Spellbound (9 page)

Belle hadn’t seen Nick for days. He must have been making an effort to avoid her, because she hadn’t so much as caught sight of him going to or from the building.

Not long after she’d left his apartment the green crystal had returned to its cool and impervious state, but Belle still wore it on the ribbon around her neck, just in case. An ache had settled in her chest, a pain of longing and sadness that was especially severe at night, lying in bed, as she remembered what it had been like to have Nick there with her.

On Friday night Beatrice and Larissa asked her to come out for drinks. Belle reluctantly agreed. She’d been sitting miserably at home every night for the week, and at least this way she’d have a change of scene in her misery.

The bar they’d planned to meet at was the one she went to with her work colleagues, where she’d occasionally seen Nick. She protested weakly that she’d prefer to go to a pub, but her friends didn’t listen. Belle shrugged and gave in. She didn’t have the energy to argue and, besides, it was Nick who was avoiding her, not the other way around.

‘Come on, Belle, cheer up! We’ll get a couple of margaritas into you and you’ll feel much better,’ Beatrice encouraged.

Belle had told her friends a sketchy outline of what had happened, caving in after they questioned her downcast expression and the dark circles under her eyes. As far as Beatrice and Larissa were concerned, Belle had had an unwise fling with a guy from her building.

‘Yeah, all you need is a drink or five and you’ll forget him completely,’ Larissa added, giggling as she batted her eyelids at the bouncer.

Belle sighed. Without meaning to, she had kind of painted Nick as having dumped her after they’d slept together. She hadn’t said exactly that, but her friends had jumped to that conclusion. It had been too difficult for Belle to properly explain what had happened. Not without going into all the details. Besides, Beatrice and Larissa were both non-magical people, so Belle couldn’t
really
explain anyway.

‘You know this isn’t going to work,’ Belle tried one last protest as the trio made their way through the Friday evening crowd to the bar.

‘Of course it is, silly,’ Larissa said, accidentally-on-purpose jostling a cute guy who was also waiting to order a drink. He looked over and smiled at her and then at Belle.

‘Hello, ladies,’ he said.

He was cute, Belle had to admit. Not as cute as Nick, of course, but still cute. Tawny brown hair, matching toffee-coloured eyes that crinkled in the corners when he smiled. Straight white teeth. Tall. Not as tall as Nick.

‘Hello, yourself.’ Larissa beamed up at him.

Belle steeled herself for the usual pattern. The guy would smile in response to Larissa and they’d start chatting. She’d be completely ignored and would then go wait with Beatrice to order her drinks. Until of course, Beatrice met someone too, who would also completely ignore Belle. Then Belle would sit in a corner, watching, until she couldn’t stand it any longer and had to leave.

Why had she agreed to come again?

‘I’m Larissa,’ Larissa said, holding out her hand to shake.

‘I’m Taylor,’ he said, taking her hand. He released it and looked over to Belle. ‘Hi, I’m Taylor. And you are?’ He leaned over to hold his hand out to her.

Belle almost fell over. ‘What?’ she said.

Larissa elbowed her sharply. ‘This is Belle,’ she said. And then in a whisper, ‘Come on, Belle, lift your game. This guy’s cute.’

‘Oh, uh, I’m, uh, Belle,’ Belle stammered, quickly grabbing his hand and letting it go again. When was the last time a guy had introduced himself to her in a bar? Tony. Tony was the last man who’d shown any interest in her. Not including Nick.

‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Belle,’ Taylor said. And then he did something even more unbelievable. He subtly positioned himself between the two women and turned towards Belle. Not Larissa. ‘What are you drinking?’ he asked.

Belle’s mouth hung open. She’d been on the receiving end of that move countless times, only every other time the guy turned to Larissa, or Beatrice. Not her.

Taylor quirked his mouth up on one side. ‘Cat got your tongue?’

Belle closed her mouth with a snap. ‘Um, drink,’ she said, giving herself time to come up with an answer. How hard was it? Come on, Belle! ‘I’d like a margarita,’ she said finally.

‘With salt or without?’

‘With.’

‘Ah. A woman after my own heart.’ Taylor pressed a hand to his chest.

‘Really?’

‘People who order margaritas without salt are just ordering a sweet, ordinary cocktail. It’s the salt that makes it different, that gives it life. Life should be both salty and sweet, don’t you agree?’ His eyes twinkled with humour and genuine interest as he smiled.

Belle liked this guy. He was good-looking, charming and friendly. He’d been so confident in his approach and was looking at her directly, in a way that telegraphed his interest without being sleazy or overbearing. There was a little flutter in her belly, a warmth and delight caused simply by the fact that
he
was interested in
her.
She’d never act on it, of course. Her heart was still too wrapped up in Nick. But that didn’t stop her feeling pleased to have this man’s attention.

‘I agree,’ she said. ‘Salty and sweet are essential ingredients for life. Like peanut butter and chocolate.’

‘Exactly.’ He grinned at her. ‘So, one margarita, coming up.’

A guy wanted to buy her a drink! Belle’s misery lifted just a notch. Only a notch, because the only way it could disappear were if the guy offering to buy her a drink was Nick. Belle remembered all those thoughts she’d had on that long walk after Nick had left her. She took in a breath and straightened her shoulders. She deserved to have men buy her drinks. She could buy this guy one in exchange. It didn’t have to go anywhere, it was just two people connecting and talking and oh, how nice it was to feel . . .
attractive
.

‘Thank you, that would be lovely,’ Belle answered.

A few moments later, Taylor was steering her through the crush of people towards a table near a giant TV screen showing the football game. Larissa and Beatrice had disappeared. Belle assumed they were standing somewhere watching and giggling. He placed a bottle of beer and a margarita with a salt-crusted rim on the table and gave her another of those charming smiles.

‘So Belle, do you live around here?’ he asked before taking a swig from his bottle of beer.

Belle sipped delicately at her cocktail. ‘Not far. A couple of blocks away in an old mansion that’s been converted into apartments. You?’

‘I’m a little further out, but a friend of mine lives nearby and lets me crash in his spare room occasionally.’

‘Good friend,’ she said, licking up some grains of salt that remained on her lips.

‘Absolutely.’ Taylor’s eyes had darkened a shade.

He asked her about her work and she asked him about his, finding out that he was a property developer. Belle noticed his watch and his clothes, and it was clear from those that Taylor was a wealthy man. Rich, cute, successful and friendly – she could do a lot worse. And if Nick really
was
never going to speak to her again . . .

‘Hey, pal.’ Someone walked up behind Taylor and clapped him on the shoulder. Taylor turned and returned the greeting to the dark-haired guy emerging from the crowd. ‘Hey. How’s things?’

Belle took advantage of Taylor’s distraction to quickly check her lipstick in the reflection of the panel of glass near the table. She looked fine. Cute, even. She pouted her lips a little more, trying for sultry. Instead, she looked half-witted. Returning her lips to their usual un-pouty state, she turned back to Taylor and all her breath left her lungs in an instant.

‘Belle, this is my friend Nick,’ Taylor said proudly. ‘Nick, this lovely young lady is Belle. She likes margaritas with salt.’

Nick stared at her.

‘Uh, buddy?’ Taylor prompted.

‘We’ve met,’ Nick managed in a strangled voice.

‘Oh?’ Taylor said. His eyes flicked between Nick and Belle. ‘
Oh
,’ he said again, only this time with inflection. ‘Damn.’

‘H-h-hi, Nick,’ Belle stammered.

‘Hi, Belle.’ He didn’t sound exactly pleased to see her.

Belle looked down at the table and gulped at her cocktail, taking two unwisely large mouthfuls. The damn salt had settled on her lips again and, worried about it messing up her lipstick, Belle quickly darted her tongue out to lick it off. By the time she’d returned her glass to the table and looked up again, both men were staring at her.

‘What?’ she asked, startled by their intense gaze.

‘Damn,’ Taylor muttered again, shaking his head. He blew out a breath and turned to Nick with a smile. He said something that sounded like ‘You owe me’. Then he smacked Nick on the shoulder, this time hard enough to force Nick to take a staggering step to recover his balance. ‘You two kids have a nice night, you hear?’ Taylor said jovially. ‘Belle, it was a pleasure. Enjoy your margarita.’

‘Thanks, Taylor, but —’ Unsure what had just happened, Belle broke off when Taylor spun on his heel and walked away from the table, leaving her and Nick alone.

There was an extended moment of silence.

‘I don’t think I’ve seen you here before,’ Nick said finally, just as Belle was beginning to squirm with discomfort.

‘I come here quite often with my friends,’ Belle said. But she wasn’t surprised he’d never noticed her there before. Until tonight, no man had.

‘So . . . how’s your week been?’ he asked, taking a swig from his beer and not quite looking at her.

‘Fine. You?’ Belle was beginning to get annoyed. If Nick didn’t want to talk to her, then why was he standing there? Why hadn’t he left before Taylor did? If he didn’t want her, then wasn’t she free to talk to any man she wanted to? Especially tonight, when there was actually one who wanted to talk to
her
?

‘I’ve been really busy. I’m . . . I’ve been away . . . on site. There’ve been problems with a project I’m working on right now.’

Was that his way of explaining that he’d been avoiding her? It didn’t really matter. Belle picked up her glass and stepped back from the table. ‘I’m sorry to hear that. Have a nice night, Nick.’

‘Belle, wait.’

His hand on her arm was enough to send a rush of desire over her. Her cheeks heated in remembrance of what his touch was capable of stirring within her body. Belle tamped it down with a mix of sadness, and irritation that he could so easily inflame her. ‘What?’ she asked, not bothering to hide her exasperation.

‘Belle, I don’t . . . I just . . .’

Belle frowned as a thought struck her. ‘Is something stopping you from talking to me again?’ She stepped closer to him and lowered her voice. ‘Because I’m still wearing the crystal.’

He gave her a lopsided smile. ‘No, nothing is stopping me. Except me.’

‘Huh?’

He shook his head. ‘I don’t know, Belle. I thought everything was clear. Then it wasn’t. And now I don’t know what to think.’

‘I didn’t cast a spell on you, Nick,’ Belle said, her voice quiet enough to ensure no bystanders could overhear, but with a steely thread of truth.

He didn’t say anything but his pained expression said he didn’t believe her.

Enough was enough. Belle picked up her margarita and drained every last drop in one huge salty, limey, tequila-y gulp. She shuddered as the drink burned down her throat.

‘Goodnight, Nick. See you around.’ Without waiting to hear his response, Belle headed for the door and for home. She couldn’t bring herself to find Beatrice or Larissa. They’d want explanations, then want to come home with her to commiserate, and she just needed to be alone.

Belle slammed each door that got in her way from the bar to the apartment building. She even stopped at a convenience store to buy some chocolate, just for the satisfaction of slamming the door as she walked in and out. Every step incensed her further.

In her apartment, she paced, becoming angrier and angrier. Not at Nick, but at life in general. Here she was, a successful, modern-day witch, who couldn’t for the life of her find and keep male company. It wasn’t fair! Belle fought the urge to smash things. Only her attachment to her belongings tempered a rage that threatened to consume her whole.

That stupid bar, filled with stupid people!

Stupid friends who dumped her for a quick roll in the hay!

Stupid men who never noticed her!

Stupid Taylor, who wasn’t man enough to stand up to his friend and claim Belle for the night!

Stupid Nick, who didn’t care enough to work things out!

The anger was so all-consuming that Belle didn’t stop to wonder where it was coming from. She didn’t pause to reflect that such a rage was completely out of character. As she paced and threw pillows and yelled impotently at the walls, she didn’t stop to think that perhaps she might be in the grip of some of the most powerful, primitive magic.

That maybe someone had cast a spell on
her
.

Nick watched Belle leave the bar with a sense of frustration. He’d spent the week dealing with practical, real-world matters like calculating window heights, cantilevers, and load-bearing walls. Then, as always, after five minutes with Belle, his every idea about the world had been turned inside out.

Magic.

Spells.

Really?

But how else could he explain it?

Nick knew he didn’t want to be outright now, but he took his time draining his beer, giving Belle a head start so that they wouldn’t run into each other on the way home. He needed time to think.

And yet, thinking was all he’d done since Belle had left his apartment. The sex had been incredible – the best of his life. The companionship and comfort he’d experienced in her presence had been something else entirely – at once filling him with a sense of
rightness
even as he struggled to understand it. All that was more than enough for him to deal with – but then there was this magic crap on top of it all.

Was he under some kind of spell? Was that why he felt this way about Belle?