Love Potion #7

by Tara Kingston

  “I think I jumped in too soon.” How easily the false words slid from her tongue. Scary, what a good liar she’d become.

  He tore a hand through his hair. “Dammit, I was afraid of this.” He traced his fingertips over her cheek. “Sure, we might have rushed into things. But what we have is good. Damn good. I want to give this a chance…I want to give us a chance.”

  She came to her feet. “I can’t do this. I can’t go on with this lie.”

  “Lie?” He looked as if she’d slugged him.

  “I lied to you. I wanted to meet you, and I found a way to make it happen. Things got out of control. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “Hurt me? Baby, you’ve done everything right. You haven’t hurt me.”

  “But I will.”

  He stood, closing the distance between them with sure strides. Clasping her hands between his, he studied her with such intensity, her breath hovered in her throat.

  “Do you remember Elise?”

  “Elise?” His brows knit into a line. “Elise Carter? The psycho from the bachelor auction?”

  Chelsea’s mouth tightened to a seam. “Yes.” She could barely squeeze out the word between her lips.

  “What does she have to do with this?”

  Best to get it out. Yes, just say it. All in one burst. Like pulling off a Band-Aid.

  “Elise is…was…my best friend. I believed you’d hurt her deeply. And I set about returning the favor.”

  He stood, still and silent. Eyes darkened to ebony, he simply watched her as the seconds passed by. Ticktock. Ticktock. The swishing of the pendulum seemed a death knell.

  His hand rose to rub his jaw. “Christ, this was all a game.”

  A tense little nod was all she could manage. “In the beginning.”

  “In the beginning? Are you forgetting I first laid eyes on you three days ago? We’re still in the beginning.”

  “Everything changed.” She pulled in a breath. How could she expect him to understand? “I made a terrible mistake, Jake. I misjudged you, and I’m so sorry. But what happened between us last night was anything but a game.”

  He kneaded his jaw as if it ached. “You conned me. I knew you were up to something. I thought you were just like all the others. But this is a goddamn first. A revenge fuck.”

  “No…I never would let things go that far if I hadn’t seen that I was wrong about you.”

  Moving a few steps away, he eyed her as if she were suddenly as repellant as a mouse at a banquet. Was the antidote finally kicking in, or was this simply his reaction to the truth?

  “Wrong about me? Yeah, you must’ve thought I was a real bastard. Taking women out to fancy dinners. Giving them a chance to seize their precious fifteen minutes in the spotlight. What a rotten son of a bitch I was. Guess that makes it okay.” The hand at his jaw moved higher to tear through his hair. “Guess I deserved it.”

  Her arms fell to her side, leaden with the weight of her own anguish. “No, I was wrong. So very wrong. I had to tell you the truth.” The lump in her throat might have been molten lava. “I had to fix this.”

  “Yeah, you fixed it all right.” His husky rasp sounded raw with pain.

  She dropped her gaze to her painted pink toes. “I just needed to tell you the truth.”

  “Then tell me all of it. Why did you do this?”

  “Elise has been my friend…forever. I thought you’d hurt her. I only meant to teach you a lesson.”

  “By leading a guy on? By making him fall for you?”

  “I never thought anything would come of this. Who would have expected this whirlwind? I never dreamed we’d end up in bed.”

  A smirk twisted Jake’s mouth. “Not very imaginative, huh? So you’d planned to lead me on for a while, play hard to get?”

  “That was the plan. Keep you interested and at bay until it wore off.”

  “It? Wore off?”

  She’d said too much. She twisted her fingers into a little knot. “Your interest in me. It won’t last.”

  “Not giving a damn about you would be a hell of an improvement over what I’m feeling now.”

  Chelsea closed the distance between them. She reached out to him, resting her hands on his shoulders. “Do you hate me now?”

  “No.” He shrugged away from her. “It’s time for me to go.”

  The unhappiness in his eyes sliced through her heart. Where was the cold, hard gleam she’d expected? “But you should hate me.”

  “I hate that you made a damn fool of me.” He turned and walked to the door. “Goodbye, Chelsea.”

  * * * * *

  Soaking in a tub filled with steamy water and bubbles up to her chin, Chelsea blinked back tears. She’d had romances implode before. She’d get past this in time. She’d had a blissful night and an equally spectacular morning with Jake Wilder, not years. It wasn’t as if he’d pledged to love, honor and cherish. It was one night of pleasure. Nothing more.

  So why did searing moisture well in her eyes? She was strong…stronger than this. A cup of tea and a good tearjerker on cable would provide much-needed therapy.

  She pulled herself from the tub and wrapped herself in a plush terry robe, then slipped into her pajamas. The soft fabric slid over her skin like silk. The comfort soothed her, but it couldn’t dull the ache deep in her heart.

  A tinny bell sounded from the den, signaling a text message. Bridget. Probably just checking to see how thoroughly Jake despised her since ingesting the spellcaster’s latest vintage.

  She retrieved the message. Staring down at Bridget’s words, she nearly forgot to breathe. “Oh God.” Gathering her senses, she quickly dialed the phone.

  “Hey, Chels, we’re in a pickle now, huh?”

  “In a pickle?” Chelsea struggled to keep the panic out of her voice. “Now, that’s an understatement.”

  “It’s not my fault you didn’t do your research. Guess you didn’t know everything about Jake Wilder.”

  “How was I to know? He seems normal enough.”

  Bridget laughed, a low, humorless sound. “It seems my best work has gone to waste. Next time, make sure you know who you’re dealing with.”

  Chelsea considered crawling into bed and pulling the covers over her head just for a moment. She’d escaped her woes using that method when she was young. Pity it didn’t work when you were twenty-seven. “I thought I did.”

  “Obviously, you missed a key detail. Everyone knows love potions don’t work on a warlock.”

  Chapter Eleven

  The clock struck eleven as the lone visitor strolled through the door of the shop. Resplendent in an exquisitely tailored navy linen pantsuit, fashionable pumps and a tight coif, she might have been a queen come to inspect her troops. Watching her approach, Chelsea went about her business, straightening shelves and placing a few books around to enhance her displays. A little more than a week had passed since her ridiculous plan had exploded in her face. Consequences had been sure to follow. She pulled in a breath through her nose and let it settle in her lungs. She wouldn’t let this caller throw her in a tizzy. She’d face whatever was to come with some semblance of dignity.

  The woman closed the distance with direct, sure steps. Jake’s Granny Liz. In the flesh. Suddenly, she realized why the photograph in Jake’s condo had seemed familiar. Years had passed since she met Elizabeth March at a coven social. Mrs. March had seemed so friendly as she welcomed a teenaged Chelsea into the fold. No trace of that geniality remained to warm the older woman’s piercing, blue glare. A shudder crept over Chelsea’s flesh and her stomach did a little somersault, but she lifted her chin and met eyes that seemed to look right through her.

  “I understand you have an interest in my grandson.”

  Chelsea didn’t look away. “I did. I assure you it’s quite over now.”

  “Hogwash.”

  One swish of Granny Liz’s hand and the books Chelsea had just placed on the front bookshelf floated into a different, altogether more appealing arrangement. The tastef
ul display would have made a merchandising guru proud. This woman had flair, confidence and an advanced power skill set.

  “It’s over. You have my word.”

  “Did anyone ever tell you you’re a poor liar, Miss York?” The older woman swished her hand again, shifting another haphazard stack of books into a dazzling display. “That might actually work in your favor here.”

  “I don’t need anything to work in my favor. If you wish to bring charges before the Witches’ Council, you will be well within your rights.”

  “Believe me, I’m well aware of that. But before we discuss such matters, I want you to answer a question for me.”

  “What would you like to know?”

  She tapped her upper lip with a beautifully manicured finger. “You went to some lengths to attract his attention, and from everything I’ve observed, you succeeded in grand style. I want to know why—”

  “I was an idiot,” Chelsea blurted. “A meddling idiot who totally misjudged him. I made a terrible mistake.”

  A tight smile lifted the corners of Granny Liz’s precisely plum-tinted mouth. “I know why you did it. What I want to know is why you tried to release him from the spell?”

  Chelsea managed a weak shrug. “It was the right thing to do. After I realized I had the story all wrong, I couldn’t lead him on. I had to fix it.”

  The older woman’s taut smile eased. “But you didn’t fix it. My grandson is miserable. I’ve never seen Jake like this.”

  “Miserable?” Oh, why had she repeated the word with such a hopeful note in her voice?

  “I’ve never seen him so unhappy. He’s always been able to shake off women. But this time, it’s different.”

  “I’m sorry. I truly am. I’d hoped the antidote would work. But as it turns out…”

  “There’s no antidote for what Jake’s feeling.” Granny Liz’s fingers curled around the handle of her designer bag. Her knuckles went white against the rubbed leather. Not a good sign. Definitely not a good sign. “If your grandmother and I weren’t such dear friends, I’d haul you before the council and demand they strip you of every feeble power you possess.”

  “I deserve it. You have every right.”

  “My rights aren’t going to make Jake happy again. He needs to snap out of this funk. And quickly. He actually missed an appearance he’d scheduled at the high school. Claimed he was sick. He’s never been sick a day in his life. That warlock blood in his veins has been good for something, even if he doesn’t know it exists.”

  “He doesn’t know?”

  Granny Liz shook her head. “I think he suspects his family is special. But he’s never been told the truth. Poor thing, we kept it from him, cheated as he’s been.”

  “I could hardly describe Jake as cheated.”

  “He has no powers. If only my daughter had married another warlock. But no, she had to fall in love with a mortal.” If her fingers clenched the braided leather any more tightly, she might actually tear it in two. “Jake is half-mortal, and unfortunately, that’s the side he took after. His sister inherited her mother’s powers. But Jake—he came up dry.”

  “Jake doesn’t need special powers. He’s smart and funny and genuinely caring.” Not to mention to-die-for handsome. And a passionate, tender lover.

  “If you found him appealing, why did you try to release him from a love spell?”

  “I couldn’t deceive him.” Chelsea dropped her gaze to her folded hands. “Not after I saw the kind of man he really is.”

  “In that case, I need you to fix this.”

  Sadness washed over Chelsea. “I tried. I just made it worse.”

  “You didn’t fix it, my dear. He’s been hurt by other women before, believe it or not. Everyone thinks a man has it all if he’s good-looking and wealthy and famous. But none of that has brought Jake happiness. I believe he found something special in you. And now, you need to be honest with him. Completely honest.” She pivoted toward another display, straightened another stack with a quick blink, then turned back to Chelsea. “Have you developed feelings for my grandson?”

  Yes! The word screamed in her head, but who would believe she’d fallen for him in a matter of days…hours, really? Still, she couldn’t bear to tell one more lie.

  She managed a nod. “It’s very soon, but I know what I feel.”

  The tension in Granny Liz’s beautiful face eased. “Then go to him. Tell him the truth…all of it. Make this right.”

  * * * * *

  Jake made his way through the dinner crowd, forcing smiles and bland greetings for the regulars who’d made this venture a success. He shook a few hands, signed a couple of autographs, and headed to the bar.

  “The usual?” Rick, the bartender who’d been with the business since the beginning, regarded him with an expertly bland expression.

  “Whiskey. On the rocks.”

  The bartender set about the task. Rick glanced up, his jaw sagging just enough to give Jake the first hint of trouble.

  “Here you go.” Rick nearly shoved the drink at him.

  What the hell? The man was usually as low-key and unflappable as a hall-of-famer staring down a rookie. Now his brows knit like the bartender who spots the gunslinger heading in for a drink in an old western.

  Shit.

  He turned. Yep. It was her. Chelsea York, strolling in to stomp all over him in those ridiculous little heels.

  “Before you say anything—don’t.” She took the offensive. A bold move. Possibly a smart one. What the hell was she up to this time?

  “Guess you felt cheated out of your scene. Think this might increase your sales? A little scandal’s even better than a jock trying to stuff books down kids’ throats.”

  Chelsea scrunched her face, her nose crinkling. Damn, those tiny freckles were goddamn adorable. Just his luck. “Can we go somewhere private?”

  “This is private enough.”

  She slowly shook her head. Jesus, this girl had nerve. If the situation were reversed, she’d be on the phone to security. But in his case, he’d look like a damn fool.

  “We need to find someplace quiet to talk. It’s so loud, I can barely hear you.”

  “I have nothing to say.”

  Her lips pressed into a little bow. “Jake, this is important. You’ve got to hear me out.”

  “I have no intention of wasting any more time.” He lifted the glass to his lips and downed a hearty slug, then turned to the bartender. “Get the lady any drink she wants. She can find her way to the door.”

  Her fingertips rested on his forearm. The featherlight touch seared his skin through the heavy linen of his shirt. He smelled the faint aroma of citrus and wildflowers and Chelsea.

  “Jake, please.”

  Was that really hope in her eyes? Dammit, how was he supposed to turn her away when she looked at him like that?

  “Chardonnay for the lady.” He waited for Rick to fill a glass, then presented it to Chelsea. “We can go to my office. But I warn you, if this has anything to do with money, the conversation will be very short-lived.”

  She sipped the wine. “I don’t want your money, just a few minutes of your time.”

  As she followed him up the stairs, her heels tapped against the hardwood. Memories of the last time he’d brought her to his private sanctuary invaded his thoughts. Blood deserted his brain for his cock. Damn it, he had to keep himself in control. He couldn’t fall for her bullshit again.

  He closed the door behind him as they entered the room. “Well, what’s so urgent?”

  She perched on the couch as if she were a convict in the electric chair. Her fingers, small and fine-boned, curved around the stem of her glass. She raised the crystal to her lips and took another sip. “I came here to tell you I’m sorry. And to tell you the truth.”

  “Apology accepted.” He swept open the door. “And you’ve already told me the truth. Good night.”

  She gave her head a little shake. The doorknob rattled out of his hand and the door blew shut. Where the he
ll had that breeze come from?

  “I told you part of the truth. But not all of it.” She patted the couch by her side. “Sit down.”

  No chance in hell.

  He leaned one elbow against the doorjamb. “I don’t have all night. You need to make this fast.”

  She shuttered her eyes with her lashes. “Elise misled me about the nature of your relationship. I believed you’d hurt her very badly.”

  “Even if I had—which I didn’t—who gave you the right to play Cupid’s vigilante?”

  Her sweet rosebud mouth thinned to a sharp edge. “I was wrong. But I couldn’t just walk away. I had to try to remedy the situation. I had to release you.”

  “Release me?” What on earth was she talking about?

  “I believed you were under a spell. A love spell, to be precise.”

  Love spell? Right.

  “Well, that explains it. I was under a love spell. I assume it’s no longer a problem.”

  “Actually, you were never under the spell.”

  He’d certainly misjudged her. She wasn’t cold, calculating, and manipulative. She was nuts. Plain and simple.

  “I suppose I should be relieved.”

  “You weren’t under the spell. Not really.” She rose and walked slowly to the window. Staring into the night, she pressed her slender fingers to the glass. The thought of her touch shot through him. His pulse thundered in his ears as she turned to face him. Christ, why did she have to look so damn good? “The first time we met, I dosed you with a potion. A love potion. But it didn’t work.”

  He folded his arms over his chest and rocked back on his heels. “A love potion? Jesus, and I thought Elise was over-the-top.”

  She sighed, a long, weary, hopeless sound. “I’m telling the truth. The potion should have worked. But it didn’t. A man like you…you’re immune to these sorts of things.”

  “Did I get a shot for that when I was a kid? My pediatrician must’ve been mighty damn thorough.”