by Lee McKenzie
Walking away wasn’t easy, especially since she could feel his gaze follow her as she rushed down the hallway to the kitchen.
She shook out the jacket and hung it on the back of a kitchen chair while she tried to sort out her thoughts. Nick might have come here with the intention of checking the measurements in the bathroom, but he also had other things on his mind.
The same things that were on her mind.
Obviously he’d known she was up to something. He’d been acting that way all week, but she was absolutely certain she hadn’t done anything to tip him off.
Had she?
No way. He’d never figure out what she was doing.
Not in a million years.
Don’t be so sure. These crazy things have a way of coming back to bite you on the—
“Aunt Margaret, this isn’t that big a deal,” she whispered. “Besides, it has nothing to do with Nick.” Unless you counted salvaging Allison’s marriage so she didn’t complicate Nick’s life by deciding to make a play for him. So although Maggie was doing this for Allison, not him, her success would still work to his advantage.
This kind of meddling always leads to no good.
“I’m not meddling,” she whispered. “I’m helping.” But right now she didn’t feel like arguing with Aunt Margaret. As soon as Nick left, she had another spell to prepare.
She went back to the front of the house to see what Nick was doing. He was jotting notes on his clipboard.
“Can you hold the end of the tape measure against this wall?” he asked.
She held the little metal tab firmly against the wall while he extended the tape to the other side of the room. She was about to let her end go after he read the measurement, but he shook his head.
“Hold on.”
So she held her end against the wall and as he moved toward her, the tape retracted into its case. And then he was standing right there in front of her. She had her back up against the wall as he eased the end of the tape out of her fingers.
“I think I like being reeled in,” he said.
“You do?”
His smile did interesting things to her insides and some of her outsides, too.
He lowered his head. “I do.”
“We should finish measuring.”
“I have all the measurements I need.”
He hooked the tape measure on his belt and lowered his head toward hers. His mouth was inches from hers and about to make contact.
There’s one more really important thing, Maggie. Because these spells are so closely connected, you’ll have to do them at the same time for them to be really effective.
Surely she had time for a kiss. Just one nice kiss. Which would lead to another kiss. She was already a little breathless, just thinking about it. “Is there anything else you need?”
“Yeah.”
No way, she told herself. Not tonight. Nick would keep till tomorrow.
“So, how much longer do you think this will take?” she asked. “I mean, is there other stuff you need to do here tonight?”
He backed away. “I guess not. I’ve arranged for a plumber to come first thing Monday morning, so I want to get the new tub installed tomorrow, if that’s okay. But if my being here is a problem—”
“Not really.” She stifled a fake yawn. “It’s been a long week, though, and I’m kind of tired and I have some...um...stuff to do.”
If there was an Olympic record for making oneself scarce, Nick broke it.
She really hadn’t wanted to make him leave, especially not in a snit, but this was her only opportunity to cast the spell for Candice. Tomorrow, when he came back to install the tub, they’d have plenty of time to pick up where they’d left off tonight. She’d whip up some lemonade and bake a fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies and they’d take it from there.
Tonight she still had to work some magic.
* * *
THE FIRST THING she needed was a photograph of Candice. She went upstairs to get the yearbook from Nick and Allison and Candice’s senior year. Although it was more than ten years old, it was all she had.
Maggie opened the book to the Bs. Candice’s last name was Bentley-Ferguson, but in the yearbook it was just Bentley. Ferguson must have been contributed by one of the husbands. She’d been quite pretty in high school, although she hadn’t been cover-model gorgeous like Allison had been, and still was. Maggie turned the page to find Nick’s photo, then quickly flipped back.
She needed to focus, not daydream about being Nick’s high-school sweetheart.
She took the book down to the kitchen and set it on the table, assembling the rest of the things she needed. Five red candles. Pink glass candleholders. Honey, icing sugar, cinnamon.
She smeared one of the candles with honey, sprinkled it with sugar and cinnamon and set it in the holder. By the time she’d coated the fifth candle, her hands were a sticky mess. On her way to the sink, she couldn’t resist having a taste.
“Yum.” Then she quickly washed her hands and hoped that sampling the spell wouldn’t confuse the spirits.
After she cleared away the honey pot and the other ingredients, she spread a white lace cloth over the table and set the yearbook, open to Candice’s picture, in the center. She hesitated.
Should she cut Candice’s picture out of the book?
She ruled out that idea. Aunt Margaret had always had a thing about books. For an English teacher, it probably went with the territory. Books were not to be defaced. A yearbook was not great literature, but a book was a book and Maggie didn’t want Aunt Margaret to be any more ticked off than she already was.
Should she cover the other photographs on the two open pages?
“Come on, Maggie,” she said to herself. “Give the spirits a little credit. It’s not like there are any other Candices on this page.”
The open yearbook wouldn’t lie flat so she set the candles on the table around the whole book instead of immediately around the picture. Then she pulled the curtains closed and turned out the light.
Matches. She didn’t have any matches.
She turned the light back on and rummaged through three kitchen drawers before she found some. She should have been better organized. She turned off the light again, struck a match and touched it to the first wick. The small circle of light cast a mysterious glow that made her smile.
This was more like it.
This was going to work.
The second candle lit and she moved the match to the third one.
“Ow!” She dropped the match and popped her singed fingers into her mouth, knocking over the first candle in the process.
“Argh!” Then she cast a look around. “Sorry,” she said in case anyone was listening.
She quickly righted the candle. Fortunately both it and the match had been extinguished without doing any damage. There was a streak of honey and sugary cinnamon across the page, but that didn’t seem like the end of the world. She wiped it up with a damp cloth, rearranged the candles and reached for the matches. This time she used a separate match for each candle and managed to light them all without mishap.
“Okay, now we’re getting somewhere.”
She closed her eyes, took a couple of long, deep breaths and tried to settle herself into a meditative state. She formed as clear a mental picture of Candice as she could and began the incantation.
“Crimson candles, burning bright,
Your golden flame a beacon in the night.
Search for a love that’s pure and true.
This is all I ask of you.
Lead him haste to Candice’s side,
And have him ever there abide.”
She opened her eyes. The candlelight made everything look perfect—mystical, even—and as the candles burned, the room filled with the scent of honeyed cinnamon.
She’d done it. Successfully performed both spells. Now she only had to sit back and wait for the magic to happen.
* * *
NICK DROVE AWAY from Maggie’s
place, absolutely certain that he’d never understand women. Especially the one who’d just sent him packing. But unlike the other women he knew, who were masters at manipulation, he’d thought Maggie was a straight shooter. If she wanted to be kissed, she let him know. If she wanted him to get lost, she let him know that, too. And she had.
He’d gone to her place tonight with certain expectations. Such as spending some serious quality time with her. Just the two of them. Alone.
Who was he kidding? He’d expected to kiss her. It made him feel like he was sixteen again, and that wasn’t a good feeling.
Face it, Durrance. When it comes to women, you’re as dumb now as you were in high school.
He hadn’t bought Maggie’s excuse about being tired. If anything, she’d looked as gorgeous and bouncy as ever. In the past week and a half, he’d noticed that she had a tendency to babble when she was trying to hide something. Tonight she’d had something to hide, no question about it.
Maybe she had a date.
Not that it was any of his business, but whatever was going on, it annoyed him that she’d openly flirt with him when the spirit moved her and run him out of the house when it didn’t.
Who needed it?
Not him, that’s for sure. When he saw her tomorrow, he’d make sure he wasn’t wearing his heart on his sleeve.
CHAPTER TEN
MAGGIE WOKE THE next morning feeling triumphant. She stretched her arms over her head and arched her back against the soft cotton sheet. In spite of Gabriella’s reservations, the love spells had gone off without a hitch. And even though it was the weekend, Nick was coming to the house to install the soaker tub.
Life was good, and hiring Nick had been one of the smartest moves she’d ever made. He was great at what he did and always seemed to know exactly what she wanted, even when she sometimes didn’t. Best of all, they’d become friends. If she hadn’t been so preoccupied with Allison’s problems all week, she might have tried to get Nick alone to find out just how far beyond friendship they might be able to take their relationship.
They’d have plenty of time for that, though. Starting today.
She jumped out of bed and headed downstairs. She had plenty to do before he got here.
By midmorning, she had tidied up the kitchen, put away the yearbook and candleholders and had two pans of chocolate chip cookies ready to slide into the oven. She’d discovered that Nick liked them warm, and today she was going to make sure he got exactly what he wanted.
Within reason, of course. She wasn’t going to rush into anything, but the possibility still made her smile.
She went out to the front porch when she heard the truck pull up and was a tad disappointed to see that Nick had brought Brent with him. Then she noticed the size of the tub on the back of the flatbed. No way would he be able to maneuver that monster into the house on his own.
Nick barely shot her a passing glance as he stepped out of the truck, then without so much as a “Hey, how’s it going?” he started unfastening the ropes that held her tub in place.
Brent, on the other hand, was his usual exuberant self. “G’morning, Maggie. You’re looking gorgeous today.”
“I’ll bet you use that line on every woman you meet.”
“Only the gorgeous ones.”
She thought she detected a hint of annoyance in Nick’s eyes before he turned away. What was his problem?
A person doesn’t have to be a rocket scientist to figure that out.
“Do you know something I don’t know?” Maggie asked under her breath, wishing Aunt Margaret would stop popping up so unexpectedly.
Plenty. But you’ll figure it out. Maybe even before it’s too late.
Brent took the front steps two at a time. “I have to take the front door off the hinges.”
“Are you sure that thing will fit through here?”
“Yep. We measured.”
He stepped inside and tested the air. “Apple pie?”
“No.” Why would he ask something like that.
He sniffed again. “Cinnamon buns?”
“N-o-o-o.” Hmm. It must be the scent from the candles she’d burned last night. “I was experimenting with...a new hand soap.”
His disappointment made her smile. “I have cookies ready to go in the oven and lemonade. And you’re both welcome to stay for lunch.”
Nick appeared in the doorway behind him.
Brent’s eyes lit up, but Nick was shaking his head. “Thanks, but it’s been a long week and I have some stuff to do at the office.”
Excuse me? The way he mimicked the excuse she’d used last night couldn’t be more obvious.
Brent’s eyebrows shot up. “What kind of stuff?”
“Just stuff.”
Not in a million years would she have expected him to say anything so childish. How dare he be miffed that she’d had other plans last night? It wasn’t as if she had to account for her time.
He never asked you to.
Technically, Aunt Margaret was right. All he’d done was come by to measure the bathroom and—
Oh, Maggie. Duh.
Nick hadn’t needed to measure the bathroom, at all. He’d already measured it at least a hundred times. She’d never met anyone more meticulous. He’d only used that as an excuse to come back here last night because he wanted to see her. How could she have been so dense?
Not to mention single-minded and stubborn and—
“Not now, Aunt Margaret.”
It didn’t take them long to get the tub in place, and Nick ignored her the entire time. She hated that he was annoyed with her. They had become friends and he trusted her, all of which were critical for his makeover to be a success. She wanted to apologize, but he wouldn’t want her to say anything in front of Brent. She’d have to wait until they were alone. All she had to do was to figure out how to make that happen.
* * *
AFTER NICK AND BRENT LEFT, Maggie was at loose ends. She could work on her new tropical delight facial mask, but she felt too restless to concentrate. There was also the brochure she was creating to advertise the opening of the spa, but she couldn’t focus on that, either.
She didn’t think she’d caused a major setback with Nick’s makeover, at least she hoped not. Allison had needed help, and Maggie loved to help people, but Nick should have been her priority. Her conscience niggled at her some more and she made a decision. Between now and Leslie’s wedding, she would focus on him. By the time he walked his sister down the aisle, he’d be a new man.
She gazed out the kitchen window. The back garden looked peaceful and inviting, just the kind of solitude she needed right now. She’d go sit out there and devise a plan to get Nick to come back to the house, without Brent, so she could apologize. She’d had plenty of experience with apologies, after all. How many times had she rushed into something, created a problem and had to make things right again?
More times than she cared to think about, but the good thing was that she always learned from her mistakes and, in the end, everything always worked out for the best. A person just had to have faith in what they were doing, and she did. She poured herself a tall frosty glass of lemonade, carried it out to the garden and settled herself into an old wooden lawn chair under the apple tree.
She’d lived her whole life in Manhattan and had always been delighted just to have a few potted plants on the fire escape. On her many trips to visit Aunt Margaret, she’d loved sitting out here. It had never occurred to her, though, that someday this might be hers.
“Thank you, Aunt Margaret.”
Nothing. Just as well. She needed time to think. She sipped the lemonade and was deep in thought when she became aware of voices and the sound of hammering coming from Allison’s backyard. Her neighbor hadn’t mentioned they were having any work done, but it sounded as though they’d hired someone.
She leaned back in her chair and listened more intently. John and Allison were having a discussion but she couldn’t make out what they were saying. From the s
ound of things, their two children were running around the yard having a discussion of their own, at the top of their lungs.
“It’s gonna be my tree house.”
“Isn’t.”
“Is, too. Girls don’t have tree houses.”
“Do, too.”
A tree house? Now that was interesting. When she’d mentioned it earlier in the week, Allison had all but dismissed the idea. Now, less than twenty-four hours after she’d cast the love spell for her neighbors, they were having a tree house built.
Maggie got up from her chair and casually strolled toward the fence, then followed it until she found a good-sized knothole.
They weren’t having a tree house built, they were building it themselves! A pile of lumber had been stacked under the giant oak tree. While their children raced around the lawn, Allison and John studied a sheaf of pages they were holding. They both wore jeans and T-shirts and John had even strapped on a tool belt.
Maggie had never seen him in anything but lawyerly business clothes, but this...this was a different man. Masculine, in spite of the slightly receding hairline, and even a little rugged-looking. Judging by the way Allison was eyeing him, she thought so, too.
Then John put an arm around his wife.
Maggie grinned. “Mission accomplished! Am I good, or what?” She did a little dance around her backyard, expecting Aunt Margaret to chime in with a witty comeback, but for once there was no comment. Just as well, she thought, because really, what was there to say?
She settled into her lawn chair, now confident that the spell she’d cast for Candice would be just as effective. With Candice out of the picture, Allison and John could work on rebuilding their relationship. And with Allison’s marriage back on track, Maggie could focus her full attention on Nick. What she needed to do now was to figure out a way to get him back here.
