by Erica Ridley
“You know…” Mama’s words slurred into each other. “You never got arraigned in front of the Elders’ High Court when you worked at the Neurophysics Compound. The only things they hauled you into were awards banquets.”
“Huh,” Daisy said through gritted teeth. Hefting the sleeping jack-o’-lantern to her belly, she bent down to whisper to Bubbles. “Quick, before the science-is-special lecture starts. Human Containment Center. Trevor’s cell.”
The popping in her ears had never been sweeter.
When they materialized in front of the waterfall hologram, Trevor’s eyes lit up.
An answering warmth spread out from her belly until he breathed, “Katrina!” and snatched the lightly-snoring pumpkin from her arms.
“Um, yeah.” Daisy wished she was as excited to permanently part ways as he was. Forcing a smile, she gestured at the pumpkin. “Figured she should head home with you.”
His eyes narrowed. “Sure you know how to put her back to normal?”
“Of course I know how,” Daisy snapped, and double-checked her purse for the Genetic Teradata Carbon Dentition Spectrometer and the two small pouches her mother had fixed for her. “I’ve got the spells right here. Are you ready to go?”
“Am I ever. Wait—you’re bringing spells with you? Hold on.” He took a deep breath. “The ocean is dry. The moon is made of green cheese. The Cubs just won the World Series.”
Daisy touched the back of her hand to his forehead. “What in Quetzalcoatl’s name are you talking about?”
“Just testing lies. I’ll never take them for granted again.” He tilted his head away, and cradled the sleeping jack-o’-lantern to his chest. “Let’s go. Do I have to do anything special?”
“Just hold Katrina.” Daisy threaded her hand between Trevor’s thick bicep and the warmth of his side. She gritted her teeth when he tried to jerk out of her grasp as if she were a carrier for Yersinia Pestis. “Hold still, Mr. Fidget. I’m not going to bite you. Bubbles can only transport multiple beings if we’re all touching.”
“Oh. Okay.” He cast a sidelong glance toward her as if he wasn’t sure whether or not she was making up rules on the fly.
Ignoring him as best she could with their bodies pressed together, Daisy held out her other hand for Bubbles and whispered, “Trevor’s lab. Now.”
Chapter 13
Rather than relief, Trevor’s first reaction to the shadowy sight of his anthropology lab was irritation. Why hadn’t Daisy taken them to his office, so he could pick up his life in the exact place and time he’d left? With Berrymellow eavesdropping outside Trevor’s door, wouldn’t it look weird for Trevor to just saunter down the hallway, outside of his office?
Disengaging her slender fingers from his bicep, Daisy stepped forward to face him. She held out her hands. When he raised his brows in confusion, she plucked the pumpkin from his arms, knelt to sit on her heels, and gently placed it on the ground.
Oh, right. Katrina.
He hadn’t forgotten her—he just hadn’t considered that it would look even worse to Berrymellow if Trevor’s office door opened, and out walked a completely different student. Materializing in the lab was a much better choice than materializing in Trevor’s office.
He headed toward the door. “Should I hit the lights?”
“To further illuminate our talking pumpkin?”
“A simple ‘no’ would suffice,” he muttered. “What’s first then?”
“Well…” She pulled a drawstring bag from her purse. “First, we get this party started.” She stuck her fingers inside the cloth pouch and frowned.
“What?” Trevor demanded. “What’s wrong now?”
“It doesn’t feel like a charm,” she mused. “It feels like… cornflakes. But real heavy. Like steel. Or iron.”
He gaped at her. “You brought a bag of iron cornflakes?”
“My mother made it for me.”
“Your mother packed you breakfast? It’s after dark! The only thing you should be carrying around is something to de-pumpkin Katrina.”
“She did. It is. I did.” Balancing on her knees, Daisy brushed some invisible dust off the top of the pumpkin. “She just neglected to include directions.”
Lord help them now. “You will not feed Katrina iron cornflakes. Excess iron is poisonous to humans.”
She slanted an irritated look up at him from behind her cat-eye glasses. “Oh, no, really? I don’t suppose ingestion of an iron overdose irritates the stomach, causing ulceration of the lining followed by abdominal pain, nausea, vomiting, and a severe blood chemistry imbalance leading to profound shock while the poison destroys the lungs, liver, kidneys and brain?” At his sudden lack of response, she returned her attention to the contents of the pouch. “Why would something that debilitating be used as pabulum to restore someone to the human condition? Think logically.”
“Well, what are they for, then?” he muttered defensively, irked at himself for voicing his objection aloud. How would he know what the damn things were for? And how did she know so much about the chemistry of humans?
Daisy rose to her bare feet. “Since there’s a bagful, we’re dealing with a spell, not a charm. And since Mama didn’t mention an incantation, I have to assume there isn’t one.” She tugged open the pouch and tilted the mouth downward. “Here goes nothing…”
A jumble of—well, iron cornflakes—tumbled out like jagged black hail, streaming over the pumpkin. Bouncing at odd angles, they clattered to the concrete floor and exploded into tiny bursts of glitter, disintegrating on impact. As the last piece bounced off the stubby stem, a tremor shook the lab.
The pumpkin imploded in a flash of light.
“Katrina!” Trevor staggered forward, arms outstretched.
Before his eyes had adjusted back to the sudden darkness, an uncertain voice rang out.
“Coach?” Katrina’s words echoed against the solid walls. “What the hell just happened?”
Oh, thank God. “Don’t worry.” Trevor sprinted to the doorway. “You’re okay now. I’m okay now. Everything’s okay.”
And now that Katrina was no longer a jack-o’-lantern, he could switch on the lights.
He turned around, relieved to see her standing there in the middle of the lab wearing the same muddy camouflage pants she’d had on the last day of the dig, her backpack still slung on one shoulder and his laptop case in her arms.
His laptop case!
“Here.” He strode toward her. “Let me take that. Thanks. Do you want to take off your backpack? What about your boots? Do you want to sit down? Do you want—”
“Like I said, I want to know what the hell happened.” Katrina slid a wary look toward Daisy. “Please tell me that whole Nether-Netherland experience was the result of a bad enchilada.”
Trevor spun to face Daisy. “She still remembers!”
“Of course she remembers. That was a de-gourding spell, not a ForgetMe orb.” Daisy pulled a cotton-candy pink pouch from her purse. She reached inside and pulled something out, careful to cradle it between her palms to hide it from view. “What’s the story you want her to remember? She was getting ready to board the airplane and then… what?”
“I don’t know.” Trevor drummed his fingers on his biceps and considered Katrina. “Something believable, but not likely to have negative repercussions. No kidnappings, no illegal activities, no alien abductions.”
Katrina snorted. “Trust me, if I was going to miss that plane on purpose, I’d’ve been too busy drinking in the tavern with the locals to be jacking around getting abducted by aliens.”
Trevor gripped the laptop case to his chest. “What, like last time?”
“The shortstop was a mistake, I admit. I’m just saying, drinking with ticos is better than—”
“Good enough.” Daisy opened her palm toward Katrina like an oyster bearing a pearl. Whatever was between her fingers held Katrina transfixed. “You remember nothing after arriving at the airport to leave Costa Rica. You do remember spending several fab
ulous days and fun nights, drinking in the taverns with the locals, before catching a flight back to Indiana. Trevor—”
“Professor Masterson,” he corrected.
“—Professor Masterson picked you up at the airport and brought you back to the school so you could return the laptop you’d forgotten you still had.” Daisy glanced over her shoulder at him and whispered, “Good?” At his nod, she turned back to Katrina. “You will not question your memories, nor will you take seriously anyone who might. Oh, and… you quit smoking. It was bad for your human lungs. Awake.”
Daisy slapped her hands back together and dropped the ForgetMe orb, whatever that was, back into the pink pouch.
Katrina stood motionless, mouth agape and eyes zombie-vacant.
“She doesn’t look awake,” he ventured, hesitant to snap her out of it. How cool would it be if Daisy’d managed to hypnotize Katrina out of smoking?
“Shhh,” Daisy hissed. “There’s only a ten second window.” She dug a handful of sparkling powder from her purse and began tossing it at herself.
The sexy jungle-princess dress morphed into a skinny black skirt. The long hem grazed ankles now covered by a pair of low-heeled suede boots. Her previously bare back and shoulders hid underneath a collared white blouse, buttoned down the front and at the wrists, and tucked loosely into the waist of the skirt. Several bronze pins clipped her shoulder-length blonde hair behind her head in a neat bun. A thin gold watch circled her left wrist.
In fact, the only remaining Daisy-like accessory was the omnipresent cat-eye glasses, now folded over the parted neck of her shirt.
She no longer looked like some fly-by-night would-be Tinkerbell. She looked like—she looked like—Trevor swallowed. He didn’t know what she looked like, but she looked good. Respectable. Approachable. Human.
Her wide hazel eyes met his. Their sparkle briefly hid behind a slow blink, as though something in his expression surprised her as much as his reaction to her new appearance surprised him.
He smiled. He couldn’t help it.
Her brows arched. Not with condescension or arrogance, but with question, as if she hadn’t been confident she’d chosen the right look… until she’d seen his face.
If she had any clue about the sudden war raging between his brain and his body, she’d know exactly how “right” she looked. How was it possible high heels and a button-down shirt tripped his trigger even more than her painted toenails did?
His lips parted, but before his traitorous mouth could say something stupid to embarrass them both, Katrina popped out of her trance.
“Coach!” She took a halting step forward and then caught sight of the laptop in his arms. “Oh. I already gave it to you.” She glanced at Daisy. “Who is…?”
“She’s—”
“I’m Professor Fey,” Daisy interrupted, her voice authoritative and steady. “I’m a professional scholar and scientist, on loan from… Greece.”
If Trevor hadn’t known better, he would’ve believed every word.
“Greece is awesome! But what are you doing here?”
Daisy held out her hand. “I’m an old friend of Professor Masterson’s and on holiday. Did you have a good time on your trip?”
Katrina grinned and gave Daisy’s hand a quick shake. “Man, did I! Costa Rica rocks. Pura vida all the way, baby. I gotta get back there soon.”
Daisy’s lips curved into an indulgent teacher smile. “I certainly hope you do. Well, I believe we’re done with the lab for the night. Do you need a ride home?”
“Nah.” Katrina shook her head. “I’m parked in the student lot.” She jogged to the exit and called, “See ya Monday for finals,” to Trevor before disappearing out the door.
With a ragged sigh, Daisy slumped against the nearest counter. “Thank Ganesha it worked.”
He stared back at her. “You doubted it would?”
She gazed at him for a moment, looking beautiful, vulnerable, and exhausted. “Every second of the way.” When he stepped forward, she pushed away from the steel surface and straightened. “Well, I guess I better get those teeth put back so I can leave you in peace.”
“Wait.”
Her eyes widened, but she didn’t move.
Wait? Why should she wait? Trevor forced a quick smile. Didn’t he now have everything he wanted? Shouldn’t he send her on her way? He wasn’t stalling just to spend a few more moments with the erstwhile fairy, was he? “I, ah… I want to make sure nothing’s wrong with the laptop.”
Well, that was true. He did want to make sure nothing was wrong with the laptop. The hard drive contained all the notes, all the photography, all the spreadsheets—all the research he needed to craft his dissertation on the dig.
Daisy gestured toward the computer case. “Go ahead.”
“Not here. All the metal interferes with the Wi-Fi. We’ll have to go to my office. I want to transfer a copy of the files to my network directory before anything else happens.”
She shrugged, slung her purse over one graceful shoulder, and strode out into the hallway.
Trevor cursed himself. He had plenty of detailed notes for each of the previous digs. Now that he had the laptop, he could put the teeth away himself if he really wanted to. There was no legitimate reason for her to stick around.
Unless you counted “because I don’t want her to go” as a legitimate reason.
He snuck a sidelong glance. She’d stolen from him, yes, but as it turned out, she was just trying to do her job. Just like he’d been trying to do his. And then there was the way the stretchy skirt clung to the lines of her legs, reminding him with blood-pounding force of the welcome heat of her thighs against his.
Life had been so much easier when he could hate her.
He followed her out of the lab, unable to divert his gaze. He should be peering into a ForgetMe orb, not staring at the way her derrière moved under the thin black skirt. He should be sending her straight to Nether-Netherland, not inviting her back to his office. She wasn’t his coworker and they weren’t actually dating. He wasn’t even sure it was possible. Although, part of him would certainly like it to be possible…
At the sound of Daisy’s gasp, Trevor tore his gaze from the curve of her ass and goggled at his once upright office door, now off its hinges and slanting against the doorframe like an impromptu wilderness lean-to.
She gazed at him in shock. “What in the world happened?”
“No idea.” He ducked beneath the tilted wooden door and slipped into his office. “Probably a senior prank.”
Other than the bizarrely remodeled entranceway, everything else looked just how he’d left it. Floor, strewn with office miscellany and bits of shattered phone. Desk, askew and free of all its pens and papers. Just looking at the smooth surface heated his flesh with the memory of Daisy, pinned beneath him as he—
“Sorry about all this,” she said, interrupting his train of thought. Thank God. “I’ll clean up while you check your files.”
Half expecting her to break out some sort of purple clean-up pouch, he wasn’t sure how to react when she dropped to her knees and started collecting post-its and red-capped pens. He willed himself to concentrate on the dig instead of the excellent view down the front of her shirt.
Trevor stepped gingerly around the scattered file folders and paperclips. He dropped into his swivel chair, tugged the laptop free from its case, and hit the power button. While the machine whirred to life, he watched Daisy surreptitiously through lowered lashes.
What had she called herself? Professor Fey. She did look the part. A young, sexy professor, fit for screen time in a remake of Van Halen’s “Hot for Teacher” video. Her legs, long and firm… her breasts, molding the thin white fabric into classic Barbie-doll perfection…
As if he’d telegraphed his thoughts through the searing, charged air, she glanced up at him, cheeks tinged a dusky rose. “What are you thinking about?”
He shifted in his swivel chair. Nothing he wanted to share, that was for sure.
/> “Katrina,” he fibbed. “I’m glad she’s back, safe and sound.”
An indecipherable shadow flickered over Daisy’s eyes and she returned her focus to the floor. His writing implements were back inside his Greg Maddux collector’s cup. His file folders were back in their metal desktop divider. His papers were back in a neat pile on top of his desk. His phone was still broken, but the pieces had been relegated to his blue plastic trash can.
Everything was back to normal.
Except Daisy. She was normal for the first time. He couldn’t tear his eyes away.
But it wasn’t just her looks. He understood her better now. She might be a would-be tooth fairy from another dimension, but she went through the same 9-to-5 nightmare as any office monkey on Earth.
Between her bitch of a supervisor, her nutcase of a father, and her trouble with the law, she had plenty on her mind. A mind that was nowhere near as diabolical—or ditzy—as he’d once thought. Dentition spectrometer? Mechanical wand? Double major in engineering and neurophysics?
“How’d you know so much about iron poisoning?” he asked, then kicked himself at the incongruity of the blurted question.
She shrugged and righted his fake potted ficus.
“Undergrad requirements.” She turned, hands on hips, and surveyed the room. “Good as new. How’re your notes coming?”
Notes. Shit.
Trevor logged onto the computer and paged through the files. Photos with descriptive labels, tagged and organized. Spreadsheets, with charts and calculations crammed onto each tab. Field notes, dutifully transcribed and saved under the last name of each participant.
He pulled up the one marked “Masterson.”
Day One, hobnobbing with the locals. Day Two, breaking ground. Scroll, scroll. Day Seventeen, finding the first bones. Day Eighteen, finding the broken pieces of pottery. Scroll, scroll. Day Twenty-One, taking the rock-encrusted skull back to his tent. Day Twenty-Two, Little Angus, followed by three question marks. Little Angus?
