Jennifer Crusie - The Unfortunate Miss Fortunes

She opened the gilt box and sprinkled the contents into her right hand until the red spicy powder made a mound there. Then she waved her left hand over the bowl, drawing up a spiral of vapor, then another, then another, until she had the three coiling together, a silver arabesque above the bowl in front of the see glass.

‘Wow,’ Maxine said.

‘Quiet,’ Xan said. A little refresher course in ‘Xan Is

Magic, Don’t Disobey Her’ wouldn’t hurt Maxine. ‘This is an impulse spell, Maxine. It’s very delicate. Don’t move.’

‘Right,’ Maxine said, leaning closer to see. Xan thought about explaining ‘don’t move’ in detail, but since an impulse spell was one of the sturdiest spells in existence, she decided to let Maxine go.

Xan held her right hand in the middle of the vapor arabesque and waited. In the see glass, Danny walked into the bank and began to talk to Dee. Xan looked closer at the house and saw Elric standing behind Lizzie in the kitchen window. And much harder to see, Mare was sitting in the diner with someone, leaning forward-

Xan gently blew the red powder through the arabesque and into the see glass, and the peppery vapor spiraled into the see glass, down into Salem’s Fork, into a bank, a kitchen, a diner-

‘Wow,’ Maxine said, her eyes wide. ‘It’s lunchtime, Maxine,’ Xan said. ‘Go sling hash.’

‘But,’ Maxine said, and Xan waved her hand and then there was silence.

In the see glass, Maxine reappeared in the Dumpster, staggering among the green plastic bags.

Xan closed the portal and stuck a psychic brick behind it. Find a crack in that, Maxine, she thought and then poured herself a glass of wine.

As she sat back with her wine, the see glass gave her back her reflection. ‘Only by candlelight,’ Vincent had said. And the bastard was older than she was.

But if she had the girls’ powers, she’d also have the girls’ psychic energy, all that juice flowing through her veins. She closed her eyes and imagined the swell of youth again. The loss of power probably wouldn’t hurt the girls if she took it carefully; they’d probably age like normal humans, they’d fit right in and have the ordinary lives they craved, but she…

She’d be young again.

And then she could put that bastard Vincent in the Dumpster with Maxine.

She shifted again to watch Maxine in the see glass, outside the Dumpster now, patting down her uniform. Hell, maybe she wouldn’t wait. The memory came back to her of Vincent and that little witch Jennifer last night, she of the big brown eyes and big brown hair and very small power, laughing in a corner while the rest of the party watched Xan avidly. If Vincent was going to chase trash, Xan could at least put him in the vicinity of it.

The thought of impeccable, immaculate, tuxedocald Vincent in a diner Dumpster in Salem’s Fork, Virginia, cheered Xan so much, she smiled.

And then she looked closer at the glass…

Dee yanked her skirt into a more comfortable position and prayed for the day to pass. This was the fifth time in three hours she’d had to stand, wriggle, and then sit back down, just to get some relief. She had a headache from the sudden cellular disruption. She was still jumpy from the close call she’d had that morning. And she was dressed in heavy wool and starched cotton.

The good news was that she’d been able to reach Pete Semple’s toolshed and change without attracting any attention except from Pete’s dachshund Eddie, who was used to seeing Dee walk naked out of green fog. The better news was that Pete hadn’t found her clothes and tossed them before she needed them.

The bad news was that the suit she’d stashed with Pete was the heaviest one she owned, meant for winter. Since the day had grown unseasonably warm and muggy, she itched like a mange victim and smelled vaguely like damp motor oil. Worse than that, though, it seemed she’d forgotten to pack underwear. Which was why she kept readjusting her clothes. The wool skirt was bad. The stiff cotton blouse was pure torture.

‘Anything else, there, Dee?’ a gravelly voice asked in her ear.

She jotted down the information she’d just received from Salem’s Fork’s only police detective and fiddled with her Bluetooth. ‘No, Larry. I think a clean police record is all a girl could ask for. Thanks. I really appreciate the help.’

‘Not at all. The chief gave me a heads-up on this guy when he heard he was at your house this morning. I know we didn’t find nothin, but you be careful.’

‘Thanks, Larry. You give my best to Eleanor’

She hung up, checking off another item on her list. She wasn’t going to be caught unprepared again. By the time she got off work, she was going to know everything there was to know about Danny James. Then she was going to make a preemptive strike and surprise him before he surprised her. He could use a little unsettling. Actually, he could use a mallet to the head. Ready or not, here I come, indeed.

Of course it didn’t go the way she planned. God forbid she should ever once be prepared for the disasters in her life. She’d just added her notes from Larry to the ones she’d shoved in her desk drawer when a shadow fell across her desk.

‘No, Mike,’ she said, expecting to see the latest junior VP standing there asking for a sexual harassment suit. ‘I won’t suck your toes and make you a happy man.’

She looked up and froze.

Danny James was standing there right in front of her desk, his hair damp enough to curl, his physique a thing to make grown women weep. Oh, she hadn’t realized it before. His eyes were blue. Not just blue. Cobalt-teal blue. Drop-your-business-suit-and-take-a-sailboat-to-paradise blue. Breathtakingly bright and shrewd as sin. Dee was mesmerized.

‘Ca…’ Embarrassed at the squeak that came out of her throat, she tried again, perfectly aware that her cheeks were flaming. ‘Can I help you?’

She tried so hard to ignore the pure shaft of heat that ripped through her. Sharp heat, sizzling like hot oil in a frying pan. She wondered if Mr James could possibly have felt it, too. His smile sagged, and his eyes had suddenly grown very dark.

‘If sucking toes is part of this bank’s service,’ he said, ‘I’m surprised you don’t have a line all the way around the block.’

Dee flushed like a hormonal teen. Lovely. Multiple humiliations in a single day. ‘Please excuse me. Now, can I help you?’

His smile reappeared. ‘They said I should see you to open an account.’ He held out his hand. ‘You are Deirdre O’Brien?’

Dumbly, Dee took it. He didn’t shake, though. He just held on. Dee just stared.

This had to stop. She’d never reacted to anyone like this in her life. And to make matters worse, he was conjuring up that damn fantasy again. Just a flash, the way it had appeared in that swirl of dust. His skin had been tanned, she would swear it, with just a sheen of sweat across his back, so that it gleamed in the light of the high sun. And his smile. Oh, his smile.

It couldn’t have been his smile. She had to stop this. Ready or not…

She pulled her hand back and cleared her throat. It was better than cursing. ‘May I sit?’ he asked.

He was in a blue open-neck oxford shirt now, the sleeves rolled to his elbows, his jeans newer, but no less obscene. Dee ran her tongue over suddenly dry lips.

‘Uh, of course.’ She gave a limp little wave to the chair across from her. ‘What kind of account do you want, Mr…?’

‘James,’ he said, settling into the chair. ‘Danny James. Didn’t your sister say I’d be by?’

‘Oh.’ She sucked in a breath, trying to look calm. ‘That.’

‘Yes.’ His smile expanded, all teeth and delight. ‘That. I’d like very much to take you to dinner tonight.’