A Breath of Magic

by Tracy Madison

  Paige was slowly working her way through college, which for this semester meant half days on Mondays and Wednesdays. I gave her a lot of credit, because she made up the missed hours on other days. “Do you need any help? I’m almost caught up,” I offered.

  She considered it, but shook her head. “It’s kind of tight back here. We’ll just get in each other’s way.”

  “Okay. Let me know if you need anything.” She nodded and got back to it. I spent a few minutes walking around the shop, ascertaining that everything was neat and orderly. It didn’t take long, as the store itself was only about four hundred square feet and wasn’t overly cluttered.

  When I was done with that, I hesitated. The joys of payroll waited, but I sort of thought staying away from the computer for now would be smart. Luckily, the bell jangled a customer’s arrival, and then a few minutes later, another’s. The first customer, a middle-aged woman who was a regular, selected three chakra-energy candles.

  “These are gifts,” Mrs. Delinsky confided at the register. “I’m giving the abundance candle to a friend who lost her job, the healing one to my aunt, and the happiness candle is a wedding gift.”

  “How nice of you to think of them! I’m sure they’ll appreciate it,” I said, ringing up her purchases.

  We continued talking for a few minutes, and then, out of nowhere, goose bumps coated my arms. Strange, because the room didn’t feel cold. I brushed it off, glancing up to see how the other customer was doing, only to find a third customer I hadn’t heard come in. She hovered in the middle of the store, and she appeared young, maybe around sixteen or seventeen. She had long blonde hair, sky blue eyes and a turned-up nose. As if sensing my gaze, she turned and smiled.

  I smiled back. Her eyes rounded, and very slowly, she lifted one hand and waved at me. I held up a finger to tell her I’d be with her in a minute and returned to wrapping up the candles for Mrs. Delinsky. Tucking them in a bag, I handed them over. “Here you go,” I said, just as the phone rang.

  She nodded her thanks and took off. I rubbed my arms to chase the chill away before grabbing the phone. The caller wanted information on the next month’s tarot class. Facing the wall, I referred to the calendar of June classes we’d posted, and gave her the details. By then, the second customer—a young man—was waiting to purchase the books he’d selected.

  When he was taken care of, I went in search of the girl I’d seen. Except, other than Paige and I, the shop was empty. Apparently, she’d gotten tired of waiting. “Hey, Paige? Did that girl have any questions?”

  Paige stopped arranging the artwork. “What girl? I only saw Mrs. Delinsky and that guy.”

  “Sweatshirt, jeans, long blonde hair?”

  “Nope. Didn’t see her.”

  “Weird. Oh well, no biggie.” The chill from earlier returned. I shivered and wrapped my arms around myself.

  Paige grimaced. “I’m sorry. I’m focused on an exam I have this afternoon. I guess I’m more lost in my thoughts than I realized.”

  “It’s cool. If she needs something, she’ll likely come again.”

  I only had an hour before Paige left, so I confined myself to completing the payroll. With that done, I took my lunch to the front counter and settled in for a long afternoon.

  A few customers were in and out over the next few hours, but it was quiet enough that I delved into my latest mystery novel. I was up to my eyeballs in the murder of a politician when the bell on the door jangled. I jumped, my heart in my throat, and my book flew out of my hands, landing on the other side of the counter.

  The newly arrived customer stopped just inside the store, probably thinking I was a nutcase. I raced around to pick up the book and smiled in greeting. His return smile lacked warmth, but I found I didn’t care. At all.

  Because this man…? Wow. Tall, probably around six foot, with short hair the color of burnished gold, and his eyes…Well, they were simply the bluest I’d ever seen. A vast, endless ocean. And he had a body that only comes from serious workouts. Merely stating he was fit didn’t do the man justice. He was hot-man-of-the-month-in-a-fireman-calendar gorgeous.

  Wiping my suddenly damp palms on my slacks, I squealed, “Hi! Welcome!” Guys that look like him live in movies, not real life, and certainly not in my store. I imagined every one of my muscles relaxing and tried speaking in a nonsqueal. “Can I help you find anything?”

  “Ah…yes.” His long legs ate up the floor between us quicker than I’d have liked. I smiled wider, trying to appear calm and collected. “My assistant’s birthday is later this week,” he said. His jaw was hard. Firm. Chiseled, even. As if cut from granite.

  “And you’d like a gift?” I breathed. Like a really bad Marilyn Monroe impersonator. Lovely.

  “A pendulum. She’s partial to them, and while I think they’re nothing more than pretty little gadgets, she disagrees.”

  His tone, crisp and to the point, stabilized my suddenly out-of-control libido. Obviously, he was a nonbeliever. I shouldn’t have been surprised, but I was. And oddly disappointed. “May I ask why you’re buying one for her, then?”

  Scrunching his eyebrows together, as if my question was ridiculous, he leaned forward. Now I really couldn’t breathe. “She’s a good assistant. She seems to like pendulums. I’d like to give her one.”

  “Um…that makes sense.” Was I trying to drive customers away now? I needed to chill out. Immediately. “Let me show you what we have.”

  I led him on shaky legs to the display case that held our array of pendulums, wondering if my reaction was based solely on his outrageous amount of sex appeal, or if the tuna I’d eaten for lunch took part of the blame. “Take a look and see if you like any of them.”

  He laughed, a surprisingly warm, if raspy—as if he didn’t laugh often—sound. “My goal is for her to like it.” Kneeling down, he stared into the case for a while. His shirt stretched tight over his well-muscled back. An image of him naked from the waist up smacked me senseless. My belly quivered, and a heat I hadn’t felt for way too long took residence deep in my stomach. I gripped the counter, trying to find my balance.

  “Can I see the rose-quartz one in the back? With the gold chain? And the selenite one here in front, with the silver chain?” he asked, pointing.

  “You know your stones.” Selecting the two pendulums he’d chosen, I laid them on top of the case. “Are you romantically involved?” I blurted, then winced.

  “What? With my assistant?” He did his bunched-up eyebrow thing. “Are you hitting on me?”

  “No!” Shaking my head vehemently, I sputtered another “No!” for good measure.

  He tipped his head to the side, all of his attention on my face, humor clear on his. “Interesting,” he murmured.

  “What?”

  “Your eyes. They just changed from sea green to rich, dark emerald. Like green fire.” He winked. “You should hit on men more often, Miss…?”

  “Nichols. Chloe Nichols. But I was not hitting on you.” Where was my equilibrium? Dumb question. I knew where. In Cincinnati with Kyle. “Rose quartz is known as the stone of love.” Hitting on him? Who did he think he was? “If she uses pendulums, she’ll probably know that. I was actually trying to be of help.”

  “Uh-huh. If you say so.”

  I wanted to kick him. Obviously, he was accustomed to women coming on to him—and full of himself.

  “I’ll take the selenite. Which,” he said with a grin, “is known as the stone of mental clarity. A beautiful gift for her, and a huge benefit for me.”

  “I’m sure she’ll love it.” The guy probably was involved with his assistant. Sexually, not romantically. Men like that? Well, they knew better than to give their conquests any gift with the word love attached.

  With quick, jagged movements, I replaced the rose-quartz pendulum and picked up the selenite one. “Anything else I can help you with?”

  “Do you gift wrap?”

  “We can.”

  “Good. Can I arrange for delivery? I’m much
better at remembering to give gifts if they’re not sitting in my desk drawer all week.”

  “Sure, I’ll just need to know when and where you want it delivered.” Except we didn’t offer delivery, so why did I agree? “And there’s a fee.” Hey, if I was going to do it, I was going to be paid.

  “Not a problem.” He chose the gift wrap he wanted and then paid for the pendulum in cash.

  I jotted down the name of his assistant on a notepad, asking, “Where is this going to, and on what day?”

  “Friday before noon, if you can manage it. Deliver it to my office.” He opened his wallet and withdrew a business card, offering it. “My work address, phone number, everything you need is right here.”

  I was hot. Too hot. Maybe I was getting sick? “Thank you for shopping at the Mystic Corner.”

  “You’re welcome.” He hesitated for a beat. “Take the card, Chloe.”

  “Oh! Yes. Of course.” My fingers brushed his and the floor wobbled. Bright sparks of electricity, millions of them, whisked over me, through me, and my body swooned toward him. As if he were a magnet I couldn’t resist. The air grew so thick it hurt to breathe.

  “Thank you for your help.” He tossed me another grin and headed for the exit.

  I collapsed on the chair behind the counter and tried to catch my breath, tried to will my body to behave. Wow. Just wow. Now I understood what people meant when they talked about spontaneous combustion. I’d felt sexual attraction before but nothing like this. Nothing so fast. Nothing so hot. Which, I guess, is why they call it spontaneous combustion.

  I closed my eyes, huffed the air in and out of my lungs and then realized I still clutched his business card. The card sizzled, begging me to lift it up, to look at it, to put a name to the man who’d just knocked me senseless. One more deep breath and I opened my eyes, hoping his name was something dorky. Something I could laugh at. Something I could focus on instead of those eyes.

  Initially, all I saw was a blur of black on white. When my brain was finally able to absorb the fancy raised lettering, everything I thought I knew spun around me at warp speed, stopped on a dime and exploded into a million little pieces. Ben Malone, CFO, Malone & Associates.

  Yeah. Fate has a wicked sense of humor.

  Chapter Four

  I pulled my car to a stop on the street in front of Alice’s house, flipped off the car ignition and tried to figure out why the hell I was even there. It wasn’t reasonable, and I hadn’t made my mind up, but I’d operated on instinct. Quite possibly, the instinct of a crazy woman.

  Exhaling a breath, I slumped in my seat, trying to convince myself that Ben Malone appearing at the Mystic Corner three hours ago boiled down to nothing more than a strange coincidence, and that my reaction to him, along with the location of his employment, held zero meaning. What I really wanted to believe was that the drawing wouldn’t be of him, and as soon as I proved that, everything would settle.

  “Liar,” I whispered. After all, I already knew the picture wasn’t of Kyle, the man who at this very minute was likely contemplating the perfect date for our wedding. Now, literally out of nowhere, Mr. Ben Malone with his firm jaw and firmer body and ridiculously bluer-than-blue eyes had waltzed into my life, shaking everything up.

  I felt as if my body had betrayed me, and seriously? That totally ticked me off. So what if Kyle and I weren’t magical together like Ethan and Alice? So what if touching Kyle, kissing him, didn’t turn me into a burning pile of mush? These things didn’t—shouldn’t—matter when contemplating a life with someone. Our relationship was fine. We were fine. Yet here I sat, in front of my best friend’s house, emotions churning away, with my heart and soul begging me to reach for the sky. That ticked me off too.

  I stared at the house Ethan and Alice had moved into a few months earlier, as if somehow I’d find my answers there. Built in the Craftsman bungalow style, it had stone siding, a porch surrounded by four blocky columns, and a bright red door. A large silver-maple tree graced their front yard, a few of its branches scraping the roof.

  A comfortable home. Charming, even. The inside was even more so. With hardwood floors, beamed ceilings and a mishmash of furnishings from Ethan and Alice’s former lives, their house was a place meant for gathering, laughing and loving. At that instant, it was the last place I wanted to be.

  “You know what? Screw this,” I whispered. I didn’t have to do it now. No one was forcing me to look at that drawing. Even more to the point, the picture wasn’t going anywhere. I could go home, think things through and come back when—if—I decided the risk was worthwhile.

  My body relaxed. The stress that had balled up in my muscles lessened. Even the aching pain in my temples lightened. Relieved, because these had to be signs I was making the right decision, I started the car’s engine. Instantly, the radio blared on, Kelly Clarkson’s voice saturating the space. It was loud. Too loud.

  My muscles jerked in response. I stared at the radio in confusion, nearly positive I’d left it off during my hurried drive to Alice’s. Odd? Yes. Odder yet: when I attempted to lower the volume, nothing happened.

  I turned the knob on the radio with more force, and again nothing happened. Desperate to shut the music down, I hit the power button over and over and over with so much force that the tip of my finger turned a splotchy red. But the damn song refused to turn off. What the hell?

  “I’ll do what it takes to touch the sky.”

  My hand dropped to my lap.

  “Make a wish, take a chance.”

  The air whispered around me, caressing my skin. It washed into my body, a cool but uncanny breeze, stealing my breath away and igniting a series of shivers that refused to stop.

  Slowly, too slowly, the chill faded away, my shivers disappeared and my breathing eased. The moment had seemed to last forever, but Kelly Clarkson still sang, so probably only a few seconds had passed. Dazed and trembling, I reached over and powered the radio off, only half-surprised that it actually worked. The song still pounded through my head, though. Like a skipping record. Over and over and over.

  Make a wish, take a chance.

  Oh, hell. How many signs was I willing to ignore?

  “So this is the way it’s going to be, is it?” I demanded. “And why’d you wait for so long? Is this fun, watching me go crazy?” I didn’t know whom my questions were directed at—God, fate or Miranda—but whoever’s hands were at the wheel of this particular mess, I’d have really liked an answer. Not that I got one.

  By the time I reached Alice’s front door, the song had, thankfully, stopped playing in my mind. Though I was pretty sure if I retreated to the safety of my car, it would come back. I raised my hand to knock, but Alice opened the door before my fist made contact with wood.

  “I was wondering when you’d come inside. Good song on the radio?” she asked, bouncing her seven-month-old daughter on her denim-covered hip.

  I narrowed my eyes. “What do you mean?”

  “You know. A song on the radio? One you liked enough to maybe camp out in your car to finish before coming in?” She stepped to the side and I eased past her. “I’m not surprised. I do that all the time.”

  “Right. Of course.” I struggled to regain my clarity, my sense of normalcy. “It’s been a wild day.”

  Rose scrunched her face up and yawned long and hard, as if I’d already bored her with the few words I’d managed to say, before burrowing her head into Alice’s shoulder. “She’s tired,” her mother explained.

  I followed Alice into her living room and perched myself on her papasan chair, devoutly ignoring the crazy beat of my heart and the perspiration building on the back of my neck. Alice tucked Rose into the baby swing that rested in a corner of the room, covered her with a sunny yellow blanket and put the swing in motion. The baby didn’t so much as coo before closing her eyes and dropping off to sleep. After ascertaining she wasn’t going to wake back up, Alice crept quietly to the sofa, crossed her long legs and settled in.

  I swallowed, trying
to find the words I’d decided to say, but couldn’t. I was an engaged woman, damn it! I had no business even thinking about that drawing…about Ben. The song, which had barely left my consciousness, returned.

  I’ll do what it takes to touch the sky.

  Okay, that had to stop. Like now.

  Maybe if I chatted for a while, I’d calm down. And the singing would cease. Smiling weakly in the direction of Rose I said, “Has she shown any signs of magic yet?” Between Miranda’s warnings and Alice’s own power, we all knew that Rose would someday have more magic than anyone else in the family, save Miranda. We just didn’t know when to expect it.

  Alice’s posture stiffened. “Maybe. But I’m not positive.”

  “There’s been something?”

  She glanced at Rose, a mix of worry and love in her expression. “Nothing definite. But the other night, Ethan swears he took her stuffed bear out of her crib, but it was there when I checked on her in the morning. That and a few other similar occurrences have made me wonder.” She tried to laugh it off with a shrug. “Of course, we’re not sleeping as much as we used to, so it could be a combination of our own forgetfulness and being too watchful. You know…when you’re looking for something, you tend to find it—or think you do.”

  Maybe. Maybe not. “It will be fine. Her future is secure. You made sure of that.”

  Alice rubbed her arms, as if chasing a chill away. “I know, but that doesn’t stop me from worrying. Or Ethan.”

  No, I suppose it wouldn’t. “So…uh…Ethan still hasn’t adjusted to the idea of magic?”

  “He’s fine with me, Elizabeth and Miranda. It’s just Rose he’s concerned about. Too much too soon, getting things too easily. Stuff like that.” Alice’s brown eyes bored into me. The thing about having really good friends is that they know you, and that means you can rarely surprise them. Or fool them. Chitchat time was over. “But enough of that. Let’s talk about you. What brings you here unannounced?”