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  And he got a new night, too. Although he wasn’t sure what he should make of that.

  At times he wished she hadn’t been involved in whatever had gone wrong. Otherwise he would have definitely liked to keep seeing her. Even if she’d only wanted it for the sex. But a man had to have his standards. He couldn’t risk getting his memory ripped out again. And there was more than a decent possibility that she was more than a little nuts. What kind of woman drugged a guy for no real purpose? He would have counted her more sane if she had taken his money. That at least would have made sense.

  It also would have made it a little harder to want to see her again. Or easier to let her go. It all depended on how he looked at it.

  He still craved desserts and pumpkin pie, but now that he knew where the desire came from he could manage it. Plus, most of the stuff he could buy, even in nice restaurants, wasn’t as good as hers. So he wasn’t stuffing his face anymore on the quest for the perfect cake.

  Dan had assaulted him the next morning, calling him at the house and asking how it had gone. Brandon had lied through his teeth, saying that he hadn’t found her. He’d just gotten lost. Then he’d had to lie again when Dan said he’d called to check in several times the night before.

  Sure enough, the cell phone call log showed exactly that. Right during the time he’d been in Delilah’s bed again. He told Dan that he must have bumped the phone off since it was in his pocket.

  He had no idea if Dan believed him or not, but his friend hadn’t pushed the issue.

  At one point Brandon wandered out for groceries, walking the two blocks to the store and returning with three bags of frozen foods. His mouth watered for fresh cooked dinners and he thought about a certain chef, but he quickly turned it off and stuffed it to the back of his brain. He wasn’t the kind of guy to go after the wrong woman. Lust was certainly something that he could take control over. So he’d eat his tasteless frozen food and be glad that he could remember every bite of it.

  By Thursday, he and Dan fielded calls from four people who said they had money to invest, and that Richard Cain referred them. Brandon could not have been more shocked. Who knew Richard would turn out to be decent in his business deals? He’d been such a schmuck to Delilah.

  They lined up investors to come in and tour the offices and get a presentation on four different days the next week. Dan thought they should go out to celebrate and didn’t say anything, or even raise an eyebrow, when Brandon suggested Gin’s.

  It wasn’t like he really thought he’d run into Delilah there. He’d gone to the bar over the weekend to meet an old friend from school who was in town. Delilah hadn’t been there, so he couldn’t say he was going because he was expecting to see her. He didn’t question it any further than that. Gin’s had all kinds of great beer on draft. That was enough for Dan.

  They pushed through the swinging door at the front, letting the noise and smells assault their senses. It always took just a moment to assimilate the atmosphere inside a bar, and Gin’s was no different.

  Brandon took a quick visual sweep of the place, assuring himself that Delilah wasn’t there, before he and Dan settled into one of the last few open booths. Certainly it wasn’t a small pang of disappointment that he felt as he slid into the cushy seat.

  They ordered beers and relaxed. Dan hit on the waitress as he always did, and the two of them got into the same argument they always did. Dan saying that flirting was a part of the job requirement in any establishment where the waitresses were outfitted in tight jeans and belly-baring tops. Brandon argued that the individual flirting with the customers was only a job requirement for strippers, though he did figure there was better money in it. Maybe it meant ‘look but don’t talk.’

  They discussed strategies for the different investors next week. They talked about tweaking the presentation to suit the various demands. They ordered another round and tried to guess what those biases might be, what each investor might most be looking for. Then Dan suggested they write off the evening’s whole beer tab since they were working.

  A half hour later they had hashed out most of it when Dan abandoned him to talk to some woman he knew at the bar. Brandon was about ready to call it quits, not wanting to sit there by himself, when Dan reappeared.

  Brandon raised his eyebrows.

  “Bust.” Dan shook his head and shrugged before taking a drink of his freshly ordered beer. His finger was up, signaling for Brandon to wait, before he finished swallowing. “However, I believe I might have seen your little druggie girl in a booth on the other side.”

  “What?” Brandon shook his head. Druggie girl?

  “The one you lost the other night. The one you went home with two Thursdays ago, that we don’t know yet what she took. That one.”

  “Are you sure?” The words were out of his mouth before he could question the wisdom of them. He’d never caught Dan up to speed on the fact that he had found her or that he stayed part of the night with her. Only that his memory was gradually coming back. But he’d already decided he was done with her. Enough was enough.

  “I can’t say for sure. I never did get a really good look at her face that first night. But I think so.”

  Brandon squirmed, trying to make the right decision. Trying not to care.

  “She’s sitting over there with some guy. Looks like a date.”

  Why that pissed him off, he didn’t know.

  “You could just go to the men’s room and see if it’s her.”

  Brandon nodded as though doing something so juvenile actually made sense. But it did. All he needed to do was just go see if it was her. It probably wasn’t anyway. Then, when he sauntered by oh-so-casually, it was her and he felt like a real moron. At least he really did have to pee, so the whole trip to the bathroom wasn’t a total sham. But, really. He wasn’t going to talk to her or anything.

  He double-checked on the way back from the bathroom, all the while making sure she didn’t see him. Then he walked off, embarrassed and irritated with his own behavior. He really thought he’d left junior high behind him. Couldn’t remember the last time he’d snuck around trying to get furtive glances at a girl. He hadn’t ever even gone the ‘grown-up’ route of that mess—his house had a view of a good portion of the city and he didn’t even own a pair of binoculars.

  Slinking back to the table, he prepared to cry off the whole thing.

  But Dan beat him to the first word. “It was her, wasn’t it?”

  Brandon merely nodded, still feeling like a fool and still hoping that no one noticed what he’d been doing.

  “So, are you gonna go over there?”

  “No.” He shook his head, trying to take the moral high ground. As well as act toward his own self-preservation.

  “What?”

  His head snapped back a little at the vehemence in Dan’s reaction.

  His friend continued, steamrolling any thoughts Brandon might have on the issue. “You have to go over there and break them up. You have a chance to save one of your fellow men from the same thing you went through. You have to do it.”

  Brandon’s brain ached. What had he suffered really? Two nights of achingly hot sex. Some excellent pastry. The loss of his memory and some uncertainty.

  Dan leaned forward, his voice and expression melodramatic after several beers. He issued his call to arms. “You owe this to your brothers. And to yourself. You have to go over there.”

  Chapter 12

  Delilah swished the straw in her mojito, watching the small green pieces of mint swirl in the glass. She wondered if any were stuck in her teeth. And if they had, would they repel the completely boring Jeff? Or could she maybe create a small vortex in the drink and work a little spell to make him more interesting?

  Delilah doubted she had the power to actually make Jeff interesting. She might be able to work a little spell that would put him off her, but that was likely best accomplished without magick. Perhaps a discourse on the state of her tax filing system. Or maybe just a well-timed belch.


  She stopped the straw, afraid that the motion, combined with the focus of her thoughts, would cast on him right there in Gin’s. She really couldn’t let that happen. It was horribly unwise and unsafe to cast if you weren’t intending to. Besides, it wasn’t her place to interfere.

  It wasn’t her place to interfere.

  It wasn’t her place to interfere.

  She repeated it over and over in her head like a mantra. As though, if she said it enough, she would abide by it. Hadn’t she learned her lesson the last time?

  Well, hadn’t she?

  She wasn’t really certain that she had, because she was still so tempted to do it again. So here she was, in Gin’s on a Thursday night with a man she didn’t know and didn’t want to know. She never should have agreed to this.

  In an effort to appease her worried brother, she’d allowed Yasmin to set her up on this date. She always thought Yasmin had better intuitive skills than this. Maybe Tristan and Yasmin had both just gotten so excited that she’d agreed to their blind date that they lost their heads a little. Well, after this oh-so-rousing success, they weren’t going to get another chance.

  She looked up and smiled at Jeff as he droned on about his work with the Jet Propulsion Laboratories. Her bland expression matched the enthusiasm she felt for the formulas he was spouting. She almost laughed out loud. He really was a rocket scientist. And, Lord, listening to him, it sounded like the dullest job in the whole world.

  He hadn’t even asked yet what she did for a living. He’d only given her a look that bordered on appalled that she didn’t want to share the Gin’s Special Buffalo Wings with him.

  Maybe she could cast a spell on herself to make herself more interested in what he was saying. But, gods forbid, if he actually thought she had a good time he might just ask her out again. And if she’d made herself like him she might just say ‘yes.’

  So she focused her thoughts on analyzing him rather than actually listening to him. He was too uptight, which made him seem older than he probably was. Way too buttoned-down to suit her. She needed someone without a perfect part in his hair or starch in his collar. Jeff’s manners were impeccable. Too impeccable, she sighed in frustration, they were in a bar! He was eating Buffalo wings with a knife and fork.

  He leaned forward, clearly expecting some response from her. Desperately she searched her brain for what he’d been talking about and couldn’t come up with anything. So she just gave a small “hmmmm” while she nodded.

  Unfortunately, that had him off and running at the mouth again.

  She resigned herself to being stuck for a while longer, upset that she hadn’t thought ahead and didn’t have a friend lined up for a mercy call. Yasmin would have done it, but this had been her set-up. It would have been wrong to ask her to provide a way out.

  Jeff droned. Delilah discretely checked her watch, wondering how long she needed to stay in order to politely tap out and call it a night. At least another half hour. No, make that twenty minutes. She wouldn’t survive another half hour.

  She was so focused on appearing focused on Jeff, that she felt the harsh shove at her hip before she saw anything.

  Jostled to the side, she looked up, startled, already having figured out that someone had slid into the booth next to her, mercilessly bumping her out of the way.

  She could not have been more surprised to see Brandon or the sweet smile that spread across his face at the sight of her.

  Blinking a few times, she rapidly took in the scene, once again regretting that she hadn’t finished that second forget spell on him. She also saw that Jeff was just mortified by the intrusion. At least it shut him up for a moment.

  Before she could think of anything to say, Brandon gave her a sad pitying look and odd words started tumbling from his lips. “Lilah, baby, come home.”

  “Huh?” What the hell was he talking about?

  Jeff’s spine got straighter, if that was possible. He huffed and crossed his arms.

  Brandon gazed deeply into her eyes and kept talking. “We miss you.”

  We?

  “Delilah,” Jeff’s tone demanded attention and both she and Brandon turned to face the other man. “Do you know this . . . gentleman?”

  Clearly ‘gentleman’ was not what he thought Brandon was. Delilah thought maybe ‘insane asylum inmate’ was a better option. What did Brandon mean, ‘we’?

  She took a sip of her drink to cover for her confusion.

  Brandon put his right hand out across the table as though to introduce himself, his left arm snaked possessively around Delilah’s shoulders, but she was too confused to react. “I’m Brandon Stewart. Delilah’s husband.”

  Immediately she choked. Husband?

  Her wide eyes swung to his face, only to find that he looked perfectly serious. He gave her a sad smile as Jeff voiced her concerns. “Husband?”

  Brandon didn’t take his eyes off hers. Even as she sat there choking on her drink. Not that he volunteered to hit her on the back or ask if she was going to survive. He just looked sad. “Baby, have you been dating again? You know the doctors think that’s a bad idea.” Then, he turned his sympathetic face to Jeff, “She isn’t well.”

  That was it! Her anger poured out in her voice, which she barely managed to keep from screeching above the noise level and broadcasting to the entire bar. “Brandon!”

  Jeff looked taken aback. “You know him? Are you married?”

  “No!” She shook her head violently. What was Brandon doing?

  He made his next play before she could form words.

  “She’s not only married, we have a family.”

  He shifted his weight, pressing intimately along her from shoulder to thigh, as he fished in his pants pocket for his wallet. He drew out the leaning and fishing a little longer than necessary. Especially considering she was boiling mad. She was married? To him?

  He deftly plucked a studio portrait of two small children, clearly his own. Delilah had to hand it to him, the little blonde-haired, blue-eyed cuties could easily have been hers. One boy and one girl smiled at the camera, sweet and perfect for all the world, heads pressed together.

  Brandon made sure she saw the photo before he handed it over to Jeff. “That’s our Tiger and Muffin there. Well,” He smiled like he was all chagrined, “Tyler and Madison.”

  Then he turned to her, still sweet and sad. “You can’t do this again, baby. Come home.”

  She simmered, but didn’t speak.

  Jeff’s expression changed from confused to mad to upset as he looked from one of them to the other. When he appeared to have made up his mind, he tossed down his napkin and rose. “Well.” It was all he got out. Delilah got her only satisfaction from the fact that the goon was in a booth, and he didn’t make it all the way to standing before he hit his thighs against the table and had to scoot out, ungracefully, to the side. “Goodnight.”

  He raised his weak chin high and stamped out of the bar like a child.

  Delilah let loose in a low growl, and it cost her every effort to keep her response to mere words. If she’d had her way, her focus was strong enough to create a small wind around her and make her eyes burn red. But her witchcraft had cost her enough already where Brandon was concerned. Even though she was mad enough to burn all bridges and say to hell with it, she kept it in check. “What are you doing?”

  He laughed. “What, you don’t remember Tiger and Muffin?”

  She drew a deep breath and held her emotions on tight rein.

  The waitress chose that moment to saunter her bare belly up to their booth and ask if they wanted anything else. Delilah merely ground out the word ‘no.’

  The waitress didn’t seem to notice, simply smiled and said ‘thank you,’ instantaneously producing a check and sliding it to the middle of the table, before she sauntered away.

  Great, Delilah thought, the obnoxious Jeff had downed five very over-priced snobby beers and she was stuck with the bill. She didn’t think this could get any worse.
/>   But Brandon had her pinned into the booth, the fake sad look gone from his face. The humor now missing as well. Which was just fine, since she didn’t have any of her own.

  She asked him again. “What are you doing here in my booth?”

  “Running your date off. Sparing him memory loss and who knows what.” He reached out and snaked her mojito away, before taking a healthy gulp.

  “That’s mine!”

  His smile resembled a shark’s. “After everything else we’ve done, sharing a glass isn’t going to kill you.” He took another drink, draining half of what remained and a lot of her sanity. “I had to save the dweeb from you.”

  “He didn’t need saving.” She tried again to push past him, but he didn’t budge.

  “So you weren’t going to take him home and screw his brains out and make him forget everything?”

  She was so shocked by his blunt but accurate assessment of their first night together that she didn’t think, just blurted out, “No!”

  That startled Brandon, and he asked, “why not?” out of genuine curiosity, before she could regroup.

  “I didn’t like him.” Crap, that was a whole other can of worms. She sat back, at last resigned to this going from bad to worse.

  It was Brandon’s turn to be startled. “Then why were you trying to pick him up?”

  She started with a sigh. It seemed only appropriate. “I wasn’t picking him up. I was trying to figure out how long I had to sit and listen to him before I could beg off. I miscalculated, not having figured in the ‘pissed-Brandon’ factor. Contrary to popular belief, men do not need to be saved from me. But now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to pay for Jeff’s drinks.”

  Before she could pluck the cash register tape off the table, it was in Brandon’s hand. “I’ve got it.”

  Delilah tried to reach for it. “No, I do. You shouldn’t have to pay for Mr. Boring-rocket-scientist’s overpriced beer.”

  He didn’t let go. “Was he really a rocket scientist?”

  “Yes.”