by Heather Long
“If you’ll forgive my earlier rudeness,” he began again, attempting to regain the high ground he’d already mercilessly ceded. “I am Kirk. The Baba Yaga has sent me to deal with the witchnapper of brides. I’ve tracked her to this location.” Lest Martin think he meant the lovely witch singer, he held up a palm, fingers apart with no spells at play. “If you could point me to the other occupants, I’ll make sure your sweet lady is in no danger.”
Martin’s slow smile should have been his first warning. “All I can do,” he said, still playing with his fireball. “Is tell you that we will give you the answer you require to solve the Baba Yaga’s dilemma if you do us but one small favor…”
Kirk was almost afraid to ask, so he simply raised his eyebrows.
A green haired witch stomped around the side of the house, her long tresses bouncing with every step, as did her considerable and quite shapely bosom.
“Gigi,” Martin beamed. “Perfect timing. Bridget’s had to dash off to an emergency bonding session with her new familiar, but she found you the perfect escort to find your wedding dress. Kirk. Gigi. Gigi. Kirk. You two have fun now. We’ll want to hear all about it later.”
The man simply disappeared, and a door slammed somewhere else. Then another.
Kirk stared into the curious bi-color eyes of Gigi and his heart did the strangest thing—it quaked. She smiled at him and clapped her hands together. A couple of fireworks exploded around her, then she dashed onto the porch and seized his hands.
“I love shopping!”
Before he could so much as open his mouth, the world slipped sideways and Assjacket was long behind them.
CHAPTER FOUR
Gigi
FASTER than a cold breeze blowing in of the bay could chill a hot a San Diego day, Gigi whisked her escort from Assjacket to Paris. It was late afternoon in the city of love, but there were two couture shops she loved. The moment they stood in front of the first Jean-Merci’s, she paused to smooth a hand over her sleek green hair and studied her companion.
Kirk blinked rapidly, then sunglasses appeared in his hand and he slid them on to shade his stunning onyx eyes. Oh, she’d never seen such dark eyes. He was tall, too. Very tall—and wearing sweatpants? Pausing at his attire, she pursed her lips.
“Yeah, yeah.” His grumble didn’t allay her concern. “Gimme a sec.” The sweatpants seemed to shiver and became a pair of denim jeans. He wore boots—not quite cowboy boots, but boots nonetheless. His white t-shirt looked crisp against his dark skin and gave her a welcome view of some seriously nice muscles. He was on the lean side of hot, but still hot.
“You look very nice,” she complimented him, the tried to avoid the blush assaulting her cheeks. With a spin, she led him inside. Marcellia, a pencil-thin woman, with drawn on eyebrows and a wicked witch’s peak in her hairline, gave her a measuring look as she entered.
Marcellia was a judgmental shrew. She never failed to look down her nose at Gigi’s curvy body, short legs, and wide hips. But today, Gigi was here for a wedding dress and she wouldn’t let the other woman get to her. “I know where my sizes are,” she announced, breezing passed even as Marcellia looked behind Gigi to Kirk.
Whatever the other woman saw straightened her up, and her movements became languid. Yet when Gigi reached the back corner of the store where the woman stocked the plus sizes, Kirk was right behind her.
“Grab a chair,” she said with a grin, delighted at his presence. Bridget really was her bestest friend. Gigi had no idea where she plucked this delightful morsel from, but she wanted to savor the attention. Kirk gave her a sidelong look before he dropped into one of the fancy poof chairs. It didn’t neuter his masculinity one bit, and he rested his elbows on his knees and gave her an expectant look.
Gigi hurried to pick out her three favorite dresses—she’d been in the shop enough to know the whole inventory—then she glanced around. When Marcellia didn’t appear, Gigi snapped her fingers and a boombox appeared on the floor at his feet.
“When I say go, hit it.” She was fond of old cassette tapes and if she was going to pick the right dress. They’d need a montage. Kirk tugged off his sunglasses, glanced at the boombox, then at her with a shrug.
Inside the changing room, she hung the dresses on the wall and then wiggled her nose. Swapping her current outfit for the first dress—an ocean of organza which left her shoulders bare and her boobs looking even more ample than they would normally. Gathering the skirt in her hands, she said, “Hit it!”
The beat of the music flooded her ass he danced out of the room and Ray Parker Jr started his playful rendition of Ghostbusters. Kirk’s eyes widened as she did a twirl in front of him. But the look didn’t have the wow factor she wanted on her groom’s face, so she boogied back into the dressing room.
Another twitch of her nose and she swapped the huge confection for an ultra-slender, body hugging cream gown that gave her the roundest ass to match her round bosom. A snap of her fingers jumped the tape to Eye of the Tiger and she strutted out of the changing room, one hand on her hip and the other against her abdomen, lest she burst some seams as she moved.
Kirk’s eyebrows seemed to crash into his hairline, but nope, no look of awe there.
Damn.
She gave a little model runway walk for effect. Her juicy body had the right hips to give him lots to think about, but she wasn’t loving the way it gave her tummy as rounding an effect as it did her ass. She slinked back into the changing room.
She twitched nose to remove the dress and sucked in a grateful breath before choosing the next gown. This one was all southern hospitality and sweetness. It even had a wide brimmed hat and she practically wanted a mint julep as she winked at her reflection and the music changed to Girls Just Wanna Have Fun.
Dancing out this time, she met Kirk’s amused grin and her heart did a little flip-flop. This dress was closer, but it still wasn’t the right one. Still, she had a good time and danced her heart out in the dress. The sway of the skirt added even more jiggle to her wiggle and she was laughing when Kirk waved her back to the dressing room.
So her three favorites here weren’t the right dress. With a twitch and a wink, she was back in her street clothes and the music stopped. Leaning out of the dressing room, she curled her fingers towards Kirk. He grabbed the boombox and took her hand. They made the jump from Paris to Tyson’s Corner, Virginia.
Sure, it wasn’t Paris, but there was another little shop here that was loads of fun.
“A mall?” Kirk’s first real sentence to her sounded positively scandalized. And she grinned.
“Trust me!”
Then she led him to Mama Jane’s. The family owned boutique was a lot friendlier than Paris’ sweet shop, but she always thought she should really do it up for her wedding.
Kirk settled in a new set of chairs and she swept through the shop gathering together a dozen different gowns. Before she even made it in the door of the dressing room, Kirk bounded to his feet and plucked two dresses away from her.
“Not a good color for you…and this is too pale. You need more vibrant colors. Or stark white because you bring all the color.” The rapid command in his tone sent a shiver along her spine and a thrill to curl in her belly.
“Do you see something you like here?” Why not? He was there to help right?
To her absolute shock, Kirk nodded and walked over to the side and returned with two dresses, one kind of filmy and the other all lace. They were totally not her style, but he’d offered so she had to accept.
“Thank you,” she whispered as her fingers brushed his. Electricity skittered through her and he gave her a sharp look at the contact. Sharp, not repulsed.
Her heart began to race. Then he did something uber sexy. He scanned the shop around them before he moved his chair so he could watch her dressing room door and the rest of the shop.
Kirk was protecting her.
How sweet!
She might melt into a puddle.
Inside the changing ro
om, she went to work and Kirk played her patient audience from the deep gold dress which hugged her, but left everything covered—and he didn’t seem to like it any more than she did, because he just shook his head—to the hot pink spaghetti strapped nightmare that she didn’t even make a step out of the dressing room before magic gave her a light shove back inside.
The music included everything from Human League to Kenny Loggins to a little Bon Jovi, but she didn’t hit the jackpot until Shalamar declared she was Dancing in the Sheets. She sauntered out in the second dress Kirk selected for her. It was a white filmy creation. A sheath hugged her torso, while a filmy overlay floated around her.
She’d never felt so effervescent.
At her appearance, Kirk froze and she saw it—the gleam and delight vivid in his eyes.
She had her wedding dress, and felt like a million bucks.
Riding on air, she danced to the music and Kirk even tapped his foot in time to it. He couldn’t sit still, and what she’d thought had been fidgeting with impatience earlier suddenly seemed to be excitement he couldn’t contain.
Gigi was in heaven.
She had her wedding dress.
“Now that you found the right one,” Kirk murmured captivating her. “How about some lunch?”
“I’m starving.” Meeting his gaze, she felt another one of those ping-pong effects between her heart and her rib cage. Oh, if only Bridget were there, they could giggle squee—but then if Bridget were there, it wouldn’t be a date.
Nope, she wanted to enjoy the date while it lasted. She had the wedding dress, which meant Bridget was likely finding her a groom.
Best.
Day.
Ever.
In the meanwhile, lunch!
Kirk
ONE MINUTE he’d been on his knees at the Baba Yaga’s feet, sure life as he knew it was over, next he’d been dropped unceremoniously in hell. —otherwise known as nature. Now he sat in a mall eating piled high burgers, drinking sodas and eating super salty fries with a gorgeously curvy woman who’d given him his own private dance show as she figured out her bridal dress.
Sure, Martin probably shanghaied him into protecting the next bride from possible witch napping—made sense since he was there to apprehend the witchnapper—but Gigi was a lot of fun and she didn’t pretend she wasn’t hungry. She dug right into her burger and ate it with a kind of pleasure he enjoyed.
“So when is your wedding, if you don’t mind me asking?” The gorgeous dress he’d picked out was currently in a long dress bag surreptitiously lying over the back of a chair. A hint of magic kept it from being really folded, however, and no one walking by would knock it off.
Gigi froze, one fry halfway to her mouth and gave him a guarded look. Maybe he shouldn’t have asked about her wedding? Wiping his fingers on a napkin, he scratched at his shoulder and then tried to make himself stop. His flesh seemed to be consumed with the violent itching. It had made sitting in the chairs in the dress shops damn uncomfortable, at least until she’d started dancing.
Even when the dresses hadn’t suited her, she’d shimmered with pure fun.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to press on a sore spot.” Sometimes, he lacked tact entirely. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate manners, but he’d seen her boobs bouncing and her butt wiggling—a wedding date didn’t seem a stretch into the don’t ask zone.
“It’s not a sore spot,” she admitted, after finishing the fry and washing it down with a drink of her cherry cola. “It’s just I don’t have a date yet.”
“Worried about recent events?” He could sympathize. Recent events had him worried, too. The Baba Yaga had done him a favor to cover his debts if he caught a simple criminal for her. Since she didn’t do favors easily, and this kind of work was a snap for her—well, let him just remember that what she wanted from him meant it could totally end with him being screwed worse than when he started.
Better to watch all the angles.
Gigi ducked her head. “A little…but probably not how you mean.” Her pretty cheeks went rosy, and she met his gaze fully. How could a man not appreciate the gemstone quality of her mis-matched eyes? One pure sapphire, bluer than a summer sky and one sharp emerald, a faceted color that reminded him of the deep jungles he could admire but loathed to travel.
“Then what is troubling you?” In his experience, most women were happy to discuss themselves and he was more than happy to listen if it meant he didn’t have to share his innermost thoughts.
No one wanted to read a blank book anyway.
“You’ll laugh.” Her gaze dropped away and she used a fry to stir the ketchup around on the paper which had wrapped her burger.
“I promise, I won’t.” It was the easiest oath he’d ever given. The fire creeping across his flesh provided a torturous distraction. It had kept his tongue from lolling out when she’d sauntered out of the dressing room in that body hugging dress. He loved all her generous curves and the dress had flattered everyone in his opinion.
Itching kept him from drooling. A painful way to succeed, but he would take every advantage he had.
After eating two more fries and letting her gaze sweep the half-empty food court where they were chowing down, Gigi said, “I don’t have a wedding day planned because I don’t have a groom…yet.”
Yet?
What? Kirk made good on his word. He didn’t laugh, but he only managed to keep the disbelieved chuckle contained by frowning. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand. You bought a wedding dress, but you don’t have a groom—or a wedding date.”
If she’d meant she had a fellow bride, she would have said that and not just mentioned she didn’t have a groom. So, no, she had a hetero vibe and made a direct comment, so he wouldn’t Sigmund Freud it to death.
A little sigh escaped her and the thick darkness of her lashes swept low over those gemlike eyes. “It means I don’t have a groom. I want a groom. I should be married by now and working on at least one rugrat. That was always the plan, but plans kept going awry.” With the cherry color of her cheeks deepening, she sucked on her lower lip.
Kirk leaned forward, as enticed by the action as by her answer. “You had a plan to be married, without actually knowing the person you want to marry?” He was definitely not laughing, but puzzled—very puzzled.
“It’s not as strange as you seem to be making it sound.” As if to cover her note of defensiveness, she dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. “A lot of people make plans for their future—what magic they’ll study, what field they’ll go into, and even what career they want to have. Maybe they don’t want a career, maybe they want to just live on their spoils and travel.”
He totally related to the last one.
“But we all make plans. I wanted to be married. I even had the perfect man in mind… set up the perfect meeting, but it didn’t work out.” The brightness in her voice dimmed on the last.
The loss bothered him. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” The artless sincerity in her curious nature tugged a reluctant smile from him.
“For your disappointment.” And maybe it was because he wanted to dig his nails into his skin until he drew blood, he reached for his soda and focused on her. “But if a groom is what you want…” He stressed the word want rather than saying need. No one needed another person, not really. They wanted to be with them. That made more sense to him.
Shifters needed.
Witches wanted.
Then a dark little voice in the back of his mind reminded him, And warlocks take… Muzzling the dark promise suggested in that devil’s advocate, he kept his attention on Gigi. Any dark needs he had were satisfied by gaming, and he took a lot in those games, and lost a fair amount too. It all evened out.
Shaking his head, he kept his attention on the beautiful woman eating burgers with him. “What are you looking for in a potential groom?”
Her indelicate snort surprised and delighted him. Leaning back in her chair, she pointed a finger at him. “You don’t wa
nt to know that.”
“Of course, I do. I don’t ask what I don’t want to know.” Granted, he’d rather have bagged his little kidnapper and be scot free on his debts, but one step at time. He was doing Martin and the witch singer a favor, they’d in turn answer his question, then he’d get his little criminal and bang, zoom, off to the moon he’d go.
“Fine,” she said, all skeptical and adorable in her defiance. “I want a romantic lover, who has a solid work ethic, enjoys a variety of activities from dancing to crafts, and appreciates travel while also is invested in building solid foundations whether it’s in a community or in constructing their own home. They’ll have firm family ties, respectful relationships with parents and teachers. They’ll have a past they can be proud of, and the desire to invest in their future…”
Just when he thought she’d take a breath, she continued on. Kirk had finished his burger and all of his fries during his speech. Finally, he forced himself to suck on his soda to keep from interrupting her.
“…and I guess, last and certainly not least or the most important, he has to be attractive. To me. I don’t care if no one else thinks he’s handsome, but I have to.” With a jaunty little nod, she finished.
“You’re crazy,” he admitted, then shook his head when she widened her eyes in outrage. “Hang on, don’t get pissed at me yet. Just—that’s an impossible list of characteristics for any one person to have.”
“But the right man will have them.” Good thing she had faith in that. “Besides, if you had to have a bride, what qualities would she have for you?”
“Be devoted to me and let me love her.” Kirk wasn’t a terribly complicated man. “On the other hand, I don’t have to have a bride. Or a girlfriend for that matter. It happens or it doesn’t.”
