Magic's Song (2 page)

The cousins surrounded her. She could have been an ancient priestess, reading an oracle. Using her spooky voice to ensure the cousins listened as Tanith launched into an animated tale about the book’s power.

“This is a most mystical book. It can turn your wildest dreams into your wildest reality… “

And she’d believed her own hype. When everyone else had gone to bed, she crept into the attic and put her hand on the open book. “I wish I could live with my grandmother.”

Tanith rubbed her temples, forcing her mind to find logic. Her thoughts were crap—she had an erotic dream and the experience had been magnificent. That’s all. Her subconscious had created the man to satisfy her longings. The book had nothing to do with it.

Still. She’d gotten what she asked for—she’d gone to live with her grandmother. Only she didn’t go to her beloved Nana’s home after her parents’ car crash. She went to live with Grandma Sweeney, the other grandmother.

And she had gotten skinny after she wished to lose weight just before getting her undergraduate degree.

Nonsense
. If she wanted a lover, she needed to sign up with an online dating service.

Chapter Two

When Tanith arrived at Nana’s house for their weekly visit, she headed straight for the attic stairs. Wouldn’t hurt to take a quick look at the book, right? Then she could focus on her grandmother.

“Tanith?”

She froze on the top step. Turning around, she gave Nana her best smile. “Hi.”

The older woman leaned on her cane, her brow a furrow of age and confusion. “What are you doing, hon?”

“Just wanted to look at some old photos.” Good lord, the book wasn’t magic, it was evil. The big volume had her lying to her grandmother.

Nana shook her head. “What is it about this old attic that fascinates you kids? Last time Eddie was here, he barely said hello before he raced up these old stairs. I bet that attic isn’t even safe.”

“Eddie? Does he visit often?”

Nana shook her head. Her almost white hair glimmered in the sunlight streaming through the stair landing’s tiny window. “Not since he won that money. Now come downstairs. I’ve made tea.”

After Tanith finished her cup of Earl Grey, she gave Nana a goodbye hug. Instead of heading toward the university, she slipped back into her grandmother’s house through the garage door. She couldn’t shake the notion she played with her fate, but she headed to the attic anyway.

She swallowed hard, feeling foolish. The need to disprove the book’s power drove her actions, not some crazy yearning for a real lover. Right? She needed to dispel the crazy idea her scumbag cousin won a hundred-thousand dollars because he’d made a wish. Silly—wouldn’t Eddie, ever the greedy one, have wished for more?

As she reached the top of the stairs, she focused on the doorknob—the shiny brass handle summoned. Every step she took made the door seem farther away.

“Now I’m just being silly.” Her spoken word did little to ease the strange tension consuming her. Tanith felt like she watched someone else. She saw her hand tremble as it reached out and wrapped long fingers around the smooth knob.

“It’s just a book,” she repeated like a mantra.

She ignored the cold puff of anxiety racing down her spine and mustered the courage to step across the threshold.
She should just forget the book back and get to class.

Her fingertips seemed to have a different agenda. Again she traced the gold lettering, feeling the same apprehension she’d felt the week before. And when she held the book two years earlier.

Since that day, she’d
saved enough money to quit work and return to graduate school, but the anticipated
university magic hadn’t materialized. Instead of the nonstop partying and sex of her undergraduate days, she just felt out of place. And old. At twenty-three.

She stroked her palm across t
he book, trying to determine what harm could come from wishing for a real partner. Correction. A lover, not just some guy she’d ball and forget. She could see the man in her mind, she could feel him in her soul. The same man she’d dreamed about.

A shiver raced over her body. “Not that I believe, for a single minute, the book can help.”

Logic returned. The volume went back on the shelf. “The book is just a fantasy.”

She pushed aside a spider web and headed for the stairs. At the door, a young woman blinked at her from Nana’s gilded mirror.

Tanith gasped, remembering the day she’d wished for a
hot body
. A childhood of chubbiness taught her to avoid mirrors altogether so her new shape still caught her by surprise whenever she encountered her svelte reflection.

She ran her hands over her hips as she took a long hard look. Even to her harsh appraisal, she was indeed hot. Her breasts were still large and spilled over the top of her bra, but her waist curved in sharply. Her belly button winked at her, an enticing morsel in a flat expanse of stomach.

She’d never had trouble attracting men, but Tanith believed sex appeal transcended the
Barbie
image. Many men had told her she was beautiful. Naturally, she hadn’t believed them. Guys thought all naked women were beautiful.

She ran her hand over her round, firm ass. Amazing. She hadn’t dieted, nor had she changed her exercise routine. The only thing she’d done was place her hand on the book and wish she could lose weight.

Longing and fear trickled through her body. Did she dare make another wish?

Tanith shook herself. The book wasn’t responsible for her weight loss, it couldn’t be. Sex increased the metabolism—that’s how she’d lost the weight. She ignored the voice in her head that reminded her she hadn’t been with a man in six months and solo sex didn’t require much exertion.

She backed away, but the book seemed to call to her… Had it also called to Eddie? Last week the book had been moved. Who else would have hidden it? It couldn’t have been Nana. Since the old girl broke her hip, she couldn’t climb the steep stairs.

“Oh, what the heck?” Tanith opened the book, put her hand in the center of a page and pronounced, “I want a flesh and blood lover.”

A blast of heat engulfed her palm. She jerked her fingers and shook her hand.

“Get real, Tanith.” Nothing licked her fingers. She was an MBA candidate, not some little girl who believed in magic. She restacked the book, hiding it behind a volume of Shakespeare.

“An MBA candidate who talks to herself,” she muttered, glancing at her watch. And who is late for class.

She hurried down the stairs and raced outside to grab her bike. She debated taking her car instead, but parking would take too much time. She hopped astride the ten-speed and pedaled toward school like a madwoman.

Tanith had almost reached the fine arts building when a handbill flew into her face. She couldn’t see a thing. Her fingers tightened on the handgrips and her feet slammed on the brakes. She encountered loose dirt, causing the bike to skid and go horizontal. She fell onto the grass like a clump of lead.

She lay still for a second, and then bent a knee, testing her flexibility. An intake of breath, not her own, made her open her eyes.

Groaning, Tanith pulled the paper from her face and sat up to stare into the face of an incredibly gorgeous man. He stood tall and had bulk in all the right places. Platinum streaked his blonde hair making it look as if a sun god had reached down and bleached him beautiful. Her wish couldn’t have worked that fast, could it?

“Are you okay?”

I know that voice.

It took a couple of seconds to identify the guy, but as she blinked in recognition, her fantasy evaporated.

The man might be drop dead gorgeous, but she wouldn’t be taking him home to meet Nana. He’d already met her.

“Darson. You look great. It’s a shame you’re gay.”

The man blinked, confusion evident in his incredible brown eyes. Tanith hadn’t seen him since she’d gotten her undergraduate degree. Her one real friend from school and she hadn’t even stayed in touch. Guilt threatened to choke off her air supply.

“Do I know you?”

“You do.” Her lips curved into a grin. “Darson, sweetie, I have to ask. You wouldn’t by any chance be dating women these days would you? You look delicious.”

“Tanith?” His eyes bugged. “Is it really you?”

He popped his hip and cocked his head to one side. “I do look hot, don’t I? But you look amazing, girl. Even if you are sprawled out on the grass like you’ve had too much muscatel. But, sugar, you’ve obviously hit your head if you think
moi
has switched teams. Now give me a hug.”

After the embrace, Tanith touched his head. “I really like this spiked hair. It’s so…so you.”

His gaze followed her movement as she rubbed her shoulder. “Are you hurt?”

“Not from the fall,” Tanith shook her head, “but I’ll be dead meat if I don’t get to class.”

Darson held out a hand and helped her stand. “Are you back for grad school?” He didn’t see her nod because he had bent over to pick up the flyer. “You’re trying out for a band? Cool. It’s about time you did something with that marvelous voice of yours. I’m late too—call me tonight.”

Darson jotted a number on the flyer and thrust it toward her. Then, he took off in a prissy walk.

Tanith grinned as she flipped over the sheet of red paper. Bold text read,
Rock Band Looking for Female Lead Singer
.

She couldn’t try out, could she?

No way.
She might be bold in the bedroom, but with no satin sheets for backup, she made the proverbial church mouse seem aggressive.

Tanith sighed and shoved the flyer into her backpack before glancing at her watch. “Crap, crap, crap.” Her Operations Theory professor was notorious for kicking late students out of the lecture hall. Permanently. She should never have dallied with that blasted book.

She locked her bike and rushed into the building. Panic pushed bile into her throat as her eyes failed to adjust to the dark auditorium. She
had
to sit before the professor noticed her tardiness.

“Psst.” The male voice came from her right. A body moved toward the center of the row to create a seat for her. “You can sit here, gorgeous.”

Gorgeous
? Maybe she would try out with the band.

Chapter Three

Tanith toyed with the idea of going to the audition. She knew she could sing, but could she sing in front of people? She pushed her doubts aside to start a pot of coffee. When the water started to drip, she opened the door to retrieve the newspaper. An overnight package sat next to the paper on her steps. She lifted it and read the return label.

Sally Sweeney
. Her other grandmother.

Grandma Sweeney was a practical woman and had never really understood Tanith. The matronly woman had absolutely no tolerance for a little girl’s guilt.

“It isn’t your fault,” she’d snapped the week after Tanith’s parents died. “A drunk driver killed your parents. I don’t want to hear any nonsense about you causing the accident.”

As a girl, she never spoke of wishes again, but she continued to feel responsible for the loss of her parents, no matter what Grandma Sweeney, or anyone else, said. She’d crawled inside herself and refused to come out. Her beloved Nana might have been able to thaw her grief stricken heart, but not Grandma Sweeney.

Exasperated, her grandmother took her to a counselor and pushed to get her involved in
real
activities. “You need some exercise. Otherwise, you’ll never lose that baby fat.”

The more Grandma Sweeney pushed, the more Tanith withdrew. Books and imagination became friends and relatives. Chocolate and voice lessons replaced love and support.

Withdrawal from the world made her awkward in childhood, but it paid dividends when she turned eighteen. Reading and studying earned her a substantial scholarship. No one, except maybe Tanith herself, was surprised when she received a full ride.

A wave of guilt assaulted Tanith. Her grandmother loved her, even if they didn’t share any common bonds. Since she’d moved away, getting in touch with her father’s mother had never been a priority. She really should call more often.

The package required a “thank you” call. Tonight.

She
opened the box to find a short red mini-dress—the kind she couldn’t wear and too sexy for a grandmother to buy.

Most of Tanith’s guilt disappeared. She’d be lucky if she could fit one of her thighs into the skinny garment. How mortifying, the dress would never fit. She checked the tag—size three.

What the devil was Grandma thinking
? Sure, she’d only visited her twice during the summer, but the last visit had been only two weeks ago. The woman might not appreciate a good book, but she could estimate a bra size at forty paces. Grandma Sweeney should have known the dress was too small.

Tanith shoved the garment back into the box. Before she closed the cardboard lid, her mind replayed an image from the day before—her reflection in Nana’s gilded mirror.

She found herself reopening the box. Most of her clothes were a tad large. What could it hurt to try on the dress? “Maybe the fabric will stretch.”

If nothing else, she’d have a private chuckle at Grandma Sweeney’s size miscalculation. That might erase the remainder of her “not calling” guilt.

Tanith removed her cotton robe and pulled the teensy dress over her head, hoping it wouldn’t rip. She tugged at the hem, which barely covered the top of her thighs.

This can’t be right
.

In a trance, she hurried to the bedroom. The dresser mirror was too small to see her entire silhouette, so she opened the drapes of her studio apartment.

She gaped at her reflection in the large window. “Good God!” Modesty wouldn’t let her say anything aloud, but she looked fan-frigging-tastic.

She pinched herself to insure she wasn’t still dreaming. When her wrist stopped aching from the nail marks, she walked around the room, testing the feel of the snug, but comfortable, dress. When she bent over to make sure her ass wouldn’t show, the bright red flyer on her desk grabbed her attention.