by Nalini Singh
Which she didn’t. She was almost sure of that. Just to test it, she focused on her teacup sitting on the table and tried to move it. She even did an up, up, up chant while mentally focusing. Nothing. Whew. Major relief. No broom shopping in her future.
“Try something else,” Bree suggested. “Try to move Abby’s necklace.”
You know, that was really annoying, how her sister could guess what she was thinking. “How did you know I was trying to move something?”
“I can sense your feelings, remember?”
“Or you just guessed because I got quiet.”
“Is that how I know you chanted ‘up’ to the teacup?” Bree’s look was smug, her black painted fingernails sliding through her equally dark hair.
A shiver rolled up Charlotte’s spine. “I was just staring at it, that’s how you knew.”
“Try to move the necklace. Please.”
“Fine, if it will prove I can’t.” Charlotte concentrated on the star dangling from Abby’s neck on a black leather strap. She pictured it swinging outward toward her in a graceful arch, suspending in the air.
And almost peed her khaki pants when the necklace did just that.
“What…”
Her entire face went hot and her heart raced as she watched that star glint in the light from the overhead chandelier, a full ten inches out from Abby’s neck. As Charlotte turned her head to the side to get a better look, terrified and fascinated simultaneously, the star turned onto its side, mimicking her motion.
“Dude,” Abby whispered, her eyes crossing as she looked down, trying to see the necklace in front of her chest.
“Charlotte,” Bree said, her voice low and awed.
Charlotte couldn’t speak, her throat tight, her mind struggling to accept what she was seeing. “How can I be doing that?” It was utterly illogical. Yet she was clearly responsible for the movement. Even she couldn’t deny that.
She didn’t like it, but she couldn’t deny it.
“I told you. It’s your magical talent. And it’s strong considering you’ve never used it before.”
Charlotte pushed back her chair quickly and stood up. The necklace plopped against Abby’s chest. “I don’t want any magic,” she said, knowing she sounded a little petulant, but feeling panicked. “I just want to be a normal family, a normal businesswoman who runs a Caribou Coffee. I want a freaking Bing Crosby Christmas just once, where everyone wears holiday sweaters and sings Christmas carols and eats sugar-and-butter-laden snowmen cookies. Is that too much to ask?”
Instead Murphy Christmas get-togethers involved tarot readings, offerings to the goddesses, and lectures from her mother on how the origins of Christian holiday traditions sprang from earlier Pagan and Druid worshipping. It was all very interesting, and she appreciated the open-mindedness of her parents, and how they wove spirituality and a respect for both nature and other humans into their daily lives. But having wassail wasn’t nearly as exciting as pie and sugar cookies, and a Yule log was never going to replace a Christmas tree. That was why she tended to go overboard with the decorations now that she had her own house. Well, now that she was living in Bree’s house, who allowed her to indulge in her love of snowmen, reindeer, nativities, and Disney character yard inflatables.
Christmas was about family, and she loved hers tremendously. But Christmas also showed very clearly how fundamentally different she was from them, and how isolated she felt sometimes as odd blonde out.
“That is a lot to ask actually. But I’m willing to have a traditional American Christmas with you—I’ll even put on a reindeer sweatshirt,” Bree said, though her face reflected her feelings on wearing emerald green cotton.
Charlotte thought Bree looked sincere, but she couldn’t believe what she was actually hearing.
“I’m not wearing any reindeer sweatshirt,” Abby said. “But I can sing Christmas songs and bake cookies.”
“Are you guys serious?” Charlotte looked at her sisters and smiled, truly touched. “You’d do that for me?” That was so sweet.
“Of course we would. We love you. If this is that important to you, we’re willing to put up with a little commercialism. I’m sure Dad will be cool with it, too, though I can’t vouch for Mom.”
“Christmas doesn’t have to be about commercialism or giving tons of overpriced gifts. I just want to be together, and for once, I want you all to understand and appreciate what I like.” Everything was always about everyone else’s interests, never hers, and she was touched beyond belief that Bree and Abby were willing to suck it up and give her a traditional Christmas celebration. “You guys are awesome to do this. It means a lot to me.”
“I just have one small request in return,” Bree said, her green eyes lifting from her teacup.
Here it came. Charlotte braced herself. “What? You want me to go the Jules festival? Fine, I can do that.”
“No. I want you to admit you’re a witch. By casting a lust spell on Will.”
Three
“WHAT? A LUST SPELL?” THAT WAS SO APPALLING, ON SO many levels, she didn’t even know where to begin.
“Oh, now that’s an awesome idea,” Abby said, sitting up straighter and tossing her hair over her shoulder.
Who was this child? Charlotte glared at her baby sister. “No, it’s not. I’m not a witch, and even if I was, why would I want to force Will into feeling lust for me? That’s just…yucky.” Humiliating. Desperate. Pathetic.
“Will wants you, Charlotte. Trust me. He just needs a push.”
Did they have to keep making this harder for her? Every day she questioned, wondered, wished that Will could feel more for her than friendship, but he didn’t, and at the end of every day she counseled herself to be content with what she had. She really didn’t need them encouraging her futile dreams.
“He loves you. I can feel it.”
“Stop it!” Charlotte was tempted to cover her ears. Bree’s words seared into her heart, inciting the dull ache there to a painful throb.
“How long have you felt this way about him?” Bree asked, her voice gentle, hand sliding across the table to touch hers.
Even though she didn’t want to do this, even though she wanted to keep all her feelings neat and tidy locked away, even though she was embarrassed to realize how long she’d suffered in unrequited love, she also wanted the comfort her sister was offering. She wanted someone else to know how hard it had been, how unsure it had made her feel about herself, her future, wondering when she would ever give it up and move on.
“Remember when my dog died?”
“Trixie?” Abby’s eyes went wide. “That was a long time ago.”
“Yeah. Six years ago. And Will came over, and he said all the right things, and he took Trixie and buried her in the yard for me.” Charlotte swallowed hard against the lump in her throat. “And I knew right then, that Will Thornton was a good guy, through and through, and that I loved him.”
Crap, she was going to cry. She wanted him so bad she could just about taste him. It was pitiful.
“Then all the more reason to do the lust spell. Don’t you want to know, once and for all, if there’s a chance for you as a couple?”
“You guys really would be a good couple, now that I think about it,” Abby said, dipping her finger into her tea and licking it. “You’re both like really nice and into hard work and justice and all that.”
Charlotte blinked. “Thanks, Abby. I think that was meant to be a compliment.” Then she sighed. “But yeah, I guess I do want to know once and for all. I mean, I already know he doesn’t feel that way about me, but I think I really need to see it in a totally obvious way. Maybe then I can figure out a way to move on, get over him. Because at this rate, I’m going to be ninety and still lusting after him.”
“Gross,” was Abby’s assessment.
“Seriously gross,” Charlotte agreed. For over five years she’d been holding her breath that someday Will would get married and start a family, and she needed to prepare herself for that
inevitability.
Since she wasn’t a witch, a lust spell wasn’t going to work, and Will wasn’t going to respond to any sexual overtures without a spell. But if, for some strange reason, the zipper thing wasn’t a weird, crazy coincidence, and she did actually have some kind of magical talent, and a lust spell did work, she wasn’t sure she could resist the opportunity to just once see what sex with Will would be like. Think of it as her gift to herself as she entered a lifetime of celibacy. A girl needed something to hold on to. Sex with Will would be a memory definitely worth clinging to for the next fifty years.
“So, how exactly do I create a lust spell?” She wasn’t chanting naked in the woods in the snow. Her twin set stayed on, thank you very much. At least for the spell creation portion of the evening’s activities. After the spell went into affect on Will, well, she could only hope.
“It’s very simple, actually.” Bree leaned back in her chair, eyes narrowed. “I need to collect a few things. What are you doing tonight?”
“I have to work, then I’m going over to Will’s to help him put up his Christmas decorations. You know, his decorating is just pitiful. He doesn’t even have a full-size tree. It’s a tabletop tree.” It was probably a bachelor thing, but it made Charlotte nuts. How could he survive without a wreath on his door? A person needed priorities.
“That’s perfect. Okay, I’ll meet you at the coffee shop at nine. We’ll do the spell in the back room, then you can head over to his apartment.”
Charlotte felt a niggling of doubt about this whole plan. She was either going to get lucky or make a total ass out of herself. She’d never been much of a risk taker. “And if I do this, you’re going to let me do Christmas my way? And you’ll cooperate?”
“Absolutely.”
She was so not reassured.
BREE STEPPED INTO CARIBOU CARRYING THREE GIANT SHOPPING bags, her nose running from the cold, as she searched the room for Charlotte. Abby was grumbling behind her, equally burdened.
“You know, it seems to me like we shouldn’t even be doing this,” Abby said, trying to shake her hair off her face without using her hands, since they were out of commission at the moment, busy holding all their purchases.
“Why not?”
“Because you’re not supposed to do magic against someone’s free will.”
But that was the beauty of Bree’s plan. “But Will consented, remember? He said he loved Charlotte, said he would respond if she gave him a clear sign. Magic should be used for the purpose of good, and this is definitely a good thing.” She was quite proud of the way the whole thing was coming together. She was going to hook Will and Charlotte up if it killed her, because they truly were the perfect couple. If anyone should be married and popping out babies, it was those two. They were like Ward and June Cleaver for the twenty-first century.
“You’re an evil genius,” Abby told her.
“Thanks.” Bree noticed several people she knew, including one of her coworkers at the library, and Abby’s friend Brady Stritmeyer, who was sitting with the Tuckers—Danny; his wife, Amanda; and their daughter, Piper. There was another man with them, a stranger to Bree, and she didn’t like the look of him as she waved to the group on passing by their table.
The new guy looked pretentious and boring, wearing a pink dress shirt—Lord, what man wore a pink shirt in Cuttersville—and wire-rimmed glasses. An expensive-looking watch was on his wrist, and he had cuff links in his shirt, of all things. At Caribou on a Saturday night. Everything about him looked expensive and insufferable, and there were papers spread out in front of him, like he’d been working. He was the only one at the table who didn’t laugh or at least smile when Brady reached out and snatched Abby by the arm and pulled her down onto his lap.
Bree kept going, leaving Abby to chat for a minute. She found Charlotte behind the counter so she deposited her bags in the back room and came back to her sister. “Whenever you’ve got a minute, we’re ready.”
“Okay.” Charlotte looked nervous as hell. “Give me five minutes.”
“Sure.” Bree didn’t have any plans for the night. Since she’d broken up with her last boyfriend six months earlier, she’d been enjoying just doing a whole lot of nothing. The relationship had been emotionally and physically exhausting, constantly trying to keep up with Kevin’s mood swings and PMS-like behavior, and she was still recovering. She leaned against the counter, inhaling the coffee bean aroma. The place smelled good, she had to admit. She glanced over at Abby, who was twirling her fingers in Brady’s shaggy hair. “Hey, who’s that guy with Danny and Amanda? The uptight-looking one?”
Charlotte looked over at their table, her hands busy wiping the back counter down. “Oh, that’s their financial advisor…or is it he’s their lawyer? I don’t know, something like that, and he’s in town from Chicago.”
Figured. “Let me get the other bags from Abby and I’ll meet you in the back room.”
Her sister didn’t really answer, just bit her lip. Bree was going to have to hurry before Charlotte wimped out on her. She was not going to tolerate Charlotte screwing up her own personal happiness out of plain old fear.
After a quick hello to everyone at the table, Bree told Abby, “Come on, bring that stuff in the back.” She flashed a smile at Piper. “We bought Christmas decorations. Big, blinky ones.”
“Cool,” was Piper’s assessment. She was a gawky kid, all legs and elbows, her hair an unflattering little bob, but she was a real peach. Bree saw her almost every weekend at the library, perusing for new reading material.
“Here, you take it,” Abby said. “I’m going to the movies with Brady.”
Annoyed, Bree took the bags Abby was shoving at her. “Is that you asking permission? Because it sounded more like you telling me, which isn’t how it works.” She and Charlotte were responsible for Abby while her parents were gone, and sometimes her little sister thought she was all grown up and then some.
Abby looked defiant, but she just said, “Can I go? Brady will drop me off.”
“Can you?” Bree asked him, not really liking the way his hand was resting on her sister’s thigh, but figuring she had no right to say anything.
“Yes, ma’am,” Brady said, with more sarcasm than deference.
“Fine. Be home by midnight.” She turned to go and accidentally looked straight into the eyes of the financial advisor/lawyer. A shiver raced through her when she realized she could sense his feelings. There was disapproval radiating from him. Toward her.
“Bree, have you met Ian Carrington?” Danny said. “He’s our lawyer and a friend of Amanda’s. Ian, this is Bree Murphy, the children’s librarian over at the Cuttersville branch.”
“And tarot card reader,” Amanda added with a grin, her hand sliding down to her slightly raised stomach.
Bree had seen Amanda’s pregnancy in the cards four months earlier. She gave a wan smile at Ian, who wasn’t smiling at all. “Nice to meet you.” Not really.
Apparently he felt the same way. He just nodded. “Likewise.” But then he raised an eyebrow and glanced at her hands. “Children’s librarian, huh?”
If it were any other guy under the age of thirty-five, she’d think he was checking her left hand for a wedding ring. But she suspected he was actually looking at her multitude of sterling silver rings and her black fingernails. That disapproval floated off him again, like a noxious cloud.
Pretentious jerk. She would have him know that Onyx was the hottest nail color of the season. Witches and nonwitches alike were wearing it.
“Yes. Children’s librarian and tarot card reader.” Deal with it. “Be home by midnight, Abby, I’m serious. I’ll see you all later.”
She had a spell to cast.
CHARLOTTE LOOKED AT ALL THE BAGS THAT BREE WAS DIGGING through in bewilderment. “What is all this stuff?”
“It’s camouflage mostly. You said Will doesn’t really have any decorations. So I bought a butt-load of Christmas decorations. It’s unreal how much tacky stuff they have on the
market. So I bought a bunch of stuff and you can take it over to Will’s and decorate his apartment. That way he won’t think anything of you hanging up mistletoe.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Charlotte had followed the plan until the mistletoe bit, than she had realized the plan was crap. “I’m going to look like a desperate dork if I hang mistletoe in Will’s apartment.”
Flinging herself down onto the microfiber faux suede sofa she had in her office in a soothing plum color, Charlotte bit her lip. “I can’t do it, Bree. He’s going to know.”
“Isn’t that sort of the point?” Bree emerged with a sprig of mistletoe from a florist’s box.
“That looks real.”
“Well, duh. Fake isn’t going to work. It’s the live mistletoe that holds sexual energy.”
“It’s a plant. What is sexual about that?” Yet Charlotte found herself pulling back a little when Bree waved it in her face.
Bree laughed. “It’s not going to make you spontaneously aroused or anything. You can touch it.”
She was already aroused, and had been essentially every day since the very first minute she’d met Will on her twenty-first birthday, when he’d shown up at the Rampant Lion bar with his buddies, and caught her when she’d tripped getting off her stool, the embarrassing result of alcohol consumption and a poor choice of high heels.
“I don’t need to touch it. Just tell me what to do. This whole thing is way too out there for me.” Way too out there.
“Well, the mistletoe is associated with fertility, protection, friendship, good luck, and uninhibited sexual activity.”
Hello. “Wow. Impressive little green twig. I just thought it was an excuse people used to make out.”
“That, too.” Bree pulled some ribbon out of another bag and started tying it around one of the branches. “But originally Druids used mistletoe to ward off evil spirits and to increase fertility because it stays green all winter long, even when the oak tree it grows on is dormant. Green is the color of growth and fertility.”
