Wild & Hexy (3 page)

Or she could walk into his café right this minute and take all the guesswork out of it.
Jeremy almost dropped the carafe of Jumpin’ Java Blend he’d been about to pour into Tony’s mug. Everyone got free refills on the flavor of the day, but as an employee, Tony got free refills all the time, anyway. Tony probably had way too much caffeine in his system.

At the moment, Jeremy didn’t have the brain cells available to cope with Tony’s caffeine problem. He was too busy trying not to stroke out at the sight of Annie standing just inside the café’s front door. She was ten times more beautiful than he remembered. The black trench coat gave her an
X-Files
look that he found wildly exciting. Then again, Annie would look wildly exciting in a faded flannel shirt and baggy overalls.

‘‘Hi, Jeremy.’’ She smiled and walked toward him.

‘‘Hi.’’
Brilliant, Dunstan. Surely you can do better than that.
‘‘Long time no see.’’ No, apparently he couldn’t do better than that, not when he was looking into those incredible blue eyes.

‘‘It has been a long time.’’ She glanced around the café. ‘‘Nice place.’’

‘‘Thanks.’’ He liked her hair like that, chin length and sleek.

‘‘Didn’t this used to be Billie’s Bobble-Head Shoppe?’’

‘‘Right. Billie decided right after Christmas to downsize and move to a house two blocks from the square. The timing was perfect for me, so here I am.’’
And here you are, standing in my café.
He still couldn’t believe he was face-to-face with the woman of his dreams.

‘‘Is that your dog?’’

‘‘Yeah. That’s Megabyte. She’s sort of a mascot for the café.’’

‘‘She’s huge.’’

‘‘And harmless.’’ Jeremy couldn’t stop looking at Annie. Her skin glowed, just as soft and touchable as he remembered. Even softer, maybe. The new job with the
Tribune
must agree with her. She seemed more cuddly than before. Not that he’d ever had the chance to—

‘‘Hey, can I get my refill?’’ Tony asked.

‘‘Sure.’’ Still staring at Annie, Jeremy tilted the carafe in the general direction of Tony’s coffee mug.

‘‘Hey, dude, watch out!’’

Jeremy glanced down in time to see a stream of hot coffee headed for the computer keyboard, a keyboard missing its plastic cover because Tony had taken it off after complaining about a sticking key. It was one of those slow-motion moments in which all the ramifications flashed instantly through his mind—the coffee splatters on Tony, the ruined keyboard and, most of all, the humiliation of having Annie there to see it.

But the coffee never reached the keyboard. Instead it defied gravity, reversed direction, and ran backward into the carafe. Jeremy gazed at the carafe in stunned silence.

Tony’s mouth dropped open. Then he laughed and began clapping. ‘‘Excellent trick, dude! Hey, people, you won’t believe what I just saw our man Jeremy do. He’s a freaking magician!’’

Kids left their computers and clustered around, asking questions and wanting a repeat. Even Megabyte lumbered to her feet and cocked her head at Jeremy.

‘‘I have no idea what happened.’’ Jeremy looked at the carafe. Had somebody tampered with it? Switched it with some trick model?

‘‘Sure you do. Don’t be modest.’’ Ambrose Lowell appeared at his elbow looking more trim and sophisticated than most fiftysomething guys. ‘‘That was amazing. One of the best tricks I’ve seen in ages.’’

Jeremy hadn’t heard him come in, but then it had been really noisy right after the incident with the coffee. ‘‘Seriously, you guys. I swear I don’t know what—’’

‘‘That was very cool, Jeremy.’’ Annie gazed at him with interest. ‘‘I don’t know how you did it, but what a realistic performance.’’

Jeremy glanced at her. He didn’t know what the hell had just happened, but Annie had never looked at him that way before, like he was someone to be reckoned with. Only a fool would keep insisting he was clueless.

‘‘Thanks.’’ Then he finally remembered his manners and introduced Annie to Ambrose. She was such a big celebrity in town that everyone else already knew her.

She shook hands with Ambrose, and Jeremy was a little jealous that Ambrose got to do that. Sure, Ambrose was old enough to be her father and happily married to Dorcas, but some women were turned on by that graying-at-the-temples look.

Too bad Jeremy and Annie had the kind of in-between relationship where they knew each other too well to shake hands but not well enough to hug. That meant he didn’t get to touch her at all. Bummer.

The other kids begged Jeremy to do the trick again, but when he refused, they eventually headed back to their respective computers. Megabyte resumed her spot on the floor. Only Ambrose and Annie continued to hang around.

‘‘Your carafe stunt was great,’’ Annie said. ‘‘I desperately needed something like that.’’

‘‘You did?’’ Fulfilling her desperate needs was a longtime fantasy of his. He’d just never expected to do it with a coffee carafe.

‘‘My editor wants me to write a series of pieces on the joys of small-town life. I told him there wasn’t a whole lot to write about in Big Knob, but he insisted. You’ve just given me the lead for my first story— ‘Tired of big-city bustle? Try some small-town magic.’ ’’

Letting her believe what she wanted was one thing. Having her write a story for the
Tribune
claiming he was a magician made Jeremy uncomfortable. ‘‘Just so you know, that was a complete—’’

‘‘Tour de force,’’ Ambrose said. ‘‘I consider myself a minor talent in the field of illusion. If you’re willing to divulge some of your secrets, I’ll divulge some of mine.’’

Jeremy had no secrets, and he definitely had to put a stop to this. ‘‘The thing is, I don’t—’’

‘‘I think magic is fascinating.’’ Annie gave Jeremy another admiring glance. ‘‘I’m sure you don’t want to give away any tricks of the trade, but can you tell me where you learned how to do stuff?’’

‘‘If he’s anything like me, he’s self-taught,’’ Ambrose said. ‘‘Right, Jeremy?’’

‘‘Right.’’ Frantically Jeremy tried to remember if he knew
any
magic tricks. There was one having to do with cards that Sean used to try on people, but Jeremy couldn’t remember it.

‘‘So do you put on performances here in town?’’ Annie asked.

‘‘No. In fact, I—’’

‘‘I get it,’’ Ambrose said. ‘‘You’re still in training, aren’t you?’’

Jeremy met Ambrose’s gaze. It was as if the guy sensed Jeremy’s dilemma and was trying to help him out of a jam. What if he took lessons from Ambrose? Jeremy could trade him computer time for it.

Oh, who was he kidding? With only a few days to work with, he’d never become polished enough to convince Annie he was a true magician. He’d be exposed as a fraud, and that light in her eyes would disappear.

‘‘Okay, I have my angle,’’ Annie said. ‘‘Internet café owner by day, aspiring magician by night. Even your café name, Click-or-Treat, fits right in.’’ She dug a flash drive out of her purse. ‘‘I need a computer. I have thirty minutes before deadline. Where do you want me?’’

Right here, next to me, forever.
‘‘Over in the corner there is fine.’’ He gestured with the magic carafe. She was on a tight deadline, and what kind of guy would sabotage that by convincing her she had no story?

Of course, he was allowing her to write something that wasn’t true, and that wasn’t good, either. What a mess. But his moral angst didn’t stop him from wanting to watch her take off her trench coat before she sat down in front of the computer.

As she slipped the coat off her shoulders and hung it over the back of the chair, he gulped. Her body was as voluptuous as ever. More so, if you asked him.

‘‘What a babe,’’ Tony murmured. ‘‘I like older women. I could sure see myself—’’

‘‘Watch it,’’ Jeremy said.

Tony put up both hands. ‘‘Sorry! Didn’t know you had dibs. Say, could you do that trick again?’’

‘‘No.’’

‘‘Then how about my coffee?’’

Jeremy looked at the carafe, not sure what to expect from the damned thing. ‘‘Let me get a fresh pot. Ambrose? Coffee?’’

‘‘You bet.’’ Ambrose followed him over to the counter.

Jeremy walked around it and took a full carafe from under the coffee machine spout. Placing a mug on the counter, he poured it full. ‘‘I’m not a magician, Ambrose,’’ he said in a low voice.

‘‘I know.’’

‘‘So what do I do about that? I can’t turn into one overnight.’’

‘‘Not overnight, no.’’ Ambrose picked up his mug. ‘‘But come by the house tonight after you close up. Maybe I can teach you how to fake it.’’

‘‘I don’t know. That sounds risky. I could screw it up royally.’’

‘‘True. But do you want the girl or don’t you?’’

Jeremy blinked. ‘‘Look, Ambrose, I’m not about to become one of your matchmaking clients. That was fine for my buddy Sean, but I prefer to blunder through on my own.’’

‘‘Suit yourself. But if you ask me, you could use a little magic.’’

‘‘I’ll just tell her the truth. I’ll take her some coffee, and then I’ll let her know that there’s been a misunderstanding, and I’m not a magician.’’

Ambrose pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket. ‘‘And to ease your confession, which will ruin the story she’s writing for her paper and possibly get her in trouble with her editor if she ends up with no story at all, you can give her this rose.’’

‘‘What rose?’’

‘‘This one.’’ Ambrose flicked the handkerchief and produced a red rose glistening with dew.

Jeremy stared at it. Then he glanced at Ambrose. ‘‘Okay,’’ he said. ‘‘Your house. Nine o’clock.’’

So Jeremy Dunstan was in training to become a magician. Annie was fascinated, and as a result, her first installment of the small-town series seemed to be writing itself. She craved surprises, which was one of the reasons she’d left predictable and boring Big Knob for the excitement of Chicago. Working as a journalist there meant no two days were ever the same.

Yeah, surprises are great, except when the surprise is that your husband is leaving you for someone else.
Getting that shocking news right after Annie had broken her ankle during a skiing vacation designed to rejuvenate their marriage was not fun at all. But to be honest, she couldn’t claim total surprise. She and Zach had been on the skids for a long time before the ski trip.

The mechanics of the divorce hadn’t taken long. She’d had the cast taken off the day before she became officially single. By then she was also officially overweight. The combination of restricted mobility and depression had added the hated thirty pounds in no time.

Shoving those crummy thoughts aside, she focused on her story. As she worked, the aroma of coffee and chocolate tickled her senses. She glanced sideways at a steaming mug and a chocolate chip cookie on a napkin. Both had appeared as if by magic, and she smiled. Jeremy had always been the considerate type.

She welcomed the coffee, both for the comfort and for the caffeine boost. But the cookie was off-limits. The mug had the Click-or-Treat logo on it—a computer terminal wearing a Zorro-type mask. Cute. She’d bet Jeremy had designed it.

Blowing across the hot liquid before taking a rejuvenating sip, she returned her attention to the computer screen. Fortunately the Internet café owner-budding magician story took shape quickly. Keeping track of the time display in the corner of the screen, Annie pulled in some of her previous knowledge of Jeremy to round out the profile, contrasting his quiet teenage persona with his emerging showmanship.

Opening this café and becoming a successful entrepreneur seemed to be bringing out new elements of Jeremy’s personality. She wondered whether any other secrets lurked under that introverted exterior. In any case, she had her first story ready to go, and a lead on a second one. Tomorrow she’d visit Billie Smoot’s relocated bobble-head shop for another slice of small-town life.

Right before she hit the SEND button on Jeremy’s story, she realized that her editor might want a shot of him. He’d told her to take a digital camera along, just in case. He wasn’t expecting great photography from her, thank God.

The shot needed to be posed, not candid, because she wanted to make sure she had a full frontal view of Jeremy’s T-shirt with the Click-or-Treat logo on it. And he should be holding a carafe. She wouldn’t bother asking him to do the magic trick again because her digital camera wasn’t fast enough to pick it up.

She pulled the camera out of her tote. This would have to be fast. She had about five minutes before deadline. Jeremy moved around the café refilling coffee mugs and answering questions about various Web site searches.

Camera in hand, she approached him. ‘‘Can I get a quick picture?’’

He looked up, and a flush crept up from the collar of his T-shirt. ‘‘Uh, I’m not very photogenic.’’

‘‘Dude, don’t be stupid,’’ the teenager named Tony said. ‘‘This is promo we’re talking about here. Can I be in it?’’

‘‘Me, too!’’ A pretty blonde who reminded Annie of herself at that age hopped up from her chair.

That started the stampede, and Annie decided to go with it—Jeremy surrounded by teenagers. ‘‘Hold up the coffeepot, Jeremy,’’ she said.

‘‘He should totally do the magic trick,’’ Tony said.

‘‘No.’’ Jeremy looked extremely uncomfortable.

‘‘I couldn’t capture it with this camera, anyway,’’ she said and was glad to see him relax a little bit.

But he still seemed stiff and self-conscious. ‘‘I’m not sure this is a good—’’

‘‘Yes, it is,’’ Annie said. ‘‘Hold up the carafe and smile.’’

‘‘But—’’

‘‘Just do it.’’ Tony nudged him. ‘‘You’ll be famous.’’

‘‘Not my goal.’’ Jeremy held up the carafe, but he wasn’t smiling.

‘‘Okay, everybody. Say cheese.’’ Annie hoped that would prompt Jeremy to smile. She had new respect for the staff photographers. How did they handle a reluctant subject?