“Thanks,” I said again, still completely amazed by the change in her personality, not that I was complaining, certainly. “I appreciate your business.”

  I waited for her to leave, but instead of packing up her dress and starting for the front door, she simply paused at my work table for a few seconds, not appearing to be in the hurry she’d mentioned earlier.

  She looked up at me. “Can I ask you something?” She seemed hesitant.

  “Fire away.”

  “You’re a witch… or at least, that’s what you call yourself and it does seem like you have some ability where enchantments and potions are concerned,” she started but then seemed to lose her train of thought.

  “Right.”

  “Well, I wanted to ask you something that might seem… odd.”

  “Okay.”

  “Did Ronda’s mother strike you as a little… strange or different?”

  I felt my stomach drop because Ronda’s mother had struck me as exactly that—different. I could still remember the way her energy seemed to vibrate around her, strumming through the air. Different, yes, even to the point of being some sort of supernatural creature potentially… “Strange?”

  “I mean… this is the first time I’ve actually ever met her. She lives on the East Coast and Ronda always goes out there to see her rather than the other way around.”

  “Okay.”

  “And… well, I just got this… weird feeling from her.” She took a deep breath. “It’s kind of hard to explain.”

  “Can you try?”

  She nodded. “It’s like she has this… bad energy or something around her, you know? Like every time I catch her looking at me, it looks like she’s plotting my death.” She laughed a little self-consciously.

  “Hmm,” I answered and even though I’d definitely noticed something off about the woman, for some reason, I decided to keep that fact to myself. I wasn’t sure why, but there was just a feeling within me that said I shouldn’t divulge anything. Maybe because I didn’t trust Gemma? Or maybe because I was careful in general and suspicious of most people? Probably both.

  Gemma nodded. “Sometimes I wonder if she’s upset about the wedding.”

  “Why would she be upset about the wedding?”

  She shrugged. “Winston and Ronda used to be high school sweethearts, back in Connecticut before they came out west to go to college. Once I met Winston, he and Ronda had been broken up for a year or so and we started dating.” She took a breath. “And I guess the rest is history.” She did that nervous little laugh again that made me wonder what in the world was going on with her.

  Hmm, now Ronda’s sad expressions whenever Gemma brought Winston up made sense. Clearly, Ronda wasn’t over him. I suddenly felt bad for her—she seemed to be a nice enough person and that was more than I could say for Gemma. Sometimes life’s unfairness was a bit of a bummer.

  “So, you think Ronda’s mom might have a grudge against you?”

  She shrugged again and gave me another weak smile. “Maybe?” She started to put the dress back into its garment bag. “I just thought I’d ask you whether you detected anything… supernatural, maybe, about Ronda’s mother.”

  I was surprised by how blunt the question was. “Supernatural?”

  She nodded. “I thought maybe you could detect that sort of thing.”

  “Why would you think she’s supernatural?”

  “She just… gives me the creeps and like I said, she has this… weird energy.”

  My guard was up though I couldn’t say why. “I didn’t notice anything,” I lied. Then I thought I might further press her. “Was there anything beyond her energy that made you think she was… supernatural, as you said?”

  Gemma paused for a moment and then shook her head. “Well, no, not exactly.” Then she laughed that uncomfortable laugh again. She finished zipping up the garment bag and lifted it by the hanger. “I just wanted to see if you’d picked up on anything about her?”

  “Can’t say that I did,” I answered.

  She smiled. “Well, thanks again, Wanda. I’m really happy with the dress and I can’t wait to walk down the aisle wearing it. And I’m really happy to know you’re going to come to the wedding.”

  I smiled back at her, still completely amazed to see this side of her—and for some reason, I didn’t trust it. “Thank you.”

  “I’ll see you at the wedding.”

  I nodded. “See you at the wedding.”

  “Please make sure you come! Don’t forget!”

  The way she said the words threw me because I could feel the truth in them. For whatever reason, Gemma absolutely wanted me to come to her wedding. It was very strange and then some.

  As soon as she left, I sank into the chair at my worktable, but I didn’t check out the security system again. My mind was elsewhere—namely on Gemma’s visit and how completely out of the blue and odd the whole conversation was, not to mention her complete personality 180.

  Was Gemma’s Bridezilla act some kind of charade? But, why would she go to such lengths to be so horrible to the women she supposedly cared about, women who were in her wedding? It made no sense.

  Maybe she wasn’t so bad after all?

  But, I couldn’t shake the feeling that such wasn’t the extent of the story. People didn’t just change their personalities and become night and day different from one day to the next.

  So, what was going on with Gemma? And why had she asked me such a strange question about whether Ronda’s mother was supernatural? Whatever was going on with Gemma, I didn’t like it.

  Chapter Eleven

  After dressing for Gemma’s wedding, I walked out of my bedroom and nearly ran headlong into Astrid as she thumped down the hall in her oversized unicorn slippers and pink, terry-cloth bathrobe. She stood in front of her doorway and her mouth dropped open as she took me in from head to toe.

  I was all done up in a form-fitting, electric blue satin dress that hugged my curves and mermaided out around my ankles. The dress was cut low and my cleavage looked like it was threatening to jump. I’d paired the dress with matching blue, stiletto Manolo Blahniks and I’d left my hair long, though I’d curled the ends.

  “Holy Guacamole!” Astrid nearly yelled. Then she cat-called, or did her best.

  “Put your eyeballs back in your skull.” I grumbled, walking past her, and frowning all the while. I just had this weird feeling about the whole wedding—something that felt akin to dread, though I wasn’t sure why. Maybe I just disliked Gemma that much.

  “Are you trying to give Lorcan a heart attack… I mean, if he had a heart that could attack?”

  “No, I’m not.”

  She eyed me narrowly. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure!”

  “Well, then it’s going to be an accidental heart attack. I mean…” She dropped her eyes from my head to my bust. “Your boobs look like a shelf—like I could set a bottle of Coke on them.”

  I glanced down and had to admit she was right. “Maybe I should wear a shawl or jacket or something.”

  The weather was actually nice—it had been hot for most of the day.

  Astrid shook her head. “No way should you cover those puppies up!” she said with a laugh, clearly enjoying my disquiet. “I only hope I’ll be armed like that when I’m your age!”

  I turned to face her with a frown and my long, black hair whipped around my shoulders, the waves of curls bouncing. In general, I always tried to look presentable when I worked at my store, wearing the high-fashion clothes I’d been lucky enough to purchase when I was still in the coven. I also never left home without makeup and a touch of perfume, but tonight’s ensemble was… a little more over the top, if I did say so myself.

  I faced Astrid. “You’re almost seventeen, so I’m trusting you not to burn the house to the ground.”

  “Oh, I can handle an evening on my own. You don’t have to worry about me.” She tailed me to the front hall where I picked up my Ferragamo handbag and checked the contents as a firm knock came from the door. Striding to it, I opened it wide to find Lorcan standing there.

  Upon seeing me, he wore his usual up-to-no-good smile but a split second later, it disappeared, to be replaced with wide-eyed wonder. Then that expression faded as the look of lust completely overtook his eyes. His gaze traveled from my face, settled on my bust for at least three seconds, then traveled down my rounded stomach to my satin-clad legs, where it settled on my hips for a few beats before he returned his gaze to my eyes.

  “Good Lord woman, are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

  I could hear Astrid laughing in the background.

  “No! I’m not trying to give you or anyone else a heart attack!”

  Now it was my turn to take stock of him with his black tailored suit that hugged his form expertly well. Beneath the black coat, he wore a gray dress shirt and a red tie. With his blond hair and sparkling eyes, he was handsome and then some. But, I tried not to notice.

  “Wanda, aren’t you going to compliment Lorcan on his appearance?” Astrid demanded from behind me.

  I felt myself color, but kept my eyes on Lorcan. “You look nice.”

  His eyes glided down my curves. “I look acceptable. You look sensational.”

  “That’s what I said,” Astrid chimed in, appearing directly beside me. “Don’t you think she looks like a movie star? And don’t you think I could balance a Coke on her cleavage?”

  They both studied my boobs.

  “I was thinking more along the lines of balancing a crystal wine glass filled with a vintage 1787 Château Lafite,” Lorcan answered as Astrid giggled.

  “Neither one of you are balancing anything on my boobs,” I managed as I chopped the air with one hand as if to say I wanted to cut the conversation off, which I did. “Go back inside, you,” I said to Astrid. “And don’t eat all the ice cream.”

  “I won’t.”

  “And don’t stay up too late.”

  “I won’t.”

  “And don’t open the door unless it’s me.”

  “I won’t.”

  “And if you need anything, call Poppy.”

  “Okay.”

  “She’s quite capable of caring for herself, my dear,” Lorcan finally cut in and laughing, offered me his arm. “Shall we?”

  “We shall.” I took his arm, shot Astrid another significant glance, and walked out into the night.

  ***

  “I’m surprised you accepted the invitation to this wedding,” Lorcan remarked on the way to the venue. I was seated beside him in his newest vehicular acquisition—a silver Porsche 911 Targa 4s that had apparently cost him over $100,000. Men and their toys…

  “I’m surprised I accepted it, too,” I answered on a sigh.

  “Why did you?”

  I shrugged. “I’m not exactly sure. I mean… I have to admit I’m curious to see if my enchantments work on a marriage that I’m fairly sure is doomed from the getgo.”

  “Tsk, tsk, Wanda, dear. Just because you’re irretrievably immune to the charms of love doesn’t mean this marriage is doomed.”

  I looked over at him, one eyebrow rising into the air. “Ha! If you met the bride, you’d agree with me.”

  “Is she so horrible?”

  I laughed again. “You wait and see.” But, I had to wonder if Gemma would be on her best behavior for her wedding like she was at my store. Guess we’d soon find out.

  Lorcan was quiet for a moment, but that little smirk of his was still present and accounted for. “I believe it was a different reason that led to your accepting the invitation.”

  “And what reason would that be?”

  “Because you wanted to see me dressed in my best and you were quite excited to parade me around as your date.”

  I turned to look at him but didn’t say anything for a few seconds. He just beamed right back at me. “You know, sometimes I’m actually amazed by the size of your exaggerated ego.”

  “One should always love oneself.”

  “Well, you take that to extremes.”

  “Don’t you love yourself, my dear?”

  I nodded. “I do, but I also believe in having some shred of humility.”

  “Well, perhaps I would not appear quite so… pleased with myself if you were not so stingy with your compliments.”

  “Stingy with my compliments?” I asked, my voice rising. “I told you you looked nice.”

  “Nice, my dear, is not a term any man wants to hear from the woman he is wooing.”

  I frowned at him and crossed my arms against my chest because his gaze had a way of continuously returning to my cleavage. “You aren’t wooing me.”

  He chuckled. “I have been wooing you from the moment you moved to Haven Hollow.” Then he chuckled even louder. “And if you are trying to dissuade my ardent appreciation of your assets by closing your arms across your chest, I would point out that doing so only further exaggerates the fullness of your love balloons.”

  “Love balloons?”

  I shook my head and tried to keep the smile off my lips. In general, it was better not to encourage Lorcan. Truly, though, my mind was on his previous comment, about him wooing me.

  “What does wooing mean, anyway?” I already knew, of course, but I wanted to make sure it meant the same thing to me that it did to him. Just to… ensure we were on the same page.

  “Courting.”

  “Dating?”

  “Dating.”

  “Doesn’t dating require the involvement of both people?”

  “Of course,” he answered on a laugh.

  “Well, then we aren’t dating.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “Because I never agreed to date you.” I looked over at him to find him smirking at me. There was something comfortable in pretending to hold onto the last vestiges of indifference I still had. “And, besides, you never asked me to date you.”

  “Oh, asking is just a formality, my dear. No one bothers with asking.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “I’m not so sure about that.” I wasn’t sure what I was getting at—did I want him to ask me to date him? Did I even want to date him? Did I want to be so… clinical about the whole subject?

  He took a deep breath and there was silence in the car. Feeling somewhat called out and for a good point, I turned to face him. “I think… I think you look very handsome tonight, Lorcan,” I said and then raised my eyebrows as I smiled and tried to push aside the conversation about dating for the time being. “How was that?”

  “Very good, my dear, and much better than ‘nice’.” He reached out and covered my hand with his, where it sat in my lap. I allowed him. “And thank you.”

  I nodded. “You’re welcome.”

  “And I appreciate the dress you wore for me.”

  “I didn’t wear it for you.”

  He cocked an eyebrow at me and gave me an expression that made my insides completely melt. The man was sexy and then some. But, the only problem was—he knew it and then some. “Then is there another fellow at this wedding of whom I should be aware?”

  “No.”

  “Then for whom did you wear it, if not for me?”

  “You are so annoying,” I managed, frowning at him. He grinned even more so.

  “Answer the question.”

  “Myself! I wore it for myself!”

  “Did you?”

  “Yes!”

  “You wore it for yourself?”

  “Yes! Because I love feeling like a shrink-wrapped sausage—like I can hardly breathe, let alone walk. Not to mention how great it feels to have my boobs yanked up to my chin.”

  “Well, I must admit, you are the most fetching shrink-wrapped sausage I have ever seen.”

  I looked at him and couldn’t stop my laugh as it escaped my mouth. There was just something about Lorcan that always made me want to smile and laugh.

  “I daresay, I should love to play the role of the sauerkraut upon your shrink-wrapped sausage.”

  “Ugh,” I managed, shaking my head. “You’ve returned to undead-penis-head status.”

  “Regardless, I believe I shall ask you the question again, my dear. For whom did you wear your finest sausage casing?”

  “I wore it for you!” I nearly yelled at him before shaking my head and facing forward again. “There! Are you happy now?” I demanded, smiling.

  He chuckled and bringing my hand to his mouth, kissed it. “More than you know.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Lorcan pulled up in front of an Italianate hotel called the Palazzo Avino which was on the outskirts of Haven Hollow and located up a long and winding road. The palatial hotel sat alone amid a vast expanse of hillside, with a view that made me want to return again sometime.

  As soon as Lorcan put the Porsche into park, a valet came up to take it. I was halfway surprised that Lorcan allowed someone else to drive his prized possession. But, what was interesting about Lorcan was that he didn’t appear to care much for money. Money and material objects seemed expendable to him, no matter their cost. And maybe that was a good way to be? I wasn’t sure. It seemed better than hoarding every dollar that came in, all the while wondering where the next would come from.

  After Lorcan assisted me out of the car and walked me up the path leading to the hotel, we made our way inside. Once we walked into the enormous lobby, I looked up, taking in the thirty-foot ceilings, ornate Victorian furniture, and multiple crystal chandeliers. A small orchestra played Vivaldi’s Four Seasons from the far corner of the lobby. Seconds later, tuxedoed ushers escorted us through the lobby and into a large room at the back of the hotel, showing us to our seats.

  Velvet cream curtains covered the numerous floor to ceiling windows. Beyond the windows was an arresting view of the valley below the hotel. A cream colored, velvet expanse of cloth draped a table in the front of the room and made it look like an altar. The table was near overflowing with flower arrangements of all kinds—light blue hydrangeas, pink and white peonies, roses of every color of the rainbow. Candelabras and statues of cherubs and Renaissance ladies added another layer of over-the-top to the décor.