The little outside auditorium hummed with anticipation. Logan could feel it in his heart and bones and soul. An audience waiting to be introduced. To him, to magic. To whatever acted through him to produce magic in their eyes.
He remembered this feeling. He’d once called it his addiction. The reason he hadn’t wanted to leave performing for the birth of his daughter. He’d experienced it every single time he went on stage. But it was so much more than that. He’d often sworn half the magic came from the audience and their desire to believe. If he hadn’t believed it before, he would now because the energy from this group of his friends and guests was intoxicating.
And it was so easy slipping back into the persona of the magician. Performing was like putting on a well-worn cloak. He walked on stage, paused to pick a hibiscus flower from the bush beside the steps. He put it in his buttonhole, passed his hand in front of it and listened to the gasp of wonder when it changed, spreading beautiful orange wings and taking flight as a butterfly. He turned with a smile to Jasmine, wanting to see the wonder and delight in her eyes.
And froze.
Sitting next to his daughter was Rachel. She wore a simple floral sundress and when her eyes met his, he suspected most of the magic he felt in the air that night came from her. But what was she doing there? Something that had sat lifeless in his chest for the past few months, spread tiny wings and gave a tentative flutter. Hope.
He glanced surreptitiously to the side stage area where Andre and Stacey lurked. Stacey looked guilty. Of course she was. Her talk about Rachel leaving six months ago was a blind. But she’d also said something else. This is your moment, Logan.
My moment. He took a deep breath, cleared his throat and faced the audience of friendly and familiar faces. “I’d like to thank you all”—his eyes sought Rachel’s—”for being here. It’s been a long time since I’ve been on stage, and, in fact, I never thought I’d do it again. But there’s a funny thing about having children you love.” He smiled at Jasmine and she grinned back as the spotlight centered on her. “They can make you believe in magic.”
He blew his daughter a kiss and she pretended to catch it, then, just as they’d rehearsed, she blew one back. He jerked back as if something had hit him in the face, and the audience laughed at the red lipstick mark that had appeared on his cheek. He scrubbed it away with a white handkerchief that turned into a red rose, which he knelt and presented to Jasmine who kissed him again, for real this time, on the cheek. The crowd laughed and clapped, obviously loving it. Logan chanced a look at Rachel, but her face was obscured, just out of range of the spotlight. If you’re here, maybe you believe in magic again.
****
Rachel felt his eyes on her, but couldn’t risk meeting his gaze yet. The tears she’d felt so near the surface since meeting Jasmine again still threatened. She didn’t want anything to mess this evening up for Logan. Ian. Her heart whispered his name. She wanted to say it out loud.
I don’t know if this is going to work. What if he doesn’t like who I am? She honestly couldn’t see beyond that particular moment, sitting in the audience, trying to stay in the shadows. She couldn’t imagine the next moment when she would turn to catch his eye or the end of the show when she’d have to explain why she was there—why am I here?—or that night when she’d go back to her room. Alone or with him.
The sensation of not knowing what the next moment would bring, let alone the next day or the next week, was unsettling but not new. She recognized it from the moment she’d stepped outside the lawyer’s office with her sister and her ex-husband. From the moment she’d spotted Andre’s striking figure in the little library. And because she’d spent so many months knowing that all her life would ever hold for her was more misery and self-loathing, she recognized the blessing, for once, of not knowing.
She turned her head, ready to meet his gaze at last, but it was too late. He kissed his daughter’s cheek and moved away and the spotlight was gone. But he’d seen her. He knew she was there. She sensed his awareness in every move of his body as he performed each trick. Card tricks, origami, even a couple of minor escapes. None of the grand illusions that were once his hallmark, but the audience was delighted with the close-up magic tricks and simple illusions, each one carried off flawlessly.
Only at the end of the show, however, did he pause in front of her again. He didn’t look down, but she knew this one was for her and her breath caught in her throat, half dread, half anticipation swirling in her.
He perched on the single stool that was his only stage prop. “Tony, can you turn the lights down a little?” He glanced up at the sky as the lights dimmed. “The stars are bright enough, don’t you think?” A rustle of anticipation went through the audience and swept over Rachel, bringing her breath from her in a gasp.
Maybe the small sound caught his ear. At any rate, he looked down at her. “I have a wish I wish to make tonight.” His lips curved and he stood, coming to the edge of the stage, his eyes never leaving hers. “I hope I’m not the only one.” He held his hand out to her.
For what felt like forever, she hesitated, absurdly frozen in place by her very desire to take his hand. Yes, she had a wish to wish. If she could find the courage to wish it, she could be his again. She could have all she’d ever wanted. She closed her eyes, hoping the moment wouldn’t pass her by before she could overcome the lingering doubt that she was truly what he wanted.
“Miss Rachel! Go!” The little voice beside her startled her into opening her eyes. Jasmine gave her a half annoyed, half urgent push. “Daddy needs you!”
Did he? She looked back at Logan. He raised his eyebrows and she found her courage and took the first step toward what she knew was the path she really wanted to take. No matter how it ended, she wanted to give it a try.
He helped her onto the stage, his hand warm around hers. When she would have turned, a little embarrassed, toward the audience, he stopped her, bringing her around to face him. “I caught a star for you once.”
She nodded, finding it hard to articulate an answer. His smile warmed her, relaxing her. “It’s all okay, you know. We’re just doing magic tonight.” He raised his voice so the rest of the audience could hear him. “Do you remember what I told you about the star?”
She cleared her throat. She remembered so much from their time together, but it all jumbled together right then. Some things you just have to take on faith. “Ian.” She gave him a pleading look, but when he just tilted his head at the sound of his name, she fought to clear her mind, to focus. “You said you can’t keep a star captive forever?”
He nodded. “Yes, I did. And that is true. I also said I can only catch one. But I’m not the only one who has a wish to wish tonight, am I?” He directed the last words at the audience, who, spellbound, had watched their interchange unnoticed. A murmur of assent met his question.
Keeping hold of her hands, he turned to face the light. “Tony, can you lower the lights a little more, please?” All the lights over their heads dimmed, leaving only the stage lights shining up on them. As the tropical night moved in on the audience, he closed his eyes. “My mother used to say to save your wishes for a falling star.” Releasing her hands, he raised his own skyward, then slowly brought them down. She was so focused on him, she didn’t notice what had happened until the audience gasped in wonder. He opened his eyes, smiling at her as bits of glittering blue-white light floated down all around them. “Make a wish.”
She shook her head, her lips trembling as she gazed at him through the ethereal light of the falling stars. She reached into her pocket and took out the star crystal, holding it out to him in the palm of her hand. “I have everything I could wish for.”
And as the audience applauded, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her.
****
He didn’t let go of her hand while he took his bows. As soon as he could, he pulled her off stage with him, intent on stealing a few moments alone, needing to find out why she was there and what it meant before the wor
ld and his friends closed in around him. Even that moment on stage when she’d looked him in the eye and told him she had nothing else to wish for and then kissed him…after all they’d been through, he couldn’t trust even that. Not without a word of reassurance from her.
He cursed the lack of a backstage to hide in, a door to lock, even a dark corridor. Everything was open behind the outdoor amphitheater. He caught sight of the laundry room he’d provided for his guests. Conveniently situated between the pool and the guestrooms, but out of the way of both, it was hardly ever inhabited, especially at this time of night. His guests would be making their way to the bars, the pool, or back to their rooms. He tugged her hand and made a run for it, hoping they wouldn’t be spotted.
He didn’t feel safe until they were both inside the laundry room and he’d locked the door behind them. Only then did he release her hand and turn to face her in the semi-darkness. He shook his head, fighting the urge to touch her again. “I don’t understand.”
“I know.” She nodded. “I don’t either, totally. I didn’t have any intention of ever coming back here.”
“You made that very clear.” He studied her, noting even in the dim light that her face had a softer quality, her voice a more gentle timber. “You’re different.”
“You should know. You helped me get here.” She took a tentative step forward. “You changed me, helped me heal, helped me forgive myself. And once I’d forgiven myself I found I could forgive others. You were right about that.”
“I’m glad.” He held himself still as she reached for him, closed his eyes as her hands touched his, then moved up his arms as she stepped closer. “But why did you come back?”
“To find out—if I am who you want.” She half breathed the words as if afraid to speak them out loud, so close now he could feel her breasts against his chest, her lips against his neck. She leaned her head against his shoulder and he gave in to the urge to put his hands on her waist and mold her closer to him. God she felt good. So right. Still high off his show, he imagined making love to her there in the darkness of the laundry room. But surely that was something he might have done with the Rachel who’d been on the island before. The one who’d seduced and discarded men, so lost in her own pain she didn’t mind causing more. He sensed this newly healed Rachel wouldn’t do those things and probably regretted what she had done.
Yet it was this Rachel who was responding to his touch with a wanton desire that matched his own, unbuttoning his shirt, running her hands over his chest and kissing his neck, nibbling his ear and pressing herself against him until he could stand it no longer and he picked her up, putting her on top of the nearest machine and shrugging off his shirt, pushing the straps of her sundress over her shoulders and reaching for her bra clasp as he claimed her mouth with a ferocious passion that surprised him.
****
To find out if I am who you want. The moment she spoke the words, she knew she had finally gained the courage she needed. She wasn’t the shrinking, shy, proper woman she’d been. But she only wanted one man. Ian. The problem was, she wanted him with a ferocious desire that wouldn’t allow her to wait. Here. Now. And the hell with the rest of the world.
Thank God he seemed in favor of it. She gasped as he bared her breasts to the night, bending her back over the machine he’d set her on so he could caress and lap and bring her need for him rising like a tide through her entire body. She moaned. “I want you, Ian.”
He paused, looked up at her with a tender smile. “I love the way you say my name.” He kissed each nipple one last time, then her belly button before looking back up at her, his hands on her waist. “I want to hear you say it again and again.”
Her heartbeat quickened. “Ian—”
He shook his head. “Shh. Not yet.”
As he began to work her skirt up over her hips, she was torn between a desire to help him with both her clothes and his and knowing she should be worried about what his friends and family might be thinking about their sudden disappearance. But when his fingers found the damp crotch of her panties and rubbed her through the material, her traitorous body lifted of its own accord, letting him grasp the thin material and pull it aside and away, baring her to his exploring fingers caressing her, sliding inside her slick wetness as he kissed her neck and breasts, bringing her to bucking, gasping pleasure.
“Now,” he whispered, as she came. “Say it now.”
“Ian!” She gasped his name. He lifted her and she wrapped her arms around his waist as he supported them against the cold metal of the dryer. She felt him slide into her and she arched her back, opening herself as fully as she could to him, trembling and clinging to him.
He groaned and moved his hands to her buttocks, supporting her and holding her still at the same time. It was a sweet torture to feel him inside her and not be able to move. He kissed her neck, pushing back her sweaty mass of hair. “It won’t take me long, baby. Not yet. I just want to be inside you as long as I can.”
She stayed as still as possible, breathing in the scent of his aftershave and sweat and whatever the indefinable musk was that she’d come to associate with the smell of his skin. She could feel everything from the fullness of him inside her to his breath on her neck and his arms against her sides, bracing them both against the dryer.
The desire to feel him move inside her overcame the last of her reserve, and she kissed him, nipped at his earlobe, slid her hands into his hair, and he obliged with a groan before he began to move, slow, smooth, gliding strokes that unhinged any inhibitions she might have left. She forgot they were locked inside a laundry room and he was making love to her against one of the machines. She forgot that his friends and mother-in-law and daughter were waiting for them somewhere, eager to congratulate him on his successful show and welcome her to the family. She even forgot that the last time they’d made love they’d parted on less than friendly terms.
Nothing mattered except this. The smooth strokes, the hot breath, the beads of sweat trickling off her, the heat, the passion, the feel of his skin against hers and the pleasure. Oh God, the pleasure and fulfillment of having him inside her again couldn’t be wrong when it felt like this. It built in her middle with each of his strokes, and she wanted to hold back, but as he began to move faster it was impossible and she cried out his name again. And as if it were what he’d waited for, his thrusts became faster and harder and then he came with a hot rush inside her and they both collapsed against the now warm metal of the machine behind her.
****
They dressed in the dark, silent in their thoughts. Logan found a bathroom and they took turns freshening up, and as she came out, he caught her hand. She met his gaze and then they both laughed.
“I can’t believe we just did that.” He’d turned on a light and he could see how flushed her face still was, but it was a good look. Yes, they’d been carried away by passion and probably shouldn’t have, but there’d been none of the desperate edge to it that she’d had before. She really had let herself begin the healing process. So he didn’t apologize.
She stole a shy look at him. “We didn’t use a condom.”
He raised an eyebrow. “No, I guess we didn’t.” To be honest, it hadn’t even occurred to him.
“You don’t have to worry. I had myself tested for—well, everything—when I got home. It was all negative, thank God.” A look of sadness crossed her face. “And I’m on birth control.”
“I cannot begin to tell you how happy it makes me to hear you say that.” He kissed her lightly. “Because it means you are accepting that you are an amazing woman worth taking care of.” He paused, almost dreading her answer to his next question. “How long are you going to stay?”
“Two weeks.” She answered him so quickly, he knew she’d been anticipating him asking.
“And then what?” He took both her hands. “I don’t want just this for a little while, Rachel. I want you. All the time.”
“But you don’t know me.” She squeezed his hands and looked
at him intently. “Not really. You know—that.” She gestured at the dryer with a little smile. “God yes, you know that me. And you know the shy little girl I used to be when I knew Nora, and you know the messed up me, but you don’t know me. Hell, I don’t even know me. I’ve been so screwed up, it’s been like being sick. And what it’s left of me, the woman that stayed. Well, I’ve still got to get to know her.”
“I’d like to help you do that.”
“And I’d like that too.” She smiled at him. “And you can, but only partway. I have to do the rest myself. So I’ll stay for two weeks. And we’ll see what happens. And then I’ll go home for a while and work and find a place to stay and maybe you can visit me there when you can. And who knows?” She laughed. “My schedule’s open now. I can see clearly for the first time in years, but I just don’t know what I’m looking at yet.”
He nodded, smiled, kissed her hands. “I understand. But I think I have an idea what you’re looking at.”
“I forgot.” She smiled. “You’re magic.”
“Yes, and though fortune telling has never been my thing, I believe I can see into your future.” He put his arm around her and led her to the door, flinging it open. “First, you’re looking at a visit with my daughter and my friends. And later, when we’re alone, definitely more of that, just not on a dryer this time.”
“In a bed sounds good.” She leaned her head against his shoulder. “Tell me more.”
“Well, over the next two weeks, you’re going to have so much fun snorkeling and dancing and playing with Jasmine—and me—that when it comes time to put you back on that plane, you’re not going to want to leave. And beyond that?” He shrugged. “I see a lot of me convincing you to come back here. And you’ll stay longer and longer each time until finally you just stay. And we live happily ever after.”
Island Magic Page 17