“The mail’s here. God, they deliver later and later all the time.”

Claire glanced toward Jill as she returned to the living room carrying a stack of mail.

“Bill, bill, bill,” Jill muttered, leafing through the envelopes. She paused at a magazine, stared at the cover, then heaved a depressed sigh. “I bet Ted would have picked me for his wife if I looked like her.”

“You’re better off without him,” Claire murmured.

“Yeah, but if I looked like her, I probably would have been the dumper rather than the dumpee,” she pointed out, dropping the magazine on the coffee table. “It’s always better to be the dumper.”

Claire peered down at the magazine, noting who was on the cover. Brooke Jordan, one of the world’s most popular—not to mention successful—models. Tall, leggy, slim, and gorgeous, the woman exuded both beauty and sex appeal in megawatts. Men all over the world would kill to be with her, and women all over the world would kill to be her. Apparently, that included Jill.

And me, Claire acknowledged to herself, then said aloud, “Well, I wish we both looked like her. Then you could dump Ted and maybe I could get Kyle. I bet he wouldn’t be so shy if I looked like her.”

Jill made a clucking sound and propped her hands on her hips as she glared down at her. “He likes you just the way you—”

Claire glanced up in question at the way Jill suddenly cut herself off mid-sentence. The blond appeared frozen, her mouth still open, and eyes wide with shock. Claire felt herself go stiff in reaction as concern welled up within her. “What is it?”

“Oh…my…God!” The words were drawn out and spaced apart for emphasis.

“What?” Claire asked, getting to her feet. She peered down at herself in a panic, afraid she’d suddenly taken on the paisley pattern of the couch, but her hands were still her hands. She peered back to Jill. “What?”

“You look like…her,” Jill said faintly.

“What?” Claire asked, her heart beating wildly in her chest. “I look like who her?”

“Like what’s-her-name. You look like that model, that—” Jill snatched up the magazine off the coffee table and shoved it in her face. “Her!”

Claire peered down and found herself staring at the photograph of Brooke Jordan. She shook her head slowly with disbelief. “I can’t—I don’t—”

“The hell you don’t!” Jill grabbed Claire by the arm with her free hand to drag her across the living room. She was muttering the whole way. “I can’t believe this. I just can’t believe it. Oh my God, this is incredible. Do you realize how incredible this is?”

Claire just stumbled along behind her, anxiety and confusion rife in her head. She couldn’t look like the model. It was impossible. Jill was playing a joke on her. That thought gave her some relief from the welter of emotions whirling through her head. Of course! That was it! Jill was playing a joke.

“Here!” Jill slammed through the bathroom door. She tossed the magazine on the counter, then shoved Claire in front of the mirror.

Claire stared at herself. And stared. Jill wasn’t playing a joke. Claire was staring into the mirror, but the stunned face looking back was Brooke Jordan’s. She tentatively touched her face. It felt normal, both in that her fingers felt like they were touching skin and her skin felt the fingers touching them, but it wasn’t her face she was looking at and those gorgeous chestnut waves were not her hair, either. Claire was a natural redhead.

“You look exactly like her. Exactly,” Jill breathed with awe. “Right down to her clothes.”

Claire blinked, then switched her gaze to her body. At first, she didn’t understand what Jill was talking about. She was still wearing the white smock and black pants she’d left work in. Then Claire noticed the pink collar of a T-shirt was visible under the open neckline of her white blouse and smock.

“What…?” Bewildered, Claire stripped off the smock and unbuttoned several buttons of her white blouse. Underneath was the same pink T-shirt Brooke Jordan had been wearing on the magazine cover.

“Are you wearing her capri pants too?” Jill reached for the waist of her black dress pants, but Claire danced instinctively away, then paused and undid them herself.

“Holy Jeez,” Jill breathed as baby blue linen was revealed poking up from under her white lace panties. “You’re wearing her capri pants, too.”

“I can’t be,” Claire said faintly, then finished stripping her own clothes away until she stood there in a pink T-shirt, blue capri pants and Brooke Jordan’s face. She stared at herself in the mirror with bewilderment.

“You’re a dead ringer.”

“But how?” Claire asked faintly. “This doesn’t make sense.”

“Of course, it does. It makes perfect sense. It’s the destabilizer,” Jill said triumphantly, then tilted her head and asked, “Do you think Kyle would let me try it out? Just imagine what I could—”

“It can’t be the destabilizer,” Claire argued. “It’s supposed to cause a chameleon effect. The ability to change skin tone, not shape.”

Jill paused to consider that, then suggested, “Well maybe you haven’t really changed shape. Maybe you’re still under there and it’s just like a painting over your skin.”

Catching Claire by surprise, Jill suddenly reached out and began to feel her face. A frown immediately tugged at her lips. “This doesn’t feel like your face.”

“What do you mean?” Alarmed by the statement, Claire put her own hands to her face once more, but this time doing more than just touching her cheeks. She began to explore her face like a blind person examining features.

“Your nose should be turned up,” Jill pointed out. “You have the cutest little turn at the end, but Brooke has a straight nose, kind of Roman. Your nose feels Roman now. I guess it isn’t just a chameleonlike painting on your face.”

Claire immediately shifted her fingers to her own nose. It didn’t feel like her nose. It was too straight.

“You’ve actually changed shape,” Jill said, then brightened. “Like a shape-shifter. The destabilizer made you a shape-shifter! How did you do it?”

“I didn’t,” Claire said faintly as she tried to absorb what had happened to her. “John did.”

“Not that!” Jill said swiftly, then waved to her face and body. “This. How did you…you know…shift?”

“I don’t know,” Claire admitted, glancing down at herself with bewilderment. “I just stared at the picture thinking that Kyle might be more interested in me if I looked like her…and wishing that I did…look like her, I mean.”

“I’ve told you and told you, Claire. Kyle likes you as you are,” Jill insisted, then paused, frowned, and amended, “Well, he did like you…as you were.”

Claire blinked at the correction, anxiety crowding in at what it suggested.

“Never mind.” Jill waved the problem of Kyle away and snatched up the magazine she’d tossed on the counter. “Here, look at another model and see if you can do it again.”

“I don’t think I can,” Claire admitted. “I don’t know how I did it the first time.”

“Just try,” Jill insisted, leafing through several pages before settling on a short-haired blond. “Here. Do her.”

“Jill, I—”

“Try,” Jill ordered.

Claire hesitated, then peered down at the blond. She was beautiful, with full red lips and big green eyes. Claire took the magazine from Jill and concentrated on the picture, trying to put herself in the same frame of mind she’d been in earlier while looking at Brooke…Trying to drum up the same longing to be so beautiful and attractive to the opposite sex…To Kyle.

“Oh my Gawd!!” Jill squealed suddenly.

Concentration broken, Claire glanced up. “Did it work?”

Kyle’s sister nodded dumbly.

Claire turned to the mirror and found herself staring at yet someone else’s face; this time, the blond with short cropped hair and large red lips. Her body shape and clothing had also changed, her breasts appearing larger as they pushed up out of the strapless black blouse she was now wearing with black satin pants.