It's Just Love (7 page)

Coral dropped back into her seat, a sinking sensation in the
pit of her stomach. To her right, Gage sat straighter, his jaw moving back and
forth as if he was grinding his teeth. For the first time, she felt they were a
team, on the same side of an issue. The “experiment” was not likely to show
either of them in a good light. She could always move to Massachusetts, because
none of her West Side clients would come her way after this disaster. Her
cousins lived near Salem, and would welcome their California cousin while she
got on her feet. She’d miss surfing.

“We’ll take our last break now, and be right back,” Harry
said, and when the lights dimmed, he turned to the four who shared his stage.
“Okay, here’s how it’s going to go. I’m going to announce my brilliant idea and
you two matchmakers will agree. Got it?”

“I can’t agree to something unless I hear what it is first,”
Coral protested. “Can’t you tell us what you’re talking about?”

“Sorry,” he said. “I want your amazed and pleased reactions
on camera.”

Elise giggled and Coral stared.

“They know what the idea is, don’t they?” she asked, shocked
at the shit-eating grin creasing the Aussie’s face.

Harry nodded. “They have already signed their waivers.”
Music played, and the lights shone once again upon their happy group. “Welcome
back. We’re almost out of time, but we have our big experiment to announce
before we go.”

He grinned at the audience and waited until their applause
died down.

“Elise and Charlie have agreed to try dating. They have
virtually nothing in common, which means Gage’s factors don’t come into play.
Also, they have agreed not to ask for a spell from Witchipoo here under any
circumstances.”

Witchipoo glared, wishing Harry into a deep pit of hell—karma
be damned. She understood for the first time why her sisters sometimes cast
spells that held a big backlash. On occasion, it was worth it.

“Therefore, if they do hit it off as a couple, it will be
despite either of our guests, not because of them. That work for everyone?”
Applause thundered, and wolf whistles split the air. “I guess it does.”

Gage cleared his throat. “How will we know if it works?”

Harry smiled at him, malice in his twinkling eyes. “Because
you and Coral the Witch will follow them and see. They have agreed to go on
three dates together. Dinner, first. Then a movie, and finally, some sort of
outdoor activity—a sport or something.”

Her head spun. She was going to have to spend time following
this couple with him? “Harry, I am sure Dr. Middleton doesn’t have time for
this.”
And I don’t have the stomach for it.

“Not to worry, Coral, my dear.” He stood and approached the
front of the set. “Uncle Harry has it all under control! Can you fit in a few
evenings to humor me, Gage?”

Gage spluttered, but finally nodded and bared his teeth in
something like a smile. Or a grimace. “I can’t wait.”

Well if he could do it, so could she! “I’m in. When do we
start?”

“Right away, today. I believe we will be sending our couple
to a delightful restaurant up the coast, overlooking the water.” He winked at
them, and Elise giggled. Again. “And that’s all our time for today. Next
Monday, we will bring back Charlie and Elise, as well as our matchmakers, and
find out if it takes potions or factors to make a match, or if maybe it’s just
love!”

Coral turned in front of the mirror in despair. Nothing she
owned was appropriate for the upscale restaurant she would be dining in. Her
beach clothes and witchy clothes were all she had, but she couldn’t afford what
patrons of Chez Boulangerie wore to eat dinner anyway.

She’d never been there, but she’d looked it up online and
found pages of pictures. Beautiful people dined on tiny plates of tinier food
in an elegantly appointed room perched on a cliff overhanging the ocean. What a
place for a first date. The Harry Montclief show went all out for its guests.
Charlie and Elise would have a wonderful time—at the production company’s
expense.

Coral donned a long sapphire skirt, a single rainbow scarf,
sand colored ballerina flats, and a matching body suit with a scoop bodice. She
settled her triple-goddess pendant around her neck, the silver piece falling
just above the neckline. Nobody would mistake her for a fashionista, but at
least they wouldn’t throw her out. She ran a brush through her hair and shook
it around her shoulders. Smooth as satin for once, the multi-blondes glowing.
It had taken every bottle of product in her cabinet and two hours, but she was
thrilled with the result. Usually she just shampooed out the ocean water, ran a
quick comb through with the conditioner, and called it done.

And makeup. She leaned in to make sure her eyeliner was even
and giggled.
As if I’m the one going on a date instead of Elise and Charlie.
Rolling a pale, peach gloss on her lips, she jumped at a sharp knock on the
door.

She’d suggested taking separate cars, but apparently the
restaurant had limited parking, and Gage offered to drive. She’d agreed, since
she feared the Charger would take up two parking places in the cliffside
location.

Despite herself, a grin tugged the corner of her mouth as
she padded to the door. She loved her life, but she didn’t go out in the
evening often. Not since Sid died. A little sadness flickered and her steps
slowed. His car, her Charger, had been the only rebellion he’d managed before
his father’s business partner stole everything and left the country—forcing his
parents to move to the back of beyond. And they’d still tried to control Sid
right up until the end. Why was she thinking about him now?

Another rap at the door and she shook her head and let Gage in.

How could such an aggravating man be so attractive? His blue
eyes sparkled, and a single lock of hair fell over his forehead when he ducked
to enter her miniscule foyer. She’d realized he was tall, but he must be at
least six-five.

“Ready to go? We’re running late.” As he spoke, he moved
into her living room, no doubt surprised she lived in a Venice cottage and not
a haunted shack. “I have the car double parked outside, no spaces anywhere in
the neighborhood.”

Coral took in his charcoal sports jacket and slacks,
perfectly tailored, and was even gladder she’d put effort into her appearance. “I
should have just ridden my broom.”

He spun to face her, his expression registering shock. Okay,
maybe a cheap shot. Gage couldn’t have a clue what it meant to be a witch. If
she offered him a shiny red apple, he’d figure it was poisoned. “We’d better
get going if we’re going to be there when our loving couple arrives.” To his
credit, he made no comment about the décor. His home would be a high-rise
condo, professionally decorated and cleaned twice a week by a pair of uniformed
strangers.

Her home was tidied occasionally by her. She couldn’t have
it too dusty if she didn’t want her fancy clients to decide she was too much of
a slob to visit in their designer ensembles. But nothing matched, her furniture
all picked up a piece at a time from flea markets and thrift stores.

“Sure. I’m ready.” She retrieved a delicate shawl and her
purse from a hook on the wall.

“Who have we here?”

She turned back to find her familiar sitting on the floor,
staring up at her guest, tail twitching. “Kansas, what are you doing?”

“Kansas?” His voice held amusement.

“Umm, yes. My cat.”

To her shock, he stooped and gathered the fifteen-pound
feline in his arms. Standing, he held her, stroking her ears, while the traitor
purred and rubbed against his hand. “She’s something.”

“She is that.”

“Friendly little thing, aren’t you?”

“Not usually.” She fought the urge to grab the cat back.
Kansas hated to be carried. She followed Coral around when it suited her, and
lay on a shelf in the bookcase when clients came, so still a few had commented
on the cat statue. But nobody picked her up. Not even her mistress. “I’m
ready.”
And put my cat down.

But she didn’t want to start an argument. Three dates and a
report back. She had a single goal—keep her word and not have to see the doctor
again. The smug, Pied Piper of cats.

Why did he have to be so attractive? Lucky he was taken with
his “ten” girlfriend. Coral didn’t agree that people had to be alike in every
way, but she and Gage were night and day.

* * * *

Coral was stunning. In her own environment, she glowed. An
old, scraped up surfboard was mounted on the wall, and seashells were piled in
bowls and scattered on tables. Books with titles in odd symbols he couldn’t
read shared shelf-space with brass statues of obscure gods and goddesses. Was
she a witch and a beach bunny?

Her hair fell to the middle of her back in a gleaming sheet,
and her outfit was nothing less than pagan. Her green eyes slanted a little,
like her cat’s, and the low light emphasized the subtle richness of her tan.

For a moment, he’d forgotten he wasn’t her date. He was her
nemesis. They had nothing in common. Probably zero factors. And she believed he
still had a girlfriend. A wall he would keep in place to protect him from the
urge to pet the woman instead of the cat.

Coral frowned at him, and he set the animal on the floor and
headed outside. Time to go.

They arrived at the car, and he opened her door, a gallantry
he rarely accomplished. The women he’d dated either didn’t want or didn’t seem
to need such gestures. She didn’t get in, and he turned to see why.

Coral rested a hand on her white-painted gate, frowning.
“Oh, a convertible.”

He glanced from her to the car. “Yes, it was such a gorgeous
evening, I thought I’d leave the top down.”

“Yes, it is nice isn’t it?” The dismay in her tone made him
doubt his decision.

“I can raise it if you like.”

“No, thank you.” She slipped past him and into the seat.

As he closed the door, she flashed him a smile, and his
heart thumped. He jerked back and stumbled over the uneven sidewalk. Hurrying
to the other side of the car, he tried not to overanalyze the reaction. Or…he’d
just been dumped hard and Coral’s beauty was undeniable. It was her life that
made her wrong for him.
Dammit, this is not a date.
At least not for the
two of them.

Leaving Venice and its narrow streets behind, he drove
through Santa Monica and onto Pacific Coast Highway, beginning the twenty plus
mile trip to the northernmost edge of Malibu. Still an hour or so from sunset,
the ocean to his left ruffled under the early evening breeze. Pelicans dropped
from the sky, scooping up fish and other aquatic tidbits, and seagulls cried
overhead.

Without a bit of fog, the ocean called to him. “You know, I
have a sailboat I keep meaning to take out.” He turned toward her and stared,
forcing his gaze back to the road, bemused. Her silky strands whipped around
her face in a tangle of platinum and gold. A mermaid for sure. But judging from
the way she gripped the armrest, an unhappy sea denizen. “Is everything all
right?”

“What?” Her voice floated above the roar of the wind. “I
can’t hear you.”

He rolled up the windows, which served to send her hair
flying over her head, but she grabbed it and held it in one hand while she
pulled a large silver barrette from her purse and pinned the tangled mass to
the back of her head.

“I asked if you were all right.”

“Just fine, why do you ask?”

Maybe it would be better to drop the subject. “Nothing,
never mind.”

He guided the car along the twisting highway, focusing on
the way the car clung to the curves, trying not to think of his companion. They
passed the city center of Malibu.

“We’re almost there,” he said.

“Good,” she replied. He watched out of the corner of his eye
as she straightened in the seat, adjusting her skirt around her knees. “I can’t
wait.”

Chez Boulangerie clung to an ocean-facing cliff west of the
highway. The low-slung façade appeared as if it were built of driftwood and sea
glass, a battered fantasy. Gage pulled a U-turn to arrive at the valet station
and stepped out, dropping his keys in the hand of a young man dressed in a
white button-up and black slacks paired with blinding white cross-trainers. He
hopped into the driver’s seat and zoomed away.

“I’m surprised they don’t wear dress shoes with that
outfit,” Gage said, taking her arm and heading for the door.

From behind them, the remaining valet cleared his throat,
and they turned back. “The parking lot is up there.” He gestured to a narrow
roadway up the canyon across the highway. “And we have to hike back each time.”

Coral stared. “That’s awful.”

He shrugged. “It’s a job. And sometimes—when the patrons
notice—the tips are good.”

“I can see why,” Gage said.

“Oh, and most of us are involved in some sort of sports at
Pepperdine University.” The valet laughed. “Coach considers it part of the workout.”

Gage chuckled and led Coral into the restaurant. “I don’t
know if I was ever that young, or in that good a shape.”

Coral considered the tall, broad shouldered man next to her.
“You look like you’re in pretty good condition. Do you work out?”
Shut up. If
you keep saying things like that, he’ll think you’re hitting on him.

“I hit the gym as often as I can. It’s important to keep in
good health.” His dismissive words were belied by the pride in his tone.

She grinned. How safe was this? She had a not-a-date with a
gorgeous guy. No danger of involvement, no worry about pain. A pang of sadness
crossed her mind, but she pushed it away. Love was for other people. She’d had
a chance, and fate had taken it away.

“I’ll see about our table. And whether Charlie and Elise are
here.”

She touched her hair and grimaced. “I need a moment in the
ladies’ room to freshen up.” She tried to remember if she had a brush or comb
with her. Hefting the patchwork shoulder bag, she was delighted she hadn’t had
time to change to a more appropriate evening purse.