Once Upon Stilettos
Page 114

“But she’s shrill and shallow, and you’re not.”
“Boy, do you know how to sweet-talk a girl.”
He blushed at that and got up from the table. “There’s one sure way to find out. When someone casts a spell, there’s a signature left behind. Let’s see who’s been tinkering with your shoes.”
I followed him to the hall closet, where he retrieved the shoes and carried them to the living room. There were already some books scattered around the floor in front of the fireplace, where he must have done his research the night before. He set the shoes down among the books and sat on the floor. I joined him.
“Since you’re not wearing the shoes at the moment and haven’t worn them in hours, the spell shouldn’t have much of an effect,” he said. “But try to avoid the temptation to touch them, please.”
I scooted back a few inches and sat on my hands. The siren call of the shoes wasn’t nearly as strong as it had been in the past, but I still wanted to put them on.
“I’ll need one of your hands,” he said, reaching out to me. I hesitated, and he added, “It’s okay. Nothing will happen to you, but I need to see if this spell is specific to you or if it’s a more general spell simply meant to enhance these shoes.”
I tentatively reached my left hand out to him. He laced his fingers through mine, and I thought I’d die on the spot. Did he have any idea what he did to me? When this was over, I’d have to avoid him for a while or risk spontaneous human combustion.
His eyes went unfocused as he held his other hand over the shoes. He blinked, then smiled. “It looks like you were right, it’s definitely Ari, and the spell is specific to you. Which means she, or someone she was working with, knew you were going to lose your immunity. I think there’s even a transmitter in there, too. That could be how you and Rod were affected last night. As long as you were wearing those shoes, they could influence you and the people around you.”
“So that’s evidence, then?”
He nodded. “Unfortunately, that means I can’t disenchant your shoes yet. I’ll need to take them to the office Monday and document everything.”
I sighed. “That’s okay. It’s not like I have anywhere to wear them anytime soon.”
“What size do you wear? I may be able to come up with something you can wear home.”
“Seven. Don’t tell me you keep ladies’ shoes lying around the house.”
“No, but my downstairs neighbor should have something you can borrow. She doesn’t get out much anymore, so it’s not as though she’ll be needing snow boots.” He got up and picked up the red shoes. “In the meantime, I’d better put these away where they’ll be safe.”
As he went out into the hallway, I leaned my back against the sofa and wondered what would happen next. I hoped his mention of shoes to wear home didn’t mean he wanted me to leave. This place already felt more like home to me than my own home did. Maybe it was the fireplace, or the Christmas tree, or even the cat, who got up from her spot in front of the fireplace and crawled into my lap. Then Owen came back into the room and I knew what it was that made this place feel like home. It was the man who lived there.
I felt disloyal for even thinking it, since my roommates had been my friends for so long, but in the months I’d worked at MSI, he’d become my closest friend in so many ways. He was the only person I didn’t have to hide things from, especially now that I’d told him all my secrets—all, that is, except the one big secret of how I really felt about him. I didn’t know what to do about that one.
“I like your Christmas tree,” I said, as he sat next to me.
He turned a lovely shade of rose. “Oh, that. Gloria had me help her put up her decorations at Thanksgiving, and that made my place look bare when I got back home. Normally I don’t put much of anything up.”
“We don’t have room to put anything up.” I glanced around the spacious living room, which was the size of our whole apartment. “This is such a great place.”
“Thank you. I was lucky to find it. If you think it seems big now, it was originally built as a single town house. Now it’s two units, two floors each. My downstairs neighbor used to own the building. When her husband died, I bought it from her, and now I lease her home to her.”
If I knew him, he probably rented it to her at a fraction of what he could get from any other tenant. Was he trying to make me fall in love with him? “I still don’t think you’re for real,” I said.