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.’

She did not smile back. ‘I thought you were opening an account.’

‘Well, I can do that, too. I just didn’t want to miss you again. I’d really like to talk to you.’

Dee made it a point to open the drawer that held her paperwork. ‘And I really don’t want to talk to you. Exactly what kind of account would you like, Mr James? We have several excellent ones to choose from.’

‘Don’t all those bobby pins hurt your head?’

Dee caught herself before she instinctively reached up to check her chignon. It was her work hair. Clean and tidy and out of the way. Her hair was long and curly and bright red, the banner of an Irish witch, Aunt Xan had always told her. So it was always a battle of wills for control. And yes, the pins did hurt her head. It took a lot to subdue all that unruliness.

‘Oddly enough, Mr James, that doesn’t answer my question. What kind of account did you say?’

How could that grin get brighter? He leaned back in his chair as if he were in his living room. ‘You pick one for me. I’m sure you know better than I.’

Dee sighed, her headache suddenly worse. ‘I really do have work to do, Mr James. If you aren’t here on bank business, I’d have to ask you to excuse me.’

He pulled a checkbook from his breast pocket. ‘But I am. I told you. I’d like to open an account. With… will fifty thousand do?’

Dee almost choked on her tongue. ‘Fifty… yes.’

Her hands actually trembled as she separated out the papers for the interest-bearing checking account – with overdraft protection – and passed them over. And you’d like to transfer that from your bank in Chicago?’

He smiled, an eyebrow lifted. ‘You do research, too, do you?’

‘It’s why God invented Google.’ She pulled out a Third Virginia Bank pen and laid it on top of the forms. ‘From what I’ve learned you are a book researcher, which must pay better than I thought, if you have fifty thousand dollars to throw around. You work for the author Mark Delaney, which is impressive, as he actually does make quite a bit of money and has quite a few literary awards for a horror writer.’

‘Alternative history. Please. And just to set the record straight, you were right to think that researchers don’t make much money. The money’s Mark’s.’

Dee shrugged. ‘You have no wants or warrants, you rent your apartment, and you have current licenses for a motorcycle and a Jeep. I’m still waiting on your credit report. All told, though, pretty boring.’

He grinned up from where he was signing his check with a flourish. ‘Actually, not boring at all. I get to go places other people don’t and talk to people I’d never get to meet and learn things I’ve always wanted to know. Since Mr Delaney doesn’t like to mingle, I get to do it for him. I even get to meet lovely people like you and your sisters. It may not be romantic, but I’m having fun.’

She bet he was. If the reactions she’d seen in town were any indication, he could get a rock to talk to him. And he’d probably enjoy it. For a few moments, she allowed herself to actively envy him. She was stuck here in Office Space central until the day both Lizzie and Mare were safe and independent, and she could learn to control her unfortunate tendency to morph. Researching alternative histories suddenly sounded exciting as hell.

As if to remind herself again of where she belonged, she tapped the form in front of him. ‘I can’t imagine why you would want to open a new checking account for the short time you’ll be here, Mr James, but this should probably be adequate for you.’

He ripped the check off and handed it over. ‘Who said I was going to be here a short time, Ms. O’Brien?’

She tried to stare him down. ‘I did. I’m afraid there’s simply nothing here for you.’

‘You don’t know what I need, though.’

This time she glared. ‘Whatever it is, I don’t have it.’

Oh, crap. Had she really said that? She flushed again, a mottled red that was sincerely unattractive on a redhead, while he made a slow perusal of her, tucked away beneath her boring gray suit and bobby pins.

‘Oh, I wouldn’t say that, Miss O’Brien. Are you sure I can’t talk you into dinner?’

She did her best to reclaim her dignity. I’m sure, Mr James.’

‘What about a drink? Surely a drink won’t overset the delicate balance of of the universe.’

A drink. With Danny James. Who was he kidding?

‘Mr James,’ she said, ready to deal him the setdown of his life, when something tickled her nose and she shivered hard, once. ‘I’d love to have a drink.’

Dee wasn’t sure who was more surprised. She did know who was more appalled.


This day was going from bad to worse, Lizzie thought unhappily, staring up at the now visible Elric. Charles’s appearance had been even less welcome than the stranger’s – she’d already been rethinking her precipitous decision to marry him, and seeing him with Elric’s dark, unreadable eyes made her choice seem even more absurd.

‘That’s my fiance,’ she said, unnecessarily.

‘Not for long,’ Elric said, turning and heading back into the kitchen, obviously expecting her to follow. She glanced at the door longingly for a moment, and as if on cue the lock clicked. ‘He’s not your type.’

‘I’m not going to discuss my love life with you,’ she said stiffly. She began scooping up the silverware from the table, including the yellow spoon, and dumped it all in the sink.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Washing dishes,’ she said without turning around. Maybe if she just ignored him he’d go away. ‘We have a deal, my sisters and I. I take care of the household, they bring in the money.’

‘You don’t strike me as the Susie Homemaker type.’

‘I’m not. I like to cook – that way I can mix things together and make something without it exploding or catching fire. Traditional jobs are a bit of a… challenge for me. Things change form when I don’t expect it, and I have a hard time explaining.’

He came up behind her – she didn’t have to turn to feel him, she didn’t have to have any special gifts. He was everywhere. ‘The dishes can wait. I want you to tell me why you’re marrying that weak-minded bully.’

‘He’s not-’

‘You’ve got him wrapped around your finger. I was impressed – that kind of mind magic is very advanced, and doesn’t usually go along with transmutationary gifts. Though maybe that’s why you can control him when everything else in your life is out of your control.’

She turned at that one, glaring at him. Or tried to, but every time she looked at him he seemed to shift a little, those streams of color distracting her. ‘You’re a psychiatrist as well as a charlatan?’ she demanded. ‘Go analyze someone else.’

He was unfazed by her insult. ‘Did I touch a nerve, Elizabeth Alicia? You don’t need a man telling you you’re a useless idiot.’

‘That’s what you’ve been doing ever since you materialized in my kitchen,’ she snapped, turning back to the dishes.

There was silence for a moment, and she wondered if she’d finally managed to puncture that calm certainty.

‘You have a point,’ he conceded finally. ‘But in my case I think you’re too smart and too gifted to be making stupid mistakes and endangering yourself and those around you. Your boyfriend seems to think you’re useless. What in the world made you think you should marry him?’

‘I told you, I want a normal life, one without magic’

‘I think I can safely assure you that a life with your future husband will be completely devoid of any sort of magic.’ His voice was dry.

She dumped the silver and yellow flatware into the drainer and turned to look at him. Again, that odd little pinging feeling inside – as if her hormones had shortcircuited.

Her hormones had nothing to do with the stranger who’d shown up in her kitchen, she reminded herself sternly. In fact, her hormones were barely operating at a normal level, despite the strange, erotic dreams that had been tormenting her the last few nights. All those had managed to do was ensure she had a lousy night’s sleep, and right now she’d had about as much of the mysterious Elric as she could handle.

‘You want to leave,’ she said, her voice soothing. ‘You want to forget you ever found us.’