Sensual Spell

by Rachel Carrington

  "I have an idea.” Her voice sounded animated. “I mean,” she hurried towards him, “it's a shot in the dark, but it just might work."

  He felt himself beginning to frown, and he deliberately hardened his expression. If the woman got any closer to him, something else was going to get hard, and that's the last thing he needed her to notice. “That's close enough to tell me your idea."

  Slim shoulders squared, Noelle Bridges lifted her head and in a perfectly haughty voice announced, “I think I have a way to bring your uncle back to life."

  * * * *

  Emmie Bridges didn't like being awakened from a perfectly good alcohol-induced dream, but the minute her sisters stirred her, she knew something was wrong. They didn't need to say anything. Just the looks on their faces told her enough. Well, that and the way Jazz twisted her hands in a frantic to-and-fro motion.

  Jazz had always been the worrier in the family, and no matter how many times Emmie and Heart reassured her, their baby sister just couldn't seem to control her anxieties. She was a witch, for God's sake. Didn't she realise she had little to worry about?

  Emmie sighed and climbed to her feet, her legs a little wobbly. The world spun crazily, and she automatically reached for Heart's arm for assistance. “So what's wrong now?"

  "Noelle is in a world of trouble,” Jazz began in perfectly dramatic fashion capable of earning her an Emmy.

  Emmie met Heart's eyes over top of their youngest sister's head. Jazz came from a long line of over-reactors, so she couldn't be blamed if she still upheld the same tradition. Their mother had had that gene, as well. Goddess rest her soul.

  Heart shook her head almost imperceptibly, and Emmie took that to mean trouble. Nothing that couldn't be solved with a couple of spells and some hair of the dog. The hair would, of course, be for herself and not for their youngest niece. And would, hopefully, come first.

  Head throbbing and back aching, Emmie toddled into the living room, snapping her fingers to create a blaze in the brick fireplace. “It's colder than a witch's well in here, you know.” Plopping herself down on the chintz settee, she folded her arms. “Well? Is someone going to bring me the book, or do I just sit here all day?"

  Heart plunked the Book of Spells down into her sister's lap. “Here, Your Highness."

  Emmie ignored the jibe and thumbed through the pages. “So tell me exactly what has happened.” The printed words clouded before her eyes, and she shook her head. Exactly how much had she drunk last night, anyway? Not enough to wake up in the garden like she had the night before. She was thankful for that.

  Jazz spilled the disastrous happenings in a rush of words that only served to confuse Emmie, who held up one hand to stop her sister's babbling.

  "Oh, for the love of the saints, would someone please go pour me a shot of tequila and let me think a minute?"

  Jazz clamped her hands on her skinny hips and glared down at her sister. “Now isn't the time to be thinking about alcohol, Em."

  Emmie massaged her temples while shooting her sister a dark look. “I don't have to have a certain time of the day to think about tequila, dear sister. Besides, if I don't get that shot, I'm not going to be able to think properly. And an improperly thinking witch can't work magic!” Her voice rose on the last word, and Jazz smacked Heart's shoulder.

  "Go get her the tequila."

  Emmie bobbed her head, and her precarious bun slipped another notch. “That's more like it.” She cracked her knuckles and began thumbing through the pages. “Now, it seems to me, we only have to bring Noelle back to Betony."

  Jazz scrunched up her face. “Which would be simple enough, except...” She broke off, unsure of how to continue.

  Emmie stopped turning the pages and looked up. “Well? Finish what you're dying to tell me."

  Heart strolled back into the living room, carrying a glass of brown liquid. “Noelle is trying to bring a man back from the dead, dear. Here. Drink up."

  Eyes squinting, Emmie slammed the Book of Spells shut, snatched the shot glass, and drained it. Feeling a little clearer, she peered at both of her sisters, wondering if this were some kind of a trick to pay her back for yesterday's practical joke. Was it yesterday? She couldn't remember, but she could recall the looks on her sisters’ faces when she'd collapsed before them on the ancient rug imported from Thailand. That still brought a chuckle.

  Heart snapped her fingers in front of Emmie's nose. “Will you please pay attention? Jazz is about to stroke out."

  Emmie waved a hand, and a chair bumped against the back of Jazz's legs. “Sit down, dear, and let me take a look-see. I'm sure I can find something in here to bring our niece back.” She aimed a glance at Heart. “Any idea how she got herself into this situation?"

  Heart folded her arms over her breasts while Jazz gave a wail of dismay. “One word,” Heart replied. “Ella."

  "Remind me to kick that girl's ass once this is all over. Ruined a perfectly good buzz, she did,” Emmie grumped.

  "Do you think you can bring her back?” Jazz scooted the chair forward to peer over her sister's shoulder at the Book of Spells.

  Emmie tamped down her irritation. What kind of a question is that? There was very little she couldn't accomplish once she set her mind to it. “You woke me up to doubt me?"

  Heart edged in between her sisters. “Actually, we woke you up because you were snoring."

  The book fell open in Emmie's lap again. “Both of you go rot somewhere and let me work."

  * * * *

  Noelle knew she should have thought before she spoke, but really, she didn't have a lot of options. Her practical joker of a cousin had placed her in one helluva situation. But as the dark eyes looking down into her face began to glow with suspicion, Noelle figured she'd picked the wrong solution to her problem.

  "Mr. Sanders?"

  He held up one hand. “No. Just stop. I don't believe I want to hear anything more from you.” He blew out a long breath, and Noelle caught the scent of coffee and mints.

  Her womanly parts tingled, which surprised her, considering they hadn't tingled in quite some time. Being so busy learning the magic of the coven and following all of their damnable rules, she didn't have a spare moment to engage in any extracurricular activities.

  Besides that, the male witches in Betony just weren't her type. Most of them were too smug for their own good and thought they hung the moon. Noelle's nose wrinkled as she thought of one witch in particular. Braxton Hills. The name alone sounded like a neighbourhood in the suburbs.

  With a start, she realised Jacob Sanders was still staring at her. She fisted her hands on her hips and tried for a sophisticated look. “Look. You don't have a lot of options here. Do you really want to tell the rest of your family that your dear old uncle is dead?"

  "What choice do I have?” His voice sounded tight with anger, but she didn't need to hear the words to know that. Though gorgeous, Jacob Sanders definitely had a temper. She could see it in those sexy eyes of his.

  Great. More tingling. Didn't her body recognise the face of the enemy? Well, one thing was for sure—her pussy didn't.

  Noelle gnawed at her lower lip. Should she tell him the truth? Instinct told her no. Then again, she'd never been good at following instinct. She was more a live-by-the-rules type of person. Give her a manual and she could follow it to the letter.

  Jacob cleared his throat. “I take it by the look on your face you think there is another option besides informing my family of my uncle's demise. This ought to be good."

  She didn't particularly care for the snide response, but he did, at present, have the upper hand since she still didn't know how in the hell she'd gotten there.

  "I'm listening."

  More snideness. Her own temper began to escalate. “Do you have to be so unpleasant about it?"

  "Unpleasant? My uncle is dead, and you were the last one to see him alive. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't be ‘unpleasant’ to you."

  All right. That does it. Noelle glared and b
lurted, “I'm a witch."

  One eyebrow rose. “Aren't most women?"

  She glowered at him. “I'm not talking about my temperament.” Close to showing him just exactly what she meant by witch, Noelle gritted her teeth.

  He crossed his arms over his chest and rocked back on his heels, drawing Noelle's eyes to the bulge in his jeans. “Oh. You mean witch as in Samantha. Sabrina. And all the other characters on television.” He gave a short bark of laughter. “You're a piece of work. If you're a witch, I've got a three-inch dick."

  Her eyes narrowed. Oh, the many wonders she could work with this arrogant, yet delicious, man's nether regions. “I can make that happen."

  His head whipped up, and his hand dropped to his crotch. “What?"

  "If that's what it will take to prove to you that I'm a witch, I can give you a one-inch dick.” Not on your life, buddy. Not until I see for myself what size it really is. The naughty thought made Noelle's eyes widen. Okay, now she was beyond tingling. She was practically vibrating.

  Could he see her nipples poking against the sheet? Goddess, help me, she begged. Any moment now, this man was going to see the attraction in her eyes, realise she wasn't breathing normally, and perhaps even smell the scent of her arousal. Unfortunately, witches gave off a distinct aroma when sexually aware, but she wasn't quite sure if mortals could smell it.

  "Do you always talk to yourself?"

  His words caught her off-guard. “What?"

  "Your lips were moving."

  She expelled an irritated breath. “If I were you, I'd be more worried about the inches you're about to lose."

  Jacob edged towards the door, keeping a suspicious eye on her. “Yeah. Okay. Why don't you just stay there? I'll be right back."

  She trotted after him. “You're going to call the men in white coats now, right? I mean, you're going to tell the police to bring along the nut-nabbers.” Noelle tapped him on the shoulder as he tugged open the bedroom door. “I won't be here."

  "You can't leave,” he responded in a pompous tone.

  Praying she'd studied the lesson correctly, Noelle closed her eyes and felt herself whisking through the air. She heard Jacob's loud “What the hell?” and then she dropped back to her feet, coming to stand inches away from his face. “I can leave. I only stayed because I'm trying to help."

  Her breast pushed against his arm, and fire shot into the centre of his eyes. She had his attention. “Don't make the mistake of misjudging me, Mr. Sanders.” Her voice was husky, sensual. Though never having had the opportunity to use her abilities in this manner, Noelle was well aware of the ways of witches.

  They could intoxicate any man of their choosing and make them crave the touch of a woman's hand and the scent of her hair. And if she wanted, she could have Jacob Sanders crawling at her feet right now.

  At least, that's what she should be able to do. Certain spells confused Noelle, but others she could remember in her sleep. The mesmerizing thing had never been one of her strong suits.

  Jacob snagged her arm and shoved her away from him. “I don't know what kind of game you're playing, Ms. Bridges, but count me out."

  Noelle let out a breathy sigh. “If you insist."

  He stared at her for a long moment before wrenching the door open. “This is nuts. I'm fucking nuts.” He stormed out of the bedroom again and slammed the door behind him.

  * * * *

  "Oh, this is going from bad to worse,” Jazz lamented. She turned her fretful gaze on her oldest sister. “Whatever shall we do, Emmie?"

  Emmie tapped her finger against her chin with one eye closed. “I'm thinking."

  "Well, think faster,” Heart snapped. “Our darling niece is attempting to raise the dead!"

  Emmie's other eye popped open, and she peered down into the clear bubble which allowed her to see into other worlds. Right now, she had interest in one world only, that being where Noelle was waving her hands like mad woman in an attempt to remember a certain spell. Surely, Noelle knew her magic wasn't strong enough yet to raise the dead. Bejesus, hasn't she been paying attention? A witch has to be at least three centuries old before even attempting such a spell.

  And Noelle was less than a century old! Didn't the girl know what in the hell could happen if she started dicking around with things she didn't understand?

  "What's going to happen to her when this man realises she can't do what she told him she'd do?” Wringing her hands, Jazz began to pace. “He is going to have her locked up. They'll throw away the key."

  Heart clamped a hand on her sister's shoulder to still the travelling. “I don't believe they actually throw away the keys anymore, honey."

  "I don't think they actually ever did that,” Emmie muttered before waving a hand in dismissal. “Besides that, there's no jail cell a witch can't get out of."

  "But we're talking about Noelle,” Heart reminded her.

  Point taken. Emmie glowered at both of her sisters in turn. “It doesn't matter. We're getting off track. We need a solution, not another problem."

  Jazz leaned in closer to her sister's face. “Well, that's why we woke you."

  "You mean, dragged me out of my wondrous intoxication, Emmie glared at the memory.

  "Semantics,” Heart replied quickly, shouldering forward to stand in between Jazz and Emmie. She surveyed the oldest of the trio,"So, any ideas, now that you're sober?"

  Emmie pursed her lips and began to rock back and forth. “Just one, and I don't think either of you are going to like it."

  Heart sucked in a breath. “I know that look in your eyes, Sis,” she wagged a finger. “I know what you're thinking, and I don't think—"

  "We're just going to have to go down there."

  Jazz and Heart gasped in unison. “You mean, to Earth?"

  "I knew it,” Heart snapped.

  "Where else would I be thinking? Now, we'd better wear something appropriate. Why those mortals insist on dressing in such restrictive clothing, I'll never know.” Emmie bounced to her feet and immediately clasped one hand to her forehead. The hair of the dog hadn't helped as much as she'd thought it would. “But first, I must see to this damnable headache of mine."

  "We can't go down to Earth,” Jazz began in a shocked whisper. “Why, the last time we were there, people tried to burn us at the stake."

  Heart rolled her eyes. “That was hundreds of years ago. The mortals have evolved since then. Now, they no longer consider us a threat to society."

  Emmie glared at both of her sisters. “That's because humans don't believe we exist. Now, do hurry up and find something to wear. I'd like to find Noelle and be home before Samhain, if at all possible."

  Jazz swayed on her feet. “But—but, why can't we just bring Noelle back here? I mean, why do we have to go get her? If you can remember the spell to take us down there, why can't you just pop her right back up here?” She sounded positively frantic.

  "Because sweet Ella seems to have concocted some sort of blocking spell. I'll bet you dollars to doughnuts the little witch never thought we'd actually take our asses down to Earth. Once I'm there, I can figure out a way to undo the spell and rescue Noelle. Then I'll kick Ella's curvy little ass. Not necessarily in that order.

  "Now, as I said, get ready. We're leaving in ten minutes.” Emmie swept past her sisters, her vivid red tunic crawling along the floor behind her. “And Heart, you may want to catch Jazz. I do believe she's about to pass out."

  * * * *

  The woman was following him, even trailed him down the hallway and into the bathroom. He stopped to glare at her. “If you don't mind...” Where in the hell are the police? It seemed like hours ago that he'd called them.

  She folded her arms, but didn't move. Jacob tried not to notice the way her defensive posture added to her tantalising cleavage. “I do mind. I need your help to resurrect your uncle."

  Jacob took a growling step towards her and caught the scent of her hair again. Hormones punched him in the gut, nearly bringing him to his knees. His cock pushed
against the front of his pants, and he took a staggering step backwards. Holy hell. What was going on? He'd never felt such a powerful attraction before. This was beyond common lust.

  He eyed Noelle. “Did you just do something to me?” Although he didn't think she had, he could actually think of a few things he'd like her to do. Those pink lips were driving him insane, and he barely knew her. But scattered images tantalised him. Visions of tugging the sheet down below her breasts, cupping the golden globes in his hands, and tasting the sweet buds of her nipples.

  Jesus. The woman might not be a true witch, but she could cast spells.

  Noelle gave him a disgusted look. “I didn't touch you."

  Suspicion narrowed his eyes. “You did earlier ... with your breast.” The reminder only served to make his cock harder. “Did you use some kind of a spell then?"

  "I thought you didn't believe in witches."

  Her words rankled, but the slipping sheet bothered him even more. The tops of her breasts were visible, and the round fullness was starting to make him sweat. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “I don't. You're absolutely right. Just go away. Please.” He added the last through clenched teeth.

  "Jacob,” she began in a husky whisper that sent fingertips dancing down his spine.

  Good God. She'd bewitched him. The mirrors in the half bathroom began to fog, and since Noelle had lowered her arms, he could now see the outline of her perfectly pert nipples pushing against the sheet. She'd wrapped it around her toga-style, but it did little to camouflage her luscious curves.

  He clenched his hands into fists to keep from reaching out to her. “My name is Mr. Sanders."

  She gave him a long, studious look while his cock grew harder with each passing blink of her tempting lashes. “As you wish, then. Like it or not, Mr. Sanders, I am a witch. And I can help your uncle."

  "No one can help my uncle now."

  "Do you know that for a fact?” Before he could stop her, she placed the palm of her hand against his chest. Every nerve in his body jangled, and he bit back a curse. Something was happening to him. Maybe he was coming down with the flu. Something was definitely coming up, though, and he couldn't remember the last time he'd been this hard so fast.