Cursed To Death

“What?” she said, eyes puffed and clasping a tissue.

“Can I come in?”

“I’d rather you just insult me here, all right?”

Bradley closed his eyes but allowed his palms to rest gently on her arms. “I would never insult you, ’Rissa. I like you too much, respect you too much… Your mind is… I ca

She hung her heard and more tears fell as she released a sad chuckle. “I know, blah, blah, blah, I’m like the sister you never had, and you wa

So many things were competing to get out of his head and out of his mouth at the same time that his voice failed. She backed up and placed her hand on the doorknob.

“Wait.” Bradley palmed the door to keep her from closing it. “You’re beautiful to me, ’Rissa.”

“Thanks,” she said in a monotone voice, “I love you, too. I’ll be better in the morning.”

“Not like-a-sister beautiful,” he said, still resting his hand against the door.

She looked up at him and he swallowed hard.

“Not like-a-sister beautiful,” he repeated quietly.

Her hand fell away from the doorknob and she began to shred the tissue she was holding.

“You don’t have to say that to make me feel better.” She looked down at her bare feet and shrugged. “I know what I’m not.”

“You are the blindest seer I’ve ever encountered,” he said in a soft murmur. “Honestly you are.”

She slowly lifted her head and stared at him, her liquid blue gaze shimmering with new tears. “Why are you messing with my head, Bradley? We’re friends.”

“You’re right, we’re friends, and I’m glad of that-but you’re also the kindest person I have ever known. Clarissa McGill. You care about people, you’re dedicated, honorable… You give 150 percent to everyone around you and you appreciate people.” He looked down at his shoes. “I never wanted to make you feel uncomfortable at work… so I tried not to stare at that cutest dimple that peeks out on your chin when you laugh, or stare at the clearest, most beautiful pair of blue eyes I’ve ever seen when you get that far-off look in them. It’s a fine line we guys walk, in the spirit of political correctness. I always wanted you to like me and not think of me as some lecherous jerk.”

“I would never think that about you,” she murmured.

He shook his head and leaned against the door frame, still not allowing his gaze to meet hers. “I know how you feel… what it feels like to be invisible. Woods and Fisher have that, I don’t know… military, commando swagger that slays women in the bars from eighteen to eighty. They’re like fifteen to twenty years my junior, buff… Even Winters has that cute technology-guy charisma going for him that makes coeds think he’ll be the next Bill Gates… And I’m just Bradley, the resident dark arts expert, who’s over forty and-”

“Handsome,” Clarissa said in a soft voice.

Bradley looked up at her and then looked away with a sad smile. “You’re kind, but, in the male lineup on this team, I’m realistic, ’Rissa. Stand me beside one of those ripped Shadow Wolves and it’s sad. So, I-”

“Just throw yourself into your work and try to tell yourself it doesn’t matter.”

He nodded. “Something like that.”

“Try to tell yourself that it doesn’t hurt when the members of your team get picked up on nights out for fun-one by one-and you’re the only one holding down the table watching all the drinks.”

“Yeah,” he said, letting out a wistful sigh. “But after a while, you sort of get used to it.”

“But that little voice inside never dies does it?” She let out a breath as his gaze met hers again. “The one that says, why not me… Am I so unattractive or such a bad person that you won’t even dance with me? That even if I’m not the prettiest one in the place…”

“Oh, ’Rissa, haven’t you noticed that I always dance with you and I’m always holding down the table with you?”

She nodded and swallowed hard. “I thought you were just being a gentleman.”

“I was, but don’t I get points for that, too?”

His forlorn tone and the irony of what he’d said made her smile.

“Yeah…”

“Did you ever stop and think that for the average guy it might be hard to come over to a table with a woman who’s wedged between two very athletic hunks, an older dude that could be her husband or maybe a protective big brother, a young guy who could be a lunatic younger brother, and then freakin’ storm trooper-looking males in the form of mini versions of the Hulk. I personally wouldn’t ask you for the time, let alone a dance, Clarissa. Beauty has nothing to do with it; survival of the fittest does. That’s basic male logic.”

He was glad that she covered her mouth and laughed. It was a joyous, soul-deep sound that made him smile.

“Oh, my God, Bradley… I never looked at it that way!”

He folded his arms over his chest, leaning on the door frame. “Well, I’m glad we at least got that much cleared up tonight.” He smiled at her and then unfolded his arms. He seemed not to know what to do with his hands for a moment, then shoved them into his pockets. “It’s not a crime to be smart. Even though this is the twenty-first century, some guys get it backwards… but I’m not one of them. I think it’s attractive… sexy, if you must really know. You’re brilliant, Clarissa. That simply blows me away.”

She glanced away again shyly. “Thank you.”

An uncomfortable silence hung in the air between them.

“I don’t want it to get weird now,” he finally said. “I just wanted you to know that you are… special and that I do know what it feels like to be viewed as some sort of asexual being when I’m not.”

She stared at him until he looked away again.

“I mean-that didn’t come out right,” he said, stammering.

“Yes, it did,” she said quietly. “Who doesn’t want to feel like someone is dreaming about them at night or wants them like that?”

He nodded, staring down at his loafers. “Precisely. It’s easy to talk to a psychic-they always know what you mean, even when you botch it.”

She smiled and touched his cheek with the tips of her fingers, making him look at her. “You didn’t botch anything, and you don’t have to make jokes about something so deeply personal.”

“I’m not any good at this, Clarissa,” he said quietly. “I’m a klutz when trying to express myself about things like this.”

“How many years have we been working together without any dates, without any Monday morning stories about a fantastic weekend away with someone?”

“About five years,” he said in a quiet rush and closed his eyes.

“Maybe longer than that?” she offered, moving closer to him.

He simply nodded and then swallowed hard.

“That’s a long time to feel invisible.”

“An eternity,” he said in a low murmur, pushing a stray wisp of her hair behind her ear.

“I don’t want to feel invisible anymore,” she said quietly, closing the gap between them.

“Neither do I.”

She leaned up and brushed his mouth with a tender kiss, and he deepened it where they stood, a tremor ru

“What if this is the dark magick?” he murmured, pulling back. “I don’t want you to ever regret… I mean tomorrow, you could feel very upset about all of this and we still have to work together.”

She took up his hand and led him inside her room, closing the door with a gentle thud and locking it. “Does it matter if it’s a spell or not?” she asked, standing before him and looking up.

“Clarissa… I…”

She took his mouth again and this time he deepened it with more ardor. But when he broke their kiss, breathless, she cupped his jaw in her palm. His hands were trembling as they held her shoulders and she didn’t need any gift of second sight to understand the questions that beleaguered his mind.