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"Yes," she breathed with relief when she saw the van shoot past the end of the street, wheels squealing as he tried to bring the vehicle to a halt to follow her. Jill was already turning left down another street by the time he managed to bring his car around.

Jill lost sight of him as soon as she turned the corner and her attention was again divided between the rearview mirror and the road ahead, grateful it wasn't a busy area. The last thing she needed was to hit someone in her efforts to escape her pursuer.

When there was still no sign of the van behind her before she turned up the next street, Jill felt her shoulders relax the smallest bit. But she continued to drive a little faster than she should and continued to take turns right and left and right again to be sure she'd lost the man before heading for her store.

Due to the parade, the streets around her store were all blocked off. The closest Jill could park was in the lot at the end of the road from where the parade was to launch. It was blocked to the public today, open only for parade participants to park. There were several tents set up at one end for everyone to don costumes and do their makeup.

Jill bit her lip as she gazed over the floats and costumed people milling about as she parked her car. If she hurried to the store, called Kyle, and then changed into her costume, there was really no reason she couldn't come back and be a part of the parade as planned. Surely Kyle could handle John, she reasoned. It wasn't like there was anything she could do. Besides, she'd committed herself to the parade and had her costume in her knapsack. She could hardly just leave them without a Mrs. Claus. But she had to make that call first, Jill decided as she got out of the car.

Slipping past the tents without running across anyone she knew, Jill hurried up the street to her store. She unlocked the door, slid inside and headed straight for the phone.

A curse slipped from her lips when her call was answered by the answering machine. She listened to her brother's recorded voice, frowning as she tried to sort out where Kyle and Claire could be. Kyle had mentioned going to the hardware store, but surely Claire was still there feeding Beth?

Her gaze slid to the clock on the wall and she frowned as she realized that while the store was only fifteen minutes from Claire and Kyle's house, she'd wasted almost half an hour making sure she'd lost her pursuer. Claire could very well have finished feeding Beth and headed out for some last-minute Christmas shopping.

"Kyle," Jill said when the beep finally sounded. "I need to talk to you. I—" She paused to worry her lip as she realized he wouldn't be able to reach her. Her cell phone was dead and she'd be on a parade float, nowhere near a phone for the next hour or so. Letting her breath out on a sigh, she said, "I'll try calling again later. But it's important."

Unsatisfied with the message, Jill hung up and turned to peer out the front window of the store, stilling when she spotted John Heathcliffe crossing the street headed straight for the front door of her shop.

Cursing, she whirled away from the counter and hurried out the back door, then started up the alley behind the shops, her mind racing. It seemed John hadn't just been watching the house. He must have followed her around and learned where she worked when he'd decided he needed a guinea pig.

"Jill? What on earth are you doing here? I was just heading to my store to try to call you. You aren't even dressed yet."

"Oh, Bev." Jill swallowed guiltily as the woman hurried up the alley to her. "I—"

"You can explain while you dress," Bev interrupted firmly, catching her arm and steering her toward the back door of her salon.

"You don't understand," Jill murmured, glancing nervously up and down the alley, sure John was going to pop up at any moment. "I can't be in the parade."

"The hell you can't!" Bev snapped. Getting the door unlocked, she dragged her inside the dark shop. "Do you know what I went through to make sure you would be Mrs. Claus? Every unattached female shop owner on this street wanted to play the part to get their hands on Nick."

"Yes, but—"

"No buts," she said firmly, flipping on the light and pushing her toward the ladies' room. "Get in there and change."

"But—" Jill's protest died on a sigh as she found herself pushed into the bathroom and the door pulled closed behind her.

"Dress," Bev repeated firmly through the door. "The parade starts in five minutes and you will be in it." Without waiting for further protest, she added, "I have to go back and chase a couple other people down. When you're ready, leave through the back door and just pull it closed. It locks automatically."

When Jill didn't respond right away, Bev added grimly, "Don't let me down, Jill. I went to great lengths to see you in this role and I'll never forgive you if you leave me without a Mrs. Claus."

"All right," she said wearily and heard the soft thud of the shop door closing.

Biting her lip, Jill opened the door and peered out. She couldn't be in the parade. The Mrs. Claus costume was a sedate little red dress with faux fur trim, a cute little Santa hat, and red shoes. Unfortunately, there was no mask and she'd be easily recognizable to John should he see her going past on the parade float. That was the last thing she needed. She didn't think he'd drag her off in front of everyone, but he was crazy. Who knew?

But she couldn't let Bev down either. And she really didn't want to miss out on this opportunity to spend time with Nick either.

Cursing under her breath, Jill paced to the front of the salon, her gaze moving up the street to her own store. There was no sign of John, but—Jill stiffened as she realized she wasn't at all sure she'd locked the front door of the store when she'd entered. John could be in there right now searching for her.

Oh, she couldn't do this. And she couldn't not do it. She needed to hide until she could get a hold of Kyle, but where?

Her gaze landed on one of the magazines in the waiting area of the hair salon. Two dozen of them littered the coffee table. Most of them were hair books, but the rest were all celebrity and women's magazines that customers could peruse while awaiting their turn in the chair. The one that caught her attention was a Christmas issue of a fashion magazine. It featured a very sexy brunette Mrs. Claus in a short, form-fitting, red velvet number with white fur trim.

Jill stared at the picture, recalling the day Claire had been zapped by the destabilizer beam and changed into several images from a magazine. If she could do that too… well, the best place to hide was often in plain sight, wasn't it?

Grinning, she picked up the magazine and hurried back to the bathroom. Closing the door, she concentrated on the woman on the cover. Claire had told her that she'd simply focused on the image and wished she'd looked like the picture and her body had changed. Jill now tried to do the same thing.

She stared hard, thinking she wanted to look like it, needed to look like it, had to look like it. But nothing seemed to happen. She didn't feel any sudden tingle or anything. Tossing the magazine aside with frustration, she sagged back against the wall and glared at herself in the mirror, freezing when she found a stranger glaring back.

"But I didn't feel a thing," she murmured, raising a hand and touching her face, eyes widening with disbelief as the brunette mirrored her actions.

It really was her. She'd shifted. She was the magazine Mrs. Claus. Well, mostly. The fur trim was sticking out from under the collar of her t-shirt. She stared at herself for a moment and then began to laugh even as she began to rip off her clothes. As had happened with Claire, her body had taken on not just the other woman's features, but the shape and color of her clothes as well. Her own clothes looked bulky on top.

Removing the last bit of clothing, Jill paused and stared at her new self. She was a brunette with a slim figure that made her smile. But the smile faded to a frown as she realized the costume was clingy and far too sexy for a parade meant for families and children. Concentrating on the hem, she tried to think it a little longer, relief coursing through her when it suddenly lengthened, dropping from mid-thigh to knee length.