Enchanted, Inc. (Enchanted, Inc. 1)

I forced my attention back to Ethan and gamely tried to continue the conversation, even as I dreaded what the magical dynamic duo might come up with as a test.

"What happens if a company thinks their employee has stolen something and is using it to compete against them?"

"First step is we write a nice, official cease and desist letter. In a lot of cases, that scares them into stopping. Most people don't realize what they're doing or that it's wrong. They then just have to modify their product enough to make it be something that's truly their own. It gets more complicated if there's a lot of money involved, if the original employer really suffers damages, or if the ex-employee gets defiant."

I wondered if a letter would do the trick here. I wasn't sure how we'd get a case involving stolen magic into the court system. Would that even be a credible threat?

At that moment, Ethan's nearly untouched beer disappeared, to be replaced by a bottle of Coke. I suspected most people would still see and even taste the beer.

Ethan blinked, went a little pale, picked up the bottle and studied it for a second, then laughed. "I forgot I'd ordered that. But I did say I was only going to have one beer tonight."

I wasn't sure whether to contradict him. He hadn't ordered it. The waitress had been nowhere near. He was in deep denial, but he'd definitely noticed the change.

I tried to glance as casually as possible toward the bar area. Rod raised an eyebrow at Owen in an "Okay, you try something" look. Owen bit his lip and frowned in thought, and my stomach knotted in dread. From my experience with his magical creativity, I suspected we were in for something interesting.

In the blink of an eye our nearly empty dinner dishes and glasses disappeared, to be replaced by a white linen tablecloth covering the previously bare Formica table. On top of the tablecloth were china dishes holding a sinfully rich chocolate dessert. We each had steaming mugs of cappuccino, and a crystal vase in the center of the table held a single red rosebud. I could certainly go for that kind of testing. I had to fight not to shoot a grateful glance in Owen's direction. He didn't know much more about me than I knew about him, but it looked like he'd been paying attention. During the first job interview, I'd ordered the cappuccino like it was a rare delicacy, and he knew I carried chocolate in my purse.

But I couldn't let myself go hug another man when I was on a date, not even a date generated on dubious pretenses. And speaking of that date, I studied him to see how he reacted. He stared at the table and gulped, then shook his head, took a deep breath, and said, "We must be the millionth customer, or something like that."

The waitress chose that moment to stop by and say, "Are you interested in dessert tonight?"

Ethan looked at her, then at the molten chocolate cake on our table, then back at her.

"Uh, we're good. Thanks. This dessert should do it."

The waitress stared at him for a long moment, frowning, then shrugged, said,

"Whatever," and left.

I turned my head with the pretense of watching the waitress leave so I could see Owen's and Rod's reactions. Both of them looked surprised, then Rod rolled his eyes and shook his head. Owen's eyes narrowed in a challenge. I braced myself.

Ethan reached for his cappuccino, but the cup scooted away from him. He tried again, and it darted sideways. I watched, wondering how he'd rationalize this one.

"Boy, it's slippery," he said after a while. "I'm glad I stuck to one beer."

I put a bite of chocolate cake into my mouth—no sense wasting it, and it kept me from having to say anything—and glanced at the guys. Now Owen was grinning smugly while Rod looked frustrated. I got the feeling this was no longer about verifying Ethan's response to magic. Magical men appeared to be just as competitive as anyone else with a Y chromosome.

It then started snowing gently over our table. White flakes danced and spun in the air, then settled on us and on the table before vanishing without making us cold or damp. It was a truly spectacular sight, and no one else in the restaurant gave it a second look.

Ethan closed his eyes for nearly a full minute, then opened them again to see that it was in fact still snowing indoors. He then looked at me with a desperate plea in his eyes. "Tell me I'm not going crazy."

"Why would you think you're going crazy?"

"Either I'm having vivid hallucinations or some very strange things are happening here."

"Like what?"

"Well, first there were the people with wings. And by the way, they still have wings.

It wasn't a trick of the light. And then my beer turned into a Coke. And then we got dessert worthy of the Ritz, but the waitress doesn't even notice and asks us if we want dessert. I can't catch my cup, and now it's snowing inside a restaurant. Water I could understand from a leaky ceiling, but snow?" He shook his head. "And now you're going to tell me that none of that happened, and you're mad at me for telling the waitress we didn't want dessert."

I glanced toward Owen and Rod. Owen, who looked just a wee bit smug, gave me a solemn "go ahead" nod. I turned my attention to Ethan and asked, "Do you see things like that often?"

He ran a hand through his hair, making it stand up on end. "Would it sound totally crazy if I said I did?"

"Try me."

"Okay, then. Yes, I do see things like that every so often, more often lately."