“Just a moment.” Anneliese set her bag on the floor by the fountain’s edge. Simon followed her like a second puppy,a permanent smile on his face. He wasn’t quite sure what happened next—the three cocktails didn’t help his eye-to-brain connection—but Jinx zigged around Anneliese while she tried to retrieve something from the bag, then she was waving her arms in the air …
And then she was in the fountain.
Simon hurried to help her, but he still couldn’t stop laughing. Not because she looked funny—well, she did, but all of it was funny.
Spitting out water, Anneliese moved a wet lock off her face. “Have I told you I’m the unluckiest person in the world?”
He leaned on the low edge of the fountain with one arm, so they were face-to-face. “I don’t know what you’re saying. You’re literallyinthe Golden Luck Fountain. You couldn’t be luckier.”
Anneliese threw her head back and laughed. “What in the world is a Golden Luck Fountain?”
“People drop gambling chips in it to bring them luck. You know, instead of coins.” He reached in, brought out a chip, and flicked it back into the water. “And they put glitter in the water, so it looks golden.”
The same glitter was now sticking to her skin, lending her a sheen changing from golden to silver as the lights caught her face. With the glittering complexion and her wet, silvery hair, she looked like a water nymph, coming to take him away.
And as he stared at her, particularly at a piece of glitter stuck on her lower lip …
He wanted to go with her into the crystal depths.
Her gaze stopped on his, her lips now free of laughter, parted in the most inviting manner …
“I should go get dried off,” she said. Simon helped her out, and she turned in a circle. “Bathroom. That way. Could you keep an eye on Jinx for a minute?”
“Sure.” He secured the puppy while she rushed away, dripping a straight line across the room.
It was closer to ten minutes, but Simon didn’t mind. He found a knotted rope toy peeking out of Anneliese’s travel bag and used it to play tug of war with Jinx, then petted the overly excited pup on his belly as Jinx rolled from side to side.
“Who’s a good boy, huh? You are. Yes, you are,” Simon cooed. “And a very naughty boy, too, for running all over the casino. Not that I mind.” He didn’t mind a tiny bit. Actually, he should thank Jinx.
“Sorry for the wait,” Anneliese’s voice came from a few feet away.
Simon raised his eyes and dropped his jaw.
She’d changed from her soaked slacks and shirt into something more befitting a nymph: a flowy cream strap dress, the multi-layered, asymmetrical skirt coming down to her shins. The fabric seemed light enough for a breath of wind to blow it away, and it floated around her as if she were still underwater.
“A nice lady lent me—gave me?—this. She was very drunk.” Anneliese giggled. “She was changing into a party dress and didn’t need this one anymore. She’d just gotten married.”
He wasn’t sure if it was the three cocktails or just Anneliese that didn’t make complete sense. “What?”
“They were having a wedding at the chapel over there. She said it was awesome, but the after-party is going to be even better.”
A string of victorious dings sounded from a nearby gambling machine, unleashing a cloud of celebratory confetti that drifted through the air behind Anneliese. The subdued lights shifted into a rainbow that caught in the semi-translucent layers of her dress, highlighting her in pearlescence, and even in the jumble and chaos of their surroundings, for that moment, for Simon, no one else existed but her.
His fledging idea turned into a sign from the universe itself.
He couldn’t let this woman go.
He jumped to his feet. “That’s a great idea. We should go.”
“To the party?”
“No, no.” He walked over to her and put his hands on her shoulders. “See, you’re already dressed for it.” Joy and excitement mingled within him, stretching his lips into a grin. “We should go get married.”
***
Shanna knew one thing, and that one thing was that the only thing to have gone right tonight—theonething—was him. Jason, or whatever his real name was; she didn’t particularly care.
He was playing her with his stories, but she could tell there was great intelligence behind those dreamy dark blue eyes, and besides, she was playing him, too. She told him she was a normal girl, not a sad, cursed witch. She told him she was an editor of a fashion magazine (gods know why that popped into her mind, but at least her fake name fit), not a drifter, fired from a job she didn’t even like. But he didn’t seem to mind her lies, and when he smiled, he made her feel like none of her misery had ever existed.
