A Breath of Magic

by Tracy Madison

  Besides, I missed him. We’d talked on the phone each day, but hadn’t set up plans to see each other until that Friday, for his charity function. I figured, if nothing else, the book gave me an excuse to spend a little more time with him. Nothing wrong with that.

  The drive to his place took longer than I expected, partially because every single freaking traffic light seemed to have it in for me, but also because weekday evening traffic proved far busier than Sunday morning’s. When I finally turned in at his driveway, a fresh crop of doubts swarmed in. I purposely hadn’t called to warn him of my visit, because I worried he might make an excuse, or worse, just outright say no.

  “Too late for second guesses,” I mumbled after ringing his doorbell. Either he’d be pleased to see me or he wouldn’t.

  A few minutes passed with no response. I peered in through one of the narrow windows that framed his front door but couldn’t see anything. Great. Just great. The guy probably wasn’t even home. I pressed the bell again, trying to decide if it would be too stalkerish to wait in my car for him to return or if I should leave and go grab some dinner and then come back. Cupping my hands around my eyes, I peered into the window again just as a glare of lights flooded the interior. Startled, I jumped back and tried to calm my racing nerves, hoping for the best but bracing for the worst.

  He opened the door, a quizzical gleam in his gaze. I swallowed and smiled. “Hey, Ben. Hope you don’t mind an unexpected visit!”

  He gestured for me to come inside. “Not at all. I almost didn’t hear you, though.”

  I entered and took in my surroundings. We stood in a large foyer that had lustrous hardwood floors, expensive-looking paintings and a sweeping staircase. The hallway opened up to several rooms on the left, a dining room on the right and what I assumed was the kitchen straight ahead.

  “So, what brings you over?”

  Thankfully, he didn’t sound displeased or unhappy to see me. Just curious. Taking that as a positive sign, I grinned again. “I missed you,” I admitted. “Plus, I have something for you. You really don’t mind I popped in?”

  “Nope. In fact, I was going to give you a call after my workout.”

  And that’s when I finally processed his appearance. He wore black shorts and a black tank, and his hair curled damply around his face. Beads of perspiration dotted his forehead, his face was slightly red and the muscles in his arms were tensed, almost bulging.

  My lips felt dry, so I licked them. “I interrupted you. I’m…well…God, you look good.”

  He winked one of his incredibly blue eyes. “You look good too. Have you eaten yet?”

  I shook my head, already feeling the heat Ben always ignited in me. “No.”

  “Want to stay for dinner? We can order out, and I’ll go jump in the shower. There’s something I want to get off my chest.”

  “Besides your shirt? I can help you with that.” I grabbed the garment and tugged. “I’m quite good at getting your clothes off.”

  Desire roared to life in his eyes as his lips twitched with amusement. “Did you come over for a booty call, Red?”

  I hadn’t. Not really, anyway, but now that the subject was broached, every muscle in my body clenched, released and then melted. “Depends,” I breathed. “Are you up for one?”

  “Hold that thought,” he growled. “Let me shower, we’ll get some food, and then…we’ll see where we’re at. Sound good?”

  Hm. Not exactly the response I was after. I’d have far preferred for him to sweep me up in his arms and then haul me off to the shower. That He-Man-like image brought another flush of longing. “Um…sure. Where should I wait?”

  He led me to a large, slightly sunken living room off of the kitchen. The room itself was rectangular and boasted a stone fireplace at the far end, a wide, flat-screen television on one of the long walls, an oversized caramel-colored sofa, a couple of chairs and a square coffee table in front of the couch. This room felt like Ben, smelled like him, and just being there elicited all sorts of comfy, homey feelings inside of me.

  Handing me the remote, he gestured to the TV. “Find something to watch and I’ll be right back.”

  I nodded and settled into the lush, deep cushions of the sofa, automatically sliding my shoes off and curling up. Curiosity had me looking around for signs of his prior life, for photos of him with his wife and daughter, but other than one framed picture of Mari on the fireplace mantel, there were none. I thought about snooping while Ben showered, all in the name of learning more about Mari, of course, but common sense rode in. Skulking around his home and looking through his things wasn’t only rude, but the idea of doing so made my stomach cramp—which was weird, I suppose. Using magic on him didn’t make me feel ill, but secretly checking out his home did.

  Not wanting to delve into the inane logic of that, I flipped the television on and tried to find something to watch. After clicking through a few dozen channels, I settled on a rerun of Charmed, thinking that maybe somehow I’d learn something about real-life magic. No such luck. But the program did manage to hold my attention well enough that I startled when Ben cleared his throat from the entryway of the room.

  “Wow,” I said. “That was quick.”

  He strode in, his long legs carrying him to me in barely a blink. He still wore shorts, but this pair was of the khaki, pocketed variety, and his red short-sleeved shirt didn’t stretch tightly across his chest like the black tank. That didn’t change his sex appeal, however, or the fact that the very sight of him made my mouth water.

  Sitting down next to me, he tossed me a smile that forced me to gulp. He asked, “Are you hungry? We can order a pizza, or if you trust my abilities in the kitchen, I can cook for us.”

  “I definitely trust your abilities in the kitchen, but how about pizza? That way we can talk.” And maybe get to the bedroom that much sooner. But then I remembered he wasn’t a fan of fast food. “Or you can cook, if you want.”

  “Pizza works.” He waggled his eyebrows and a teasing glint appeared in his eyes. “But let’s use plates this time.”

  Picturing eating pizza off each other, I laughed. “Absolutely.”

  We decided on a veggie pie with extra cheese, and he placed the order. While we waited for the delivery, I pulled the book out of my purse. Apprehension crackled in, because I wasn’t sure how he’d react. But I had to move forward. “I told you I brought you something.” I held the book toward him, and he accepted it.

  He worked his jaw as he read the title. “Understanding the Afterlife: Have Your Loved Ones Moved On? What is this, Red? I don’t think—”

  “Just listen,” I interrupted. “And then, if you don’t want the book, I’ll take it back. I…I know you don’t believe in a lot of the things I believe in, and I’m okay with that. But this is about your daughter…so, can you give me a few minutes to explain?”

  His complexion paled. Eyes filled with uncertainty met mine, but lurking there, beneath the darkness, existed a tiny speck of hope. “Go on. I’ll listen.”

  “Okay, good.” I inhaled a breath, trying to calm my racing heart and pulsating nerves, knowing that the words I used would either relax his defenses or create a thicker, possibly impenetrable shield. “You told me that there are instances where you feel Mari—um, Marissa—and that you can almost smell her, she feels so close.”

  He nodded but didn’t speak. Gripping the book tighter, his knuckles whitened.

  “There is a chance that she’s still here, Ben. That something is holding her to this world and she can’t move on. Maybe there’s something she feels is unresolved, or maybe”—I gulped—“she’s trying to get your attention but doesn’t know how to reach you.”

  He shook his head. “That’s impossible. I know you believe in ghosts, and while I respect your beliefs, I need you to respect mine. Because, Red, I hate to tell you: when we’re gone, we’re gone. And Marissa is gone.” That last bit tore out of him, right from his heart, and he flinched as he said it.

  “There are unexplai
ned happenings in this world every day,” I pushed, not ready to give up. “I truly believe that Marissa is still here, and that she’s trying to connect with you. What I don’t know is why.” I bit my lip, watching him carefully for his reaction. When he didn’t respond, I continued. “You are her father. You were always there when she needed you in life. What if she needs you now? If there is the slightest possibility that I’m right, and that she is here, wouldn’t you want to help her?”

  Myriad emotions flashed through his eyes. “I can’t deny I’ve felt something. But this…this goes against everything I believe. You”—his voice splintered—“really think this is real? That my daughter needs something from me?”

  Believe? I knew. “Yes. I do. Don’t you want to help her if you can?”

  “If what you say is true…” The words ground out of him and his complexion paled another shade. “I have a really difficult time with that thought, but yes. If somehow Rissa is still here and needs something from me, then of course I would help.”

  “Then just read the book. See if anything in there resonates with you. Then, when you’re ready, we can talk about this again.”

  He breathed in and out, the sound ragged. His grip on the book tightened even more, and a tremor whisked through his body. When he looked at me again, the disbelief hadn’t vanished, but that speck of hope gleamed just a little brighter. “I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this, but okay. On the off chance you’re right, I’ll read the book. But you need to understand that this is a hard pill for me to swallow.”

  Shivers of relief spilled through me. “Thank you, Ben. I know this is difficult, and I’m just grateful you’re willing to do this much.”

  He opened his mouth to say something, but the doorbell rang, announcing the arrival of our pizza. Another shudder rippled through him. “Let’s enjoy the rest of the evening, and after I’ve read through the book, I’ll let you know my thoughts.”

  “Fair enough.”

  Opening the end table next to him, he slid the book in the drawer and went to get our dinner. My anxiety grew to a whole new level while I waited. What if I’d just made a mistake? What if, by pushing him to accept something so foreign to him, I ended up pushing him away from me? That thought settled in, screwing with my appetite and my equilibrium, but then Mari’s pain came back. No matter what happened with her father and me, she was more important. Helping her came first. My tension relaxed, and by the time Ben returned, I had a smile on my face.

  Over dinner, we chatted about work, politics, our favorite books and a variety of other subjects. When the last mouthful of pizza was eaten, the energy between us had stabilized and we were, thankfully, back on track. “You said there was something you wanted to get off your chest?” I asked Ben. “When I first got here. Remember?”

  “Yes. There is.” He put his empty plate on the coffee table and faced me. “I’ve been thinking about what we said to each other at the amusement park, about this being a fun and games thing for us. You said you were just out of a year-long relationship, and I called myself your rebound guy, which you plainly don’t like.”

  Fuck. Oh, fuck. He was about to break things off. “Um…actually, it’s more that I don’t want to define this. I just want to take it one day at a time without rules. But if you want rules, then, well…I’ll listen and—” I squeezed my eyes shut. Don’t end this, Ben, I thought. We have a future together, so hang tight. Stay with me. See where this goes.

  The air stilled around us. My ears buzzed and my pulse sped up. Perspiration dripped down the back of my neck while I waited for his response. But I kept my eyes closed, not daring to see what emotions lurked in his.

  “Red…look at me.” His thumb brushed the area just beneath my right eye. “Come on, open up.”

  Not able to resist his voice or his touch, I did as he asked. He rubbed his thumb down to my cheekbone and then laced his fingers into my hair. I leaned into his hand, my entire body, every nerve and every muscle on alert.

  “You said exactly what I wanted to say. I don’t want to define this.” His husky tone slid over me, easing in, calming my nerves. “But”—he cleared his throat—“I also don’t want to think of you dating anyone else while we’re figuring out what this is. So I wanted to know if there are any other men in your life right now.”

  Thank God he hadn’t asked that a week ago. “No, there aren’t. But what exactly are you saying? You don’t want to define us as a couple—which is fine, I guess—but you don’t want me to go out with anyone else?”

  “Sounds rather selfish, doesn’t it? I don’t have sex with more than one woman at a time. I never have, and I don’t intend to start that habit ever. So yes, Red, if we’re going to continue to see each other, to sleep with each other, then I want to know there’s no other man in your bed when I’m not there.”

  “Can I take that as meaning there will also be no other women in your bed when I’m not there?”

  “Isn’t that what I said? I’m not in the frame of mind to share you, and I hope you’re not in the frame of mind to share me.”

  “I agree! No sharing!” I nearly yelled. Damn, this was good news. On every freaking level. I mean, no, he hadn’t exactly declared his love for me, but we were one step closer. I was sure of it. “I’m glad I stopped in tonight,” I murmured. “Really, really glad.”

  “Me too, though if you hadn’t, we would’ve had this conversation over the phone.”

  “This is much better.”

  “Yes, it is.” The blue of his eyes darkened. He swept his gaze over my face and his fingers tightened their hold on my head. “I don’t understand my reaction to you.”

  “Geez, thanks. That’s something every girl wants to hear,” I mumbled.

  He leaned over and kissed my forehead. “What I mean”—he kissed my nose—“is that you’re”—he moved his lips to my ear, bringing his teeth down oh so lightly on the lobe—“affecting me in a way that I’ve never experienced.”

  “Not even with Sara?” I whispered, my entire body awash in trembles and shivers. His mouth continued to tickle and tantalize my skin. “And not since Sara?”

  “Never with anyone. This is a completely new experience for me. It’s…you’re…intoxicating.” His tongue found my neck in a hot rush of fire.

  “Well, that’s okay, then. I like being intoxicating.” While my body responded to his touches, to his caresses, a twisty, almost uncomfortable, sensation pressed in. Why was I intoxicating to Ben? Because of magic, because of my wishes and wants or because of me?

  He kissed and suckled down my neck, and I moaned in response. I tried to set the squirmy feelings aside, tried to focus wholly on the wonderful sensation of Ben’s mouth on me, but I couldn’t stop thinking about what Elizabeth had said to me weeks ago about wanting to be with a man who wanted to be with me for me and not because of magic, not because of a spell.

  The truth of those words sank in as they hadn’t before. Because yes, I desperately yearned for Ben to want me all on his own, and while I’d accepted that without the magic, we wouldn’t be sitting here now, that didn’t mean I liked it. Panic started to build in my chest, nearly overtaking the intimacy of Ben’s lips on me, but then I remembered that where we ended up was what mattered. Not how we started. I let my anxiety go and turned myself completely over to Ben.

  His hand eased under my shirt, traveling up my back. With what could only be a practiced move, he unclasped my bra and pulled it loose so he could cup my breast. I moaned again, every part of me turned on and ready, just like that. Following his example, I pushed my hand under his shirt and stroked his back, delighting in the feel of his muscles as they tensed beneath my touch.

  “Want to take this upstairs, or do you want to stay here?” His voice dripped with longing, with need. For me.

  “I don’t care. Anywhere. I just want you. I…” I arched my back as his tongue drove into my mouth, hungry and forceful.

  “How about here and then, later, there?” His hands were at my shir
t, pulling and tugging.

  “Yeah, and then maybe even later somewhere else,” I teased, proceeding to help him remove each article of pesky clothing from both of our bodies.

  We spent the next hour on the couch and then made our way to his bedroom, where we spent another delicious hour exploring each other’s bodies. Each touch, each sensation drove my need for him deeper, and by the time we curled up together, completely and utterly sated, I couldn’t imagine ever being with another man again for the rest of my life. The weight of his arm around me, the feel of his body pressed against mine and the whisper of his breath upon my ear lulled me, relaxed me, and with one last contented yawn, I drifted off, sure that everything was going to work out perfectly.

  I woke with a start. My heart beat too fast in my chest and my breath erupted in tiny, wheezy bursts. Unsure of what had awakened me, because Ben still slept, I held myself motionless and just listened. Nothing, not one sound met my ears, but my heart continued to pound, and something—call it a sixth sense—told me to pay very close attention.

  I took a few more minutes to come fully awake, and all the while I continued to listen, continued to trust my body that there was something going on that I needed to know. My sleepy, fog-filled brain finally cleared, and I knew without a shadow of a doubt what my instincts were trying to tell me. Mari. She’d been here, and maybe, just maybe, she still was.

  Sitting up carefully, to not disturb Ben’s sleep, I swung my feet around and stood from the bed. The air felt cold—frigid, really—and I reached around in the dark, looking for the pile of clothes we’d carried upstairs with us. Finding them, I slipped Ben’s shirt over my head, the hem of it falling midthigh, and with a quick look toward Ben, I made my way to the door and eased it open as silently as possible.