Suddenly Spellbound Page 8

  Wonderful. Another dress that made me look like food. With my luck and the way things were going with the magic lately, I’d end up looking like a cherry-topped sundae at the top of my own wedding cake.

  Fifi nodded her agreement then turned to Chloe. “Shall we try again?” They seemed to forget I had a functional grasp of the English language, treating me like nothing more than a dressmaker’s dummy.

  “Yes. But this time, less coconut meringue, more Cinderella.” Chloe barked orders from her perch on the settee. I half expected her to shout, “Off with her head!” but that might have been the champagne talking.

  Fifi’s face lit up. “Oh, I know just the gown.”

  With my shoulders slumped and my spirit broken, I waddled back to the dressing room and held my arms up for Fifi to remove the offensive dress and replace it with something more fitting for a Disney princess.

  Once she had me in my knickers, she hauled an ornate confection from the nearby rack. Chloe would be pleased with the plunging neckline. In fact, everyone within a hundred-yard radius would be delighted with the amount of recently acquired cleavage I would be flashing—but the skirt? I doubted I could even walk on my own while wearing that monstrosity. I’d need a crane to carry me up the aisle.

  “Wait!” A flash of white silk caught my eye, and I lit up like a kid in a toy store. “What are these?” I scooted past her to examine a rack of gowns unlike anything I’d seen so far. The instant my fingers brushed the buttery fabric—like heavy cream spun into silk—I knew I had to have one.

  “Oh, you wouldn’t be interested in those, mademoiselle.” Fifi’s attention shifted from the weighty satin in her arms to me to the hidden collection. “Mrs. Blake was very specific about—”

  “Oh, can I try on this one? No, this one.” I couldn’t decide on just one. I wanted to try them all. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the dresses, each one more beautiful than the last. I continued to fondle my way through the rack then stopped when I came across the holy grail of wedding gowns. I’d never seen anything more perfect. My lips tugged into a full-blown smile. “You’ve been holding out on me, Fifi.”

  “Fifi?” She scoffed then snatched the hanger from my hands. “I don’t think this—”

  I tugged on her sleeve and pouted like a little girl. “Please?”

  My fake French stylist sighed then, with a nod, swapped the heavy monstrosity with the delicate dress. “If you insist.”

  I gave a squeal of delight and raised my arms for her to lift the luxurious fabric over my head. She twisted and tugged the ruched silk bodice until it wrapped around me, hugging me from my ample bust to my shapely hips. The flowing tulle skirt flared out from a row of clustered pearls at the dropped waist to puddle around my feet.

  My heartbeat picked up as I stared at my reflection. “It’s beautiful,” I whispered and took a quick steadying breath before letting her drag me back to the Hall of Mirrors.

  “I said Cinderella, not the Little Mermaid.” Chloe arched a brow in a fierce expression and flung her hair over her shoulder.

  Helena raised her glass with a giggle. “I like this one!” Then she gulped down the last few swallows.

  “Thank you, Helena.” I pulled her into a hug. “I like it too.”

  Mom tilted her head to one side. “It does seem a bit plain compared with the others.”

  “Plain?” Fifi blurted. “This is the finest silk taffeta money can buy!”

  “It’s nice, but I had something more fabulous in mind.” Chloe sighed. “It’s just not regal enough. You are marrying a Blake. Go back, and try on the—”

  “But I like this dress.” I grabbed hold of Fifi’s arm to keep from tipping over in my stilettos. “I’ve tried on every froufrou dress you dragged out for me, and you know I would have been just as happy shopping at Goodwill.”

  Fifi gasped and pressed her perfectly manicured hand to her chest. “Sacrebleu!”

  I blew a lock of hair out of my face and grumbled at the stylist. Her accent grated on my nerves. “Oh, give it a rest.”

  “Ivie Marie McKie, you take that back!” Chloe shrieked and stomped her foot. “I refuse to allow you to get married in a Goodwill wedding gown. You’re going to wear the dress I’ve dreamed about since I was six!” The instant the words tumbled out of her mouth, her hands flew up to cover it, and she froze.

  The rest of my group gaped at her outburst.

  I threw my head back with a burst of laughter then dropped to the floor in a heap, the tulle skirt pooling around me.

  “You can’t—” Fifi whipped around to glare at Chloe. “She can’t sit on the floor! That’s a Colette original!” she huffed out, her fake accent faltering slightly.

  Chloe took one look at Fifi’s face and let loose with a laugh of her own before turning back to me. “I’m sorry. I keep forgetting this is your wedding, not mine.” She reached down to wrench me from the gleaming mahogany. Despite Fifi’s objection, I suspected we could eat off the shiny surface.

  “I really like this dress.” Once on my feet, I twirled in front of the closest mirror. “It’s pretty, and it doesn’t make me crave fattening desserts.”

  Chloe rolled her eyes. “Fine. You can get this dress.”

  I cocked an eyebrow and scoffed. “Thank you for giving me permission to spend the entirety of my life savings.”

  “How much is it?” Helena asked, shattering my brief fantasy.

  “Um, I’m afraid to look.” I fidgeted. Would I even be able to afford a “Colette original”?

  “I’ll do it.” Chloe took a deep breath, grabbed my shoulders, and spun me around, searching the back for the price tag. I knew she’d found it when she gasped. “Holy shit!”

  Fifi smirked at me, her stick arms folded over her flat chest. “I did say you wouldn’t want one of those dresses.”

  “Wait. What do you mean by those dresses?” I narrowed my eyes at her pinched expression.

  Her pointy chin jutted into the air. “Colette originals are the most sought-after wedding gowns in all the world.”

  “In all of Atlanta, maybe,” I said under my breath then turned around in time to see Chloe pull her hands away from her face and tip her lips into a phony smile. “How much is it?”

  “It’s a bit over budget.” She held her thumb and finger so close they were almost touching.

  I took a gulp of air. “Coming from you, that scares me.”

  She let out a nervous laugh and shrugged. “It’s just, well, maybe if we had them make it in rayon instead of silk?”

  Fifi shook her head, and I wanted to slap the smug smile from where it perched on her cherry lips.

  I flitted my eyes from Chloe to Mom and then Helena. She was in the process of raising another mimosa to her lips, and I snatched it away, downing it in one gulp. I wiped my lips with the back of my hand and screwed up my courage. “Okay, give it to me straight. How much are we talking?”

  “Uh…” Chloe winced, shrinking back from me like a deflating balloon. Her voice came out in a barely discernible whisper. “Um… fortnyhousan?”

  I stuck a finger in my ear and wiggled it around. I couldn’t have heard her correctly. “Come again?”

  She cleared her throat, annunciating clearly this time. “Forty-nine thousand.”

  “Forty-nine thousand?” My voice came out in a shrill squeak. “Oh, my God, Chloe. I can’t afford that!” I reached for another drink on the tray and chugged it without taking a breath. My head spun, and I wasn’t sure if it was from the shock or the champagne. I took a few wobbly steps in an attempt to pace. “Even if I had a job, I wouldn’t be able to afford almost fifty thousand dollars for a wedding dress.”

  “I didn’t even know they carried dresses that expensive. The Cinderella dress was just over three thousand—” Chloe glared at Fifi. “Would y
ou mind giving us a few minutes?” Fifi stalked off with an impressive huff, and Chloe giggled. Then she grabbed my arm and pulled me to the side. “You love this dress, right?”

  I nodded. Heaven help me, but I did. It was perfect. My imagination had already built an entire ceremony around that one article of clothing.

  “Okay, good. Wedding dress problem solved.”

  Problem solved? I opened my mouth to object, but she put up a hand to stop me.

  “You just need to—” She glanced over her shoulder at Helena, who was staring at her reflection in the floor, then back to me to whisper. “Wiggle that nose of yours, and make a dress just like this one.”

  “What!” I snapped my mouth shut before I said something I would regret. Her suggestion of magic as an option infuriated me at the same time as it intrigued me. A flicker of delicious power licked at my fingertips, followed by a cold chill down my spine. If Jack knew I’d even entertained such a ridiculous thought, he’d blow a gasket. I could almost see the vein in his forehead throbbing.

  “Come on.” Chloe nudged me with her shoulder.

  “Uh.” I snapped my mouth shut as quickly as I’d opened it. Maybe she was right. What harm could a tiny little spell cause? It’s not as if I’d be messing with anyone’s life. Hmmm.

  “It’s just a little wiggle.” Chloe rested her finger on the tip of her nose and shifted it to one side.

  A bubble of nervous laughter worked its way up my throat. “First of all, my nose does not wiggle. It takes a whole lot more effort than that to conjure something. Secondly, do you have any idea what you’re suggesting?”

  Chloe’s lips curled up at the corners like the Grinch in the Whoville town square. “You’re actually thinking about it, aren’t you? Come on, Ivie. If the cosmos didn’t want you to work magic, you wouldn’t be a witch.”

  My mind raced with the possibilities. Visions of silk and tulle flashed through my thoughts like an out-of-control slide show. “Well, it wouldn’t be an entirely bad idea, I suppose.”

  Sure, Jack would hate it, but since the groom isn’t supposed to see the bride before the wedding, he’d never be the wiser.

  As if she’d eavesdropped on my thoughts, Chloe nodded. “Like I said, problem solved.”

  I faced the mirror to memorize every detail of my dream dress, from the careful folds of the pleated bodice to the bottom of the ruffled tulle skirt. Every inch of imported silk branded itself into my brain.

  “It is a lovely dress.” Fifi sidled up to me to stare at my reflection over my shoulder. Her overpowering floral perfume stung my nose like a giant bee. “And I suppose your frame fills it out well enough. But since we’ve established you can’t afford it, I’m going to need you to take it off. I’m sure we have other dresses available within your means. And if not, perhaps you would prefer one of the bridal consignment stores on your side of town.” For the second time since we’d arrived, her French accent faltered, and I distinctly heard the hint of a Southern twang.

  I clenched my fists at my sides and struggled to keep my voice from shaking. “Who do you think you are? You aren’t even French!”

  “How dare you!” Fifi barked, and her washed-out complexion flushed until I swore I saw smoke curling out of her ears. “This is precisely why we need to screen our clients. Among the four of you, you’ve consumed enough champagne to pay for an entire trousseau. And you’re drunk. Thank goodness I didn’t waste a superior vintage—not that you would have noticed.”

  Cheap champagne? That would explain my spinning head.

  She looked down her nose at me, her face pinched as if she’d gotten a whiff of her own perfume. “I have no idea how you managed to get through the screening process. Our clientele is as exclusive as our gowns are. And an unemployed Goodwill shopper certainly doesn’t belong in Colette Couture.”

  Her incessant yipping continued, sending ripples of heat through me. Who does she think she is? Nothing more than a fancy French poodle, that’s who.

  What started as a faint prickle grew until I could sense the entire room. A gust of wind whipped my hair around me, and hot oil flowed through my veins. I knew the feeling well, and my entire being tingled with giddy anticipation. Fifi’s red-rimmed mouth moved, but my racing heart thundered in my ears, drowning her out. The lights flickered for an instant… and she was gone.

  Chapter 9

  “Whoooa! Did Françoise just turn into—” Helena shot upright, gripping the arm of the settee to keep from spilling onto the floor. A fit of giggles came over her. “Nah, don’t mind me. I think I may have had a few too many of those yummy little drinks.”

  “Are you okay, dear?” Mom shot me a death glare as she staggered over to check on my inebriated friend. Helena wasn’t the only one who’d had a few too many of those “yummy little drinks.”

  “A poodle? Really?” Chloe took a step back as the little dog leaped toward her. “Ivie, I said a dress, not a dog! Haven’t we already had enough trouble with dogs to get us through the rest of eternity?”

  I pressed my hands to my mouth to hold back the laughter as I slithered away from the scene. “Oops?”

  Fifi barked—this time she actually barked—at me, baring her tiny white teeth in a vicious snarl.

  My mother fell into the seat beside Helena and shook her head at me. “Haven’t you learned your lesson when it comes to dogs?”

  “Um… guess not?” I tried to smile but couldn’t get my face to cooperate. I imagined my snarl was almost as impressive as that of the little poodle at my feet.

  “What are you going to do now?” Mom whisper-shouted at me.

  “She’s going to turn her back.” Chloe’s eyes stretched so wide I could see white all the way round her irises. “Right, Ivie?”

  “Sure.” I giggled as Fifi continued to jump in the air like a circus pooch. “I’ll simply turn her back.” I’d done it before: twice, in fact. After multiple failed attempts, I’d finally figured out how to change my former fiancé Matt from a dog to a human again. And I’d changed my dad back from a cat. Surely, I could fix the pretentious French poodle in front of me.

  “Easy peasy, right?” Chloe coughed out a laugh as she scooped up the dog. “Where shall we do this?”

  “Uh, here’s fine.” I eyed Helena, still slumped on the velvet sofa. “Mom, can you stay with her and keep her… uh, occupied?”

  “Of course, dear.” I didn’t miss the sarcasm dripping from her lips. “What are mothers for?”

  “Here goes nothing.” I put my hand on the dog’s head and concentrated on envisioning the wretched woman who’d insulted me. Her human image flitted unfettered into my mind. “From bitch to bitch, a hasty curse. A simple trick I must reverse…”

  A light gust rushed through the room, ruffling my hair and the satin gowns around me. Fifi yapped at the static charge flowing between us.

  I glanced at Chloe, who waved at me to keep going.

  My eyes flitted around the room as I scraped the bottom of the proverbial barrel for the next line of my makeshift spell. I knew I had to fix the stupid dog, but my heart wasn’t in it. Rows of sprinkler heads, dotting the black background of the ceiling, caught my eye, reminding me of the tin stars worn by lawmen in the old west. Which made me think of Woody from Toy Story, which made me think of Jack and his magnificent—

  “Oh, my God.” Chloe bit back a grin. “Did you just say you wanted to ride Jack until his ‘morning wood’ burst into flames?”

  “Uh…” I blinked at her a few times while I pulled my thoughts out of the gutter. “Did I?”

  A blast of laughter burst from her lips. “Yes you did. You two go at it like rabbits. Can you even imagine sex so sizzling you’d actually ignite?”

  Yes. Yes, I could imagine it. In fact, I was imagining it as we spoke. My lady bits were on fire, and I’d broken out in a hot sweat. I’d g
otten so warm I smelled smoke. Fifi, the French poodle, must have smelled it too because she started frantically barking at me.

  “Is something burning?” My mother jumped off the couch, sniffing the air as she scurried toward us.

  “Maybe the candles—” A loud wail cut me off, making me jump. The electronic shriek of the alarm echoed off the walls as heavy metal doors rolled down from a seam in the ceiling, caging in the dresses just in time for the sprinklers to douse everything—and everyone—with an icy shower.

  An older woman in a violet pantsuit and contrasting flame-colored updo burst into the room, her face frozen in comic horror. Or too much Botox. “What on earth?”

  An inappropriate giggle forced its way out of me.

  “What happened in here? Where is Françoise?” She mashed her hands into her sides, making water squish out like a sponge.

  “I-I think she ran to get help.” Chloe hip-checked me, staring at me with her eyes stretched so wide I could see all the way around her blue irises. “Right, Ivie?”

  Purple Lady gasped and turned as white as a slice of Wonder bread. “Is that one of our original gowns?” Her bony hand flew up to cover her horrified expression.

  I opened my mouth to speak as Fifi splashed her way over to us, barking her ridiculously coiffed head off.

  “Not only have you destroyed some of the finest silk in existence, but you brought a-a…? This is positively outrageous.” She pointed a shaky finger toward the drenched poodle. “You can’t have that dog in here!”

  I couldn’t help it. I laughed. As it happened, Fifi was the least of our worries.

  “Who called the five-oh?” Helena staggered over to us, still sipping from her empty flute, trying to suck every last drop of champagne condensation from the inside of the glass.

  “That would be the fire department.” The purple lady huffed. “You’ve set off the alarm. How exactly you managed to do that is still at question, but thank heavens for our dress protection system.” She eyed the steel doors before turning her glare on me.