Mistress of Magic

by Heather Graham

  “I can’t go anywhere!” Reggie said. “I have to stay—I’m filling in for half a dozen employees, remember? Besides, it’s not my ex-wife who is missing.”

  “Thank goodness!” Diana said lightly. “That definitely would have set the whole affair in a very strange light!”

  Even Reggie smiled.

  “Someone is trying to get to Max through Reggie, I think,” Wes said after a moment. “Attack Reggie often enough, and her faith in Max begins to falter.”

  Reggie shook her head. “But that would never happen.”

  Max sat up, his arms lightly around Diana. Watching the couple, Reggie stiffened miserably.

  I want to be held like that! she thought. But she was busy destroying what she had nearly managed to hold.

  “Didn’t you wonder, even for a moment, when this—thing suggested that I was a murderer?” Max asked her.

  Reggie frowned. “Of course not.”

  “But you were frightened, right?” Wes said.

  Reggie started to deny it. Those damned eyes of his. She couldn’t do so. “Yes. I suppose I was frightened.” She was beginning to feel cornered by him, and was determined to turn the tables. “What were you doing at the police station all day?”

  He waved a hand, the one with his beer in it, in a vague motion. “Things.”

  “Like?”

  “Checking into people.”

  “Like who?”

  “Stockholders. People associated with the park. People in your pasts.”

  “And have you found anything?”

  “Answers are rarely found in a day,” he told her. Then he leaned forward, watching her. “Unless …”

  “Unless what?”

  “What did you discover today?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Think. Tell me about this figure. Tall? Thin? Heavy? Male or female?”

  Reggie frowned. She hadn’t thought about the figure at all, not in those terms. She tried to think. “Medium, I think. No taller than I am.”

  “A woman?” Diana asked. “What about the voice?”

  Reggie shook her head. “I couldn’t tell. I really couldn’t tell. It was disguised. Hoarse. And I was so frightened.…”

  “But still, the height would suggest a woman, right?” Wes said.

  “Right,” Reggie agreed reluctantly. Then she stared at him accusingly. “If she was real, of course. If I didn’t imagine her.”

  “Max and I have both said that we don’t think you imagined her, Reggie,” Wes said.

  Yes, they had. But they certainly hadn’t believed her at first.

  “I think it’s only a matter of time before this person—or these persons—trip themselves up,” Diana said determinedly.

  Reggie hoped so. She noticed that Wes was staring at Diana, reflecting on her words, intrigued. But Diana seemed to be the eternal optimist that night. “More chicken anyone? Ribs? How about some coffee, decaf or tea?”

  “I’ll make the coffee,” Reggie said, standing up. “You did everything else.”

  “I didn’t mind,” Diana said. “And you specifically said that you didn’t want to do the cooking tonight.”

  “I was tired,” Reggie said hastily. “But really, I feel the need to move at the moment. I’ll put coffee on and pick up a few things here. You relax for a few minutes. With Max.” She had added the last words in a rush, and then she wondered why she had done so. She wasn’t implying that Wes should help her, or that he should leave Max and Diana alone. It was just that the two of them looked so comfortable together, and she really did appreciate all that Diana was doing. Especially the way that she was standing by Max.

  “If you want some help—” Diana said.

  She shook her head. “I’m fine. I’ll mix it up, half decaf and half one of the special blends.”

  “There are éclairs in the refrigerator,” Diana told her.

  Reggie had collected a few of the plates. She nodded. “You just whipped those up this afternoon, right?”

  Diana smiled. “You had the ingredients,” she said apologetically.

  “They sound great.”

  Reggie hurried toward the house, wondering why she had commented on Diana’s cooking skills. It had to be because she was just a little bit jealous of the, other woman.

  Somehow, Diana had made Reggie seem so undomestic tonight. Reggie didn’t know why it mattered. She wasn’t a great cook or housekeeper. That was why she had Mrs. Martin. She was too busy.

  And Diana wasn’t that great anyway! she reminded herself. But it bothered her tonight.

  Maybe it was because of Wes’s assessment of why she hadn’t married Caleb. He had certainly hit upon something vulnerable within her.

  Inside the house she threw away the paper plates she had picked up and tossed the flatware into the sink. She delved into the freezer for the coffee, deciding to mix some French vanilla beans with a decaffeinated Columbian blend. She had pulled out the pot and the water and was grinding the beans when the back door opened and Wes walked in, tossing more plates into the trash and coming over to stand by the counter, watching her. She tensed instantly. She looked quickly from him to the grinder, very aware of how he looked in a pair of Max’s cutoffs, easy and comfortable, torso and arms muscled and bronzed.

  She started to shake the beans into the coffee filter and was spilling more than she was getting in. She felt him behind her, gently but firmly taking the grinder from her hands. He completed the task with no further loss of fresh ground coffee. She stood silently watching him, still angry at what he had said but not terribly pleased with her behavior toward him.

  “Don’t forget,” he said lightly, “that you’re going to have to apologize very nicely if you want me to bring you to soaring heights of ecstasy again.”

  “You’re one egotistical creature,” she retorted, then wished she had kept quiet.

  His thumb was on her chin, lifting her head. “It wasn’t the heights of ecstasy?”

  She was turning flame red. Worse, her knees were growing very weak. “There are things that I can’t answer now. They hurt.”

  “So it was just a little slice of heaven?” he murmured. She looked into his eyes. The warmth was there. The fire. He might have been angry. But he wasn’t holding any of it against her.

  “And you are ungodly good-looking,” she agreed in a whisper.

  He smiled. “I’m not so egotistical. Honest. I’m like an artist. Look at the canvas you gave me to work on!”

  She could scarcely breathe. She felt like falling into his arms right then and there. She managed not to do so. “I am sorry,” she said quickly.

  He arched a brow at her, but his smile was still in place. He released her, turned and plugged the coffeepot in, then turned to her, his hands on his hips. “Like I said, I’m sorry, too, Reggie. But if there’s something here, then quit acting as if there isn’t,” he told her.

  “I don’t know—”

  “You do know,” he said, and walked out.

  When he left her, she knew that she desperately wanted there to be something. Something very special. She stared at the closed door. “Yes, you fool!” she whispered after him. “I’ll start to think that there is something, I’ll get involved, and you’ll just—”

  Go away.

  She clenched her teeth, amazed at the moisture in her eyes. She didn’t even know what she wanted! Just a few more nights of solace, a touch in the dark.

  More.

  “Damn him!” she whispered. Then she reached into the refrigerator for the éclairs. They were already arranged on a flowered paper platter. Reggie picked them up, found some more paper plates and napkins and started out with them.

  She almost crashed into Wes. He was coming in with the barbecue utensils. He walked around her silently, and she could hear him placing the things in the sink, then reaching into her cupboard for cups.

  She went out to the picnic table with the éclairs. Diana and Max were talking softly, looking at the sky. Max l
eaned back in the lounge, his arm lightly around her. They were an attractive couple. Max, so dark and handsome. Diana with her trim figure, short blond hair and pretty, aristocratic features and velvet brown eyes.

  Loyal to the core. Diana was even wearing a one-piece Dierdre Dinosaur bathing suit.

  “Let me get up and help you with that stuff,” Diana began.

  Reggie waved a hand in the air. “Sit tight. You look very comfortable. And Wes is helping.”

  Wes was helping. He was coming out with the brewed coffee and cups on a tray. Reggie started toward the house with the barbecue sauce, salt, pepper and salad bowl balanced in her arms.

  “Grab milk and sugar,” he told her. She nodded.

  When she came out with them, he was seated at the picnic table, his legs straddled over the bench. She set the cream and sugar on the tray, then hesitated briefly before sitting beside him.

  Close beside him.

  She felt his eyes on her as she poured coffee into four cups. Diana roused herself to get a cup, black with sugar, for herself, and one with cream, sugarless, for Max. Wes helped himself to a cup, his fingers idly moving over the rim. Reggie lifted a cup for herself, tasted the coffee and stared at Wes’s chest.

  She wanted to lean against it. Just to lean against him and look at the moon, feel the breeze and his arms around her.

  They had made love so passionately, so intimately. But now, something that was so natural and warm seemed far too assuming for her to do.

  But she was still staring at his chest. She felt his eyes on hers, and she lifted her gaze to him. And, as if he had read her thoughts, he reached out an arm. His hand came around her middle, fingers splayed over her midriff, and he pulled her against him. Her heart missed a beat. She eased back, feeling his chin on the top of her head. She closed her eyes, amazed at the sense of security and comfort that filled her.

  This was good.

  And she didn’t mind that Max was looking; she didn’t care that anyone saw.

  “Reggie, you do make the best coffee in the world,” Diana told her.

  Reggie smiled. At least she could make coffee.

  “Thanks,” she told Diana.

  “Want to hit the Jacuzzi for a few minutes?” Diana asked Max. “Then we should really go. It’s getting late, and you all have long days ahead of you.”

  The two of them were up, heading for the Jacuzzi that waterfalled into the main body of the pool from the shallow end.

  Reggie didn’t speak. She sipped more coffee, then felt Wes’s fingers lightly moving down her cheek.

  “You all right?”

  She nodded, nuzzling the back of her head against his chest.

  “Wes?”

  “Hmm?”

  “I really do want you to sleep with me again.”

  He was quiet for a second. She heard him swallow a sip of his coffee.

  Then his whisper touched her ear. Sexy. Provocative.

  “I wasn’t about to miss another night beside you. No matter what you said.”

  “You would have come to me if I hadn’t groveled?”

  “I don’t think you’ve exactly groveled.”

  “That’s a relief.”

  His face, with a hint of five o’clock shadow, nuzzled hers. “I would have come for you. Words or no words, I would have had you back in my arms. Beneath me. I would have loved you, tasted you.…”

  Tremors swept through her. Exotic, exciting. “Please!” she whispered.

  “You’re right. I’m not making myself very comfortable. And even though I want Max to know about us, I really didn’t mean for it to be a complete show and tell!”

  She smiled, her hand resting over his where it lay against her midriff.

  “I think Max is watching.”

  “Is he?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I’m getting better, don’t you think?”

  “Yes.”

  “He’ll be warning us both about each other again tomorrow,” Reggie said.

  “That will be fine,” Wes told her. He leaned closer, his whisper warm and stirring against her ear. “Just so long as he goes home pretty soon tonight.”

  Reggie laughed softly. The moon was beautiful, high above her. The breeze was beautiful, gentle and cool.

  And his touch …

  Was warm, comforting and exciting. Intimate. With so very much promise.

  In a way, she didn’t want to stir. She wanted the moment to last for a long, long time. She closed her eyes.

  But Max and Diana came back. Yet even with her brother by the table, Reggie didn’t move. She opened her eyes and felt his gaze upon her, then realized that he was concealing a smile.

  Let him.

  “We’re going to go,” he told Wes.

  “I hate to leave you with this mess,” Diana said. “You should really get some sleep.”

  “I am going to get some sleep. Mrs. Martin comes every day,” Reggie said. “She’ll be glad to have a little more to do.”

  Wes was behind her, his hands on her hips, while they stood in the doorway and politely waved goodbye.

  She felt his lips just above her nape, brushing her flesh. Tiny bursts of warm, liquid desire began to dance their way down her spine and take root somewhere in the center of her being, then stretch out the length of her thighs and between.

  “I think your brother knows we’re sleeping together.”

  “Yes.”

  “And that’s all right?”

  “It’s fine,” she whispered. It was all right. It even seemed to be all right with Max. He had been the one telling her to get a life.

  Wes lifted the damp length of her hair. His lips brushed her earlobe. Nibbled there.

  “Damn!” he whispered. “But you do taste delicious.” Then she was swinging around in his arms. “But you do need sleep,” he told her gravely. His hazel eyes burned a slow-fused fire that had very little to do with rest.

  She nodded solemnly in return. “But I do sleep so much better after a little exercise.”

  “Oh?” He arched a brow. “How do you sleep after a lot of it?”

  She grinned broadly. “Just like a baby.”

  He swept her up into his arms. “Lots of exercise coming right up,” he said huskily.

  To seal the promise, he set his lips, hungry, hot on hers.

  And so fused, he started up the stairs with her.

  Her days were long.

  Her nights were growing even longer.

  He had her up the stairs quickly. So quickly. His words at the picnic table had left them both aching. She landed a bit heavily on the bed, and he was beside her. He released the hook on her bikini top and tossed the damp fabric aside, as if it had been an awful nuisance. Then his fingers were on her hips, peeling away the bikini bottom.

  He stood, dropping his damp trunks. The air was cool. Her naked flesh felt very vulnerable.

  And his … looked very powerful. Exciting. Hard and aroused.

  Reggie reached out her arms to him, wanting to hold him, wanting to have him.

  But he didn’t come to her. Not right away. To her surprise, he caught her by her ankles and pulled her down to him. And his hot searing kiss landed against her midriff, and moved lower and lower.

  She called his name, stunned, excited. She couldn’t want him more than she did.

  Yes … she could.

  She was nearly sobbing, trembling, writhing, volcanic, when he rose over her at last. And when he entered her. And when she met his eyes.

  And when they began to move.

  And it was, indeed, a soaring height of ecstasy that they reached, one that came quickly, for they had both come to such a point of hunger. They reached a climax nearly simultaneously, shuddering, shivering, drifting downward together, damp, deliciously sated.

  And a moment later, as the air cooled her feverish flesh, Reggie curled against him, holding him tight. His hand was around her. It was a wonderful feeling. One of being cherished.

  He could make her so an
gry.

  That didn’t matter.

  She was falling in love.

  She smiled. It was a nice feeling.

  Perhaps he didn’t love her. Perhaps he demanded a lot from a woman even if his relationship with her remained a casual one.

  It didn’t matter, she thought sleepily. It felt too good to have him here. To sleep with her face against his chest. To feel the absolute comfort of his arm around her. To be naked here with him, to see the rugged texture of his fingers where his hand lay over her.

  Yes …

  It had been a long, long time since she had known so much. It had been a long, long time since she had known these sensations.

  But it was true, she was falling in love. And she was falling in love because he was an extraordinary person.

  And sometimes, to fall in love meant taking chances.

  He was nearly asleep, she thought. She curled his fingers in her own and brought them to her lips, just teasing his knuckles with her lips.

  “Wes?”

  “Hmm?”

  She breathed deeply. The hurt was still there, a pain that ran very, very deep.

  “I didn’t marry Caleb because my family doctor told me years ago he seriously doubted my ability to have children. And Caleb kept saying that he didn’t care.”

  He stiffened. He had been drowsing. He was wide awake now.

  “You didn’t believe Caleb? He probably meant it.”

  She shook her head. She was glad he couldn’t see her face. Tears were stinging her eyes. “No. Children are wonderful. And a man like Caleb should have had children. His own children. Children are the most important thing.”

  He pushed up from the bed, looking down at her. “Reggie, the world is already filled with children who need parents,” he said.

  “So people say. But adoption is hard. People sit there and wait and wait on lists. I couldn’t be sure Caleb really wanted to do that. I wanted to—to be sure. And so—I waited.”

  “And he died,” Wes murmured softly.

  “Yes. And he died.”

  Wes came down beside her, wrapping his arms around her once again.

  “You’re wrong, Reggie.”

  “About what?”

  “Children aren’t the most important thing,” he told her. His lips moved against her temple. Soft, gentle. He spoke again.