by Erica Ridley
“The same thing you want, of course. Tenure. Security. Job satisfaction. A future.” Berrymellow’s wobbly chin lifted as he adjusted the strings of his tie. “Only one of us will achieve those goals, and unfortunately for you, that someone is me. I dropped in as a favor. A professional courtesy, if you will.”
“Since when are you courteous?” Trevor leaned one shoulder against the doorframe. “Or professional?”
Berrymellow shrugged. “I wouldn’t want to be you right now.” He slithered into the hallway and tossed Trevor a self-satisfied smirk. “Don’t be surprised if certain individuals take your ‘situation’ the wrong way.”
“Whatever.” Trevor slammed the door and headed back to his desk. “Wait, what situation?” Trevor pivoted on one heel. He stalked to the doorway, jerked the pencil from the wall, and threw open the door.
No Berrymellow.
What was it with people disappearing every time Trevor shut a freaking door?
At least this time there was a logical explanation. Muffled voices from Berrymellow’s office indicated he’d crawled back under his rock. Wondering who he’d managed to lure into his dungeon for a chat, Trevor crossed his arms and decided to wait him out. He turned his mind to the other disappearing act in his life.
Last night defied logical explanation. Unless Trevor wanted to admit he might be a raving lunatic—and he did not want to consider this possibility—the only explanation he could come up with was that Daisy really was some sort of super spy. Why Berrymellow would’ve sent some kind of Black Widow / Splinter Cell against him, Trevor couldn’t say, but how else could she have gotten past his motion-sensitive house alarm?
She could be here. Now. Watching him.
He peered down the hallway just in case. Ever since Daisy’s disappearance, he’d been glancing over his shoulder, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Well, not literally. She didn’t wear shoes.
Berrymellow’s door swung open and the Anthropology department head strode into the hall.
“Ah, Dr. Masterson.” Dr. Celine Papadopoulos tucked her briefcase under one arm and held out her hand. “Just the man I hoped to see.”
As he shook her hand, Trevor’s insides churned like saltwater taffy on a stretching machine. Dr. Papadopoulos was his boss twice over, being not only the head of the Anthropology department but also in charge of granting summer camp coach positions to staff members. “Why do I get the feeling this isn’t a pleasant social call?”
If Dr. Papadopoulos had tried for a reassuring smile, she’d failed. “May I come in?”
“Sure. Of course.” Trevor motioned her into the office and closed the door in case Berrymellow lurked in the hall. “What would you like to talk about?”
“First, let me say that I don’t believe any of the rumors circulating around campus.” Dr. Papadopoulos’s manicured fingers slid through her short black hair as she sank into Trevor’s black leather swivel chair. “The university’s official policy has always been ‘innocent until proven guilty,’ just like a court of law.”
“Until proven guilty,” Trevor repeated blankly. He stood, facing his own desk, feeling very much like an eighth-grader called in front of the principal for unknown reasons.
“With budget cuts and limited faculty positions being what they are, we simply cannot keep individuals who reflect badly on the university. Founded or unfounded, public opinion drives our attendance, our standing, and our funding.” Dr. Papadopoulos propped her elbows on Trevor’s desk and laced her fingers. “I’m sure you understand.”
Trevor crossed his arms and promptly uncrossed them, not wanting to appear defensive. Was this Berrymellow’s barely-veiled threat? If so, the jerk could’ve included a bit more information with his warning.
“The semester is almost over,” Dr. Papadopoulos continued, “and we will be casting our tenure votes the first Monday after end of semester. That is to say, two weeks from yesterday. As you are well aware, there is only an opportunity for one of our respected faculty members to achieve tenure at this time. As you may not be aware, budget constraints require me to limit next year’s contract renewals. Due to the nature of the concern surrounding your recent student trip, I feel it only fair to warn you, the odds do not bode well in your favor.”
No odds. No coaching. No tenure. No job. Trevor swallowed a thick lump of anxiety. “What, precisely, causes the department concern?”
Was it his casual repartee with his students? The informal collaborative methodology used in his classrooms? The unforgettable almost-kiss he shared with a certain unbalanced tooth fairy in the middle of a student anthropological dig? Thank God there’d been no hidden cameras during Daisy’s in-home follow up visit.
Dr. Papadopoulos tilted her head to observe him. “As I said, I cannot believe that you would fabricate the results of your recent expedition in a misguided attempt to publish a sham ‘discovery,’ despite any professional jealousy you may feel toward Dr. Berrymellow.”
“What?” Trevor choked out. The audacity of that sanctimonious bastard—
“Nor do I imagine for one second that you would resort to violence against any of your students simply for refusing to go along with any ill-advised plans you may have had for falsifying the nature, field notes and photography of the dig’s alleged discoveries.”
“Of course not!” He couldn’t even believe his ears.
Had Berrymellow told the department heads that Trevor lied about the success of the dig and killed Katrina to cover it up?
Christ, that guy was a complete asshole.
All Trevor had to do was show Dr. Papadopoulos all the corroborating evidence, and—
Christ, that guy was an evil genius.
No Katrina, no laptop. No laptop, no proof. No proof, no job.
“I assume you are taking this matter as seriously as we are.” Dr. Papadopoulos rose to her feet with a glance at Trevor’s Wrigley Field wall calendar. “If you cannot present both your proof and your student before grades are due, I’m afraid we’ll be unable to renew your contract. You understand.”
She held out her hand.
Forcing a brittle smile, Trevor shook her hand and followed her out of his office. She strode down the hall, black pumps clicking on the smooth tile.
Trevor glared at Berrymellow’s closed door. He should’ve stabbed the little bastard with his pencil when he had the chance.
Finally free of her hopelessly unmagical apprentice, head tooth fairy Vivian Valdemeer stirred the big black cauldron perched in the middle of her backyard and sniffed the steam rolling off the bubbling liquid.
Perfect.
She knelt at the pyre beneath the wide iron pot and conjured a small, ripe peach. Her ex-boyfriend might think he could resist renewing their one-time intimate acquaintance, but no man, woman, fairy or angel was immune to the galvanizing effects of the Himalayan Lust Charm.
He’d told her he wouldn’t settle for less than the best. Guess what? Vivian was the best. Two months ago, she’d finally won Fairy of the Year—and A.J. still hadn’t come crawling back as promised. Even when she’d taken his worthless daughter as her apprentice! But it was no problem. Vivian could fix that. After all, she was Fairy of the Year.
She lifted the peach to her nose and smiled. Was it selfish to steal A.J. back by magical means? Perhaps. But all was fair in love and war. As this situation was both love and war, she’d cast a new spell every week if that’s what it took to win her ex-boyfriend back.
The words of the incantation flowed from her lips to surround the dewy peach with a shimmering glow. She dipped the fruit in a bowl of sparkling pixie dust, covered the soft skin with both of her hands, and concentrated.
Within moments, a thin layer of gold hardened around the peach.
Once the metal cooled against the warmth of her hands, Vivian opened her palms and peeked at her reflection in the gold-plated peach. A mouth-watering shiver of sexual arousal hardened her nipples and heated her skin. The charm worked even faster, even better, than she’d dar
ed to hope.
With a flick of her wrist, Vivian conjured a black velvet pouch. She dropped the peach inside the narrow opening, pulled the silver strings closed, and clutched the pouch to her chest.
A.J. didn’t have a chance.
She rose to her feet, still clutching the soft velvet pouch with both hands. The second Arabella disappeared to play fairy godmother, Vivian would be right there by A.J.’s side, ready to unveil the Himalayan Lust Charm and—
“Ribbit.”
Ribbit? Vivian whipped around, her back to the steamy cauldron.
“Daisy.” Great. Exactly who she needed to throw a big fat wet blanket over her favorite fantasy, just when A.J.’s surrender was finally within her grasp. “What are you doing in my backyard?”
“I’m concerned about the impact this latest turn of events may have on my career,” the ex-neurophysicist replied, her rosy lips even poutier than usual. She carried her pixie dust pail on one arm, her oversize handbag on the other, and her where-frog atop one shoulder. “What are you doing?”
Preparing to jump your daddy’s bones until he forgets about your mama seemed like the wrong reply. Vivian shrugged. “Just casting a spell.”
“And making…” Daisy’s button nose wrinkled. “Potato soup?”
“I’m multi-tasking,” Vivian snapped, and whirled to stir the cauldron. Blast. She’d forgotten the damn soup while she was working on the lust charm.
“You’re just so good at everything, magical or not,” Daisy said with a little sigh. She was always so—so—complimentary. Disgusting. “Wish some of that talent could rub off on me. I’ve got to do the impossible. If I don’t find that tooth tonight, I’m toast.”
Vivian suppressed a smirk. “Oh, and make him forget he ever saw you. Don’t forget.”
That ought to be good. Indiana’s pumpkin population would increase by one disgruntled professor, and Daisy would be in an even bigger mess than before. Arabella would run off to help her magic-challenged daughter, and Vivian would have A.J. all to herself.
“I—I don’t think I can. That’s why I’m here.” Daisy nibbled her lower lip. “Do you think you could help me make a ForgetMe orb?”
A Grinch-worthy smile stole across Vivian’s face as she choked with the force of her good fortune. ForgetMe orb, Himalayan Lust Charm… a science-nerd like Daisy would never know the difference until it was too late.
“I already thought of that, darling. I’m so glad you stopped by.” Vivian held the black velvet pouch out to the clueless scientist, the golden peach warm and heavy through the thin fabric. A bit disappointing to hand over the charm to someone else, but she could make one for A.J. another time. The moment was too perfect. “I went ahead and whipped one up for you already.”
“Really?” Daisy cradled the pouch in both hands. “How does it work? What do I do? I’ve never used a ForgetMe orb before.”
Vivian gave her cheek a light pinch. “When the moment is right, pull the charm from the pouch and hold it out so both of you can see it. That’s all.”
Daisy frowned, no doubt racking her encyclopedic brain for footnotes on ForgetMe orbs. “I thought it was a spell. Don’t I have to say ‘Forget’ or something?”
“Er, yes,” Vivian agreed quickly. “Just make sure you’re both looking right at the charm while you say it. That’s the important part.”
“Okay.” Daisy’s lips trembled into a brave smile. “Thank you so much. I appreciate all your help.” She took a deep breath as though preparing to take a high dive into the ocean. “And I sure hope this works.”
“Oh, it will.” Vivian turned back to the cauldron to hide her mirth. “I promise.”
Chapter 7
Daisy had never been in a room with so many human bones before. That is, unless the bones were inside living people. But these scattered bits and pieces that used to be people thinned the air and covered her flesh with goose bumps. The good thing about being the only breathing creature in Trevor’s laboratory—well, except for Bubbles, of course—was that Trevor wasn’t here to get in her way.
The bad news? None of the skeletons wore helpful name badges—not that she’d expected one to read “Little Angus”, but come on. Was labeling a crime?—and she couldn’t tell at a glance which teeth belonged to whom. Fabulous. In the interest of time, she’d have to collect them all and then return whichever ones the Pearly States didn’t need. She gazed around, daunted.
And pray she didn’t get in even more trouble for over-collecting.
If she’d known Trevor had a freaking tooth fetish, she’d’ve brought her Genetic Teradata Carbon Dentition Spectrometer with her instead of her mechanical wand and pixie dust pail. She’d never admit it in front of a Nether-Netherlandian, but science was often more useful than magic in situations like these. Especially when you found yourself scurrying around a strange laboratory, hoping the owner didn’t drop in to distract you with his bone-melting kisses.
Bone-melting. Gross. She so did not want to go there.
With tiny, ginger steps, Daisy picked her way around the chilly laboratory and gathered up all visible teeth, stuffing them in the bright red Pearly States specimen pouch.
Three of the laboratory walls were made of grey concrete blocks, lined with a long, continuous work area. Miscellany crowded the countertops in layered chaos. How did Trevor find anything in all this mess? It would probably be weeks before he noticed any of the teeth missing. If ever.
Along one wall, floor to ceiling windows faced an empty classroom. All of the brown plastic chairs had cute little folding desks attached, and each row was up a little higher than the one before. A tall metal door stood offset to one side. Perhaps this was the way to Trevor’s office. She’d better make him forget fast, before she started thinking dangerous thoughts.
Thoughts like: Trevor was a professor. He enjoyed an intellectual career like the one Daisy used to have. He taught people. He enriched lives. He enjoyed baseball. He seemed, when not lying about the location of baby teeth, like a good guy.
Thoughts like: Despite his stubborn antagonism regarding the tooth issue, there was no denying she turned him on. When he’d trapped her in his bed and pinned her wrists above her head, his body had presented her with hard evidence of his arousal. And much as she wanted to hate him for thwarting her at every turn—in her entire career as a neurophysicist, nobody had ever, ever thwarted her!—she couldn’t deny the attraction was just as strong for her.
Thoughts like: Trevor was a human whose memories she planned to erase without permission using the ForgetMe orb nestled in her handbag. He would never forgive her if he knew. She wasn’t sure she’d ever forgive herself. But nobody said she had to alter his brain the very second she saw him. Trevor was a man. Daisy was a woman. She could erase his memory afterwards…
No. No, no, no. Bad Daisy.
She cut across the classroom, opened the door, and stepped out into the hall. More cold gray concrete block. Disgusting. This place could really use someone who knew her way around a magic wand.
“May I help you?” came a nasal voice from right behind her.
Daisy jumped, and turned to face the speaker. “Oh. Hi.”
A medium-sized man with a medium-sized belly stood scowling before her. He rubbed a red mustache with his thumb and forefinger as he gave her the once-over. His lip curled.
He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Theater building’s that way.”
“I’m looking for Trevor Masterson.” She did her best to ignore the redheaded man’s continued smirk. “Do you know where I could find him?”
“Of course.” He turned and started down the corridor. “My office is right next to his. We share a common wall.”
Daisy frowned. A common wall? As opposed to an uncommon wall? She hurried after him, eager to see where Trevor worked when he wasn’t in his laboratory or off in a tent somewhere. “Slow down, please. I’m… new here.”
“Humph.” Sneering Man rapped several times on the closed door. “Professor! So
meone here to see you.”
After a moment, the door opened.
Trevor stood before her, looking just as surprised and delicious as when she’d left him gasping on his rumpled bed sheets.
Dark stubble coated his angled cheeks. Taut muscles filled out the lines of his khaki pants and half-buttoned dress shirt. Intelligent brown eyes and curly black hair. Confusion gave way to suspicion as his gaze focused on her.
“You.” The single syllable erupted from Trevor’s lips with the venom of Medusa’s snakes. “Both of you, conspiring together. I knew it.”
Daisy stepped closer. His eyelashes were just as long and beautiful as she remembered. “Hi, Trevor.”
Sneering Man frowned. “You let your students call you by your first name?”
“Oh, it’s okay,” she assured him. “I’m not a student.”
“Berrymellow.” Trevor reached past him and gripped her by the upper arm. “Go away. I’ll deal with you when I’m done dealing with this imposter.”
“Imposter?” Sneering Man’s hard green eyes turned calculating. “If you’re not a student, what are you?”
“Daisy,” Trevor commanded, his fingers tightening on her bicep, his hand as warm and strong as when he’d captured her by the wrists the night before. “Do not even attempt to hide the truth. He knows quite well what you are.”
“Ohhh.” The man tossed Trevor a knowing smirk. “It’s like that, is it? And on school grounds, too. Very naughty.”
“It’s not like anything,” she muttered as Trevor tugged her forward, scowling at both of them. She wondered if the still-smirking man was Trevor’s boss.
“Right.” Sneering Man extended one hand. “Interesting to meet you, Miss… Daisy.”
Trevor jerked her into his office before she could take the proffered hand.
Not wanting to get Trevor in worse trouble with any rudeness on her part, Daisy poked her head out the doorway and waved. “You too, Barry Manilow.”
