Ursula sagged in her chair, hand over her eyes. For three weeks she’d gone through treatment at From Crud to Stud, a New Orleans makeover service for supernatural beings. Instead of these sessions turning her into a bad girl who drew hot men to her, she was still the same blah, frumpy good angel she’d been since ancient times. Talk about her decency getting old and the shameless indulgence she craved not happening as easily as she’d hoped.

She seemed doomed to spend her life alone and unwanted. Her mouth trembled. “This isn’t working. It’s never going to, for me, is it?”

Wynona kept her peace.

No surprise. Since Wynona had converted from a reaper to a good angel, she couldn’t skirt the truth any longer, not even to spare a client’s feelings. However, her eyes would reveal the sorry state of things.

Steeled for the worst, Ursula peeked through her fingers.

Wynona grinned at her smartphone screen. Her thumbs flew over the keyboard.

Ursula gritted her teeth. “Tell Rafael I said hi.” After all, she and he had been going together when he’d dumped her for Wynona.

Her gaze inched up, pale cheeks flushing. Not from embarrassment…arousal. Her glazed eyes were a dead giveaway. She killed her goofy look, texted fast then put her phone, screen side down, on the treatment table. Brutal leather restraints hung from the arm and leg rests. Someone, or something, slammed into the wall behind them, followed by an unholy hiss.

Wynona arched her slender eyebrows. “How’s it going?”

Scratching noises flowed from the room on the other side. Sounded like a were trying to claw through the wall to escape the ghastly treatment awaiting him. Ursula understood his pain. “You tell me. I still don’t look, act or think like you.”

Wynona was perfect in the looks department and blithely uninhibited around men, especially Rafael. Although tall and slender, she had enviable curves, like a Victoria’s Secret model, her ample bosom not drooping as Ursula’s did, her long legs fueling men’s sinful dreams. Tonight, she wore a leather outfit, as usual, this one a deep rust shade. The long-sleeved top stopped beneath her breasts to reveal a creamy expanse of her torso. The band on her snug skirt grazed her navel. Her waist-length hair was white, her eyes silvery, her features exquisite.

Ursula hung her head. “I’d settle for being a millionth of what you are. You don’t even get the frizzies when the weather’s bad.”

Rain drummed the roof and windows. The air was soupier than normal in the French Quarter and kinked Ursula’s hair.

Wynona flicked her hand dismissively. Her lavender fragrance, sweet yet sultry, wafted close. “No way am I special. The way I look has zero to do with magic. Like other women, particularly mortals, I use industrial-strength conditioner available at any Walgreens. By the way, don’t waste your dough on generic junk. Pantene kicks serious ass.”

“If I rub it all over me, will I be like you?” Sexy and confident, able to use bad words, indulge in indecent thoughts and get a hot guy?

“You want to be the best of who you are, sweetie. No one else.” Wynona squeezed Ursula’s knee. “That’s why we’re using the latest technology to help you reach your goal.” She’d hooked her up to an aversion therapy machine. Whenever a drab or boring woman popped up on the computer screen, the device zapped Ursula to teach her that stuff was blah. Thus far, they’d gone through most of Dr. Amy Farrah Fowler’s scenes in The Big Bang Theory.

Despite the electricity frying her brain cells, she still found Amy’s modest skirts, plaid blouses, oversized sweaters and sensible shoes rather attractive. “I don’t think this is working.”

Wynona played with the dial. “Maybe it’s time to increase the voltage.”

“If I were human, you would have electrocuted me long ago.”

“No pain, no gain, right?”

“What pain? I’m beginning to like the jolts.” Flushing, she squeezed her thighs together and gestured to her lady parts between them. “Down there.”

“Yeah?” Wynona regarded the device with new interest. “Better than a motorized dildo, huh?”

There was no comparison. Amazon promised to deliver her machine before Friday, along with a beige sweater similar to Amy’s in the latest episode. Ursula fantasized about wearing nothing except the cashmere and blubbering in ecstasy from each savage shock. Unfortunately, that didn’t solve her problem.

“I don’t think this is going to work.” She pulled off the electrodes stuck to her temples, neck and wrists. “Let’s cut through this other stuff and go for magic. A potion or spell to make me like you. Several if that’s what I need.”

“I’m flattered, but, no. The only way your makeover will succeed is for you to do the work, beginning with an attitude adjustment.”

The were in the next room howled then panted loudly. “No, no, no,” he shrieked. “I don’t wanna!”

“Too bad,” the staffer growled. “Get on the damn table.”

“No. I—”

His scream cut off his protest. Other rooms pulsed with client moans and wails. Enforcers ran down the hall, shouting oaths and ordering customers to behave.

Ursula grabbed Wynona’s soft, delicate hands. Even her knuckles were amazing. “Why can’t we take a shortcut with this? Are you afraid that when I’m like you, I’ll try to take Rafael away?”

Wynona turned her wrists and dug her nails into Ursula’s palms. “Were you planning on doing that?”

Not any longer. She bit back a wince at the pain. “No.”

Wynona released her. “You do realize potions and spells come with their own problems, right? It’s like modern medicine. Ever see commercials for the newest wonder drugs? They’ll cure insomnia, depression, rashes, shitty personalities, whatever, but they may also make you go blind, shrivel your lungs, stop your heart or keep you from swallowing for the rest of your life, which makes your initial complaint seem pretty tame in comparison.”

“Shouldn’t magic be more precise by calling on the dark powers?”

“What dark powers? All we have is Becca.” Wynona scooted her chair closer and leaned in. “When Daemon wanted to ditch his satyr legs and hooves to look totally human, Becca forgot to give him feet until Heather had a meltdown.”

Ursula pressed her hand to her chest. Heather was a good fairy and healer who worked as the receptionist here. Daemon, her boyfriend, was on the enforcement team. “Does Becca usually forget stuff like that?”

“Let’s just say she’s not the best witch on planet Earth. Before she and Eric got together, she gave him a potion that made him bald, rather than releasing his inner beast to turn him into a bad boy. Poor guy thought he was too nice, which made him lose the babes.”

“He wanted other women, not her, so she made him bald?”

“What? No! Since she’s lousy at spells and potions, she asked for her mom’s help. Rowena’s first-rate but warned magic could have unknown effects, especially on a minor god like him. Thankfully, everything worked out, but you don’t want to go through that.” She patted Ursula’s shoulder. “A guy should love you for who you are, not who you think you want to be.”

Easy for her to say. Rafael had been Wynona’s parole officer when she’d been a rebel reaper, snatching souls before their time. Rather than keeping her on the straight and narrow, he’d begged her to corrupt him and had been willing to give up Heaven, his white wings and future for her. Nothing mattered, except having her love.

Ursula ached with envy. Paradise was nice but nothing without a guy to share the good stuff with. “You didn’t have to change for Rafael because you’re perfect. I’m not. No one’s going to like me as I am.”

“You’re wrong. Rafael wanted me despite my faults.” She shrugged. “We just clicked.”

“You knew right away you were right for each other?”

“We both fought it, but yeah. You know when it fits.”

She figured clicking and knowing weren’t in her future since men never noticed her. If she wanted even a zillionth of what Wynona had, she’d have to be bold. “I’d like to try magic. I don’t want to waste another minute.”

“You haven’t been at this that long.” She fiddled with the machine and zapped herself lightly. A throaty hum poured from her followed by a breathless sigh and goofy grin. “Give it a chance. You have vacation time saved up.”

Fifty years to be precise, since she’d never taken an hour off from her admin job in Heaven. She stood. “No. I’m going to talk to Becca.”

Wynona tapped her foot, a sure sign she was frustrated, but she inhaled deeply and calmed. “I’ll have a word with her. Go on, sit. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

She reached the door, pivoted and returned for her smartphone. Too bad. Ursula had wanted to read Rafael’s comments. She suspected they were filled with fire and passion. Perhaps a few naughty words, too. Nothing like his former bland relationship with her. Their dates and bed-play had been more well-mannered than a senior citizens’ mixer.

She’d always believed he’d been that way with her because he was an honorable man. After all, he’d earned his wings by keeping two children from drowning during Roman times and had lost his own life in the rescue. To save their pet dog, no less. What other guy would have done so for an animal that wasn’t even his? Although he was better looking than the male models on romance novel covers, his allure had never made him pushy or bold during their time together. They’d kissed without exchanging tongues, made love missionary-style with the lights off and always kept most of their clothes on.

Their physical encounters were all she knew about sex. As far as their mild emotional connection went, she’d thought that was the way things should be between a woman and a man.

Then he’d met Wynona, released his beast and threatened to leave Heaven if he couldn’t have her carnally and tenderly, making their souls one for eternity.

That put the kibosh on his and Ursula’s limp courtship. Even if he’d still wanted her, his so-so passion wasn’t enough any longer. She hungered for a man who’d turn her inside out and who would afford her unleashed desire, at least for a little while.

In preparation for her change from drab to dynamite, she googled women’s leather outfits. The skirts looked too tight and the tops downright uncomfortable. However, if this was the price for a good time, so be it. She filled her Amazon cart.

“Hey, how you doin’?” The male voice rumbled like quiet thunder past the closed door.

Something inside her fluttered. She lifted her face.

In the hall, scuffles broke out. Something slammed against the door and other places, rattling the framed business license hanging above the desk.

A woman moaned.

The same male voice grunted lewdly.

“Hey!” Daemon’s shout didn’t stop the lusty noises. The sounds traveled to the right and grew fainter.

Footfalls bounded past.

Ursula hurried into the hall. At the far end, Heather was pressed against a door, her arms flailing. A tall man snuggled into her and sucked her throat. Given her rounded eyes and bared teeth, she wasn’t loving it.

“Dammit, get away from her.” Daemon grabbed the guy’s arm. “She belongs to me.”

Ursula had never heard a more romantic declaration.

The other man flicked Daemon off like a pesky gnat, which sent him flying backward. He bounced off the wall and dropped to the floor face down, his black shirt and pants askew.

Heather yelped. “You hurt him. How could you?” She kneed the guy.

He gasped and cradled his injured groin.

Her complexion went even paler. “I’m so sorry.” She bounced on her heels and flapped her hands. “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m so sorry.”

Daemon groaned.

She shoved the guy away and darted past, white blouse and skirt bobbing. Her baby powder scent filled the space. Upon reaching Daemon’s side, she dropped to her knees.

Heat radiated from the other man, as welcome on this cool, clammy night as hot chocolate was during a snowstorm.

Unable to help herself, Ursula edged closer.

His hair was thick and wavy. The dark brown locks tumbled over his forehead and curled around his ears. Classical Greek features made him movie-star handsome. Dark stubble dusted his firm jaw, upper lip and cheeks.

Warmth flooded her.

She had an insane urge to cup his beautiful face and stroke his bronze skin. Both were impossibly virile, the same as his broad shoulders and muscular arms. A black tee hugged his firm pecs, ripped abs and bruising biceps. He had a tribal tattoo on the right one that mesmerized her. Her nipples tightened.

His low-slung jeans left nothing to the imagination. He stopped cupping himself and revealed the enormous bulge behind his fly.

Her mouth got even drier.

“Tell me where Farron hurt you.” Heather touched Daemon as a blind woman would, lingering on every spot, especially the X-rated ones. Color flooded her cheeks. Desire welled in her eyes. “I’ll make it better.”

The guy, Farron, snorted and made a beeline for them.

Ursula blocked him.

He reared back. Surprise crossed his features at her presence and interference. Confusion replaced it.

What could she say? She had no idea why she’d stopped him except it seemed the right thing to do. Not for Heather or Daemon, for her.

She pushed to her toes and craned her neck to drink in his straight nose, slightly flared nostrils and full mouth. Far too often, she’d dreamed of lips like his, despite the danger carnal thoughts posed to a good angel. Although her soul was pure, she was also a woman and indulged in his animal magnetism. In human years, he was probably thirty or so. Supernaturally, he was a demon and had likely been around since time began. Tiny flames flickered in his black eyes. His scent was of the Earth and its deepest depths. The sulfur smell alone should have warned her off. Instead, his fragrance drew her to him, the same as his heat.

A zombie groaned in the room behind him.

He didn’t bother looking over, regarding her instead. He frowned. “What?”

If she could have formed words, she would have introduced herself. Unfortunately, she didn’t have enough strength left to smile. Drooling was her sole option.

“What the hell?” Stefin, a beefy Russian with blond hair, rushed down the hall, followed by redheaded Taro then Anatol, who sported long dreadlocks as dark as his complexion. All three were demons and enforcers there who kept clients from getting too frisky. They, like Daemon, wore black shirts and pants.

Farron grinned at the trio. His smile carved deep dimples in both cheeks, making him even more adorable.

Her legs wavered.

“Loosen up.” He gave the guys a careless shrug. “I was only having a little fun.”

“Not with Heather, you don’t.” Daemon slung his arm around her and planted his hand smack on her breast.

She turned bright pink but sagged against him.

Farron gestured in surrender. “Fine with me. Which room is mine?” He pivoted away and almost fell over Ursula.

She lifted her face to his.

He stepped back.

Stefin joined him. “I’m in charge here.” He slammed his fist into his chest, his muscles thick like his accent. Taro and Anatol rolled their eyes. Stefin glared at Farron. “You’ll go to the room I tell you to go to.”

“Is that so?” Farron lifted his hand.

Stefin and the other demons did the same.

Power from the dark side zoomed between them.

Ursula skittered out of harm’s way.

Lights flickered. Air sizzled. Farron held his own against the guys, the battle a Mexican standoff.

He laughed. A booming sound filled with mischief and surprising joy.

Enthralled, Ursula staggered toward him.

He looked over.

Taro hurled a new blast, a mega flash that turned everything blinding white. Once colors bled back in, an invisible force pinned Farron’s arms to his sides. His large feet dangled several inches above the floor.

“In there.” Stefin gulped air and inclined his head to the left. Together, he and the guys used their powers to push Farron into the room, his back to it.

She followed.

He stared at her, eyes widened. “What?”

Before she could manage a word, Anatol slammed the door and locked it. She could have walked through the barrier, an easy thing for a good angel, but that would have been rude. Disappointed, she slouched against the wall.

“Ah, guys, get a room, all right?” Wynona shook her head at Heather and Daemon making out on the floor more passionately than most couples did in bed. She stepped around them and strode to Ursula. “What are you doing out here?”

She opened her mouth but still couldn’t speak.

Wynona eyed her. “Are you okay?”

Uncertain, Ursula turned to Farron’s room. It was eerily quiet, considering four uncivilized males lurked inside.

“What happened to your hair?”

At Wynona’s question, Ursula patted her bun, surprised to find it twice its normal size. The rest of her slicked-back do was also frizzed and poofy.

“I’ll write down the name of the Pantene conditioner I use and give you an online coupon I found. Come on.” Wynona steered her back into the treatment room and shut the door. “Okay, I talked to Becca. And she—”

“Who is he?”

“—agrees with me. Wait. What? Who is who?”

“The guy Anatol, Taro and Stefin hauled into the treatment room.” She jabbed her thumb in that direction. “His name’s Farron. Who is he? What’s his story?”

“Why?”

Heat poured through Ursula. Her face burned as it never had during her time on Earth and in Heaven. “I want him.”

He is the one. We fit.