Be Careful What You Wish For Read online

  She glanced in the mirror and ran a brush through her black fly-away curls, trying to achieve some semblance of order. Wide violet eyes and dry lips started back at her.

  We’ll fix that. She reached in her medicine cabinet and pulled out a tube of lip gloss. Then it occurred to her that she was doing exactly what O’Shea probably thought she was doing—primping for him.

  I am not! Cass argued with herself, as she used the gloss. I’m just trying to look a little more human! Not that being human is apparently a good thing where he comes from.

  She surveyed the results of her hasty make-over in the mirror and decided she might look human but she still looked pretty plain since she had no make-up to speak of and she was wearing her work-out clothes. But at least she had a bra on which made her feel much more comfortable—she was way too big up top to go around without one.

  It was irritating that even though she disliked the big elf, she still felt the need to fix up at least a little to be around him. Of course, she couldn’t have gotten much less fixed up than she’d been during her unplanned trip to the Realm of the Fae that morning. Going to court in your night shirt and slippers definitely pushed the envelope for business causal and Cass wasn’t eager to repeat the experience, especially in the company of the annoying Jake O’Shea.

  With a final pat to her hair, she grabbed his jacket and opened the bathroom door trying not to feel self conscious.

  Now to give him his jacket and get rid of him once and for all, she told herself. Just hope he’ll leave quick so I can get back to work and try to fix the damn mouth on Brandon’s portrait.

  Eleven

  Taking a deep breath, and clutching his jacket by her side, Cass stepped out of the bathroom.

  “Here you go. I want to thank you for loaning me thi—” she began holding out the jacket to him. She broke off abruptly when she saw that he was standing in front of the easel that held her unfinished portrait of Brandon, studying it intently.

  “Your technique is excellent,” he said without turning around. “But there’s something wrong with the lower part of the subject’s face.”

  “Thank you, Mister Art Critic,” Cass whispered sarcastically. “It’s his mouth—it’s not quite right. As soon as I get him in here to sit for me again I’ll fix it.”

  “No.” O’Shea shook his head, still frowning. “It’s more than that. His chin is weak—he doesn’t look dependable. And the set of his jaw says he’s extremely self-absorbed.”

  “You can’t tell all that just from looking at his portrait!” Cass was indignant.

  O’Shea looked up from his study of Brandon’s picture at last.

  “I appear to have struck a nerve. Who is this man—someone special to you? You paint him as if you know him.”

  Cass cleared her throat, feeling awkward.

  “He’s my, uh, model,” she whispered. “And my boyfriend.”

  “Boy…friend?” O’Shea raised one black eyebrow. “I’m not sure if I understand the term. He appears to be a man and not a boy from your painting. Or is he younger than he looks?”

  “No.” Cass coughed to buy time. “No, he’s my…my significant other.” She shook her head impatiently as O’Shea continued to frown. “You know—we hang out together, spend time, go out on dates—that kind of thing.”

  “Oh.” He nodded. “Your lover. Why didn’t you just say so?”

  Cass felt her cheeks getting hot.

  “Because that’s not how we usually put things in the human world. But I guess it’s different in the Realm. Are you always so blunt?”

  “I prefer to think of it as being direct. It saves a lot of trouble. Thank you.” He accepted the still damp jacket Cass was holding out to him and folded it over his arm. “You’ll be certain to contact me if the slightest thing goes wrong with your birthday wish.”

  He made it a statement instead of a question and Cass nodded uncomfortably, knowing that she had no intention of doing so.

  “Sure, but how am I supposed to…to…” She lapsed into a coughing fit, feeling like her throat was being ripped into little pieces. Even as a little girl she had always had a lot of ear and throat infections. In fact, she’d been the only one of her three sisters that had to have her tonsils out. “Sorry,” she gasped at last when the coughing eased. “What I was trying to say is, how am I supposed to contact you?”

  “You have only to call my name and I’ll hear you, wherever you are.” But O’Shea sounded distracted. He was frowning at her again, his leaf green eyes filled with something that might almost be concern, if he was concerned for anyone but himself, Cass thought. “I almost forgot that I promised to see to your throat.” He draped the jacket across the foot of her bed and beckoned to her. “Come here.”

  “Look, unless you’re an ENT as well as an elf…” Cass began in a hoarse whisper, shaking her head. She’d been pressed up against him during the couch ride and spent most of the morning with him leading her around by her arm but she still felt nervous at the thought of getting so close to the big elf in the privacy of her room. Maybe it was the proximity of the bed or the focused look in his pale green eyes. She almost felt like if he looked at her hard enough, he might stare a hole right through her with the laser-like intensity of his gaze.

  “Cassandra…” His deep voice was slightly gentler. “Do you still not trust me? I have no wish to harm you—I only want to heal your voice. I believe the voice loss charm the trows cast on you has been exacerbated by the magical rain in Judge Rosinbloom’s courtroom and you’re suffering some kind of reaction.”

  “And…you can heal that?” Cass whispered uncertainly. If he wasn’t just blowing smoke up her skirt, she was willing to let him heal her despite her nervous reaction to his nearness. After all, it was going to be next to impossible to teach art at the Academy tomorrow sounding like she did now.

  O’Shea nodded patiently.

  “I believe I can lift the spell and restore your voice to normal if you’ll just come here.” He seated himself on the side of her bed and gestured for her again.

  Yeah right, come lay on the bed with you, huh? I don’t think so, buster. Cass frowned and crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Look, if you think that just because I let you into my bedroom and you saw me, uh, exposed that I’ll—”

  “I think no such thing.” O’Shea frowned warningly. “I am not interested in trying to take advantage of you, Cassandra. And even if I did have that kind of interest in you, you’re a client of mine and you’ve made it clear you’re involved with someone. I just want to heal your throat and get on to my next appointment. So if you would please come here.”

  He beckoned to her sternly and Cass found herself going to stand between his thighs even though she was seething at his condescending tone.

  “You don’t have to talk to me like I’m some kind of a child,” she whispered fiercely.

  O’Shea sighed wearily. “My apologies if I offended you, but compared to me you are a child.”

  “I’m going to turn twenty-three in less than twenty-four hours,” Cass reminded him in an indignant whisper. “And you can’t be more than thirty yourself.”

  O’Shea looked thoughtful. “I guess that my age might translate roughly to that in human years. Actually, I am considerably older than that but elves age more slowly because of the magic in their bloodlines.”

  “Like fairies?” Cass asked, interested despite herself.

  “No.” O’Shea’s voice was abruptly sharp. “Not like fairies in the least. Fairies are the only fae that are truly immortal and they never let the rest of us forget it.” He took a deep breath and his voice became softer. “Despite what I said earlier, I truly didn’t mean to treat you like a child, Cassandra. Would it help if I told you that the last woman I had a relationship with was more than ten times your age and had less than a tenth of your intelligence and talent?”

  Cass blinked. “Whoa—the last woman you had a relationship with? That sounds kind of…I mean, I thought y