aren't you worried about the gullible folks who buy her goods at exorbitant prices, thinking a chunk of crystal quartz will cure their cancer?" His voice remained cool and abstracted, but his eyes had darkened and Bryony saw that his hands were clenching into fists.

  "Just like me," she said. "Giving people unreasonable hope. Making promises I can't keep. Will you mock me, too? Make me a laughingstock?"

  "Now, Bryony," her sister said. "I'm sure Zach would do no such thing."

  "Don't be too sure," Zach said. "Bryony's profiting off fraudulent claims. Shouldn't someone hold her responsible for that?"

  "Write whatever you like, but I think it's time for you to leave," Bryony said, but with a hint of threat creeping into her voice. Her whole body was electric with anger and, worse, a terrible sense of disappointment.

  "Fine," Zach said. Turning to Vivien and Kevin, he modulated his voice and went on, "Mr. and Mrs. Barker. I apologize for spoiling your dinner party. I'll be going now." He moved toward the door.

  "This is absurd," Vivien said.

  They all turned to stare at her. "Zach, please listen to what I have to say," she said. He stopped, turned, and cocked a curious eyebrow. "First of all, I want you to get a few things straight. My sister is hardly making money hand over fist on her love potion. I wouldn't call her price exorbitant. Secondly, she never makes any unfounded promises. And finally," she said, almost out of breath, "the stuff really works. I know it does." She glanced fondly at her husband.

  "But can you prove it scientifically?" Zach asked.

  "Can you prove it doesn't work?" Bryony countered.

  He shook his head. "It doesn't work that way. You can't prove a negative."

  A tiny, twitching smile crept over Vivien's face. Bryony watched her sister's expression with a growing sense of dread. She'd seen that look many times. Vivien had an idea, which generally meant trouble.

  When Bryony was four, Viv's idea for getting the cat off the roof ended with their mother calling Cypress Point's volunteer fire department. Firefighters had to rescue the cat plus two very repentant little girls. Subsequent "ideas" had led to less dramatic, but still disastrous, adventures.

  "No," she said, before her sister could even speak.

  "Just listen, please? Both of you. I've got the solution to this whole mess."

  Zach shrugged. "It can't hurt to hear her out."

  "Fine, but that's all I'm doing," Bryony said. "Listening." She stuck out her bottom lip like a rebellious child and stole a peek at Zach. He was rocking back on his heels, his muscular arms crossed, his brows arched in amused anticipation. He looked totally cool and collected, the opposite of how she felt. Her cheeks still burned, and her throat ached with suppressed tears.

  How dare he, she thought. Underneath the outrage, however, lurked a different sentiment. Discovering Zach's true identity, Bryony had suddenly seen herself through his eyes. He must view her as just another flaky female to ridicule and expose.

  Three sets of eyes focused on Vivien, who was obviously relishing her role as the center of attention. "I propose a test," she said. "A test of Bryony's love elixir. We'll prove it works -- to your satisfaction, Mr. Callahan."

  Zach snorted. "How will you manage that?"

  "Because you'll be the guinea pig."

  "What?" three incredulous voices chorused.

  "That's right," Vivien said, relishing the moment. "Zach will drink the potion. When he falls in love, he'll know its magical powers are authentic."

  "Ah," Zach said, smiling. "And who's the lucky lady?"

  Bryony glared daggers at her sister, warning her not to say it. Vivien ignored her. "Why, Bryony, of course," she said. "Who else?"

  CHAPTER THREE

  "I won't do it," Bryony said. "Absolutely not."

  "I don't know, it sounds kind of interesting to me." Zach glanced over at her, enjoying her discomfort. "I have to warn you, though -- I don't fall in love easily. No matter how pretty the woman or how potent the so-called magic. So don't get your hopes up."

  "Don't worry," Bryony said. "I don't have any 'hopes.' Not where you're concerned, at least. Besides, I read the papers. I know all about your reputation for loving 'em and leaving 'em." She turned to her sister, frowning. "I don't see the point, Viv. He'll just write a nasty column anyway."

  "Then what have you got to lose?" Vivien asked.

  Bryony glanced over at Zach and caught the challenge on his rugged face. He didn't think she'd do it. He thought she didn't dare. Zach was so smug, so sure of his heart was invulnerable.

  She knew she wasn't unattractive. Other men had claimed to love her. Would it really be so impossible to make this one fall for with her? Slowly, Bryony nodded her head. "But it's not fair if you drink it and then go back to San Francisco in a day or two," she said. Her mind raced furiously, plotting and planning.

  "No," Vivien said. "If it's going to work, you've got to spend time together."

  "I've got to get back to the magazine in a week and a half," Zach said, a look of annoyance flitting across his face. "This is only a two-week vacation, and I've been gone three days already. Besides, I've got a deadline for the column. If your love magic can't work faster than that, forget it."

  "A week and a half should do nicely," Vivien said. "You can move in tomorrow."

  "Excuse me? I can do what?"

  "Move in," Vivien repeated . "Didn't we just agree that you two have to spend time together?"

  "I don't think . . . ." Bryony began.

  "Is this really necessary?" Kevin asked, throwing his wife a worried glance.

  "We do have an extra bedroom," Vivien said. "And we can hardly ask Zach to pay his own expenses during this experiment. But I'm sure if we explain the situation, your mother would waive the cost of his room at the Inn."

  "She'd think we were crazy," Kevin said.

  "And tell the entire county," Bryony added.

  "So it's settled," Vivien said. "Let's all sit down for dinner before the salmon gets cold, shall we? And you can bring your things over tomorrow, Zach."

  "Fine," Zach said, a slightly dazed look in his eyes. Bryony couldn't help feeling a flash of triumph. He'd obviously thought she would refuse, and now he couldn't get out of their deal.

  They all sat down for dinner around the mosaic-covered dining room table. Bryony shot her sister an irritated look when Vivien seated her next to Zach, instead of opposite him, but she kept her lips clamped tightly shut.

  Zach asked Kevin about his work with the Park Service, and they discussed the local hiking trails as Vivien served the cold cucumber soup. Vivien, Cypress
Point's only pediatrician, told a few funny stories about new parents who called her, frantic with worry, whenever their baby so much as burped.

  Bryony, lost in her own thoughts, let them talk. She was starting to have second thoughts. Stealing a glance at Zach's handsome profile, she wondered if perhaps she had been too hasty. There was something cold about his eyes, something in his glance that made her feel she were nothing but an amoebae under his microscope. Uncertainty mingled with excitement in the pit of her stomach. Her confidence began to drain away.

  At that moment, Zach turned his head gave her a searching look. His dark eyes awoke new and uncomfortable sensations. Her breath seemed to catch in her throat, and she could feel her heart slamming against her ribcage. Bryony looked away, unable to bear his scrutiny, and pretended to concentrate on the grilled fish Kevin had set in front of her. "This is absolutely delicious," she said.

  "It certainly is," Zach agreed, an amused smile hovering on his lips. Bryony refused to look at him. She knew he was laughing at her. She took a dainty sip of her chilled white wine and trying to pretend she couldn't sense him next to her with every inch of her body.

  As the dinner progressed, she participated in the conversation only in response to her sister or her brother-in-law's comments. When Zach directed an occasional question her way, she answered politely but with a hint of frost in her voice.

  When Vivien went to fetch the dessert, Bryony jumped up to help her sister in the kitchen. Vivien wouldn't hear of it. "I'm the hostess tonight," she said, dribbling cherry syrup over slices of cheesecake. "If you've got to do something, go get a bottle of your love potion before Zach changes his mind."

  "Or I do," Bryony said, but she obeyed.

  Her workshop was upstairs in a glass-enclosed room facing the ocean. Bryony's own bedroom, bathroom, and small sun deck took up the rest of the second floor. Here Bryony stored her extra merchandise, dried her herbs, filled catalogue orders, and manufactured her love potion. She loved the room, which had once been her mother's study.

  She'd furnished it with an overstuffed velvet couch, white lace curtains, a unicorn tapestry in scarlet and gold, and several crystal vases full of bright dried flowers. Working there made her feel like a character from one of her fairy tales, like Rapunzel in her tower.