A Stroke Of Magic (3 page)

In other words, pure heaven.

Not this time. A series of shivers erupted over my body, as if someone had dumped a bucket of freezing water down my back. Startled, I dropped my pencil and waited for the effects to subside, lifted my chin and glanced at the vent high on the wall. They must have fixed the AC, which was good, because summer was not that far off. Still, I made a mental note to grab my sweater from my car.

Cracking my neck first to the left and then to the right, I appraised my nearly complete drawing. Definitely rough, it also had the air I’d been aiming for: celebration, fun, family, and friends. The center table showed a family of four sharing a huge sundae. Around them were other families, a group of kids in baseball uniforms celebrating their win, and a young couple sharing a malt while staring romantically into each other’s eyes. Very Norman Rockwell. I liked it.

Thinking I’d grab some lunch before sketching in the finer details, I pushed my chair out from my desk. Ethan appeared, though. My office was large, but with three easels, three desks, three computers—each with two monitors, along with various other paraphernalia, plus the dividers separating the work spaces—there wasn’t that much elbow space left over. And Ethan was a tall guy, so as soon as he entered, even that minuscule space seemed to diminish.

As did my ability to breathe. Forcing a smile in greeting, I reminded myself to stay calm. To act professionally, to not show how much his presence affected me.

“Have plans for lunch, Alice?” he asked in his sultry Irish brogue.

Friday was casual day, and he’d chosen to wear black jeans and a white short-sleeved shirt. His tan, muscular arms caught my attention, and I had to admit once again that, boss or not, Ethan Gallagher was one hunk of a man. “Um. No. Why?”

“I’m heading out now. I thought you might want to join me.”

“For what?” I asked, then realized quite suddenly that I was staring at his chin. How had I never noticed the cleft before?

“Lunch. It’s a meal between breakfast and dinner. Surely you’ve heard of it,” he teased.

“Lunch. Uh-huh.” And the jaw itself? Strong. Angular. My hands itched to touch it, to draw it.

He must have noticed my gaze was not directed at his eyes, because he rubbed his chin. “Do I have something there?” he asked.

“Hmm? Oh. No. Sorry.”

He didn’t say anything, just stood there watching me with an inquisitive, teasing expression. As if he had a secret he couldn’t wait to share. Finally, I said, “Um, did you need something?”

“I asked you to lunch, if you’d like to go,” he reminded me.

“Oh. Sure.” My stomach flip-flopped. “When?”

He laughed. “Now. Is this a good moment for you to step away?”

I hesitated. Ethan got under my skin, and I didn’t completely understand why. Sure, he was sexy in a
Remington Steele
sort of way, but I was pregnant. No man anywhere should be getting to me at this juncture of my life. So, spending an hour with him alone made me more than a little nervous. But I couldn’t exactly say no to my boss, now could I?

“It’s fine,” I mumbled. “I just need a minute and I’ll be ready to go.”

“I’ll meet you in the lobby then. Sound good?”

I nodded in agreement just as his gaze caught the sketch I’d been working on. “Hey, that looks pretty good.” He bent over to get a closer view, and as he did, the clean, fresh scent of his cologne wrapped around me. “Is that us?”

“What?” I so wanted a bottle of whatever he was wearing.

He pointed with his index finger to the couple sipping the malt. “I know it’s rough, but that looks a lot like you and me.”

“Don’t be silly. Why would I draw us as a couple?”

Straightening, he winked at me. “I don’t know, but the likeness is uncanny. Take another look.”

I leaned over, all ready to point out the myriad differences between my hurriedly sketched figures and us, but as my eyes took in the drawing, I gasped. The profiles of the man and woman were, indeed, eerily familiar. Why had I done that? I certainly hadn’t done it on purpose. Heat tickled my cheeks, and I said, “There’s not enough detail to tell.”

“Actually, I was thinking they had more detail than any of the other people in the shop.”

The tickle of embarrassment turned into a blast. I imagined flames shooting out from my cheeks; they were that hot. And since a person should change the subject when there’s no hope of the floor opening up to suck her away, I did. “Lunch?”

“Of course. I’ll meet you downstairs.” He turned to leave, saying over his shoulder, “I think it’s cute. That you put us in the picture.”

Cute?
More like freaky. Did the fact that I’d coupled myself with him in pencil mean I harbored fantasies I hadn’t fully admitted to myself? Or was it yet another sign of hormones gone wild? Hell if I knew, and I didn’t have time to figure it out. Tucking the picture away in a drawer, so no one else would see it, I went to meet Ethan.

First, though, I stopped in the restroom to check my appearance. I was pleased to see I looked mostly okay. Except for my shirt. I’d been in a hurry that morning and grabbed the first clean one I’d come across that fit. Soon I’d have to give in and go buy maternity clothes. Not something I looked forward to.

I tugged at the drab olive green blouse. The cut and style suited me well enough, but the color did nothing for my skin tone. Primary hues were best. Blue, especially. If I had to go to lunch with someone as dashingly sexy as Ethan, it’d be nice to feel confident.

“I wish you were blue, you ugly green shirt,” I said as I turned on the faucet.

A long, rolling tremble began at my toes and inched its way up my body. I grasped the edge of the counter to steady myself and inhaled. The walls closed in and, for a minute, the entire room swirled around me. I thought I might faint. I bent over and splashed my face with cold water, which helped. After another minute passed, everything settled and I took another shaky breath.

I didn’t get, at first, what had happened. Seeing as I hadn’t eaten since breakfast, I assumed my body wanted some calories, and that was that. But after I dried my face off, when I turned to leave the restroom I caught sight of my reflection out of the corner of my eye and stopped. I forced the air out of my lungs and then back in. I wanted to freak, truly I did, but I think I was in shock.

Holy shit.

Turning orange juice into grape had apparently been too difficult, but somehow, changing the color of my blouse wasn’t? Again I tugged at my shirt, now a bright peacock blue. Seriously, the fabric itself had changed color. How was that even remotely possible?

Most women would probably think this was cool, but not me. I preferred ginger ale to stay ginger ale and green garments to stay green. Besides, I was about to meet Ethan, and he’d just seen me, so unless he was color-blind, he’d notice. How the hell would I explain a chameleonic shirt?

My mind jumped around all the possible things I could say, and nothing I came up with seemed realistic. If I wished it blue, maybe I could wish it back? “I wish this shirt was its original color,” I whispered. Nothing happened, so I tried again. “Please, please, please be green.”

Zip. Zilch. Nada.

With shaking hands, I whisked out my cell phone and dialed Chloe. Only she didn’t answer. Maybe I’d just stay in the bathroom and hide? No. He’d eventually come to find me, and that would be so much worse. Which meant I needed to figure this out. And fast.

I was about to try wishing the color back again when the restroom door opened and Missy entered. The woman wore a constant frown, though maybe that was only when she dealt with me. She glared as she crossed to the row of sinks. “I just saw Ethan in the lobby. He wanted me to check on you.”

“Oh. I should go then,” I said.

She didn’t respond, so I left. Whatever her beef with me was, it would come out sooner or later. Right now, I had more important things to think about.

Ethan’s gaze skimmed over me when I met up with him in the lobby. “I was beginning to worry.” Cupping my elbow with his hand, he led me toward the door. “Everything okay?”

“Yes. Sorry it took me so long.” Hey, if he didn’t mention my shirt, I wasn’t going to.

“Not a problem. I thought we’d go to Roméo’s, since it’s within walking distance and it’s a beautiful day. Do you like Italian?”

“Love it.”

Fifteen minutes later, we were seated in the restaurant. We’d already placed our orders, and now I didn’t know what to say. After the sketch incident and the magically changing shirt, I pretty much had nothing. Besides, he’d likely invited me to lunch for a reason, so I assumed he’d take control of the conversation at some point. Until then, I was content to nibble on a roll and drink my water.

“How are you finding Enchanted Expressions?” His tone held nothing more than interest and mild curiosity, but a knotted ball of tension curled between my shoulders.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re not very happy, are you?”

Oh, no.
Was this one of those
take the lousy employee out to a public place to fire her so she wouldn’t make a scene
type of things? “Why would you say that? I’m thrilled. I can’t wait to get to work every day!” So I exaggerated a little. It didn’t hurt anything.

His smoky eyes met mine, and again, my instincts told me he saw straight through me. “A little overkill on the excitement, don’t you think?”

I fiddled with my water glass. “I don’t want you to fire me,” I admitted softly. “It’s a good job, and I’m grateful to have it. There are a lot of things I like about it. I’m still adjusting, that’s all.” I shrugged. “I never saw myself in an office for forty hours a week.”

“Then why are you?”

Because being a single mother required a decent income, that’s why. Of course, I couldn’t tell him that. It wouldn’t be right when most of my family remained clueless. “Time to grow up, I guess,” I said instead.

“Remind me. What did you do before taking this job?”

“Lots of things. After college, I decided to try my hand at being a working artist. After a year of that, I decided I was tired of eating only ramen and mac and cheese, so I accepted a part-time gig at a gallery. The gallery’s owner, Maura, is a huge supporter of independent artists, and helped me gain a little notice.” My fingers curled together on my lap. “It was a good fit then, but things change,” I explained, not wanting to give more details.

“Why did you wait so long to enter the field you went to school for?”

While his tone still only held general interest, my nerves ramped up another notch. Not sure what to say, I settled on, “It was the right time.”

The waitress brought our food, but my appetite had vanished. Not because of nausea, for once, but out of stark, cold fear. I didn’t know what I’d do if I lost my job. Ethan’s appetite seemed to be fine, so rather than eat my food I watched him eat his. And for a few minutes, I was pleasantly distracted watching his jaw move as he chewed.

“I’m not firing you. I should have said that straight off. I apologize.”

In a blink, all my anxiety evaporated. “Oh. Well, good. You made me a little nervous.”

“I asked you here because I sincerely wanted to know if you’re happy.” He took another bite of his food. “I also plan on visiting Frosty’s on Sunday, and hoped you’d come with me.”

And just like that, a spark of energy passed between us. At a different time, with a different man, I’d think I was being asked out on a date. Of course, that couldn’t be the case here. But wow, I liked that idea. Way more than I should. Silly, really, because becoming involved with a man was not in my newly formed plan for the future. Even so, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss the side effects of being in a relationship: having someone to talk to, share dreams with, cuddle and laugh with. Because I did. In a huge way.

And let’s not forget the sex thing. I really, really missed that. Especially lately.

“Alice?”

“Hmm?”

“What are you thinking?”

“That I miss sex,” I admitted.

A raging inferno lit my cheeks on fire.
Again.
“Um. I didn’t mean that. Well, I did, but I shouldn’t have said it. I tend to speak without thinking. I’m trying to stop that.”

Little lines crinkled around his eyes as he laughed. He had a good laugh, strong and warm, like a bubbling brook, and the sound of it relaxed me immediately. “You have to be the most curious woman I’ve ever met.”

“Just outspoken. I’m actually kind of boring.” Or I used to be. I didn’t know what I was any longer. Paranoid? Delusional? Maybe the mother-to-be of a witch? None of those choices thrilled me. At all.

“Sex is a good thing to miss. It makes it all that much better when you have a chance to revisit it.”

Ha. He had quite a way with words, didn’t he?
Revisiting sex.
I liked that.

“About Sunday? Are you available?”

“To go to the ice cream shop? I’d love to.” But even as I answered, something hovered on the edge of my consciousness. Almost a déjà vu feeling but not quite.

“Great. It’s a date. I’ll pick you up around two, if that’s good.”

A date? My mind fixated, though it was probably just an expression. Still, a tingle of anticipation made me smile. “Two is perfect.”

Whether it made sense or not, in a flash everything seemed a little brighter than it had. My appetite resurrected itself, so I dug into my pasta. It was nice to have something to look forward to. Nice to have a plan for the weekend. And yeah, it was nice that that plan involved Ethan Gallagher.

“Now, I have a strange question for you,” he admitted.

“Shoot.”

“Weren’t you wearing a green shirt earlier?”

Swallowing my bite of food, I decided to be honest. It wasn’t like he’d believe me, so why not? Besides, I couldn’t give him an explanation when I didn’t even have one for myself. “Actually, I was. But I wished it blue and it turned blue.” I snapped my fingers. “Just like that.”

Confusion clouded his eyes for a second, but then he grinned. “Yes. Definitely the most curious woman ever.”

I couldn’t argue with that statement, so I didn’t.

I crave Saturday mornings the way my sister craves coffee—earnestly, with a passion, and pretty much nonstop. Saturdays are about sleeping in, and then a full day doing whatever I want, with the knowledge I still have one more day off. Sundays are different. Sure, I can still sleep in, but the reality that Monday’s just around the corner makes it not quite as special. On Saturday, all things are possible. So when my coffee-addicted sister phoned me way too early on Saturday morning, begging me to babysit her boyfriend’s nephew, to say I wasn’t jumping for joy is a mega understatement.

Elizabeth had to work, and her boyfriend had been called in to work unexpectedly, so they needed some help until the boy’s mom could pick him up. Because my sister didn’t ask for favors often, and because she really sounded stuck, I’d dragged myself out of bed and driven to her place. Lucky for her, watching Sam had been kind of fun. But now I was glad to be home.

Yawning, I climbed the steps to my condo and then stopped. Why was my front door open a crack? Had I left in such a hurry that morning, I’d forgotten to close and lock it? I couldn’t discount that possibility, not right away. But as I mentally retraced my steps, I distinctly remembered turning the lock on the knob and shutting the door behind me. My skin grew clammy and a rush of lightheadedness had me gripping the porch railing so tightly that my knuckles turned white.

Scooting to the edge of my narrow front porch, I tried to peek inside, hoping to discover who, if anyone, was there. The door wasn’t open wide enough for me to see anything but the russet-painted wall of my entryway. No way was I walking in there. For one, I’d always hated those movies where people ran pell-mell into danger when they could have avoided it by being somewhat intelligent. For two, well—I’m not stupid.

Retreating to my car, I figured I’d go find a friendly police officer to help me out, when a thread of laughter hit my ears. I knew that laugh. It came from my younger brother Joe, who never, and I mean never, visited me alone. So if he was at my place, that meant the rest of my family was also. Swiveling on my heel, I checked out the cars that dotted the parking lot. Yep. My parents’ ten-year-old boat of a car, my sister’s falling-apart Volkswagen bug, my older brother’s sparkling new SUV, Joe’s refurbished Trans Am, and my Grandma Verda’s Mini Cooper were all lined up in a nice, pretty row.

A new type of uneasiness slid in. Had my sister spilled the beans? If so, then my entire family being at my place was not a good sign. They’d have questions. Lots and lots of them, and they’d expect answers. A shudder rippled through me. No way, no how was I going into that mess until I knew. So I did what any her-family-doesn’t-yet-know-she’s-pregnant woman would do. I ran and hid.

Kneeling behind my car, I called my sister on my cell phone.

“Alice? Where are you?” my sister asked when she answered.

“I’m outside. Why are you all at my place?”

“Waiting for you, you goof. Come inside.”

“Did you tell anyone about…you know?”

Elizabeth’s voice lowered. “Of course not! I told you I wouldn’t.”

Patience was not one of my virtues, but I tried. Really, I did. “Spell it out for me then. Why are you all here?”

She huffed into the phone, as if
she
were exasperated with
me.
“What day is today?”

“It’s Saturday. Yesterday was Friday, and tomorrow is Sunday. That doesn’t tell me anything.” As soon as I spoke, though, I realized. “Oh, crap. Is this some early surprise birthday thing?”

“Well, it’s not now, is it?”

All at once, the early morning phone call made sense. “You set me up! You didn’t need a babysitter.”

“Oh, stop. We had to find some way to get you out of the house for a few hours. Just get in here.” She giggled, clearly pleased with herself.

“Maybe I don’t want to. Maybe I’ll just get back in my car and take off. How’d you guys get in, anyway?” Damn. I was not in the mood for a birthday gathering. After a week of weirdness, I just wanted to be left alone. At least until Chloe had more information.

“You’re a dork. Grandma still has a key.” Her voice lowered again. “Get in here before Mom figures out I’m talking to you. She’s glaring at me from across the room.”

Before I could respond, my phone beeped and the call ended. So…great, just great. If I didn’t make an entrance quickly, my sister would bring everyone outside.

For half a second, I contemplated leaving anyway. But that would just add fuel to the already roaring fire. Annoyed, I stared at my cell phone for a second. Then, tucking it back into my purse, I stood and straightened my oversized white shirt. Was it voluminous enough to cover my ever-growing baby bump? I wasn’t huge by any stretch of the imagination, but I’d definitely begun to show. It had been several weeks since the last time I’d seen any of my family. Would they notice?

Probably. And that thought made me grab my sweater out of my car. Thank goodness I’d left it there. I’d have to tell everyone soon, but not today, and not all at once. That would be a level of hell into which I wasn’t ready to descend.

I pulled on the sweater. I hated surprises. Well, let me rephrase: It was the
being surprised
portion of surprises I didn’t like. Planning out surprises for other people was a totally different story. For some reason, though, my family had failed to catch on to this. Or maybe they just ignored it.

“No time like the present,” I muttered, taking the steps, once again, to my condo. Pushing the door open, I stepped inside. From the entryway, the dining room opened to the right, and I saw a huge birthday cake sitting on my table. The living room was on the left, and my family had decorated it with balloons and streamers. A
Happy Birthday!
banner hung over the entrance to my hall. And everywhere I looked, too many freaking people met my gaze.

Weirdly, no one noticed me right away. Again I thought of sneaking out, but before I could, all eyes turned toward me.

“Surprise!” my family yelled, in almost perfect unison.

I put a fake smile on. “Wow. I had no idea,” I said. “Especially since my birthday isn’t until Wednesday.”

Grandma Verda, decked out in a turquoise running suit with orange piping matched with almost fluorescent purple sneakers, approached me. “If we’d waited until Wednesday, then it wouldn’t have been a surprise, now would it?”

“I guess not.” I gave her a quick hug.

“Besides, you probably have plans with your girlfriends on your birthday. This is for family only.”

She was right. I did have plans with Chloe on Wednesday, but that wasn’t really the point. “You guys should have let me know you were coming over.”

“That wouldn’t have been nearly as much fun.” Her faded blue eyes zeroed in on me. “How are you feeling?”

“Surprised, I guess. Why?” I tugged at my sweater, worried it wasn’t enough coverage to hide my condition. Besides, my grandmother? She wasn’t just smart; she had this creepy and often right-on-target intuition about things.

“Just wondering. You’re wearing a heavy sweater in the middle of May. I thought you might be ill.” Her hand reached toward my stomach. I pivoted slightly away, so it landed on my hip instead.

“It was chilly when I left this morning. That’s all,” I lied. “Maybe I’m coming down with a cold.”

“Uh-huh. How are you eating? Nutrition is important. I hope you’re getting plenty of fresh fruits and vegetables.” She clutched my arm. “Oh! And protein. You need protein.”

“Um. Grandma? What are you talking about?”

“You’ve always been so skinny. I worry. That’s all.”

Hmm. Probably she wasn’t being honest, but I’d take the out she gave me. Happily. “You don’t need to worry. I’m eating plenty.” Another fib, but what the heck, I was on a roll.

Luckily, she didn’t question me further, just retreated to the couch where her seminew boyfriend sat. Vinny was a nice guy, and because they’d decided to live together, Grandma Verda had given me her condo. At the time I hadn’t considered her reasoning behind the gift. Now I wondered how much she knew, and how long she’d known.

I made my way to my mother. Isobel Raymond stood near the kitchen, watching everyone with an eagle eye. She was dressed in one of her many housedresses, this one a pale green, and she held her body ramrod straight. Perfect posture and all that.

Her lips turned upward in a smile. “Happy birthday, sweetie.”

“Thanks. Who planned this?”

She reached over, tucked a strand of my long hair behind my ear. “Your grandmother. She insisted. It came together wonderfully, didn’t it?”

“Sure. Wonderful.”

“Your grandmother seems to think you need cheering up.” Her brown eyes, so similar to mine, bored into me. “Is there something going on you’d like to share?”

“Just busy at work.” I didn’t mention the other stuff. She’d drag me to a psychiatrist before I could say
Boo!
Though maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea.

“Oh! I forgot to tell you. An old girlfriend of yours from high school called the house the other day. Since your number is unlisted, she couldn’t find it. I gave it to her, so you’ll probably hear from her soon.”

For the life of me, I couldn’t think of who would be phoning me from that many years ago. “Do you remember her name?” I asked.

“Shelby something. She was very nice.”

“Shelby Whitaker? Harris?” My first reaction was fear. What if she’d told my mother she’d seen me at the OB’s office? Almost as quickly, I calmed down. If my mother knew I was pregnant, she wouldn’t hesitate to tell me.

“That’s her. She gave me her number. I left it on the counter for you.”

Before I could reply, my other brother, Scot, came up behind and wrapped his arms around me in a tight squeeze. “How’s it feel to be thirty-three?” he asked in my ear.

Pulling out of his embrace, I faced him. “I’m still thirty-two, so ask me again on Wednesday.” Scot was the typical big brother who’d taken great pains to pick on me every chance he got while we were growing up. Every now and then, our relationship echoed the past, but for the most part we got along well.

Other than—to my mind, anyway—he’d gotten all the looks in the family. Dark brown hair, almost black eyes, and eyelashes any girl would kill for were just window dressing on his tall frame and fit body. For some unknown reason, he’d remained single all these years.

His eyes skimmed over me and I sucked in my belly as much as I could. Then I curled my arms around myself. Scot tended to notice things. Other than my grandmother, he was the one most likely to catch on.

A quizzical expression flitted across his features. “Are you hot? Your face is red.”

My mother interjected, “You do look flushed. Why don’t you take that sweater off and get something cool to drink?”

I grappled with something to say that would make sense, but sadly, I had nothing. Thankfully, Elizabeth saved the day.

“Let’s do cake and ice cream,” my sister announced, stopping next to me. “It’s your favorite, Alice. Dark chocolate and whipped icing.”

My sister owns a bakery called A Taste of Magic, and normally the chance to eat anything she bakes is a walk this side of Heaven. Due to my pregnancy predicament, and the almost constant nausea, this was no longer the case. Of course, I couldn’t say that. “Sure. Cake sounds great.”

Elizabeth called the rest of my family to the dining room, and they gathered around the table. Verda and Vinny stood on the fringes, my grandmother’s eyes suspiciously on my stomach. I sucked it in tighter. Next to them was Joe, who, with his fair complexion, blue eyes, and shaggy blond hair, resembled a surfer boy hankering to catch the next wave. Funny, really, when my brother was a total tech geek.

He smiled at me. I smiled back. I loved all my siblings, but Joe had a special place in my heart. Mostly, probably, because all the annoying older sibling lessons I’d learned from Scot and Elizabeth, I’d been able to inflict on Joe. At least with him I’d always had the upper hand.

My father, Marty, an older version of Joe (except for his receding hairline) leaned against the wall of my dining room. I was calmest around my dad. He never poked his nose into anything, just accepted everyone for who they were and what they wanted to say. Gotta love that in a dad, you know?

After everyone sang, I leaned over to blow out my candles—all thirty-three of them.

“Don’t forget to make a wish!” my grandmother interrupted. “Wishes are important!”

I ignored her and blew the dang things out. I’d had enough issues with wishes lately, and until I figured those out, I didn’t plan on making any more. Besides, I wanted to push the party along and send everyone home. I needed to talk to Chloe. Badly.

“What did you wish for, Alice?” my grandmother asked, accepting a piece of cake.

“Health, happiness, and prosperity,” I quipped. I finished handing out cake, and then took mine to the living room. Sitting down on my battered red papasan chair, a throwback from my college days, I tried to tune out the chattering all around.

The first bite of cake went down smoothly enough. So did the second, thank goodness. Not wanting to push my luck, I set the plate on an end table and leaned back. My family had clumped into groups. My brothers were chatting in the dining room. Vinny and Verda were back on the couch. My sister was on the phone, probably with her boyfriend, Nate.

My father approached, my mother right behind him. He offered me a card. “We didn’t know what to get you, so I hope cash is okay,” he said.

“Marty! Let her open it before telling her what’s inside,” my mother scolded.

“Oh! Are we doing presents now?” This question came from my grandmother.

“Cash is always good.” Opening the card, I read the birthday sentiment and a rush of emotion hit me. No matter how completely insane my family could be, they were all about love and sticking together. Maybe it was time to tell them about the baby.

Glancing up, I saw my sister watching me. She nodded, as if reading my thoughts. Before I could gather my courage, though, my grandmother slid a brightly wrapped present toward me, by way of my mother.

When the present reached me, I gasped.
Oh, no.
The paper had women, in varying stages of pregnancy, all over it, with the word
CONGRATULATIONS
in huge pink and blue letters. Quickly I ripped the paper off and crumpled it up into a ball, hoping no one else would notice. No one said anything, so I must have been successful.