Hot Magic Read online

  “Very far away.” He looked thoughtful. “And the energy was Dancer energy, but different. Perhaps I felt it though your tie. It may be the reason your connection with Harrison faltered.”

  Marguerite clenched her fist, muscles tensing all over again. Only a very powerful Dancer could help Harrison break the bonding curse. She knew of none with that much power.

  “I contacted London,” Luc continued. “Harrison left the city over a week ago.”

  Damn the limitations of the first tie, which told her none of Harrison’s actions. “Where is he?”

  “He’s gone to the States. To a town in Michigan.”

  She made her decision quickly. “We leave for Michigan as soon as can be arranged.”

  Julie stopped by the grocery store after church the following Sunday to stock up on as many of Tasha’s favorite foods as she could find. If she kept her daughter’s mouth full, maybe Tash wouldn’t spend the entire dinner discussing her grandmother. This was, admittedly, a coward’s strategy. A true social worker would encourage Tash to talk out her feelings. Tash, however, being a true social worker’s daughter, didn’t need the encouragement. Julie added a gallon of cookie-dough ice cream to the cart, Tash’s absolute favorite.

  She parked in her driveway and walked around to the trunk. How to get the bulging plastic bags into the house in the fewest trips?

  The handles of the four lightest bags went around her left wrist and she hooked the handle of a gallon of milk with her fingers. Two bigger bags fit around her right wrist and she cradled the twelve-pack of diet root beer in her right arm. The case of water would have to stay in the trunk for now. She staggered back from the car and realized she didn’t have a way to close the trunk. She’d have to put something down.

  A large hand reached from behind her and lowered her trunk lid. “Can I help?”

  “Harrison!” Harrison had become the hit of the neighborhood. In the last week, several neighbors had had him over for tea. If he planned to stay for any length of time, the local Starbucks might be in serious trouble. “You move very quietly.”

  “So I’ve been told. Your hands are turning purple.”

  She looked down. Her hands were purple and quickly turning numb. “You’re right. Better get these groceries in the house. Thanks for closing the trunk.” She hurried up the front walk, only to stop before the front door, stymied as to how to open it.

  “Do you have a key?” He stood behind her.

  “It’s not locked.” She couldn’t see his face but she felt his disapproval.

  “Crime is on the rise everywhere. It’s dangerous not to secure your home.”

  Julie glanced over her shoulder and met his steady gaze. “You’re right. I’ll start locking the door from now on.” Especially since he now knew she kept it open. Her hands had passed the tingly stage and were going numb. “Would you open my door, please?”

  He reached past her, his knuckles brushing her bare arm, and turned the brass knob. She rushed inside, almost ran through the small living room, and dropped the bags on the kitchen counter. Instant relief. She flexed her wrists a few times to get the blood flowing.

  Harrison stood in the arched doorway that led from the living room to the kitchen. Today he wore khakis and a brown shirt, making them look more formal than they were. Even though he leaned a shoulder against the door frame, he had a presence that made her stand up straighter.

  She smoothed her dark blue capris and tugged at the sleeveless white shirt she’d changed into after church. The early October weather was unseasonably warm. She’d tamed her hair and even put on makeup. She wasn’t always a slob. She could hold her own with this man. Maybe.

  “Making two trips would have been more sensible,” he commented, nodding toward her hands.

  “Next time I’ll do that.” Of course she wouldn’t.

  “You’re lying.” His eyes watched her steadily. “Don’t.”

  His words didn’t sound like a threat. There was no invisible “or else” tagged on to the end. That would almost have been easier. She could have gotten angry at his arrogance and presumption.

  Instead, his simple request for honesty struck her as intensely personal and scared her more than any threat. Which was stupid. If you asked most people if they wanted you to lie to them or tell them the truth, they’d pick the truth. So why did his asking for it outright shake her to her core?

  “Okay, here’s the truth.” She spoke louder than normal, trying to dispel the growing intimacy building in the room. “I hate making two trips and next time I’ll load up with as many bags as I possibly can to avoid it.”

  He smiled slightly and then nodded once. “Excellent.”

  She was breathing too quickly. Who was this man?

  His expression serious, he straightened, the spell he’d woven between them gone. “All week you’ve avoided speaking with me privately. We have to talk. Marguerite will undoubtedly show up soon.”

  Julie sighed and began to move efficiently around the kitchen, putting away the groceries. She’d forgotten for a moment that this man was crazy. “I don’t know who Marguerite is, Harry,” she said gently.

  “I’m aware of that. Stop patronizing me and give me your full attention. I’ll explain.”

  Julie paused, a box of lasagna noodles in her hand. “Does this have something to do with you wanting to have sex with me?”

  “Yes.” His face was expressionless.

  “It’s not going to happen.”

  He studied her a moment. “Would it make a difference if I told you that you’d enjoy yourself?”

  “Please.” Julie shook her head. He might be crazy, but his ego was doing just fine.

  “You’d no doubt get offended if I offered you reimbursement for your services.”

  “You think? Don’t even go there.”

  He ran a hand through his hair in a motion she was beginning to recognize as frustration. “I thought Americans weren’t as hung up about sex as they used to be.”

  “Where did you get that idea? Of course we are.” She put the cheese in the refrigerator, stuffed all of the now empty plastic bags into one bag and shoved them under the sink, then straightened. “You’ve been watching American television, haven’t you?”

  “Everyone watches American television.”

  “Television is fantasy,” she said. Just like the delusions buzzing around inside your head, handsome man.

  Harry took a step toward her. “Define fantasy, Julie.”

  “I know you have that word in England. You’re from the land of Tolkien and Rowling.”

  When he continued to watch her, waiting, she elaborated. “Fantasy is make-believe. Pretend. Dragons and magic.” She waved her hands in the air. “Happily ever after.”

  “What if I told you dragons once existed?” He took a step closer.

  “I’d ask for fossil evidence.”

  “What if I told you magic exists now?”

  “I’d say prove it.” He stood so near she could smell him, an elusive scent of earth and sun that made her want to breathe deeply.

  His voice lowered. “What if I said happily ever after is a possibility?”

  “I’d say you’ve never been married.” The words came out as a whisper. He stood too close. She should back away, but she didn’t want to. A frisson of heat built from the soles of her feet to her shoulders. The warmth spread out and filled her.

  Harrison’s eyes darkened to rich amber and his breathing deepened. He didn’t touch her, but it felt like he did. It felt like he moved his hands over her, learning her skin, the space inside her elbow, the curve of cheek.

  “Have you ever been married, Harry?” She forced herself to talk, to back away from him and the odd, intimate sensation.

  He frowned, but answered. “No.”

  “Take my advice. Stay single. Life is so much simpler that way.”

  “I haven’t noticed that my life is simple.” He stood still, his gaze following her movements as she picked up a washcloth and be
gan to wipe the tile counter, just for something to do.

  She relaxed when he maintained a safe distance. “Only because you don’t have the married state to compare it to.”

  “You’re cynical for one so young.”

  Julie laughed, truly amused. She tossed the cloth in the sink and folded her arms. “I’m forty-two. I have a child in college. The gray in my hair is gathering momentum for a scalp takeover. I have to eat one less meal a day just to maintain a weight that is ten pounds heavier than it should be. I’m losing so many brain cells that my head may be hollow by tomorrow morning. Thank you, but I am not young.”

  “I don’t see any gray in your hair.”

  “Hmmmm.” She tilted her head and pretended to consider him. “Maybe I will sleep with you after all.”

  “Yes. You will.” The calm assurance in his voice caused a tremor of anticipation in the pit of her stomach.

  “Harry, I’m joking. Listen, you’re an incredibly attractive man, if a little tightly wound. Find yourself someone younger, more adventurous.” Before I get hurt again.

  “No.”

  She tried again. “I’m not going to do something stupid like sleep with a man who believes he’s cursed.”

  “Would you sleep with me if I didn’t believe I was cursed?”

  Hoo boy. She didn’t want to think too closely about that one. “Of course not.”

  “Why not?”

  “AIDS. Sexually transmitted diseases. Sagging breasts.”

  “You’re not planning on getting married again?”

  “Been there, done that, have the scars. No.”

  “You’re not planning on having casual affairs?”

  “Of course not.” She had a strong moral code, a daughter to set an example for. Though her daughter really wasn’t around all that much to appreciate the good example she was setting.

  “So you’re never going to have sex again in your life?”

  Julie pulled out a chair from the kitchen table and sat down hard. “I hadn’t thought about it like that. That’s sad, isn’t it?”

  “It’s not sad. It’s bloody ridiculous.”

  Julie rested her chin in her hand. “Let’s not talk about this. I’m getting depressed.”

  The front door banged and quick footsteps sounded across the living room. Tash appeared in the kitchen doorway, her thick, red hair pulled back from her face in a ponytail. She wore black running shorts and a white sport T-shirt that molded to her torso. She bent over, hands on thighs, and took a deep breath. “I knew you’d make lasagna, Mom, so I decided to run over and pre-burn the calories.”

  Julie glanced at Harrison. He stared at Tash with surprise. Tash straightened and stretched before she noticed Harrison. She gave her mother a startled look, then stepped forward, her hand outstretched. “Sorry, I didn’t see you. I’m Natasha Morgen.”

  Harry took her hand with a smile. “Harrison Chevalier. I just moved in next door.”

  Julie saw her daughter’s eyes widen under the full impact of the Chevalier charm. “Welcome.” Tash’s voice sounded breathy. Julie suspected it wasn’t from her recent run.

  “Thank you.” Neither had released the other’s hand. Julie fought an urge to rip them apart. She felt an equally strong urge to stamp her foot. She settled for clearing her throat. Loudly.

  Harrison took a step back from Tasha, dropping her hand. “I didn’t realize your daughter was fully grown.”

  “I told you she was in college.”

  “Yes, but….” He paused, looking at the young woman still smiling at him. A calculating glint glimmered in his eyes when he turned back to Julie. “Perhaps Natasha might be willing to help me break the curse.”

  Chapter Three

  “Excuse us, Tash.” Julie marched over to Harrison, grabbed his arm and pulled him across the black and white linoleum, out the kitchen door and onto the back deck. He came a bit too easily. She shut the kitchen door and turned, angrier than she’d been in a long time.

  “Touch my daughter again and I’ll have your butt in jail, you pervert.”

  “She’s of legal age. She can make her own decisions.”

  “She’s not making this one. Stay away from my daughter, Harrison.” She punctuated her words by poking her finger at his chest.

  He grabbed both of her upper arms, holding her still. “Why are you so upset?”

  “Because you’re old enough to be her father and you’re probably insane.”

  He smiled slightly. “At least you said ‘probably.’ I’m making progress.”

  She wanted to kick him. Hard. Where were these violent thoughts coming from?

  His hard eyes gentled. “I don’t want to have sex with Natasha.”

  “You don’t?”

  “I don’t.”

  She blew out a breath of air. “You meant me to think that.”

  “Yes.”

  “So that I would sacrifice myself to save my daughter from you.”

  “I hadn’t viewed it in quite that light, but yes.”

  “This honesty thing works both ways. Don’t play games and don’t lie to me.”

  He tilted his head slightly, studying her. “You are an interesting woman, Julie Dancer.”

  “Not really.” Ask her ex-husband Jack. “I’m actually kind of boring.”

  He laughed, an almost rusty sound that flowed through her like water over sugar, dissolving the residue of her anger. Then he grasped her arms, and with a smooth motion pulled her against his chest and kissed her.

  Harry’s lips weren’t awkward or hesitant. He kissed her like he knew her. Like he had kissed her a thousand times before and her mouth was a welcome home. Julie kissed him back, seduced by the sense of belonging. Her tongue whispered across the inside of his lower lip and then went back for a slower, longer taste. Something suspiciously like a purr vibrated from her throat. He was addictive. She was in trouble.

  The purr, or maybe it was her tongue, had the same effect as a blowtorch on dry firewood. The kiss went up in flames.

  She was suddenly arched over Harrison’s arm, her breasts pressed into his chest. His hand cradled the back of her head and his lips covered hers, hard and hot. Julie’s circulatory system went haywire. Blood rushed so quickly through her heart that it pounded like a jackhammer and yet that same blood pooled and settled with a slow heated pulse between her legs. She had no chance to respond to the kiss before he eased his mouth away and took an unsteady breath. He gently nipped at her lip and then soothed the small sting his tongue. When he did it again, she circled his neck with her arms and tugged. “Harder,” she commanded. “Kiss me harder.”

  “Julie.” Harry’s arms tightened.

  Her name, a rough murmur that was both a plea and a prayer, reached inside her like a fist and pulled out a hunger that she hadn’t known was there. She pushed closer, lost in the sensation, lost in him. Violins sounded in the air around them and fireworks filled the sky. Julie broke away and took a step back, breathing hard. Harrison’s chest rose and fell as furiously as hers. He tracked her movements, his eyes glowing like amber coals. Why had she ended the kiss? She took a step back toward him.

  “Mom!” Tasha burst out onto the deck. “Did you see those fireworks? I haven’t seen anything that amazing since we went to Detroit for the Freedom Festival. It’s not even dark and you could see them light up the sky.”

  Julie turned toward her daughter and shook her head to clear it. “You saw actual fireworks?”

  “And heard violins.” Tash looked across the yard. “Is Dorie learning to play the violin again?”

  Julie dropped down, directly on the deck, and buried her head in her lap.

  “Yoga? Now?” Tash asked uncertainly.

  Hiding her head in her lap did not block out her thoughts. With a sigh, Julie looked up at Harrison. The heat had banked and his eyes now held a hint of amusement. “Did you do that? The fireworks, the violins?” She braced herself for the answer.

  He shook his head. “No.”

&nbs
p; Her shoulders sagged in relief. Her world still made sense.

  His lips twisted slightly. “You did.”

  “You’re a witch and you didn’t tell me.” Tasha paced around the kitchen, upset. “First Grandma tells us she’s gay, now you turn into a witch. You promised not to get weird on me, Mom.”

  “I am not a witch.” Julie put the lasagna noodles in boiling water, wishing she had some wine to dull the energy fritzing through her.

  “Harrison said you have powers.”

  “Harrison is crazy,” Julie retorted.

  “Harrison is hot. And he didn’t look crazy to me.” Tasha crossed her arms and her face turned stubborn. “Mom, I saw the fireworks and heard the violins. I’m not crazy.”

  “I can’t explain that right now. I don’t understand it myself. I do know that if I were a Sun Dancer, or whatever Harry called me, I’d know it.” She slammed the cheese down and leaned back against the counter. Her skin felt tight, like it couldn’t contain all the energy whizzing through her veins. This was embarrassing. She really needed to get out more. Kissing a man shouldn’t mess with her this way. “I’m over forty. You don’t start discovering totally new things about yourself when you’re my age.”

  “Grandma discovered she’s gay, and she’s a lot older than you.” Tasha pointed out with irritating logic.

  Julie turned to get a cold glass of water from the sink. She was burning up. “Grandma doesn’t count. She’s in an orbit all by herself.” Julie put a hand against her forehead. “I think I’m catching the flu.” That was it. She was running a high temperature and this was all a fever hallucination.

  “Mom?” Tasha had a funny note in her voice.

  “Yes?” Maybe she should lay down with a cold compress or something.

  “Uh, Mom. You’re glowing.”

  “That’s nice of you to say, but I know I look as yucky as I feel.”

  “No, Mom. You’re glowing. You have a halo all around you.”

  Julie ran into the small bathroom off the kitchen and stared into the mirror. A pulsing light surrounded her body. Her daughter crowded in behind her. Tash reached out a hand and passed it through the light.