She sincerely hoped she’d someday share her family’s level of comfort with what they—and she—were. She’d made headway in that area, but much was yet to be done.
PLANS WERE PROGRESSING far more quickly than he’d hoped. Once he’d gotten over his rage, once he’d again set a goal and focused on attaining it, things began falling into place. As they had countless times before.
Soon, the stage would be set for his final spectacular demonstration. The crowning achievement in his astonishing success.
Too bad he wouldn’t perform this spectacular climax for his one-time idol. Oh no. He’d perform it on him.
Thirteen
MICK FIGURED CASSIE would head directly back to her suite at some point, so he’d camped out on her sofa. If it took next to forever, he wasn’t planning on going anywhere else until they’d worked out their problems. Endora’s advice still rang in his mind, and he tried to formulate his case, backed by clear-headed and solid reasoning, to present to Cassie when she arrived. But fear blocked his logic, casting everything out but complete terror at the thought that she’d just turn him into some slimy creature and leave him to his fate. His stomach lining was threatening to disintegrate, and he fought the urge to pace frantically around the suite. If Cassie didn’t get there soon, he’d have no nerve left.
Just when he was about to pound something in frustration, Endora abruptly snapped to attention. Startled, Mick dropped the copy of When Dust Bunnies Attack he’d been trying to escape into for the last hour. He cocked a brow at her as he bent to retrieve the book from under the coffee table. “Neural twitch?”
“Cassie’s coming.” Endora, now on her feet, shot Mick a glance over her shoulder. “Luckily for you, alone.”
Mick hadn’t realized Medusa’d had him worried until he felt his shoulders relax at those words. Trying to deal with Cassie would be enough of a handful. He didn’t need the Wicked Witch of the West in the room with them. He studied Endora as she moved to the refrigerator for a bottle of water. “Should I be here?”
Endora took a long drink of the hideously overpriced beverage. “I don’t sense any agitation, so this is likely the best chance you’re going to get. Better now than later.”
He suddenly couldn’t think of how to act. Should he be sitting? Feet propped up? Reading her book? No, that would look like he was angling to get on her good side. Which he was. He rejected reading as too obvious. Or too desperate. Maybe standing. If so, where?
“Take a few deep breaths,” Endora advised kindly. “You look ready to pass out.”
“It humiliates me to admit I just might.”
The familiar’s stunning green eyes rolled. “You volunteer to be serial-killer bait but can’t face your girlfriend after you have a fight? You are one pathetic human.”
Mick was too nervous to be insulted. “I, I guess I’ve never been in love before. Cassie’s the most important thing in my life . . . What if I blow it with her? I—”
“Did you write down what you wanted to say?”
“Shit no!” Mick started to pace. “I haven’t been able to concentrate. I’m just so—”
“Breathe!” Endora must have taken pity on him because she smiled with genuine warmth. “You don’t need a prepared speech. Listen to your heart and be honest about your feelings. Things will be fine.”
“Thanks, Endora.”
“And if you completely screw up, I’ll be around to clean up the mess.” She quirked a brow at him. “That’s the mess I’ll make when I kill you.”
To Mick’s stressed nerves, her laugh sounded more evil than lighthearted. Someday, Endora’s teasing might tempt him to toss her into the air to see if she landed on her feet. But with his luck, she’d land on his head in cat form, and he’d die instantly from a massive allergic reaction.
Fortunately, thoughts of paybacks steadied him somewhat. He’d just gotten his breathing under control when the lock rattled and the door opened. His heart rate kicked up to wind-sprint levels as he waited for Cassie to enter.
A plush purple alligator head appeared in the gap between door and doorframe.
Mick shot Endora a quick glance, but the familiar was already moving toward the creature. “What’s this, Barney does Bourbon Street?” she asked with a laugh.
“Hey purty lady,” the ‘gator said in a voice strikingly similar to Cassie’s with a Cajun accent, “wanna suck da haids uh some crawfish wit me?”
“Oooooh, chere,” Endora purred. “Ya know I jus’ love seafood.” She seized the toy and pulled Cassie into the room with it. “But I think dis gonna be jus a date wit me an Barney here.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Yuze got mo impotent thangs ta do dis aftahnoon.”
With that, she grabbed the alligator, spun behind Cassie and pushed her toward the center of the room, leaving her staring at Mick as he rose from the chair.
Cassie could hear her pulse thundering in her ears as she drank in Mick’s handsome features. She shot a look over her shoulder. “Cross to the other camp, Dora?”
“Absolutely not, Boss,” Endora stated with false adamancy. “Just guarding him until you could interrogate him. Remember, you’re on your own to clean up any blood you spill.” She indicated the stuffed alligator. “Cajun Barney and I have a hot date. See ya’ll at the reception tonight.”
Just like that, she was gone.
Moving seemed to have become a motor skill Cassie couldn’t master, although her mind was screaming at her feet to close the gap between Mick and her. His stillness mirrored her affliction. He’d stood, looking totally at a loss as to what to say, when she entered but hadn’t taken a single step further. Like him, she couldn’t seem to form coherent sentences.
“Mick—”
“Cassie—” he said at the same time.
They both broke off , standing tongue-tied and awkward.
Say you love him, she commanded herself. Ask him if he can live with what you are.
Easier thought than done. So much depended on his answer, she couldn’t force herself to ask the question.
Speak from your heart, human.
Endora’s voice in his head startled Mick into action. “God, I feel like I’m in junior high again,” he blurted out. “Nothing I want to say to you comes out of my mouth.”
Words broke both the silence and their frozen tableau.
As he moved to the wet bar, inspiration hit, and Mick shot her a glance. “Can I buy you a drink, chere?” Her slight smile encouraging, he rummaged through the refrigerator. “Let’s see . . . lots of cream, but you’d likely have Endora in a snit if you drank it. Imported beers and a very fine merlot. Orange juice if you’re not up for alcohol . . .” He looked up at Cassie. “All right, I’m officially babbling. Say something to shut me up.”
She took two shaky steps toward him. “Like what? ‘There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy’?”
Mick set a bottle of beer atop the bar and reached out to cup her cheek. “I prefer ‘oh brave new world that has such people in it.’” He sighed as she leaned into his touch. “I love you so much, Cassandra Hathorne.”
“Enough to ignore the fact that I’m a bonafide witch?” Despite her best efforts at nonchalance, her words sounded strained.
He looked straight into her eyes, gaze so intense it almost made her weep. “I refuse to ignore that fact.” When she started to speak, he quickly put his finger to her lips. “I’m not afraid of what you are, Cass, but I’ll need time to learn what it all means. And be warned—I have every intention of understanding you completely.”
At his words, a huge burden left her. She smiled tentatively. “I don’t think men are capable of completely understanding women. But feel free to try with me.”
“Oh, I will.” He grinned then pulled her into a loose, one-armed embrace.
“Here’s something to think about.” She kissed his chin. “That nose-twitching thing they did on Bewitched? Strictly Hollywood.”
“I figured that.” He laughed softly, then sobered. “Nothing I said last night came out the way it should have, Cass. And I didn’t say the most important thing.” He circled her waist with both arms and pulled her close. “I didn’t say ‘I love you.’”
“You said that a minute ago.”
“And I’m going to keep on saying it until you believe it.”
As she stared into his grave eyes, her doubts went up in smoke. She hugged him tight. “I love you, too, Mick.”
“Will you still love me when I say I’m quitting my writing career?”
She could feel the sudden tension in his body, see the strain in his face. “What brought you to that decision?”
He relaxed marginally at her question. “With all that’s happened . . . The serial killer copycatting my work . . . I just can’t keep writing horror novels.” The look in his eyes was one of pure longing when he asked, “Can you live with a former New York Times best-seller?”
“I doubt I’ll be living with one long.” His shocked expression made her take pity on him. She hugged his waist, then nipped his chin with her teeth. “You’re a writer, Mick. That’s the core of your being. You may leave the horror genre, but you’ll never leave writing. And your brilliance will shine through in whatever type of writing you do.”
His fierce embrace nearly drove the air from her lungs. “God, I love you so much, woman. I should have known you’d understand.”
“Only writers truly understand other writers.”
“Will you marry me?” His face fell when she stepped back, pulling from his arms. “Please don’t walk away before we’ve talked.”
Moving quickly, she plopped down on the sofa and looked up at him. “I don’t plan to. It’s just that I . . . Well, I . . . um . . .” Her cheeks suddenly felt hot. Taking a deep breath, she swallowed hard before baldly stating, “I can’t think at all when you’re holding me.” Now her whole face burned. “All I can think of is sex.”
He had the audacity to laugh as he grabbed his beer and moved to a chair opposite the sofa, body language radiating smug pleasure. “And that’s a bad thing, how?”
“Don’t get all cocky on me, lover boy,” she admonished, smiling. “You said yourself we need to talk about this marriage thing. If I can’t get my mind off anything but your body, no way I’ll contribute thoughtful comments to a crucial discussion.”
“I’ve got the same problem,” Mick stated, mischief lighting his blue eyes. “You drive me wild and, unfortunately, there’s not enough blood in the male body to power both the brain and the genitals simultaneously. So let’s make love first, get it out of our systems, then talk.”
Cassie practically leaped from her seat and threw herself at him. “Works for me.”
They both laughed like naughty children as he caught her up and carried her to bed.
AN HOUR LATER they were sufficiently relaxed that confronting their problems was possible. Propped against the headboard, Mick cradled Cassie to his chest.
“Have you ever compared notes with Sting,” she asked, lazily running her hand across his pecs. “I can’t imagine him being better at this than you are.”
Mick caught her hand and brought it to his lips. “Lofty praise, indeed. Next time I see Gordon, I’ll have to talk to him about his legendary sexual technique.”
She glanced up at him. “You’re on a first-name basis?”
“Actually, yeah. But, hey, met one superstar musician, met ‘em all. Just like best-selling authors. I’d much rather convince you to marry me than discuss Sting’s Tantric strategies.” He grew still for a moment. “You told me our lovemaking is magic, and instead of acknowledging the truth, I said some really nasty things. I was wrong. What we have between us is magic, and I’m selfish enough to want to keep that for the rest of our lives.”
She sighed. “I want to marry you, but—”
“Hush.” Mick squeezed her tight. “Before you list all the reasons against us, let me tell you a story.”
“Is it true, or a product of your amazing imagination?”
“Absolutely true.” He shifted a bit to arrange the pillows behind him. “Back in Slovakia my great-uncle Teodore married a Rom. A Gypsy. Despite a complete lack of support from either family, they married in the mid-nineteen twenties.”
Her hand stopped caressing his chest. “Did your grandmother oppose the marriage, too?”
“YaYa had come to the States right after the first World War and wasn’t even in Slovakia. Her three older brothers, Teodore included, stayed in Europe. The brothers and their families were enraged Teo had married Magda without their blessings.”
“Why? Aren’t Gypsies also Catholic?”
“That didn’t matter. They were outcasts. But Aunt Magda’s background didn’t stop Teo. He married the woman he loved, family opinion be damned. For years they lived in Prague, where he taught linguistics at the university. He also occasionally was a visiting professor in Warsaw.”
Cassie sat straight up. “By the Goddess, the Nazis were rounding up Polish intellectuals at that time.”
“Exactly. And that’s where Great-aunt Magda becomes a heroine. She had ‘The Sight,’ as the Rom call ESP. In November of Thirty-eight, she had a vision. In it, the Germans captured and killed Teo’s entire family, including him and Magda. Since he was an intellectual and his brothers government officials, the danger was very real. She convinced him they couldn’t remain in Europe, that they all had to make their way to the States or face certain annihilation.”
Cassie found that she could barely breathe as Mick’s story unfolded. “Did Teo’s brothers believe her?”
“They weren’t stupid. They’d heard the rumors, seen what was happening to the Jews, Gypsies, political dissidents. They converted their assets into gold and snuck out of Europe in Thirty-nine, just as the Nazis were occupying Bohemia and Moravia. And placing Slovakia under ‘protection.’ They had several close calls, but Magda’s sight kept them ahead of their pursuers at every turn. In August, they arrived in New York. In September, Hitler invaded Poland.”
“And World War Two started.” Cassie let out a long sigh. “What an incredible story.”
Mick took her face in both hands and kissed her tenderly. “You see? My family not only believes in but respects powers beyond the normal human’s. Both my sisters and several of my cousins are psychic, and even though none practice professionally, not a single relative mocks their abilities. Or doesn’t believe them.”
“So, you’re saying if I show up at a family gathering and telekinetically burn all the food to ashes, they’ll just laugh it off?”
“I wouldn’t go that far.” Mick couldn’t keep a twinkle from his eyes when he stated, “It’s extremely dangerous to come between a Slovak and his meal. We’re a forgiving people, but not in regard to food.”
Cassie’s grin faded. “You’re not lying to me, are you?”
She immediately found herself crushed to Mick’s chest.
“God, no. How can you even ask that question?” He kissed her forehead. “I love you. My family will love you.”
“I’ve barely come to terms with what I am,” she whispered against his shoulder. “It’s hard to believe strangers will accept me.”
“Believe it.” He shifted to see her eyes. “Come to think of it, you might not want to announce to all and sundry that you’re a real witch. All my adolescent relatives will likely think it’s so cool they’ll constantly pester you to cast spells.”
She lifted her head from his shoulder and looked up at him. “Maybe I should meet your family before deciding how to approach the situation.”
She could feel Mick catch his breath.
“Does this
mean you’ll marry me?”
“This isn’t going to be simple, Mick. I’m not easy to live with. Ask Endora.”
He exhaled. “I was raised to believe that anything worth having is worth working for. Don’t you think our love qualifies?”
“Absolutely.” She flashed a huge smile. “Now, I just have to convince my family to accept your puny human ass.”
“Shit! I forgot about them.” Mick ran his fingers back through his hair. “Now what?”
Laughing, Cassie gave him a brief peck on the cheek. “Relax. Endora’s in your corner. That’s a major plus. And even more important, my mother’s on our side.”
“You’re kidding.”
Cassie shook her head. “She’s really the only relative whose approval you need. So we’re good to go.”
“That calls for a celebration.” Mick glanced at the clock. “It’s six. We don’t have to make an appearance until eight . . .”
Cassie arched a brow. “Going for Sting’s record now, are we?”
“I’m definitely up for trying.”
Growling, Cassie launched herself at him.
Fourteen
DESPITE CASSIE’S assurances that he had Medusa’s approval, Mick’s nerves were stretched taut. A man would have to be completely insane not to dread meeting his future mother-in-law, especially when the term “she’s a real witch” meant exactly that. He found himself swallowing around a softball-sized lump as he watched the formidable woman approach across the ballroom. Thank God Cassie had invited her to the booksellers’ reception. Now, she couldn’t really turn him into a slug or anything without someone noticing. Of course, he couldn’t prevent awful things from happening later, but right then he felt somewhat safe.
Cassie touched his forearm, and the energy that passed from her hand felt like the old static electricity machine he had played with in junior high science classes. He vaguely wondered if he’d cause a spark by breaking contact, but for a couple of reasons didn’t want to test the idea. First, everyone would notice a spark. Second, he needed all the confidence he could muster for this meeting, and Cassie’s touch helped tremendously in that department.
Some Practical Magic Page 19