A Stroke Of Magic Part 9

"Gee, there's the pessimist Chloe I haven't seen in years. Can't say I've missed her much," I teased.

A small smile appeared. "So I'm overreacting. I know I'm being stupid, but I'll never forget what it felt like when he dumped me. I had so much invested in him. And I don't know if I even want to see him again. So this time, my friend, you're on your own."

"I need your help. I need you to come."

She stood and marched toward her kitchen. Well, it was more of a kitchenette. She didn't even have a full-sized refrigerator, just one of those mini ones like college students get.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm getting a gla.s.s of wine. I need a drink." No full-sized fridge. She did, however, have a nifty little wine cooler she'd had installed under her counter. Priorities, you know?

I followed her and waited while she poured herself a gla.s.s of Chardonnay. "Look, I know this seems horrible, but maybe it won't be. It might even be fun. If nothing else, you can show him how amazing you are today, and rub his face in the fact that he lost out on someone as gorgeous, funny, smart, and spectacular as you are."

Swallowing half of her gla.s.s of wine in one gulp, she shook her head. "I can't do it. Besides, I don't think I can be polite to Shelby."

"Stop."

Her eyebrow raised in question. "Stop what?"

"This. Kyle was a jerk back then. Shelby was too," I admitted. "But I know she's not the same, so maybe he isn't either."

"The way Kyle broke things off wasn't cool. But he wasn't always a jerk." She sighed, as if trying to pull herself together.

"Put the past to rest, Chloe. Come on. Please come with me. Besides, aren't you curious about what he looks like now?" I smirked. "Maybe he's the one with the third eye and hairy mole."

She laughed. A little bit of color returned to her complexion, and I was glad for it. "Fine. You win. So, what's the plan?"

"I don't know. That's why I need you. I'm terrible at making plans."

"Well, obviously we're going to need to see his back-so we can compare it to the drawing." Her face lit up. "You need to invite Ethan to come too."

"Why?"

"Because then, whatever plan we come up with we can use on him at the same time. In case your grandmother is right."

"And then what? Let's a.s.sume neither of them is the right man. Then what?"

She finished off her wine. "I don't know. Let's focus on this first."

Suddenly, everything was okay between us again. I wasn't truly worried about Kyle being a match to the drawing, because you'd think if he were my soul mate, I'd have clicked with him back in the day. That just the very thought of being with him now would fill me with antic.i.p.ation. Want. Desire.

Yep, you got it. Pretty much the way I felt about Ethan.

Chapter Seven.

I strolled into work on Tuesday morning feeling much more like myself. I'd barely made it on time, but hey, I was there, and I wasn't late. Points for that.

On my way in, I'd stopped to pick up three more bags of the lollipops that made my nausea bearable. That-if nothing else-was one thing I could thank Shelby for. At my desk, I dumped one of the bags into my top drawer, for easy access, and another in my purse. The third I'd left in my car to take home with me.

The office buzzed with the morning sounds of chatter and people getting coffee. Kind of weird, maybe, but I'd noticed that as the workday went on, people became quieter, more fixated on their tasks. But mornings? That was gossip and chitchat time. I'm not a chatterer in the morning, so I kept to myself.

I turned on my computer and desk light, and then checked to see if I had any messages in my voice mail. Nope, not a one. To anyone else, this was a normal workday. For me? Not so much. For some reason, Grandma Verda's insistence about Ethan being the man in my drawing refused to leave my mind. I mean, come on, she was right about so many things on such a regular basis, I couldn't ignore it. And I'd be lying if I said I hated the idea. Because I didn't. That was why I was so nervous. Today, I needed to ask Ethan out on a date. Because let's face it, no matter how I worded it, it was a date. And seeing how smart Ethan was, there was no way he wouldn't catch on. I'd thought about every word spoken between us, every little nuance, and I was pretty sure the sparks I felt weren't one-sided. But who knew how he'd react to something a little less professional than what we'd previously shared?

Plopping down in my chair, I grabbed a hand wipe and cleaned the surface of my desk. Not because it needed it, but because I was in heavy procrastination mode. Next, I clicked on my e-mail box and read all of my e-mails-even those I'd read before. Nothing needed my attention, but as I stared at my little file with its thirteen e-mails, I wondered if it would be appropriate, in any way whatsoever, to just invite Ethan to the cookout electronically.

Yeah. I know. Not. But still, I gave it some more thought. This way, if he said no, it would be easier to take. Plus, it had one huge advantage: distance. It saved me from the face-to-face; I wouldn't be able to smell his melt-my-knees cologne, and I wouldn't be distracted by the cleft in his chin or his dimples.

Deciding to type out an invite and see how it looked, I opened up an e-mail he'd sent me the prior week, clicked Reply, deleted the old subject line, and typed: Morning, Ethan!

A friend of mine is having a cookout this weekend. Want to come?

There will be food, fun, and games.

Oh! And if you get hot enough-swimming!

Anyway, let me know, Alice P.S. Thanks for Sunday. I enjoyed it!

I stared at the e-mail, read it again and then again. My cursor hovered over Send, but I couldn't make up my mind. But when I considered walking into his office instead and verbally asking him, the decision seemed simple. I sent a quick prayer upward and did what I had to. The screen flashed and it was gone. Almost instantaneously, a new e-mail appeared in my in-box. It was an Out of the Office reply to the e-mail I'd just sent, but not from Ethan.

What? I blinked. I blinked again. I really hoped I'd read it wrong, but no. I broke out in a cold sweat. My stomach dipped. I checked my Sent file. Opening the e-mail I'd just typed, I scanned the recipient list. Leaning forward, elbows on desk and chin in hands, I tried very hard not to freak out. Because yeah, apparently I'd clicked Reply all, which meant every person who had something to do with the Frosty's account was getting my carefully thought-out note to Ethan. And that meant I was about to become water cooler topic number one. Again.

The whole freaking point of the freaking e-mail was so I wouldn't have to invite Ethan in person! Now, I had no choice. Because in case he hadn't yet seen the e-mail, I needed to warn him. So if anyone cracked a joke or made a comment, he'd at least know what the deal was.

Grabbing a lollipop from my drawer, I shoved it into my pocket, just in case. Walking to Ethan's office felt like it took forever, instead of the less than a minute it actually did. Luckily, most everyone still stood around gabbing over coffee, so I doubted anyone on the reply-all list had actually seen my e-mail yet. But it wouldn't be long.

I stopped outside of Ethan's door. It was closed, and his a.s.sistant wasn't at her desk. Knock or come back later? I debated for a couple of minutes. Even though walking away sounded like a great plan, that would only put off the inevitable. So I sh.o.r.ed up my courage, forced a smile, and knocked.

His voice came through the door. "Come in."

Twisting the k.n.o.b, I pushed open the door and stuck my head in. "Do you have a few-?" I broke off at the totally unexpected vision that met my eyes. Normally, just being in Ethan's office calmed me. The room, from the chocolate brown painted walls to the big, comfy leather chairs and sofa, to the splashes of green throughout, resonated warmth and comfort.

Not this time. Ethan sat behind his desk, looking a little rumpled. His hair was mussed, as if he'd just run his hands through it, and his suit jacket was draped around the back of his chair. Another chair was pulled up next to his, and in it sat my grandmother in a bright purple and green paisley dress. Seriously. Grandma Verda. At my place of employment. Behind closed doors with Ethan, the man she thought was my soul mate. I reminded myself to stay calm.

"What's going on?" I managed to ask.

Grandma Verda's lips twitched. "Ethan's showing me how to go through the mail." A stack of mail in front of them, plus the fact my grandmother wielded a letter opener, verified her statement.

"Why would he be doing that?" My voice squeaked on the last word.

"So I know how to do it. Why else?" She sliced open an envelope, stacked it neatly to the side, and moved on to the next.

I looked to Ethan for an answer, but he seemed a little dazed. So I asked again. "Why are you showing my grandmother how to go through the office mail?"

"Angela quit yesterday without notice." He cleared his throat. "Verda happened to show up right afterward."

"Angela? Your secretary? But what does that have to do with-?" Oh, no. I got it, and I didn't like it. "You hired my grandmother? Seriously?"

"Just for the interim, until I can find a replacement. It seemed like a good solution yesterday when Verda offered." His gaze floated off to my left somewhere.

"Grandma? Why?" Ouch. I instantly regretted asking that. Because I knew why.

"Why not? It'll be fun being around you, and I can earn a little extra money. I worked as a secretary for years, you know that." A simple enough statement, which would make a great deal of sense to anyone else. I nearly bought her oh-so-innocent explanation too, but then I noticed her hand-the one wielding the letter opener-moving in the direction of Ethan's shirt.

She wouldn't actually slice his shirt off. Would she? I tried to keep an eye on her while I spoke. "But you're so busy all the time. With Vinny. Maybe you should reconsider."

"I won't be coming in every day, dear. Just two or three mornings a week. To help out." She winked at me, and her hand inched closer.

Okay, I needed to stop this before she did something crazy. "Grandma? What are you doing?"

"There's some lint on Ethan's shirt. I'm just going to pull it off."

"What? That's not-" Ethan's hand went to his shirt at the same time Grandma's did, but she was quicker. Not to mention sneakier.

"Already got it!" She pretended to drop the invisible piece of lint on the floor, and scooted back to her former position, grinning like the cat that swallowed the canary. Her free hand tightened into a fist.

I dashed to her side and grabbed the letter opener. "What's in your hand?"

"Oh, dear. All the chatter distracted me." Grandma Verda batted her eyelashes innocently at Ethan, her voice as sweet as southern iced tea. "I'm so sorry, but it seems I somehow removed one of your b.u.t.tons." Then she opened her fist, and lying there was the b.u.t.ton in question.

"Yes. Somehow. I wonder how that happened?" I glared at my grandmother. Or I tried to, but she didn't look at me.

Ethan held up a hand. "It's not a big deal. I have plenty of other shirts at home. Not a problem." He grinned at Grandma Verda. "Remind me not to chatter around you when you're opening mail, though," he teased.

"I'm so terribly sorry. You know what? I'm positive I have a travel sewing kit in my handbag. Why don't you slip that shirt off for me and I'll fix it right up. I'll be done before you know it!"

My G.o.d, she was good. I had to admit, even I was a little impressed, and I'd grown up witnessing her antics. I thought I'd seen it all. Curiosity got the better of me, and I walked back around to the other side of the desk and took a seat. So I could watch her in action.

"That's a very nice offer, Verda," Ethan said, "but it isn't necessary. It's just a b.u.t.ton."

"Young man, you are in a position of authority here. You need to look the part. It will only take a minute," Grandma Verda said.

"Really. It's okay. Let's finish the mail so I can have one of the girls show you how to use the phones."

Grandma Verda pouted. I tried not to chuckle, because as sorry as I felt for Ethan, I knew she'd win. He didn't have a chance. And nope, I wasn't going anywhere.

"I'll feel badly all day unless you let me mend your shirt." She sighed pitifully. "But if you're sure." She rubbed her eyes, and I thought-maybe-she was taking it too far. But then she sort of did a heavy shrug, as if the weight of the world rested on her shoulders. "Okay. Show me the rest of the mail," she said with a sigh.

Ethan glanced at me and then back at my grandmother. "I don't want you to feel bad about this, Verda. It's no big deal."

"Don't worry about me. I'll be fine," she said, her voice cracking slightly. "I hate the thought of you walking around all day with a missing b.u.t.ton..."

Humor glinted in Ethan's eyes as he gave in. "If it's that important to you, I'd be quite pleased if you'd mend my shirt."

That was all Grandma Verda needed to hear. Without hesitation, she began unb.u.t.toning his shirt for him. I put my hand over my mouth to cover my grin.

"It's the right thing to do," she was saying.

With a slight tilt of her head, she winked at me. I winked back. Poor Ethan. I reminded myself to scold my grandmother later, because her actions were wrong. But for now? I waited on the edge of my seat. Literally.

"I can take care of this, Verda." He gently removed her hand from his shirt, turned slightly away, and finished unb.u.t.toning it himself. His position couldn't have been better. As soon as the shirt came off, I'd have a perfect view of his right shoulder. Antic.i.p.ation had me scooting closer. I leaned in a bit more. Was this it? Was Grandma Verda right? Was I actually about to find out if Ethan was my soul mate? I leaned in even farther. And waited.

Grandma Verda watched in rapt attention. He lifted his shoulders, pulled the shirt back and off his arms, and...I almost chewed my lip off in frustration. Because instead of the bare back I'd expected to see, what greeted me was a white T-shirt. Sure, it fit him like a second skin, and the urge to touch him blasted through me, but it seemed-for now, at least-my question was to remain unanswered.

Settling back in my chair, I pulled my lollipop out of my pocket, removed the wrapper, and stuck it in my mouth. Because while I wasn't exactly queasy, my stomach swirled as if I'd just stepped off of a roller coaster. My grandmother appeared just as frustrated. She slumped forward for a second, but then she got to business. In less than five minutes, she had the b.u.t.ton sewn back on and was handing the shirt to Ethan. "There. All fixed."

"Thanks." He shook his head, a bewildered haze once again settling around him. "I...ah...appreciate it."

"You're such a delightful man. I'm so going to enjoy getting to know you better." She patted him on his arm. "Oh! And the rest of the family will adore you. Especially Isobel, Alice's mother. She'll think you're perfect!"

His confusion deepened. "That's...nice. Thank you, Verda."

Before she could say anything else, I jumped in. "Hey, Grandma? I kind of need to talk to Ethan for a minute."

"Well, go ahead. Cat got your tongue?"

"Grandma!" I threw my gaze from her to the door. Luckily, she got the message.

She wrinkled her nose. "Since my granddaughter wants your undivided attention, I'll take the mail to the desk out front and finish opening it. That way you two can talk." She grabbed the pile of mail. When she reached me, she held out a hand and I dropped the letter opener in it.

When the door closed again, Ethan put his shirt back on. It didn't bother me, because it wasn't like I could see anything anyway. "Did I miss something there?" His Irish lilt was a little more p.r.o.nounced than normal.

I pulled the lollipop out of my mouth. "I warned you. My grandmother is a little quirky. Things seem to happen when she's around."

"I'm still not sure how she talked me into hiring her. I was all set to say no, because I worried it might be awkward for you, but somehow I ended up saying yes. And this morning, I was going to have someone else show her the mail, but..." He blinked. "Well, let's just say your grandmother should give lessons in charm. She'd be a millionaire within a month."

The realization that he liked her, even with all her manipulations, made me like him even more. "Grandma Verda's kind of an original."

He chuckled, and the warm rolling sound eased into me. Rather than sitting in his chair, he took the one next to me. "Something about that generation, maybe. As I said before, she reminds me a great deal of my own grandmother."

Dear G.o.d, he smelled good. The scent punched into my brain, interrupting my thought processes. "Um, Ethan? What cologne do you wear? I'd like to pick some up."

"As a gift?" he asked.

I opened my mouth to say what I was thinking, that it was more along the lines of dousing one of my nightshirts with it, but luckily, rational thought won out. "Um. Yes. As a gift...for...one of my brothers."

He reached across the desk and grabbed a pad of Post.i.ts. After scribbling on the top sheet, he handed it over. "I don't think you can buy it locally. I wrote down the Web site I purchase it from."

"Oh. Okay. Thanks." I folded up the little yellow paper and shoved it in my pocket.

He waited expectantly, his eyes never leaving mine. I tried to remember what I needed to tell him, but sadly, my mind remained a total blank.