Under Her Spell (6 page)

It wasn't even eight o'clock and she had already downed three cups of strong black coffee. The caffeine wasn't helping her nerves. Every time she remembered the night before, she felt like lying down with a cool cloth over her head. Unfortunately, she couldn't call in sick. She was the boss, and her part-time clerk was in Oregon visiting relatives. If she didn't open Heart's Desire, no one would.

As she trudged along the beach toward the center of town, Bryony tried to stem the panic squeezing her heart. She'd made a deal with the devil, and in a few weeks he would collect his due. When Zach's column appeared in the
Skeptical Observer
and the
San Francisco papers, the curious would flock to her shop. But they wouldn't come to buy. No, they would want to see the silly woman who had imagined she could make Zachary Callahan fall in love.

Zachary Callahan, the brash, handsome young magazine publisher. Voted Most Eligible Bachelor three years running. The man who made society girls swoon.
Grist for gossip columns throughout the Bay Area.

Zachary Callahan, the notorious womanizer.

Last night, for some reason, Bryony had imagined she could change his ways. Now, in the clear light of day, she knew better. She'd seen the pictures in the paper: Zach, with a statuesque blond on his arm.
Zach, with a sleek brunette from one of the city's oldest families.

Her Zach with a hundred elegant, sophisticated women, each staring up at him adoringly. Each one cast aside as soon as the next came along. Bryony knew she couldn't hope to compete with any of those women.

She unlocked the shop's front door and wearily flipped the sign from Closed to Open. A few early bird tourists had already gathered out front, and Bryony mustered just enough cheer to welcome them to Heart's Desire. The trickle soon grew to a flood. Bryony rushed around helping one person after another. She was glad for the work because it took her mind off her problems. Everything sold well, but the love potion nearly flew out of the store.

A middle-aged woman in a Hawaiian shirt bought two bottles and waved a newspaper clipping in Bryony's face. "I read about you in the
Los Angeles Times
," she said. "I'm visiting my sister in Oakland and thought I'd drop by." She winked and added, "One of these is for my husband. I'm trying put the spark back in our marriage. If it doesn't work, guess I'll have to use the second bottle on someone else."

Half a dozen other customers mentioned that they'd seen an Associated Press story on her love potion, in at least three different newspapers. All in all, business was brisk. By closing time, Bryony was exhausted. Her feet hurt, and she couldn't wait to get home. She apologetically shooed the last of her customers out the door, restocked the shelves, and locked up.

The sun was slanting over the sea as she hurried up the winding steps to the house. Once inside, she gratefully shed her shoes and coat at the door and made for her room, anticipating a long soak in the tub and a quick nap before dinner.

"What's your hurry?" a male voice drawled in her ear.

Bryony started at the sound. She whirled to find Zach slouching on the brocade living room couch, his fingers laced behind his head. He was casually dressed in faded blue jeans, scuffed hiking boots, and a T-shirt that revealed his sinewy arms and defined his well-muscled chest. His hair, still wet from the shower, gleamed black as midnight.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

He
grinned."You
invited me to move in, remember?"

"To be precise, Vivien invited you," Bryony said. "I guess I didn't expect you to take her up on it so quickly. You startled me."

"Sorry," he said, in a tone that suggested he wasn't sorry at all. "Vivien let me in, but she had an emergency at work.
A toddler with a high fever.
She said I should make myself comfortable."

"Looks like you have," Bryony said, eyeing the way he was sitting. Her scrutiny didn't seem to unnerve him in the least. If anything, he slouched more arrogantly than before.

"She also said you'd entertain me tonight," Zach said. "All part of the deal."

"And did Vivien have any suggestions on how I'm to do that?" Bryony asked.

"No, but I have a few ideas," Zach said. He let his eyes drift up the length of her body, from the slim skirt that suggested the shape of her legs to the creamy silk blouse that curved over her gently rounded breasts and moved with her every breath. Bryony suddenly felt naked before him. She crossed her arms against the sensation, then noticed with dismay that Zach knew exactly what her gesture meant.

To distract him, she blurted out the first thing that came into her head. "A walk on the beach," she said. "It's a beautiful evening, don't you think, and it won't get dark for another half hour. It's my favorite time of day for beach combing, since most
of  the
tourists have gone home already. There's usually a glorious sunset, too." She cut herself off when she realized she was babbling.

"I'm convinced," Zach said.

"Fine. Then let's go."

He raised his eyebrows. "Don't you want to -- ah, slip into something more comfortable?"

Bryony glanced down at her skirt and leather flats. "Yes, of course."

"Why don't you do that, then, while I fix you some dinner." He saw the flash of surprise on her face and laughed. "You did just get home from work, so I assume you're hungry. And yes, I can cook. Do you like omelets?"

"Very much," Bryony said. "Thank you."

Zach waved his hand dismissively. "Go, then. I'll expect you down in ten minutes."

It was more like fifteen minutes before Bryony tripped down the stairs again. She'd spent the extra five trying to decide what to wear. It was ridiculous -- she wasn't usually one to agonize about clothes. Usually, for a walk on the beach, she would have
slipped into a pair of paint-spattered sweatpants and one of the faded
sweatshirt
left over from her college days.

Tonight was different. She tried on a pair of jeans and two pairs of shorts before settling on soft black leggings under a thick fisherman's sweater. She piled her
red-gold
hair up on her head, changed her mind, braided it,
then
undid the braid. Staring at herself in the mirror, she wondered if she'd gone completely insane. She was acting like a teenager on prom night. If Zach didn't like her the way she was, that was just fine. She wouldn't put on an act for him, even if she lost their bet because of it.

With that decided, she headed down the stairs. She did not, however, exchange the leggings for the baggy sweatpants.

"You're five minutes late," Zach said as Bryony entered the kitchen. "Your eggs are getting cold." He slid the finished omelet onto the plate and set it on the table.

Bryony picked up her fork and took a bite. "It's delicious," she said truthfully. Zach had blended feta cheese, sautéed mushrooms, tomato, and cilantro into a golden-brown pancake of free-range eggs. Bryony was surprised to find she was starving.

"Aren't you going to eat?" she asked.

"I had dinner already, at a restaurant in town. Cypress Grove."

"Oh, no. Not Peter Burke's place." Bryony clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter. "I should have warned you."

"I wish you had," Zach said, his dark eyes sparkling. "It was one of the worst meals I've ever had. I sent it back and asked for a hamburger instead, figuring no one could ruin that."

"Then you haven't met Peter's chef yet. You should have heard him when he hired the guy -- imported from France, no less. Peter was so proud." Bryony shook with
laughter. "The whole town thinks Peter should ship him back where he came from, the sooner the better."

"After that hamburger, I'll buy him a plane ticket," Zach said. "It was filling -- that's about the only good thing I can say about it. But after a whole day of hiking, I was too hungry to try someplace else. Are you finished?"

Bryony glanced down at her plate and discovered she'd devoured the last morsel. "I suppose I am. That was wonderful."

"So how about that walk you promised me?"

"You're not too tired?"

"No way," Zach said, jumping up and offering his hand. "I'm not letting you weasel out of this deal. We have to spend time together, remember?"

"Right." Bryony took his hand and let him pull her to her feet. The contact sent tingles down her spine. When he let go, she was standing just inches from him, staring at his chest. She gulped and lifted her chin so her eyes met his. Zach's face was a study in thoughtfulness. As he gazed down at her, she thought she saw tenderness in the way his mouth softened just a fraction.

Then the moment ended.

"Let's go," he said, dropping her hand and snatching his fleece coat from the hook by the door.

Bryony followed him down the steep and twisting path to the beach. The grass had been worn away by hundreds of trampling feet, and the sandy soil could be treacherous. Bryony picked her way cautiously down the incline, then relaxed a little when she had nearly reached the sand. At that moment, her foot caught a loose patch of dirt
For
an instant she thought she would be able to right herself. Then she realized, horrified, that she was going to fall flat on her face.

Zach's arms closed around her, bearing her up. Bryony caught at his broad shoulders to steady
herself
. Her breasts brushed his chest, and she felt his hands at her waist. "I know you want to throw yourself into my arms," he said, smiling, "but that wasn't very subtle."

Heat rose to her cheeks and she took a quick step back. "I certainly didn't stumble on purpose," she said. "How could I know you'd catch me?"

Zach ignored her question. "Women," he said, shrugging. "Always scheming, always playing little games. I know your type."

Bryony glowered at him. "I don't think so."

"Oh, I do. I've met my share of women, and they're all alike."

"Spare me," Bryony said, eyes flashing green fire. "So you had a few bad experiences. That doesn't give you the right to generalize. Most women don't play games, me included. Maybe you're spending time with the wrong women. Like your ex-wife, for example." Zach's amused smile twisted into a grimace at the barb. "That's right, I read the papers." She stopped abruptly, seeing the pain in Zach's eyes. "I'm sorry," she said, more softly now. "I shouldn't have brought that up."

"No. No, it's all right," he said. "You have a point. Since Eve left, I've been -- let's say I've been somewhat cynical where romance is concerned."

"I can't say I blame you," Bryony said. "From what I read, it sounded like a spectacularly bitter divorce."
Zach nodded, his rugged face ravaged by the memory. "What can I say? I was throwing every cent I had into the magazine. Eve couldn't wait for the
Skeptical Observer
to start turning a profit. When she told me she was leaving me for another man -- someone who could support her in the proper style -- I went ballistic."

He winced and rubbed his forehead as if he had developed a sudden pounding headache. "I wanted to punish her. I thought if I dragged it out, made all the sordid details public, I might feel better. I didn't, though. I got to keep the magazine, but in the end it wasn't worth it."

"At least there were no children," Bryony said.

"Of course not. I wanted kids, but Eve wouldn't hear of it. Not until we could afford a live-in nanny and then boarding school."

Bryony tried to hide her shock. She couldn't imagine how Zach could have loved such a cold, calculating woman.

"Obviously, she didn't tell me any of this until we were married," he said "Even then, I thought she'd change eventually, grow up a little. I was wrong."

Zach fell silent, and they walked along the water's edge as the sun began to slip below the horizon. It cast a golden glow along the sands of the nearly deserted beach. It was a clear evening without much wind. Only the distant screech of a seagull and the low roar of the tranquil surf broke the hush. "Look," Bryony said, as the risen moon cast a shaft of spangled light over the water.

"It's incredible here," Zach said. "So peaceful."

"I know. I could never live anywhere else."

"You grew up in Cypress Point?"

"In the same house where I live now," Bryony said. "My parents . . . ." She had to fight back the sadness. "My parents willed it to me."

"Then they're --" Zach began.

Bryony nodded, her eyes on the sand, her throat tight with grief. "About a year ago. They'd finally retired, decided to relax and have some fun. They were sailing around the world when they disappeared in a storm. We kept hoping, for days and days, but --"

"I'm sorry," Zach said.

"It's all right." Bryony glanced up at him, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears. She was astonished by the empathy plain on his face. There wasn't a trace of mockery in his expression now. "At least they died together. If you'd known them, you would understand why that's important. They loved each other so much," she said, almost wistfully. "Mom was at the center of my father's universe. Sometimes I think I'll never find that kind of love."