And if he had thought about it he would have sworn there was a very un-Mae-like hint of mirth in her voice.

Chapter Three.

"Don't forget we have a town meeting tonight," Blair reminded Stasi as they started fixing dinner. Her earlier snit with Stasi was over. She could never remain angry at her best friend for long, even if she privately thought Stasi had lost her mind for what she'd done to Carrie Anderson. But she was also impressed with her friend for coming up with such an innovative way of dealing with the overbearing woman.

"I thought the Haunted Moonstone Lake festivities were already agreed upon. It's almost the end of September and there's no time to start setting up something new." Stasi added a dusting of paprika to the scalloped potatoes she had pulled from the oven. "I swear, every year, they discuss the matter to death then go on and do the same thing they've done in the past. Orange flickering bulbs will be set in the streetlamps so they'll look like flames, Arnie will portray Old Miner Caleb roaming the town looking for the fiend who stole his gold." She spooned the potatoes on to their plates next to the pork chops Blair had cooked up. "And Miss Priscilla, our ghostly schoolteacher, will tell stories at the old schoolhouse on the edge of town."

"And we'll all wear costumes." Blair wrinkled her nose. "At least they agreed we all don't have to wear period clothing the way we have in the past. Although, I bet Agnes Pierce will bring it up again tonight."

Stasi nodded. "From the way she acts you'd think that Agnes was Moonstone Lake's mayor, instead of her husband." She unconsciously rubbed her b.u.t.t. Floyd Pierce was well known for his habit of sneaking in a discreet pinch to the posterior. He left Stasi alone after he received a shock equivalent to sticking his finger in a light socket when he pinched her b.u.t.t at last summer's Fourth of July picnic. She smiled at the memory of the heavyset man falling into a mud puddle that just happened to be nearby. Oh yes, that was a fun day.

"Even if I do choose to wear a period costume for a day, I am not wearing a corset," Blair declared. "Those things hurt. It took years for the dents to go away after they finally weren't necessary anymore."

"I hated the constriction, but I loved how feminine we looked." Stasi looked down at her size Bs and recalled how very well uplifted they had been when she wore a body cinching corset. She just loved lingerie-it was an art form for her.

"Just as long as Agnes doesn't suggest that we dress up as the Wicked Witch of the West and Glinda, the good witch." Blair playfully stuck her finger in her mouth, miming a gagging motion.

Witches and the various other preternatural creatures that inhabited the world had slowly become known among the human population, but they still pretty much kept to themselves. There were human factions that didn't like the idea of supernatural beings living among them, while others embraced them. Stasi and Blair had lived off and on in Moonstone Lake since the late 1840s, when the community sprang up almost overnight as a mining camp. At first they'd hidden their ident.i.ties by going away for a while and then returning in the guise of a daughter, niece, or granddaughter. Many of the longtime residents had known them from childhood. Once they had found out exactly what Stasi and Blair were, they were still inclined to accept them-especially since the two witches did what they could to protect the small mountain town from developers who wanted to raze the area and turn it into just another resort. It helped that Stasi and Blair didn't overtly display their powers and made sure their monthly trips to the lake at full moon went un.o.bserved. They also discouraged anyone from seeking spells from them. Stasi might add a hint of a love charm to the sachets she tucked into her customer's bags, and Blair enjoyed her skill with revenge spells, but she kept everything low-key; nothing more dangerous than a nasty itch or a bad smell or an ingeniously designed run of allergic reactions or minor pratfalls.

They loved their town and their lives, and even if men under the age of fifty weren't too plentiful-except for tourists-that was fine with the witches, since they weren't looking for permanent entanglements anyway. If they had ever cared to be honest about their actual ages, they were far older than Abel Ransome, spry at ninety-four, even with eyegla.s.ses thicker than the bottom of old-fashioned c.o.ke bottles.

The two sat down at the table with their plates while Bogie floated upside down underneath with his mouth open in hopes something might drop his way.

"Too bad someone won't come up with an idea other than haunted Moonstone Lake," Stasi said.

"The town is a 160-year-old mining town, originally famous for its brothel and gambling hall. What do you think?" Blair nibbled on her dinner. "And Agnes so loves playing the grande dame with her library talks, afternoon teas-by reservation only, of course-and the midnight ghost walk and Halloween Dance."

Stasi sighed. "Maybe she'll come up with something new this year."

"We can wish."

Stasi tugged her wool cap down over her ears against the early evening chill as she hurried down the sidewalk.

"I don't know why Blair couldn't have waited five minutes for me," she muttered, hurrying down the sidewalk in the direction of the town hall.

With her head down, she didn't see the large obstacle until it was too late.

"Oof!" She looked up and stared into Trev's blue eyes and d.a.m.ning red hearts over his head. He instinctively gripped her arms so she wouldn't fall, but she quickly stepped back, forcing him to drop his hands.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"Fine." She was positive she'd just swallowed a load of bubbles.

"Look, I'm not trying to make life difficult for you," he began.

"You are and that's fine. It's your job." She tried not to get swallowed up in those deep blue eyes, which were looking at her with an expression she couldn't identify. "Just as my being the defendant means I'm not going to make it easy for you."

Perfect. A few residents who were also hurrying to the town meeting had slowed down and were eying them curiously. Stasi hoped she could blame her blushes on the cold night air instead of Trev's close proximity.

"I-uh-I have to go," she muttered, yet she didn't move an inch.

He c.o.c.ked an eyebrow, not caring that they were the center of attention. "Would you have time for a cup of coffee? I was just going to get some," he asked.

Stasi was suddenly conscious of the ends of her hair sticking out every which way from under the knit cap she'd jammed on her head, and her nose was probably a lovely shade of red from the cold. Not to mention her cheeks were burning. "Town meeting. Very important we all be there on time," she added, deliberately raising her voice so their small audience would get the message. Luckily, they did and continued on down the street. She pushed past him, aware down to her toes of his solid build, the breadth of his shoulders, the intent expression on his handsome face.

Trev wanted to persuade her to stay, but he could see this wasn't the time. She looked so d.a.m.n cute in that dark pink knit cap with tendrils of hair drifting in the cold air, her face glowing. He walked to his car, but not without a quick backwards glance at Stasi that showed she looked just as good going as she did coming. She was practically running toward the large building at the end of the street, with those shimmering red hearts dancing above her head.

Wizards and witches don't mix.

"Old wives' tale," he muttered to himself. "Especially when the witch is cute, and charming even when she sees me as the enemy, and there's something more than magickal about her. I'm definitely going to have to find out more, and without Mae's help or interference."

"Good going, Stasi," she mumbled to herself as she climbed the steps to the town hall. "You could at least have sounded more coherent. He must think you're an idiot." No, he doesn't. He was very interested in you. Just like you're interested in him. Wizard or not, the man is hot stuff! Go for it! She resisted the urge to clap her hands over her ears. It wouldn't have helped, since the voice was inside her head.

"And how wonderful that Halloween falls on Sat.u.r.day this year, so that we can make our annual dance even more spectacular!" Agnes Pierce, a short woman in her sixties who resembled a plump partridge in a fuchsia wool suit with black piping, stood at the podium while her husband, the honorable mayor, snoozed-and snored-in a chair in the rear. "The members of the decorations committee have been busy little bees coming up with new ideas, and the festival committee has thought up a wonderful legend for this year. It's a truly frightening story about the death of a miner who now haunts the town looking for his murderer. I believe Wilson Carruthers will be playing the part of the dead miner." She indicated a white-haired man with a bushy beard who stood up and dipped his head. "Marva, would you like to come up and tell us the committee's ideas?" She looked out at the small group scattered throughout the room that made up the town hall/community center.

Stasi had always privately viewed the red velvet curtains on the stage as more than a tad tacky, and right now they clashed terribly with Agnes's suit. She would have loved to coax the plump woman into both a suitable foundation garment and an outfit that wasn't straight out of the 1960s. At the moment all she needed was a pillbox hat to finish the look.

The large two-story building was touted as the town's historic Gold Rush saloon and brothel. Only Stasi and Blair remembered the origins of the structure's notorious history-a high-flying madam named Grubstake Lil who held a double-barrel shotgun in one hand, had her other palm out for the money, and made sure her bartenders were serving only watered-down whiskey. Gambling was the second favorite pastime, and there were no second chances for a cheater. Merely a spot with a view on Boot Hill. No miner in his right mind went up against the ironed-willed woman or he risked losing his favorite body part. It was no surprise that Lil died a very wealthy woman.

"Floyd's the lucky one," Blair muttered, as she and Stasi shifted in their chairs, growing more uncomfortable with each pa.s.sing moment as they listened to Agnes drone on about her plans for the upcoming holiday. Blair had snagged them two chairs in the back row. Unfortunately, the first few speakers had been more long-winded than usual. "At least Marva's reports are generally short and sweet. Color me happy on that."

Stasi looked at her friend, whose attention was focused on a man seated near the front, directly in their line of sight. His faded blue plaid flannel shirt was open over a khaki T-shirt tucked into jeans that looked molded to his body. His black hair was thick and had a slight wave to it as he impatiently pushed it out of his face.

"Blair, you're drooling," she murmured.

"Not even close," she replied in a voice too soft for anyone to overhear. "More like imagining him wearing his tool belt and nothing else."

Stasi looked down at her lap to hide her grin. Blair had set her sights on the town's hunky handyman more than a year ago and so far, she had failed in her attempts to w.a.n.gle even a coffee date. Jake was willing to come in and build new shelves for her and he'd even fixed their building's outside stairs, but alas, that wasn't enough for Blair. She was presently plotting-uh-planning what she could next hire him to do for her. Stasi's money was on Blair, since when the witch was on a mission she never failed. Just like the Canadian Mounted Police, she always got her man.

Stasi looked for Mrs. Benedict. The gray-haired widow sat near the front pointedly ignoring Stan Chalmers, who sat next to her. Every time he leaned over to whisper something in her ear, she turned away. Stasi hid a smile. Mrs. Benedict wasn't going to make it easy for her suitor to get back in her good graces after his defection to the bakery.

"And lastly, we antic.i.p.ate our haunted town will generate more tourism this year than we have in the past. We do hope all the business owners will partic.i.p.ate by wearing period costumes as in the mid-eighteen hundreds." Marva directed her arrow-like gaze straight at Stasi and Blair, bringing both witches back to what was going on.

"We always wear costumes during October, Marva," Blair piped up. "It's just with my shop offering retro merchandise from all time periods, I like to cover all the decades instead of just the Gold Rush period."

Marva smiled thinly. "Which you can do all the other months of the year, can't you, dear?" Problem summarily dismissed, she turned to the rest of the group. "Now, we'd also like some volunteers to help us with the refreshments for the dance."

"Why is so much of this coming up this late?" Blair muttered. "We're usually discussing this ad nauseam in August."

"Marva had her gallbladder surgery then," Stasi whispered. "She refused to hand over her duties to anyone else while she recovered and insisted this could be done in the one meeting."

"They want a costume? Fine, I'll give them just what they want," Blair muttered. "I'll wear those pajamas with the trap door in the back and borrow Fluff and Puff."

Stasi covered her mouth in an unsuccessful attempt to hold back her giggle. The magickal bunny slippers hadn't been too welcome in Moonstone Lake since the day they'd slipped into Floyd's precious Escalade and left bunny droppings everywhere.

A silver-haired woman seated in front of them, whom they knew to be a good friend of Agnes', turned around to direct a frown at them. Blair mouthed sorry! while Stasi offered an apologetic smile.

"Poppy and I are only too happy to help out with refreshments." Reed Palmer stood up. More than one woman smiled at his tall figure. He was nattily attired in dark slacks, a white shirt with faint green stripes, and a dark green v-necked sweater, and his dark auburn hair gleamed under the lights. He may have appeared to be every woman's dream, but there were a couple of witches who didn't see him that way. "We can make up all sorts of holiday themed treats for the dance."

Marva beamed her thanks and went on to other matters.

Fully aware that Reed's gaze had turned to her before he sat down, Stasi kept her eyes straight ahead. Almost from the moment of his arrival in the small town, the bakery owner had let it be known to Stasi he was more than a little interested and had tried more than once to get her to go out with him. She never liked hurting anyone's feelings, but she was ready to flat out tell him to leave her the h.e.l.l alone.

She didn't know why she disliked the man. There was nothing she could point to, there was just something about him that bothered her. She knew Blair would have no problem letting him know she wasn't interested, but Stasi was always afraid of hurting someone's feelings. She hadn't dated in some time, mostly because no man had attracted her interest.

But that didn't stop Reed from heading straight for Stasi at the snack table after the meeting.

"Must be nice to have a persistent admirer," Blair murmured with a wicked grin as she made a quick turn of her own in the direction of Jake Harrison.

"Some friend you are." Stasi's dour mutter quickly turned into a smile as she spun around when her name was called. She grabbed her coffee cup with both hands to keep the hot liquid from sloshing over her hands.

"It's good to see you, Stasi." Reed's smile tended to trip the ladies' hearts, but Stasi was happy to be immune to the man's charm. "You look lovely tonight."

I'm wearing a sweater that's more than ten years old, my jeans are ripped in the knees, and I have on hiking boots that should have been tossed in the trash years ago. Not to mention I'm wearing a ponytail that makes me look like I'm still in high school and I left off all makeup but lip balm. "Thank you, Reed; words every woman loves to hear."

He bent his head down toward hers. "I was able to obtain tickets to the Bon Jovi concert playing down at the casino next weekend, and I hoped you might like to go with me." His teeth flashed white.

She rubbed her nose to stop the tickling sensation she always felt when Reed got too close to her. She wasn't sure what cologne he wore, but she always felt the need to sneeze anytime Reed moved into her personal s.p.a.ce.

"I'm so sorry, Reed, but Blair and I have plans for this weekend," she lied without one ounce of guilt. "We have company coming soon and we need all our free time to prepare for them."

If she hadn't been looking at him directly she would have missed the flash of what she swore was fury in his forest-green eyes.

What's he so mad about? I hate lies and I'm having to give him a whopper. If anything, I should be mad at him for making me lie! she rationalized.

"If I'd had more notice I could have rearranged things, but I can't leave Blair to do all the work herself." She started feeling a nasty pinch under her arm. If Reed hadn't been quick enough to grab her coffee, it would have spilled on both of them. He moved it to the table where it sat out of danger. She mentally zapped a stinging pinch back to Blair.

"Since my sister would feel the same way, I can understand."

"Reed." A woman with auburn hair that positively shimmered under the lights stepped up and placed her hand on his arm. The look she flashed Stasi felt like a challenge, although Stasi wasn't sure why.

"Rhetta, this is Stasi Romanov. She's one of our local shop owners, along with her friend Blair. Stasi, this is my twin sister, Amaretto. Rhetta for short."

"Yes, I've heard of you." Rhetta's smile was borderline glacial.

And I'm sure not one word was good and I just bet you're not too happy that your brother is pursuing me, either. Stasi's smile gave away nothing of her thoughts. "I'm very pleased to meet you. I know Poppy was happy you would be visiting."

Rhetta turned to her brother. "Agnes wants to talk to you."

Reed nodded. He paused before he moved away with his twin. "I don't give up easily." His smile was supposed to make it a tease, but Stasi felt as if she was being stalked.

She breathed a sigh of relief once she was alone.

"These cookies are so good. I don't know what Reed and his sister put in them, but I swear I have more energy after I have a few of these." Marva bustled up and set several oatmeal chocolate chip cookies on her plate. She arched a questioning eyebrow at Stasi.

Stasi shook her head. "I already had a couple." She wondered how many more lies she'd be telling before the evening was over.

"Then you have much better willpower than I do," Marva chuckled. "I don't know how you can stop."

She paused long enough to pick up a cinnamon m.u.f.fin. "Roger! We need to talk about the play!" she called out, hurrying after her prey.

Stasi picked up her coffee and sipped the hot brew while she watched the byplay between Blair and Jake. Blair moved forward and Jake moved back.

"Why do I feel as if I'm looking at me and Reed?" she murmured. "It's not just Reed, I don't want anyone."

As if her words triggered the sight, dancing red hearts seemed to flash before her eyes. And if that wasn't bad enough, she could clearly see Trevor Barnes standing beneath the hearts in all his glorious splendor. She closed her eyes tightly, but the image only became more intense. Stasi swallowed the squeak that threatened to erupt even as the coffee turned to acid in her throat.

I should have sicced Cupid on Carrie. He never likes anyone s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g up their love lives, and I bet he could have done a real number on her.

Trev didn't like the unsettling feeling that was churning his stomach as he drove back to LA the next day. He preferred his life sane and orderly, and right now it didn't feel like that. He soon reached the parking garage below the high-rise building in Century City that housed the law offices of Grimm, Barnes, Conover, and Fisteen. While the centuries-old business didn't openly advertise themselves as wizards-after all, wizards weren't actively trolling for business-it wasn't a state secret, either. Anyone making an appointment knew the senior partners only appeared in Wizards' Court, while a few of the a.s.sociates dealt with mortal cases, and any dealings between supernaturals and mortals.

He drove into the garage, pulled the Jag into his reserved parking s.p.a.ce, and headed for the express elevator that served the penthouse offices. He'd had a leisurely dinner at the resort the night before, followed by a couple of hours flirting with a s.e.xy brunette in the bar. He'd been sorely tempted to ask her to spend the night with him, but found he couldn't voice the words. Instead, he slept alone.

No surprise that Mae greeted him in the reception area. He never questioned the fact that his a.s.sistant always knew when he was in the building. He called it part of her charm. She held out a large, steaming cup of coffee to him. He accepted the coffee while she took his briefcase.

"What was Ms. Romanov like?" she asked, following him down the hallway.

"Stubborn, determined to fight the case, and she has no clue what she's in for." He walked into his office and set his coffee cup down on his desk. "Do you have the information I requested?"

"Oh yes."

Something in Mae's voice had him turn around. The look on her face bothered him. Her expression held a shade of smug along with a hint of smirk and, if he wasn't mistaken, downright amus.e.m.e.nt.

Namely, she knew something that she enjoyed and she knew he wouldn't like.

"Ms. Romanov's history has been downloaded to your computer. I'm sure you'll have many enjoyable hours of reading, since she has been in the mortal world since the year 1313 when she was expelled from the Witches' Academy along with her cla.s.smates," Mae said briskly.

"Did you find out what those d.a.m.n hearts mean?" He watched with horrified fascination as her smile just grew bigger and bigger and her eyes twinkled with merriment. The feeling grew that it wasn't news he wanted to hear.

"Honestly, Trevor, have you forgotten the bedtime stories you heard as a boy? No, I guess this one was aimed more for witchlings and young sorceresses." Mae moved to a nearby chair and sat down. She peered over her narrow rimmed eyegla.s.ses. "But you are a clever man with a very intelligent brain. Tell me something, when do we see red hearts everywhere?"

"Valentine's Day, when Cupid has his say and you remind me I need to buy chocolates for the female staff," he grumbled. "So because the witch plays with romance, she's in league with that romance radical?"

Mae chuckled. "Oh no, Cupid has always worked alone, but I'd say that he has other ideas."

Trev rubbed his forehead with his fingers. A headache was rapidly blooming. "Just spit it out, Mae," he snapped, picking up his cup and sipping his coffee, which suddenly tasted bitter.

"Cupid's way of letting someone know they've met their true love is to arrange red hearts over their heads. And if you saw red hearts over her head, she must have seen the same over yours."

Luckily, Mae had made sure she was seated far enough back that the spray of coffee from Trevor's mouth didn't hit her. She waited serenely as Trev stared at her as if she'd well and truly lost her mind.