Sympathetic Magic (The Witches of Cleopatra Hill Book 4)

by Christine Pope

  “Behind my back,” Margot said with some bitterness.

  Lucas shifted on the couch so he was almost but not quite facing her. “What else was I supposed to do? You wouldn’t talk to me. Believe me, Margot, I’ve been with women where there just wasn’t any chemistry, and I walked away. But with you? With us? There’s something. You can ignore it, but that won’t make it go away. And when I come across something like that, I’m not willing to let it go that easily. So yeah, I went and talked to Rachel. Maybe it was a junior high school kind of thing to do. I don’t know. I just couldn’t figure out what else to do.”

  No reply at first. Her eyes were still downcast, seeming to study the pale tan contents of her coffee mug, but he could almost hear the gears turning in her head. “You’re right.”

  “I — what?” he said, shocked that she was agreeing with him.

  “It was a junior high school kind of thing to do.”

  Damn. He knew he shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up. “All right, so I have the emotional maturity of a thirteen-year-old.”

  Her lips quirked. “Well, I wouldn’t go so far as to say that.”

  “What would you say?”

  She took a sip of coffee, gave an almost-wince, then replied, “I’d say if your current strategy is to keep at me until you wear me down, then it might be working.”

  At first he wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly. “It’s…working?”

  “Well, I’m certainly getting tired of trying to fend you off.” Another sip of coffee, and she added, “I suppose I’m vaguely curious as to what you’re expecting out of this pursuit you’re currently engaged in. Are you just out for a quick lay, or are you looking for the house with the 2.5 kids and the dog?”

  He’d known she was a no-nonsense sort of person, but for some reason he’d never thought she would state the matter quite so baldly. “If I only wanted a quick lay, I could’ve gotten that any time in Flagstaff without having to resort to all these extreme measures.”

  “Too bad.”

  “Excuse me?”

  This time she actually smiled, then set her coffee down on a slate coaster. “That would be easier, wouldn’t it? Just sex? I mean, there aren’t really any logistics involved in that sort of thing. Just scratch the biological itch and get it over with.”

  Had he slipped into some sort of alternate reality? Was Margot proposing that they have sex and then just walk away? “I — ” He cleared his throat. “I’m not so sure about the 2.5 kids, but I guess I’m leaning more toward that side of the spectrum than mindless sex, Margot.”

  “Well, that makes it a lot more difficult, then, doesn’t it?”

  “I don’t think it has to.”

  The half-amused expression disappeared abruptly, and she glanced away, seeming to stare into the dancing flames within the hearth. After a long pause, she said, “I assume if you were picking Rachel’s brain about my past, then she probably also told you something about what it means to be an elder.”

  “Some, yes.” At last he lifted the mug to his lips and drank. The coffee was good — better than he’d expected from someone who claimed she didn’t make it very often. “Do you think that’s really enough to scare me off?”

  “It should.”

  “Why? The other two McAllister elders are married, and it doesn’t seem to have mattered much to them.”

  “Because they were already married. Their lives had already been set. There’s no room for courtship for an elder, Lucas. I have to be available to my clan all the time, because I never know when something is going to come up.”

  “And how often has anything actually come up over the last few months?” he asked calmly. “I mean, now that you don’t have to worry about the threat from us Wilcoxes.”

  Her mouth pursed. “All right, it’s been quiet lately. But that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. You can’t predict when a crisis is going to occur. That’s why it’s a crisis — it comes out of the blue, and then you have to drop everything and deal with it.”

  Undeterred, he replied, “Well, I say we put that to the test.”

  “How?”

  “Come stay with me in Flagstaff for a few days.”

  Eyes flaring open, she exclaimed, “Are you crazy?”

  “Not that I’m aware of.”

  “Sorry, Lucas, but despite what I said about casual sex a minute ago, I don’t think I’m quite ready for that.”

  Despite the dimness of the room, he could see the blush tinging her fair skin. He fought back a chuckle. “Don’t worry, Margot — I meant you could stay in the guest room.”

  She began to shake her head, and he went on,

  “Really. Come up for a few days, see the town, and if the world doesn’t end, maybe you can reevaluate your stance on this whole ‘no courtship for an elder’ thing.”

  Dead silence. He could see the tension in her jaw, the set of her mouth. It seemed clear enough to him that she hadn’t expected to be challenged quite so openly. Finally she said, “And if something does go wrong — if I’m urgently needed here — you’ll drop this thing once and for all?”

  “Of course.” Lucas didn’t have much of a problem making that promise, because he knew nothing was going to go wrong. Margot would come up to Flagstaff, he’d take her around, show her the local sights, wine and dine her, and after two or three days, she’d realize what she’d been missing and fall right into his arms.

  Okay, it probably wasn’t going to be quite that easy, but he was fairly certain that Jerome would survive just fine without her for a few days.

  She sat, rigid, every tense line of her body revealing how conflicted she was over the whole thing. Lucas hardly dared to breathe until she spoke again.

  “Fine,” she said. “I’ll go to Flagstaff with you.”

  7

  Bryce had been less than thrilled by the prospect, but after Margot had tersely informed the other two elders that she would be out of town for two days, three at the very most, Allegra had taken her aside, smiled, and said, “You have a good time, and don’t worry about us.” Her blue eyes took on a sly glint as she added, “I wouldn’t mind spending a few days in Flagstaff with a man who looked like that.”

  Margot had, of course, been mortified, and made her escape immediately afterward. Even so, she’d felt perversely pleased that at least one of her peers seemed to be on her side. And although she’d considered calling her mother directly to tell her where she was going, Margot decided that wasn’t necessary. The news had probably started moving through the McAllister grapevine almost as soon as she walked out Allegra’s door.

  Now Margot was driving toward Flagstaff, letting Siri guide her in, based on the address Lucas had given her. That was one thing Margot had been adamant about — she might have agreed to stay with the Wilcox warlock for a few days, but she was going to be damn sure she had her own car there in case she needed to make a hasty getaway.

  For whatever reason.

  It was a beautiful day at least, and she had to remind herself to keep her eyes on the road as she ranged up the interstate into territory she’d never seen before, where the freeway was lined on either side with what seemed like endless miles of ponderosa pines, flashing by so they merged into an unending sea of deep, deep green. Back in Jerome, the other trees still held onto their autumn color, but at this elevation the oaks and sycamores and cottonwoods were already bare. But they were lovely, too, their branches smooth and elegant in the slanting November sunlight.

  She pulled off the highway as instructed, and began curving her way through a neighborhood of large, expensive-looking homes, most of them surrounded by their own stands of pine. The road wound around a gentle hill, moving upward until she came to a house at the end of a cul-de-sac. At that point Siri seemed to get confused, telling Margot to make U-turn, and so she switched off the navigation program. Anyway, as she approached the driveway, she spotted a mailbox with “Wilcox” engraved on a neat brass plate on the side, so she knew she was in the right place.r />
  Lucas had told her to pull into the driveway, so that was what she did, feeling very conspicuous. All right, the place actually did appear fairly private, since it sat on a large lot, and pine trees surrounded it on three sides. Even so, she couldn’t help thinking the neighbors would see her car sitting in front of the garage for days on end and would draw their own conclusions as to exactly why she was spending time with Lucas Wilcox.

  Even as she began to turn off the engine, however, the door on the far right garage bay — there were three — began to open, and Lucas stepped out. She pushed the button to roll down the window and gave him an inquisitive look.

  “I thought you might feel better if you could park inside.”

  She did, immeasurably, but she only gave him a brief nod. “Thank you, Lucas.”

  He wore a faint smile, as if he’d guessed precisely what she’d been thinking. “No worries.” Then he stepped out of the way so she could pull into the garage. In the bay next to her was a bright red Porsche, and beyond that the dark bulk of what she thought was some kind of SUV, although she couldn’t see what type.

  Knowing Lucas, I doubt it’s a Ford, she thought ruefully, turning off the engine and pulling her keys from the ignition.

  He’d followed her into the garage, and stood waiting as she climbed out of the driver’s seat. “Pop the trunk, and I’ll get your luggage.”

  Such as it was. “You don’t have to — ”

  “I refuse to make a lady carry her own suitcases.”

  This was said with such a disarming smile that Margot could only lift her shoulders in response. “Have it your way. There are only two anyway.”

  “That does make it easier.” He pulled both her suitcases out of the trunk, one an airline-regulation wheeled case, although Margot had never been on an airplane in her life, and the other a small black leather satchel her mother had given her a few years back. Why precisely Sylvia had thought that an appropriate gift, when Margot never went anywhere, she wasn’t sure, but at least it was coming in handy now.

  Lucas picked up both pieces with ease, saying over his shoulder, “Right this way.”

  They walked around the other two vehicles, then through a door that opened into the kitchen. Margot tried to keep her eyes from widening, as that kitchen was bigger than her living room. “Cook much?” she inquired, looking at the apparent acres of granite countertop and the professional-grade stainless-steel appliances.

  “Not at all,” Lucas said cheerfully.

  Rachel would probably spit bullets if she heard that. Her tiny kitchen was even smaller than the admittedly cramped one in Margot’s own cottage. Then again, Rachel managed to create works of art in that postage stamp of a kitchen, whereas it didn’t sound as if Lucas even boiled water in his, again proving the old saying that it wasn’t what you had, it was what you did with it.

  But that thought led Margot’s mind to exactly what that old saying had actually been referencing, and she felt the heat rise in her cheeks as she followed Lucas past the dining room and up the stairs, all the while trying not look around and stare. She’d known his house would be impressive, but she hadn’t known it would be quite this stunning. Twenty-foot ceilings with tongue-and-groove covering them, a massive stone fireplace that reached to the ceiling, enormous windows, every one of them filled with views of ponderosa pines.

  It reminded her of something she’d read in a book once, of an inner-city student in New York wistfully writing of living someplace where she could have “windows with trees in them.” Well, this place definitely had windows with trees in them….

  “Here we go,” Lucas said, leading her into a room twice the size of her own bedroom at home, with sturdy Craftsman-style furniture in dark oak, and a comforter with a subtle Southwest pattern of rust and blue and gold on the bed. He set her bags down on the floor next to the dresser. “That’s empty, so if you want to put anything away — ”

  “That’s fine,” she said hastily. Yes, she’d do some unpacking later, but not with him watching her.

  “This room has its own bathroom,” he went on, hardly noting the interruption. “Right through there.” And he pointed to an opening just past the closet. “Nice and private.”

  She definitely saw the glint in his dark eyes when he said “private.” Teasing her, probably, for jumping to conclusions a few days ago and thinking he expected her to share his own room. Well, she wasn’t about to acknowledge the hint. Anyway, it did feel good to know that this bedroom had its own en suite bath, and so she wouldn’t have to be wandering the hallways of his house in her robe and slippers.

  “It’s lovely,” she said honestly.

  “Well, I’ll let you settle in. Just meet me down in the family room when you’re ready.”

  So polite, so casual and friendly, as if she were an old friend — a platonic one at that — instead of a woman he’d made no secret of his interest in. But although she couldn’t claim to know Lucas well, she did know that was just his way. At any rate, she was glad of having a little private time to catch her breath and regroup before being with him.

  “Thanks, Lucas. I’ll just be a couple of minutes.”

  He nodded and went out, and she resisted the impulse to close the door. No, she’d only get the more fragile pieces out of her suitcase so they wouldn’t wrinkle too badly, and put her toiletries in the bathroom, then run a brush through her hair and refresh her lipstick. The rest of it could wait for later; she didn’t want Lucas to think she was hiding in here, delaying the moment when their three days together would really begin.

  Never mind that that was exactly what she wanted to do.

  She hung up the dresses and jacket she was concerned about, and dug her cosmetic bag and a few other items out of the suitcase and went into the bathroom. It was just as lovely as the rest of the house, with custom Mexican tile and dark cabinets and warm slate on the floor. The fixtures were dark rubbed bronze, and fluffy terra-cotta-colored towels waited for her on no fewer than three separate racks.

  Trying to impress me, Lucas? she thought. If that was his intent, he was doing a fairly good job of it. Yes, she’d known that the Wilcoxes did pretty well for themselves, and Lucas more than most, but this house just seemed to point out all the shortcomings in her own cottage, which, face it, had been due for an overhaul for some years, as its last remodel had been done sometime in the ’50s…and her bathroom had the pink tile to show for it. Every time she went in there, she wanted to wrinkle her nose.

  But she wouldn’t allow herself to dwell on that, instead pulled out her brush and gave her hair a quick once-over, then dabbed on some more lipstick. She really hadn’t known what to expect from this outing, so she was wearing jeans and a dark wine-colored sweater and brown ankle boots. One of the pieces Angela had made a while back, an amethyst crystal point topped with a faceted amethyst and traced with delicate silver wire, snuggled in the hollow of her throat. The ensemble should be fine for most outings, she guessed, and if Lucas planned to take her to a five-star restaurant or something, well, then, she’d just have to come back and change.

  As she descended the staircase, she heard the faint murmur of a television from somewhere toward the back of the house, so she headed in that direction. Sure enough, there was Lucas in what had to be the family room, a clubby “man cave” kind of place, with its walls painted dark green and dark brown leather sofas. An enormous flat-screen TV hung on one wall, embedded in a cabinet above another fireplace. At the moment, the screen was displaying some kind of golf tournament. When Margot entered the room, he picked up the remote and turned off the television.

  “Just catching up,” he said, sounding almost apologetic.

  “Angela mentioned that you played,” Margot replied. “Is it an important match?”

  “Not really.” He stood up, his manner almost diffident, as if, now that he actually had her here, he wasn’t quite sure what to do with her. After a pause, he shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans and said, “I thought maybe we�
�d go downtown. You can see Connor’s gallery, some of the local sights. That sound good?”

  “It sounds fine,” she told him. Actually, she was interested to see the place where Angela had stayed for most of the winter, even though she knew it was now occupied by Connor’s cousin Mason. And going around downtown would give her some much-needed points of reference.

  He seemed relieved that she hadn’t offered any protest. “Great. Did you bring a jacket? It’s probably a good deal chillier here than what you’re used to.”

  Oh. She should have thought of that. “I did, but it’s still in the back seat of my car.”

  “That’s fine. We’ll get it when we go out to the garage.”

  She was already holding her purse, so there wasn’t much else to do except follow him through the house, then make a brief detour to get her coat. To her surprise, he led her over to the SUV — which turned out to be a BMW — rather than the Porsche. She raised an eyebrow, and he said,

  “I figured this might be a little more your speed. Not quite so flashy.”

  Well, she wasn’t really sure a BMW was much more her speed than a Porsche, but at least it was black and not a sports car. She climbed into the passenger seat, and waited as he came around to the driver’s side and got in. Being in the car with him like that, having him so close to her…it seemed a little overwhelming. Something about him felt so much larger in close quarters.

  She took in a quick breath, catching again that faint, faint hint of his cologne, and realized that might not have been the best idea. The scent seemed to trigger all her nerve endings, bringing back the previous Friday night, the way his arms had gone around her, the feel of his lips on hers, somehow soft and strong and insistent all at the same time.

  A shiver went over her, and she forced herself to look out the car window, to focus on the trees wheeling about them as Lucas turned the SUV around in the enormous driveway so they wouldn’t have to back out onto the street.

  “Everything okay?” he asked.