When the music started, everyone’s attention was instantly riveted on the small stage. Talk hushed to whispers as expert musicians wove the spell of a long-ago time and place. Pure enchantment. The crowd clapped in rhythm to the upbeat tunes, and sat in appreciative quiet during poignant ballads of love and loss.
And sitting in the darkened pub enjoying himself despite the situation that had brought him there, Mick watched Cassie immerse herself in the experience. Even in the dim light, her eyes sparkled with pleasure, and her alluring laugh carried easily to where he sat across the small table from her. Her incredible voice quietly singing harmony brought pure enchantment, and that clear contralto actually made the hair on his nape rise on several occasions. This completely new experience gave him pause. Then his heart lurched into a funny little beat he’d also never experienced, and he realized he was dangerously close to losing that particular organ to a certain syndicated columnist.
TWO DAYS PASSED in a pleasant blur for Mick, as the tour concluded in St. Louis and moved on to Memphis. He’d spent practically every waking minute with Cassie—next to her at signings, beside her on the bus, sharing every meal with her and Endora. He couldn’t get enough of being near her, and his lack of a publicist made his association with The Kitchen Witch a natural collaboration that played into his growing attraction. He really did plan to pay Endora for her efforts on his behalf, as she’d proven just as efficient and far more amusing than Jennifer. Not that he’d mentioned that to either her or Cassie. Yet. When the tour ended, he hoped to speak to Endora about a business arrangement. And to Cassie about far more than that.
And although they hadn’t had a chance to be alone, he knew it was only a matter of time before he and Cassie acted on the attraction building between them. Experienced enough to recognize that those feelings went beyond mere lust, Mick sensed a major life change approaching. A positive change after all the recent negative ones. He’d never felt so connected to another human being. Cassie seemed to be able to read his mind.
Of course, if she could do that she’d probably slap his face, as she figured very prominently—to say nothing of nakedly—in the overwhelming majority of alpha waves threading through his brain.
STOPPING IN MEMPHIS hadn’t been on his agenda. Instead, he’d planned to go directly from St. Louis to New Orleans to begin preparation for his ultimate tribute. But his conversation with the Bodin bitch had disturbed him enough to warrant an itinerary change. He felt compelled to follow the tour to its next to last stop.
Frustration had met him in Memphis. He’d been unable to gain admission to promotional events except the public signings, and he’d already attended one of those in Toledo. He had no desire to stand in line with a throng of parasites waiting to gush and coo over their “favorite author” while M. S. Kazimer signed his latest masterpiece for them. Pretenders! They would never rival his love and devotion. They would never kill for M. S. Kazimer.
Everywhere the great writer went, crowds surrounded him, clinging like sycophantic limpets. He wanted to slaughter them all.
Maybe he would.
THE RECEPTION IN Memphis’s famed Peabody Hotel dragged on. They’d spent six hours at autographings that day—three in the morning at the city’s oldest bookstore, and another three after lunch at the newest chain store just blocks from the hotel. Throw in the Peabody’s famous duck parade, and they’d been at it practically since dawn. For his part, Mick had had enough of his first day on the Memphis literary scene. Jamison might know how to run FBI field operations, but his concept of a book tour could have been taken from a Navy SEALS training manual.
Spotting Cassie next to the hors d’oeuvres table, Mick felt that odd thump in his chest. He paused where he stood, twenty feet away, to appreciate the view. Cassie’s bright, multicolored skirt rode just above her knees, revealing as gorgeous a pair of legs as Mick had ever seen. She smiled at something the short, balding man next to her said, and Mick could see even from that far away that her reaction was genuine. Her caramel-colored eyes were trained directly on the little man and didn’t waver.
Suddenly, Mick wanted more than anything to have Cassie’s full attention trained on him. As he moved toward her, she shook the man’s hand and headed toward the food table. Mick joined her.
“How’s the grub?”
She turned a wry smile on him. “I can’t exactly say, as I haven’t seen any of the little things. Is that a Spartan delicacy?”
“Likely the ancient Spartans saw nothing wrong with them.” Mick grinned. “Grub is the Big Ten equivalent of hors-d’oeuvres.”
Cassie nodded. “I know. And it’s pretty typical of these affairs. But there’s plenty of it.”
“I’ve got a suggestion.” He lowered his voice to just above a whisper. “We’ve been doing the publicity thing all day. Let’s go back to my room for a private party.”
She started slightly, and for a moment he thought she’d skewer him with her sharp wit and send him packing. Then a smile spread like sunrise across her face. “How private?”
“You, me, and a chilled bottle of Korbel.”
“That’s private, all right.” Her expressive eyes made endless promises before she turned and preceded him from the room.
MICK OPENED THE suite door and ushered Cassie inside, surreptitiously studying her for signs of second thoughts. “I really do have a bottle of Korbel. Care for a drink?”
She gave a slight shake of her head. “No, thanks. I had a glass of champagne at the reception.”
“Just one? Lightweight,” Mick teased gently.
Cassie’s eyes were full of mischief as she shrugged. “Who needs alcohol when you’re high on life?”
Laughing, he set the bottle down on the bar and then turned back to her. Abruptly uncertain, he raised a brow in question. “No more drinking? How about a dance?” Her surprised look pleased him. He’d caught her off guard. “After hearing your voice firsthand last night, I’m not even going to try singing.”
She recovered quickly from her startlement. “But I absolutely adore the Beatles.”
“And, in deference to them, I won’t repeat my performance. Care for jazz?”
“Love it.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
Mick went to the portable CD player on the table by the window and hit “play.” The room filled with soft, sensual music, the jazz seeming to wrap itself around them in a visceral embrace.
“May I have this dance, Ms. Hathorne?”
“My pleasure, Mr. Sandor.” She moved gracefully into his arms.
“Our pleasure,” Mick whispered in her ear as he held her close. His body tightened in anticipation when she shivered. Her smell, her heat, the sound of her breathing filled him with an odd mix of sexual tension and contentment. He wouldn’t waste time examining his feelings right then, though. That was for later.
“Is that a proposition?”
He pulled back enough to look directly into her eyes. “Only if you want it to be.”
Reaching up with slightly trembling fingers, she brushed his hair back from his forehead, slid her hand down to cup his cheek. “Absolutely.” Then she kissed him.
When she ended the kiss, he stated softly, “I haven’t been with anyone in over three months.” When he saw the question in her eyes, he added, “Jennifer called off the engagement three months ago, and I haven’t been with her since. And to be honest, the six months before that, we didn’t exactly set any lovemaking records, either.”
“Thanks for being candid.” Cassie’s chuckle was a bit wry. “It’s been lots longer than that for me.”
“I can’t say that disappoints me.” He lowered his mouth to hers, brushing lightly against her lips before deepening the pressure, coaxing a response from her.
Kissing as if they could delve into each other’s soul through their mouths, they swa
yed to the music.
Mick ran his hand down Cassie’s back; the zipper tab of her dress followed his fingers.
Responding to his silent challenge, she undid his tie and pulled it off his neck. In a split second, she had flung it over her right shoulder.
He countered by running his index fingers beneath the thin straps of her gown and pulling them down to her elbows. She returned the favor with his shirt, and as quickly as that, they were both naked to the waist.
He sighed at the feel of her skin against his. The cushioned press of her breasts—circles of warmth centered by the points of intense heat that were her nipples—brought him amazing pleasure.
“God, you feel good,” he murmured into her hair.
Her chuckle reverberated through her breasts and into his chest as she ran her hands up his back and across his shoulders. “Right back at you.”
As Mick hummed along with the music, they danced slowly across the carpet and into the bedroom. Pausing at the bedside only long enough to divest Cassie of her remaining clothes—and have her do the same for him—he swept her off her feet and laid her gently on the coverlet. Then he followed her down, searing her mouth, her face, with open-mouthed kisses. Hands sought and found sensitive areas to be explored more thoroughly after the initial fire was quenched. Mouths teased then soothed, stoking the fires. When he had her moaning and restless beneath his lips, he reached into the bed stand for a foil packet.
“That isn’t necessary,” Cassie whispered, her breathing rapid, her heart racing.
“It is.” Mick kissed her gently. “Out of respect for you.”
Her heart beat a quick, crazy cadence. “Then let me help.”
He grinned. “Be my guest.”
Finding her hands slightly unsteady, she gave a shaky laugh as she tore at the foil. “These little suckers are tougher than they look.”
“God, I hope so,” Mick quipped.
A laugh burst from her throat, and her nervousness dissipated, allowing her to make quick work of opening the packet.
“Very impressive, Mr. Sandor,” she murmured, sheathing him. The compliment was completely genuine.
Mick’s grin was equal parts wicked and masculinely smug. “I’m glad I measure up.”
“You know what they say,” she teased. “It’s not the size of the wand, it’s the magic in it.”
It was his turn to laugh. “Ah. A challenge.”
He took her lips with a slow, possessive kiss that curled Cassie’s toes. He kissed her forehead and cheeks, ran his tongue around the edge of her ear, then kissed a path from her throat to her breasts. While kneading the left, he suckled the right, until she was arching to keep him close, gasping for oxygen. Then he took her left breast into his mouth and kneaded the right. The switch nearly drove her over the edge.
When his mouth moved down to cover her most sensitive flesh, she climaxed immediately.
Floating slowly down from the peak, Cassie opened her eyes to meet Mick’s intense blue gaze. The air went right back out of her lungs as he slowly filled her, more completely than any lover before.
“Oh my stars. This feels so good.” She cradled his face in her hands and kissed him, tasting herself on his lips.
“It’s about to feel even better.” His voice was a bit strained as he momentarily rested his weight on his elbows.
Then he started to move, and proved himself as good as his word.
Cassie quickly matched his rhythm. Locking her feet behind his knees, she moved with him. She kissed his face and throat and urged him on with her hands. Caressing his back and arms, guiding his hips. When she ran her fingernails lightly up his sides he broke rhythm on a gasping shiver.
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” he groaned. Then he caught his rhythm again, and she was the one groaning.
HALF AN HOUR and several climaxes later, they finally came up for air.
“You’re fantastic,” Mick murmured into her ear on a panted whisper before gently kissing her temple.
“I certainly am,” she returned saucily, her own breath still labored.
He laughed as he rolled to his back and pulled her half atop him. “No performance anxiety for you, Ms. Hathorne.”
“I should hope not.” She caressed his chest with her open hand. “Besides, that wasn’t a performance.”
Mick caught her roaming right hand with his left, trapping it against his chest before bringing it to his mouth to kiss the knuckles. “It wasn’t for me, either.” When her suddenly vulnerable eyes lifted to meet his gaze, his mouth kicked up into a half-smile. “I say we skip the conversation about previous lovers. It’s just us. In the here and now.” And maybe in the future.
She captured his thought in his eyes and dared to hope. “All right.”
They traded kisses and caresses until passion surged again, necessitating more intense methods of dealing with the heat.
Wrapped in Mick’s arms, Cassie awoke before dawn. Not wanting to disturb him, she cautiously slid out of his embrace, quietly gathered her clothes, then snuck into his dresser drawer to borrow a tee shirt and pair of shorts. She wasn’t about to try to put her dress back on just to return to her own suite.
He stirred.
“Go back to sleep.” She lightly kissed his stubbled chin. “I’ll see you at breakfast.”
His eyes slitted open, and he reached up to cup her cheek in one hand. “Don’t leave.”
“I have to. I’ve got nothing to wear.”
At that, he awoke further. “Clothing is optional, even discouraged, for what I’ve got in mind.”
“No doubt, lover boy. But I’ve got three words: Early business breakfast. Remember? And I don’t want to look like I didn’t get any sleep.”
“Well, you didn’t get much.”
His smug tone made Cassie laugh. “All thanks to you. But despite the fact that you like me unclothed, our publisher suits would have themselves a fit and fall in it if I showed up at a meeting wearing just a satisfied smile.”
Mick’s blue eyes lit with humor. “Now that’s an image I’ll have in my head all day.”
She leaned over to quickly buss his lips. “Let it sustain you until tonight, then.”
He stroked her cheek, then deepened the kiss before releasing her. “Guess I’ll have to survive on memories.”
“We’ll make more,” she whispered.
“I’m counting on it, Cass.”
HE HAD SEARCHED every fan site on the Internet, called every fan club president, had even tried to contact M. S. Kazimer’s editor, but nothing substantiated Jennifer Bodin’s claim that his idol was retiring. Lying whore. His idol did not quit. M. S. Kazimer would pen brilliant works until the end of his days. And his greatest fan would by then be worthy to reveal himself to the world, not just to a paltry few law enforcement officials.
He had managed to discover that M. S. Kazimer’s engagement had been called off. Most likely, Jennifer Bodin, the woman scorned, had sought to discredit her former fiancé by spreading lies that he was retiring. To soothe her shattered pride, no doubt. Deceitful bitch. He should have known enough not to believe her.
He had come to Memphis to prove the lying cunt wrong, and although he had yet to find any evidence to support his theories, he hadn’t found any to corroborate hers, either.
But could it be true? What if the greatest writer who ever lived did plan to abandon his fans, abandon the fame and fortune his skills provided him?
Walk away from the blueprint he provided for his true acolytes.
Then M. S. Kazimer would have to die.
YET ANOTHER signing was about to begin, and Cassie found herself trying hard not to stare at Mick, especially certain parts of him. From the way he kept glancing at her, he was having the same problem.
So, aren’t you going to tell me all ab
out it?
Not on your nine lives, Endora.
Cassie heard a telepathic sigh. You’re absolutely no fun, Boss! You never kiss and tell. Why is that?
Because, if I told you about my affairs, I’d then have to sit through all the tawdry details of your innumerable peccadilloes. And frankly, Endora, you’ve got the morals of an alley cat.
Cassie had no idea how she managed it, but her familiar could sound vain even telepathically. And isn’t that just as it should be?
For your adopted species, I guess. But mine has to have their hearts involved, too.
The mental pause stretched until Cassie heard ringing in her ears. So, this isn’t just a short-term fling? You’re really serious about Mick?
‘Fraid so.
For once, Endora had no saucy comeback.
BUSY WITH THE tour schedule, Cassie had little time to contemplate the significance of making love with Mick. All she knew was that she’d be in his bed again that night, and that thought had her anticipating the event more than she’d anticipated anything in years.
She sent a mental “Good night” to Endora as they finished their dinner in the hotel restaurant and watched as her familiar gracefully excused herself and left.
Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, Endora flung mentally over her shoulder.
Like that could ever happen, Cassie shot back. She grinned to herself when she heard her friend’s mental chuckle.
And don’t forget the reception from nine to eleven. Try to surface long enough to attend for at least a few minutes, all right?
Cassie stifled a groan, but as she turned and caught the gleam in Mick’s eyes, that groan nearly became a moan. Feeling her chest tightening, she tried to take shallow breaths to avert passing out from lack of oxygen. You’ve got it bad, Cass, she chided herself. But at the moment, that really didn’t matter.
“If we don’t leave right now,” he growled low in his throat, “I’m not going to be responsible for what I might do to you in public.”
Some Practical Magic Page 13