He pointed the coffee scoop at her. “You’re the one who called for demonic help.”
“I didn’t know the universe would take me seriously. So, what, you help me get revenge on Mark somehow, and then you’ll leave?”
The coffee burbled into the pot. Andy didn’t respond until he had filled a mug and placed it in front of Erin. “Exactly.”
Erin picked up the mug and looked inside it as if she expected it to contain spiders. “Cream, two sugars,” she said.
He wordlessly collected the mug, added a shot of half-and-half, stirred in two teaspoons of sugar, and returned it to her. He slid into the seat across from her at the kitchen table. “Do we have a deal?”
She sipped her coffee and looked into his eyes, which were a deep brown color with almost imperceptible flecks of garnet. “Do I have a choice?”
“You always have a choice,” he said.
She set down her mug. “What? I told you to get out when I first laid eyes on you.”
“You told me that before you had a chance to think about it.” His voice slid into a lower register, which did strange things to her ability to think clearly. “Ask me to go and I will. I’ll never darken your doorstep again. But I think”—he ran one fingertip around the rim of his own mug of coffee—“I think we might have some fun with this.”
Erin stared at the demon seated at her kitchen table. Her gaze swept over his ridiculously combed hair, his well-trimmed beard, and his absurd red bow tie. “I got rid of my husband,” she said. “And I suppose I could get rid of you, too. If I needed to.”
“You certainly could,” he murmured.
“But you can’t do anything without my approval,” she added.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, flashing his perfect teeth.
“And you’d have to stay out of my hair.”
“But of course,” he said. “Do we have a deal?” He reached his hand across the table.
She took his hand. It was warmer than she expected, almost but not quite hot to the touch. “It’s a deal.”
3
“Is that what you’re wearing?” Andy asked.
Erin, fresh out of a shower and facing the mirror examining herself in a navy tea-length dress, looked over her shoulder at him. “What do you mean by that?”
“You should make him regret he left you. Show a little leg or something.”
“You may not be familiar with the concept, demon, but I’m going to church. You know, a house of God?”
“Why would God have a problem with your leg?”
“As far as I know, God doesn’t have a problem with my leg.”
“Then why not show it off?” Andy extended one trouser-clad leg in a way that was clearly intended to be enticing.
“Why does a demon sound like my mother?” Erin muttered.
“Does your mother want you to show some leg?”
“No! I mean, sort of. At first, she wanted me to give up on the divorce and get back together with Mark.”
Andy approached her from behind as she faced the mirror. He peered at her in the reflection. “Do you want to get back together with him?” His expressive eyes widened.
“Of course not. He’s a dog.” Erin smoothed the front of the dress. “Sorry, Nancy. No offense,” she added in an aside to the dog, who had returned to her spot at the foot of the bed.
“Well, then.” Andy patted her shoulders in a comradely way. “What shall we do first? We discussed boils and itching, but an audience opens up all sorts of exciting possibilities.” He whipped out his notebook and flipped through the pages.
