Главная страница | Современные любовные романы | Under His Spell

Under His Spell
Kathy Lyons






Under His Spell

Kathy Lyons






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Dear Reader,

I recently went on a cruise and had the absolute best time! Mostly I read and ate. There might even have been drinking involved! And one night, I attended a hypnotist’s show. It was hilarious! My daughter’s friend turned out to be highly suggestible. Though normally a shy young man, he was suddenly Michael Jackson dancing “Thriller,” complete with sparkling glove and pelvic thrusts. It was one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen. It was also inspiring.

What if a woman was on the verge of a breakdown? What if that exhausted, stressed-out woman named Nicky got hypnotized by a stage act …?

That’s why this book is one of the FORBIDDEN FANTASIES. Nicky’s sudden lack of inhibition opens the door to all sorts of interesting scenarios. Fortunately she has the perfect man to help her. Jimmy Rayburn has loved Nicky since school. And he’s especially skilled at creating safe, sexy and downright mesmerizing environments to prove that he is just the man for her.

Hope you enjoy my walk on the wild side. I certainly did!

Kathy Lyons




Table of Contents


Cover (#uabe6926d-b3fd-5822-b9c3-e1ac5992ba01)

Title Page (#u59c82ea9-10cb-5723-82fb-08b5279d8f98)

Chapter One (#ud842e935-503c-5c0e-980c-d39b748a7d1c)

Chapter Two (#u76a46562-7b4b-551b-bee1-dbab0b3190e7)

Chapter Three (#u89f23ec7-5dc0-537c-a738-fe6789270200)

Chapter Four (#u55ca5445-fed1-5ece-a0a9-d61d14ff6f19)

Chapter Five (#u632c7676-a356-5de8-8352-389374d72ba4)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)




1


“DON’T FORGET, NICKY. Please, sis, you can’t forget.”

Nicky Taylor ground her teeth, then stopped, worried that her older sister, Susan, would hear it over the Bluetooth connection.

“What?” Susan asked. “What did you say?”

“Aieee!” Nicky swerved her car, then slammed on the brakes as she tried to avoid a motorcycle zipping too fast down the oncoming lane. No less than three other cars had to do something similar, and their horns blared angrily all around her.

“Damn cyclists!” she cursed even as she flushed in embarrassment. Truthfully, that near-accident had been her fault. She’d been trying to maneuver around a slow-moving bus. She was in a section of Chicago that had the triple threat: narrow lanes, heavy traffic and three streets intersecting in a confusing mess.

“Nicky! Nicky, are you all right?”

“Yes, yes,” she groused to cover her own guilt. “I’m meeting Tammy at that club and I’m late.”

“You’re always late. What happened?”

“Nothing, nothing. Just a motorcyclist and a city bus.” She glanced at the time and her chest tightened exponentially. Damn, she hated being late. “Tammy is going to have a fit. The first amateur act has probably already started.”

“We’re used to you being late. I’ll text her that you’re on your way. Just drive carefully, okay?”

Nicky winced, knowing that her reputation was well deserved. But she was building a career—didn’t they understand that? “I’m not always late. And I drive just fine.”

Susan’s inelegant snort blasted through the line. “You drive fine when you’re concentrating on it. When was the last time you tried to do one thing at a time?”

Nicky didn’t answer. She was too busy straightening out her car behind the gawd-awful bus. At least with it going slowly, she’d be able to check her e-mails as soon as she got off the phone. Her company manufactured plastic containers. It wasn’t rocket science, but they made a lot of containers. Unfortunately, the world was cutting back on its plastic consumption, which meant as regional head of five distribution nodes, Nicky had to find a way to scale back without firing hundreds of employees.

Part of her just wanted to throw in her resignation along with the layoffs. Shipping plastic parts around the country wasn’t exactly what she’d planned when she received her MBA. She’d dreamed of making green products, of earning her living while saving the planet. Plastic was as far from that as she could have gotten. But they’d offered her money and a fast track to the executive boardroom. She hadn’t counted on the hundred-hour workweek or the fact that she’d stall out in middle management while the economy took a serious downturn.

Fortunately her little sister, Tammy, knew a guy who specialized in shipping optimization. That’s who she was really meeting at amateur night. Nicky just prayed that Prof. Thompson could help her optimize without firing. But he’d have to look at the reports first, which had to be compiled from data from each division head, and then …

“Nicky? Are you still there?”

“Hmm?” She forcibly pulled her attention back to her sister. And the damn bus. And being late to see Prof. Thompson at some stupid amateur night, all before she looked at those figures from the East Coast factory. Her chest tightened further, and she had to force a deep breath. She would not have a panic attack here. Not while driving. No, no, no! She just needed a moment to breathe.

“Nicky?”

“Yeah, I’m still here,” she said, still willing her breath to even out. “Still stuck. Stupid bus.”

There was a picture on the back of the bus of a tropical resort. Nicky stared at it a moment, her thoughts wandering to a sandy beach and a hot guy rubbing oil on her back. Wouldn’t that be heaven? She held on to the image for a moment, really savored it. It had been years since she’d been with a man. She’d been too busy, too focused, and too afraid of making another bad boyfriend choice. But in fantasy land, she could pretend anything. She could be on a hot beach with the absolute perfect man caressing her in the most intimate ways. It would be so good.

She held on to the thought, soaked it into her skin, and felt her breath lengthen. Moments later, her body relaxed enough for her to function. No panic attack. Life was good.

Except, of course, life wasn’t good. She still was nearly an hour late for her appointment, and even when she made it, she didn’t have all the figures together. She didn’t even see a time when she could take her island vacation. Not until the economy took a better turn. Not until …

“I’ve e-mailed you the dates …”

Nicky frowned. Dates for what? Oh yeah, her goddaughter’s christening. There was a meeting with the priest and then the actual event. She just couldn’t forget. “Thanks, Suz.”

“Five o’clock Thursday with the priest, okay?”

Nicky nodded, her thoughts still wandering toward the tropical island and a hot guy with body oil. “Does it have to be at five?” She couldn’t remember the last time she’d left work that early. Sun, sand, a man.

“You already said you could make it at five!”

“Okay, okay! Five o’clock Thursday.”

“You just can’t—”

“Can’t forget, I know, I got it!” An ache cramped her belly painfully. It was stress. Duh. Her breath was getting short again, so she continued ranting because it felt good. And because it staved off the panic attacks that were getting more frequent with every passing day. “I manage five nodes, supervise nearly two thousand employees, and everyone thinks I can’t remember a simple appointment with a priest!” She’d have to remember to put it in her phone calendar. With warnings three days in advance. But she couldn’t do that while driving and talking on the phone.

“Nicky, honey, it’s not that I don’t think you’re capable—”

“I know, I know. I gotta go. This bus is driving me nuts.” Then she clicked off before her sister could argue.

With a grunt of frustration, she swiveled around in her seat, watching for a break in traffic and furious when she didn’t see one. She knew she was overreacting. But she still had a ton of work to do without a clue about when she’d get it in. Who put amateur night on a Thursday, anyway? She should have said no, but she needed to consult Prof. Thompson. And, oh no, she still had to do her laundry. Did she have anything clean for tomorrow? Did she have time to buy some underwear on the way to the bar?

Her phone beeped with a text just as she was finally shifting to the next lane. The pressure built in her mind and body as she stopped her instinctive jerk to answer the phone. She was driving, damn it. Any text could wait!

She steadied the car and pushed through a light, but the cramp in her stomach returned as she ignored the message on her phone. What if it was her boss? What if one of the offices had trouble sending the report? It was well after seven, but she knew at least three of her immediate subordinates worked the same crazy hours she did. If it was one of them, then she needed to get on the problem right away. Jobs were on the line, hers included. She knew there was a way to save most of them, but she had a lot of work to do to find it.

With a grunt of disgust, she grabbed her phone and hit the appropriate button. It was awkward reading and driving at the same time, but she’d mastered it a long time ago. With a sigh of relief, she saw it was from her sister Tammy and not a work disaster.

Where r u?

She stopped at a light and whipped off a response. Almost there! she texted. It was a lie, but if there were no more buses between her and the bar, she’d make it before the end of the second act. Unless another disaster hit. She tried not to think of that. She tried not to think of tropical islands either or the way her entire body clenched with frustration. If she could just get through the immediate crisis, she would deal with the rest later. But God, what she wouldn’t give to be on that tropical island now… .

JIMMY RAY DID a double take, jerking the curtain slightly as he peered out at the crowd. It couldn’t be her. That absolutely could not be Nicky Taylor, his high school fantasy walking into the bar. She’d been a volleyball star, class president and the girl voted most likely to run the country in twenty years. And he’d wanted her forever. What was she doing here at amateur night?

He leaned forward, peering into the dimly lit crowd. He couldn’t be sure it was her. Lots of women had long legs, gray business suits and that look of anxious harassment in their eyes. But only Nicky walked that way, with her hips shifting in a lilting cadence while her pointy chin dared a man to try for her. Could that really be her? The blond hair was right, but this woman had a tight lift to her shoulders that high school Nicky never had. She was also walking and trying to read on her BlackBerry while taking off her coat and scanning the crowd at the same time. That was vintage Nicky, even in high school. He bet she’d mastered multitasking by the time she was six.

He frowned as he watched the woman who might be Nicky reach her destination. There was another woman there nursing a margarita. He had to wait for a shift in the lights, but … yes! That was Tammy, Nicky’s younger sister. He was sure of it. After all, he’d lived down the block from the Taylor family for years. He knew all of Nicky’s family, had trick-or-treated at their house, had even shared a yearly Christmas potluck. He knew them the way he knew how to construct a saw-the-lady-in-half illusion. The woman at the table was Tammy, which meant the other woman—the blonde with the overstuffed briefcase—was Nicky Taylor. Here at amateur night. Of all the dumb luck!

Anticipation tightened his gut. Or was that fear? He closed his eyes, clenching his jaw in disgust. He’d gotten past the nausea that came with painful shyness the day he’d received his first six-figure check. He’d even forced himself up on stage at his brother’s bar just to make sure he could overcome his fear of public speaking. But one look at Nicky’s long legs in killer black pumps, and he was right back in high school complete with gut-churning panic. Back then he’d resorted to the fantasy of being a magician, of mesmerizing all in his path with his suave charm. Now he was a man and a millionaire. He did not need to hide in fantasy to talk to a woman. Even if that woman was Nicky Taylor, the girl who’d owned his heart since he was twelve.

He had to find a way to talk to her, to have that shot he’d missed in high school. But how? A dozen scenarios spun through his brain, each growing more far-fetched. In the end, he cut off his overactive reasoning. That had been his problem in high school: too much thinking and too little action. By the time he’d worked up the perfect plan to seduce Nicky Taylor, they’d already graduated and gone on to college. Tonight he would keep it simple.

He would magic her into his arms.




2


“AND NOW for my greatest trick …”

Nicky barely heard the magician’s prattle. Her attention was focused on her latest e-mail as she hit Next Page on her phone. Professor Thompson was a no-show. Or rather, he’d shown but left when Nicky was late. Tammy hadn’t told her, of course. Her little sister had this misplaced idea that Nicky needed some fun in her life. Well, duh. But sitting through amateur night at a bar didn’t qualify. Unfortunately Tammy could be annoyingly insistent, so rather than cause a scene, Nicky had sat down, ordered some wine and promptly buried her nose in her e-mail. It was hard to see in the bar/theater, especially with the flickering flash explosions from the stage, but if she held the phone’s screen about six inches from her nose, she could read well enough.

“I’m going to separate this woman from her phone!”

A hand shot out and swiped her BlackBerry right out of her palm.

“Hey!” Nicky cried out, then she had to blink against the glare of the spotlight. Laughter erupted all around her, most especially from Tammy, who waved her margarita in salute.

“Well, you were being rude,” Tammy said as she winked at the magician.

Nicky acknowledged the hit with an apologetic shrug. “Sorry … umm—” her gaze slipped over to the stage display “—Magic Man.” Was that really his act’s name? “I apologize for saving my career during your magic act.”

“That’s all right. I always forgive beautiful women.” The magician flashed her a killer, megawatt smile. This close up, she could see that he was quite the cutie, in a hometown, wholesome kind of way. Brown eyes, light brown hair, pale white skin. The stage lights weren’t doing him any favors on that score. They seemed to highlight exactly how dark and mysterious he wasn’t. And yet, she responded to him. An image of her island hottie flashed through her brain, and she found herself thinking that if this magician got a good tan and stepped into a short sarong, she could absolutely settle down in the sand next to him. The idea was so strong, her fingers actually itched to see what kind of muscles lay hidden under his tux.

But rather than fondle the main attraction right under the lights, she flashed her own version of a killer smile. “Thank you,” she said, holding out her hand for her phone. “I promise I’ll turn it off now.”

“Hmmm, forgiveness is one thing. Property is something else entirely.” He grinned as he started backing up to the stage, holding her phone hostage as he moved. “Would you care to join me onstage? Perhaps we can let you win your phone back.”

Her fantasy reluctantly faded as her body began to clench. She needed that phone. Just the thought of all the things that could go wrong if she lost it had her close to hyperventilating. “No, no, no. I need that phone.”

“Go on,” encouraged Tammy from behind her margarita. “It’ll be fun.”

Nicky gave her sister a glare. Tammy’s idea of fun was vastly different than her own.

Meanwhile, the Magic Man was beginning to flip through her e-mail. “Let’s see what we have here. Work. Work. Sales info. Factory specs. Yawn.” He dropped the phone in a top hat on his magician’s table. “A beautiful woman shouldn’t be that very boring. I can see why you don’t want it back.”

Nicky was already standing, her hand stretched out. “This isn’t funny,” she said, the constriction in her chest making her breath short and tight. “Please, take my sister. She’s a lot more fun than me.” It wasn’t true of course, or it hadn’t been true before college. She’d been loads of fun then. Why couldn’t she breathe? “Please give me back my phone!”

“Too late!” Tammy quipped as she licked salt off the edge of her drink. “Phone’s gone.”

“No!” Nicky knew it was a trick. After all, this was a stage show. But her phone really was gone! The little magician’s table was empty and the top hat with the phone inside was nowhere in sight. Terror clutched at her chest way out of proportion to the event. Her whole life was in that phone. What if something happened during his flashfire explosions? What if it dropped down a trapdoor and broke?

What if you never got it back, you couldn’t do the work and you were forced to take the rest of the week off because of it?

She winced at that inner voice. She knew its seductive tones, knew it was the voice of her island hottie tempting her to the dark side. And for some bizarre reason, she put the magician’s face on her fantasy man. But she couldn’t do it. She had a job and responsibilities, though the sudden yearning for escape rolled through her mind like a sweet, hot wind. “I really need that back,” she said, hating that her voice was strangled. “It’s my life.”

“Darling, your life has got to be more exciting than this phone,” returned the Magic Man, his voice just as seductively tempting.

Let him have the phone. Let him have it all, her fantasy man whispered.

“I can’t,” Nicky breathed as her hands tightened into fists. She was at the base of the stage now, scanning it for any sign of her BlackBerry. “Just give me my phone back.”

“I’ll make you a deal,” the Magic Man said, pitching his voice to the room at large. “If I can psychically guess your name, then you have to come up onstage and help me out.”

Play with me. That’s what he was saying to her. Come play. How she wanted to. Hot sun, hot oil, hot man. God, it hurt just thinking about it.

“I have to work, and you don’t need to guess anything. My name’s on my phone.”

The Magic Man shook his head. “Your phone said N. Taylor and has a picture of your dog—”

“Actually,” piped up her sister, “that’s my dog.”

He paused and frowned at Nicky. “That’s not even your dog? Now, that is sad.”

Nicky shot a glare at her sister as she climbed the steps onto the stage. “Did you set this up?”

Tammy shook her head. “Not guilty, I swear! Though I would have if I’d thought about it.”

Nicky made it onstage, her mind at war with itself. Half of her kept putting that hot island man in place of the magician. The other kept shoving the image away, refusing to give in to her dreams even if it made her entire body clench in panic. Only by sheer force of will was she able to speak with anything like a normal tone. “Fine, Mr. Magic Man. I’m here. Guess my name, then give me back my phone.”

“Oooh, a challenge.” His voice was growing deeper and more mesmerizing. It perfectly fit her imagined island guy who kept whispering seductive fantasies in her mind. Then he touched her cheek. It was the barest caress, but it was definitely a caress, and her breath cut off completely. “Look into my eyes.”

She bit her lip, making one last desperate attempt to keep it together. To keep her life together. “Please,” she whimpered, “just give me back my phone.”

“It’s all right,” he murmured. “Everything will be fine.” Even knowing that everyone could hear what he said, Nicky felt as if his words were just for her. And they carried such power. A release. Sun. Hot oil. A man stroking her body. She nearly cried out at the lure of it all.

“Your real name is Charlotte, but you don’t like it. You renamed yourself Nicky after Stevie Nicks because you always wanted her straight blond hair.” He pushed his fingers into her hair, rubbing sweetly against her scalp as he released it from her heavy clip.

“You can’t know that,” she murmured, but obviously he did. And as the clip slipped off, her mind began to slip free. Inside she was a little closer to that tropical island. Just a little more, one tiny step more and soon she’d be running naked through the sand. It didn’t make sense, but his voice made it seem so real.

“Just listen to my voice, Nicky. As long as you can hear my voice, you’re safe. Do you understand, Nicky? You’re always safe with me.”

She felt it. At some core level, she felt that absolute peace that came with safety. With just his words and his voice, he made everything okay.

“This isn’t possible,” she said as she valiantly reached for sanity. But did she really want to return to the chains of endless statistics, boxes of plastics and layoffs? And all the while, his voice kept flowing over her. It felt hot and soothing, like the oil she imagined him stroking onto every part of her body.

“You weren’t a cheerleader in high school,” he said. “Volleyball team. Setter. But you really wanted to be a singer in a band.”

“Like Stevie Nicks,” she whispered. He knew everything about her.

She was still looking into his eyes. She couldn’t look away even if her life depended on it. Brown eyes, brown hair, her rational mind tried to label him as ordinary and unimpressive. But that was a lie, just like everything about reality was a terrible lie. His face was kind, his eyes were a rich mocha, and his voice was the best of all because it created this place for her. He was her island god, and his voice made it real.

He was looking down at her, leaning in close. Would he kiss her? She wanted him to. With one kiss, she would be there with her island god. God, how she wanted it!

“Your senior night prom was a disaster,” he said. “You wore a white Greek goddess gown, your date was an ass and you ended up walking part of the way home.”

She winced, her eyes tearing at the remembered pain.

“Remember you’re safe, Nicky. Nothing can hurt you here.”

It was true. She felt it, and her mind slipped forward in time past that horrible disaster of a prom date to what had happened afterward. To her neighbor and school nerd Jimmy Ray who had found her as she was walking home. He’d taken her to an all-night diner and they’d eaten ice cream sundaes until she thought she would puke. They’d talked and laughed and shared a single kiss. It was fabulous, and whenever she thought of that night, she focused on those ice cream sundaes and that kiss.

“It was the best night of my life,” she said.

“Really?” drawled the Magic Man. His eyes were frowning and that created a ripple of discontent in her island world. But she didn’t have time to think about it as his expression smoothed and his voice returned to that deep, low timber. He made every word feel like hot oil stroking the tension out of her body. “Relax, Nicky. Let reality slip away. You are safe and free as you haven’t been for years. No work. No responsibilities. Just rest, release and sweet—”

“Pleasure,” she murmured. Then she took a deep breath, allowing herself to slide deeper into the fantasy. How glorious to let go of the tension and fear she had been holding. Her life had been spinning out of control for some time now. She felt like a mouse on a wheel that had jumped the tracks. She was inside it, running for all she was worth while her life careened to she-didn’t-know-where. But she couldn’t jump out and she couldn’t stop. Until now. Until her island god extended his hand and led her step by step to paradise.

“Everything is fine, Nicky, as long as you’re with me. I will keep you safe.”

So true, she thought with a smile. His voice, his presence, was her way out of the spinning mouse wheel and she grabbed on to it with both hands. She opened herself to him, to his hot oil voice. He could touch her anywhere, pleasure her any way, and she would love it. She closed her eyes and felt her mouth slip open just a bit. She could taste the ocean on her tongue, feel the sand beneath her feet. She was free because he made it so.

She wanted to strip off her clothes and dance naked in the sand. She wanted to frolic with her island god. His words were like hands caressing her, his breath was the air that skated across her flushed skin. She was here in this place of wonder, and she was never, ever going to leave.

It was so easy. Like opening her hands and letting go. Reality slipped away, fantasy took root and wrapped her in such wonder.

“Do you feel it, Nicky? Freedom? Joy?”

“Safety,” she whispered. “I can breathe again!” She took a deep breath, feeling oxygen flood her body like never before. It made her light-headed and so happy. As long as her island god was with her, everything was right. It was more than right. It was perfect!

“Do you want your cell phone back?”

“God, no.”

“Sing for us, Nicky. Sing ‘Never Going Back Again’ just like Stevie Nicks.”

No problem. In this place, she could do anything! She took the mike from his hand and began belting out the song. It was easy because it was true. She wasn’t ever going back again. And then when she stopped singing, her island god came back to her side.

“That was amazing, Nicky. Now, I want you to see what I have in my hand here.” She looked. “It’s my cell phone.”

“Do you see what’s over there?” She frowned.

“It’s a volcano. Do you see it, Nicky? The volcano right there?”

There it was! Right in the middle of the stage. Amazing! “Yes, of course I do.”

“I want you to take your cell phone now and drop it into the volcano. Can you do that?”

A shiver of fear slid down her spine. There was a reason she shouldn’t do that. Something important, but if she thought about it, then she’d have to leave this wonderful place. She’d have to leave him. And that was the last thing she wanted to do.

“Remember, Nicky, nothing bad can happen to you in this place. I’m with you here. You can let go of your phone and still be safe and happy.”

Of course she could. She was with her island god. With a grin, she took her cell phone from him and danced over to the volcano. It felt great, so absolutely wonderful to do this. Then, easy as opening her hand, she let her cell phone go. It dropped away. Poof! Into the volcano, never to be seen again!

“How do you feel, Nicky?”

“Alive. So wonderfully alive!” Then she twirled around in a circle with her arms spread wide. She could breathe, she could dance, she could even sing! All because of him. “I want to stay here forever!”

He laughed, and she laughed with him. “I want to thank you for your help, Nicky. But it’s time for you to go back to your seat now.”

She frowned, but then she relaxed again. She could still see him from her seat. She could even hear his voice from there. “Okay,” she quipped as she started toward her chair.

“Whoa!” he cried as he grabbed her wrist. His hand was large and warm, just as she knew it would be. And without even closing her eyes she knew what it would feel like to have his hands on her body. He would be tender, his touch gentle, but his kisses would be filled with an intensity that stole her breath away. She felt her body tighten in hunger and she turned toward him. She wanted that kiss, wanted that caress. She wanted him more than she’d ever wanted anything in her life.

“Before you go back,” he was saying as he held her hand, “I’m going to count to three. When I reach three, you’re going to come back into yourself and remember everything you’ve done here with a happy glow.”

She laughed, really laughed, because what he said was so ridiculous. She was herself here. She had never been more herself than right now in this safe place that he had created.

“Are you ready, Nicky? After I count to three, you’ll be yourself and go back to your seat with a happy smile.”

She nodded, but she didn’t speak because she had a secret. She wasn’t going to listen to him count. She was going to do exactly as he said, except for one thing. When he reached three, she wasn’t going to leave this perfect place. She was safe here. If anything, by the time he reached three she was going to go deeper, submerge herself more completely, and become as wholly, perfectly herself as she could ever be!

“One,” he began to count. “Two.”

“Three!” she cried in concert with him, throwing up her arms in glee.

She saw his face flash with concern. Did he know? Did he guess that she was still in the wonderful place he had created?

“So, how do you feel, Nicky?” he asked.

She smiled. “I think I’ll go sit down now.” That was, after all, what he had said. After he counted to three, she would go back to her seat.

“Wonderful,” he said. “No hard feelings?”

She shook her head. “No hard feelings at all.” There was no room for anything that awful here.

“Great!” he said to the audience at large. Then he waggled his eyebrows. “And if you want to continue this later, just come by my house tonight. I’m listed in the phone book under Magic Man!”

The music hit her then with a crash of cymbals. The audience applauded and the lights flashed as Nicky made her way to her seat. Internally, she flinched away from all of that. It distracted her from her quiet island of pleasure. Better to find the darkness, and so she hurried to her seat where she could enjoy her freedom in quiet.

“I didn’t set this up,” whispered Tammy from the table. “I swear! But you were great!”

Nicky didn’t respond. She simply closed her eyes and breathed in. There was no restriction here—oxygen flowed in and out without restraint. She was never, ever going to leave this island he’d created.

“Aw, don’t sulk, Nicky. It was funny. In fact, it was great to see you let go like that. You need to do that more often.”

Nicky nodded. She would do that. After all, he had told her exactly what to do. She was going to see him tonight at his home.

“Nicky?” His voice interrupted her thoughts. But of course, he couldn’t interrupt anything. He was everything! “Nicky?”

She turned, smiling warmly as she looked into his sweet mocha eyes.

“I brought you back your cell phone. No hard feelings, right?”

“Of course not,” she said as she took her phone then started pulling up the Internet phone pages. There he was, Magic Man, complete with his phone number and home address.

“Nicky, you remember me, right? You remember who I am?”

She looked up just as the house lights dimmed for the next act. It didn’t matter. She knew the shape and color of his eyes, just as she knew the feel of his mouth on hers. He was her island god, and she was never leaving him.

“Nicky?”

“You’re the Magic Man,” she answered.

His expression faltered, and even without the full lights, she could see his face twist into a self-mocking grimace. “Of course. That’s exactly who I am,” he said as he straightened and looked toward the bar. “And I wanted to make your every fantasy come true.” That last was muttered beneath his breath, but she heard it. On this wonderful island, she was completely tuned in to his every whisper. After all, he said she’d feel safe as long as she could hear his voice.

She reached for him, but he was already moving away. She sighed. She wanted her every fantasy to come true, too. Fortunately, she had an answer. She delved into her purse for her car keys. She would go to his home. They could begin tonight.




3


JAMES RAY, AKA MAGIC MAN, didn’t feel so magical as he pushed open the passenger car door. He shouldn’t have drunk so much after the show. He shouldn’t have done a lot of things, but seeing Nicky again had hit him like a freight train. He couldn’t believe she was right there, just sitting in the audience like anybody else.

The real blow had come when he’d realized she didn’t remember him. He’d even brought her up on the stage, gave her the hint about her prom night, and nothing. Not the slightest flicker of recognition in those liquid brown eyes. And her face wasn’t quite the elfin pixie he remembered. She’d matured and looked more sophisticated than in high school. But still, how could she not remember him? While he, on the other hand, had picked her out of the crowd despite the glare of the footlights.

“You okay there, dude?”

He glanced back at Rick, his brother and the club owner. The man had taken one look at Jim’s flushed face and demanded his car keys. Now, an hour later, they were right outside his suburban house and Jim was about to manage the Herculean feat of walking up his own driveway all by himself. He gave his brother a thumbs-up. “Yuppers, duuuude.” Then he pulled out his house keys and jingled them. “I’m set. Thanks.” He stepped out of the car, feeling better as the cool night air hit him in the face.

“So she didn’t remember you,” his brother said from inside the car. “That doesn’t mean you can’t get to know her again. It’s not a big deal. You weren’t that memorable back in high school.”

“Thanks a lot,” Jim muttered as he found his physical balance. His mental balance was still way off. The reality that he wasn’t even a blip on Nicky’s memory radar still had him reeling. Enough so that rather than pursue the woman, he’d dived face-first into a bottle of vodka.

Rick flashed him a smirk. “Plenty of fish in the sea, Jimmy. Don’t forget that. Plenty of fish …” His voice faded out as he pulled away from the curb.

“In the sea,” Jim returned, his buzz fading. He didn’t want a fish, he wanted Nicky. Nicky who was all woman. Who had long legs beneath her boring gray skirt. Who had once put strawberry gloss on her lips right before he kissed her. Nearly ten years later, he could still taste that gloss. And she didn’t even remember him.

“Don’t want a fish,” he muttered as he turned toward his house. It was almost too dark to see. He should have remembered to leave on the outside light. Fortunately, there was enough moonlight to see around the short, blocky hedges that edged his walkway. He’d only gone two steps when he stopped. He saw something there. A dark figure on his front steps. White flesh, dark clothing and a face tilted down into shadows. He rubbed his eyes. What he was seeing couldn’t possibly be there. But when he pulled his hands away from his eyes, there she was.

He shuffled forward to see better. And miracle of miracles, she lifted her head.

“Nicky?” he rasped. It couldn’t be.

She smiled at him. God, she was beautiful. “I looked you up in the yellow pages,” she said. “Magic Man.”

“That’s me,” he returned, then winced at the really lame banter. He wanted to be witty, to impress Nicky, but then he’d never managed suave around her. The best he could manage right then was to walk up to the front step.

She slowly stood to meet him, her legs slipping beneath her, her black pumps making a soft click on the stone. And as she rose, he could see something else, something that made his eyes bulge.

Her blouse was undone. Her white silk blouse was open all the way down. It simply lay against her breasts, flapping loosely. He could even see the lace cups of her bra.

“You said you wanted to make my fantasies come true,” she said. “I have a fantasy.” She put her hands to the bra’s front clasp and popped it open. “I’ve dreamed of a man spending forever kissing my nipples until I come just from his mouth alone.”

Then right there—outside on his front steps—she pulled her bra apart. Her breasts fell forward, milky white in the moonlight except for the dark points of her nipples. They were full and heavy right there in front of him. Perfectly shaped—a bit more than a handful—and puckered such that he thought they were pointing to him.

“I’ve dreamed of it forever,” she said. “And you’re my island god. You can—”

“I can do that,” he rasped, unable to lift his eyes from her breasts.

“Would you?” she asked, and then she shrugged out of her blouse as if she meant him to do it right there on his porch!

“Inside!” he said. He grabbed her arm and managed to pull her up to his door. There was more fumbling as he tried to fit the key into his lock. And why the hell had he decided to get drunk tonight of all nights?

He shoved open the door and pulled her inside, kicking her purse in with one foot. She had stripped out of her blouse and dropped it on the railing outside. He stared at it with a frown. Something was definitely not right here. But when he turned around, he saw her pull off her bra and drop it on the floor. White lace lying on dark brown carpet.

“Nicky …” he began, doing his best to make his brain work. “Is this really your fantasy?”

“Oh, yes,” she answered as she lifted her breasts in her own hands. “Your mouth on my nipples.” Then she flicked herself with her thumbs, her eyes drifting shut in delight.

He couldn’t have stopped if his life depended on it. He had to touch her breasts. She was offering them to him, holding them out. He had to touch. But before he could connect with her flesh, his mind made one last valiant attempt at reason. He jerked his eyes up to her face, searching her eyes for the truth.

“Do you remember me, Nicky?”

“Yes,” she answered. “Of course I do.”

“Have you wanted this as long as I have?”

She smiled and arched her back, simultaneously lifting her chest closer to him. “Forever.”

It was all his brain needed to surrender. Nicky, his high school dream girl, was finally here offering him her breasts. No way in hell was he going to say no to that! His gaze was back on her chest, but her hands were in the way.

“Let go,” he instructed. He didn’t want anything between himself and those luscious mounds.

She let her arms drop to her sides.

He reached out, his tan fingers a dark contrast to her nearly luminescent flesh. He paused. “Do you want to go to my bedroom?”

She arched her back, lifting her hands above her head. “In my fantasy, I am stretched tall.”

“Standing?”

“Yes.”

Good thing he had a two-story. He walked her backward to the side of his staircase. Then he took her hands and wrapped her fingers around the posts. She obeyed without resistance, and her soft pants told him she was as excited as he.

“Don’t let go,” he said as his gaze slid down her long arms, past her wet lips, down to the lifted expanse of her breasts. At last! He took her breasts in his hands and began to play.

NICKY CLOSED HER EYES and smiled into the darkness. At last she would feel his hands like hot oil on her skin. Finally, she would know his mouth on her breasts. She remembered intensity, she recalled gentle, tentative caresses, but she had no idea from where that memory came. She only knew it was true. It was him. And now she could feel more.

Somewhere off in the distance, she felt a nagging shock, an overwhelming pressure just waiting to crush her. But she didn’t have to be crushed if she didn’t want to be. She could stay right here on her island of pleasure. She was safe here because her island god decreed it so, and the ugly weight would never strike.

Besides, he was here with her now. And he was tonguing her breasts just as she’d fantasized so long ago. She didn’t need to remember when. She just needed to be here, now, with him.

He began as men always do—too fast and too hard. Odd, but she found she liked it. He lifted her breasts in both hands, squeezing them just short of pain before rolling his hands forward to tweak her nipples. Since her arms were stretched over her head, her breasts were thrust forward to give him total access, total control. She couldn’t even move backward away from him, which meant he could do whatever he wanted to her breasts, and she had absolutely no say in the matter.

She took a deep breath, feeling her lungs expand. His hands moved with her as he kneaded her flesh. He had gentled his touch now, so there wasn’t even the threat of pain until he abruptly bit her nipple. She gasped in surprise, but her legs trembled in delight.

“Is this part of your fantasy?” he asked.

“Yes,” she answered without thought, because he was right. This was exactly what she wanted. “Both breasts,” she said. “Whatever and however until I come.” It had been a part of her fantasy landscape since she first began dreaming of men.

He narrowed his hands until he had hold of just her nipples, tugging them both. Then he put his mouth to one breast and sucked her in, rolling her nipple around and around with his tongue. She squirmed but couldn’t go far with her hands gripping the posts.

He released one nipple to work on the other. The abandoned one felt cold and wet, but soon she felt his fingers on it, rubbing the liquid in and twisting the nub. Meanwhile, his mouth went to work on the right breast, nibbling the skin around and underneath her nipple. Her breast felt full and achy, but his every abrasion heated a fire in her belly. Her knees went weak, and her legs separated of their own accord.

Part of her wanted to stop this madness. Part of her thought her behavior was very odd, but she squelched it. Those thoughts belonged to the part of her that stumbled under the weight of her world. She would not go there. She would not think those things. She would not even acknowledge the oppressive burden that waited just at the edge of her consciousness.

Sweaty pleasure was all she wanted. He was sucking her breast rhythmically now, tonguing her nipple as he worked. Heat built from inside her belly. It rushed like a wave outward, like flash fire on her skin. Her hands tightened on the railing as she gasped in reaction. Not an orgasm, but thrilling nonetheless.

She moaned and thrust her belly against his groin. He was thick and hard, a hot brand even through his clothes. Why was he wearing clothes? She wanted to lift her skirt and wrap her legs around him—naked him—but she couldn’t manage it without letting go of the posts. So she just stood there and whimpered.

He must have heard the sound because he pulled back. His hair was mussed, his mouth wet, but it was his eyes that she saw the most. Dark brown like molten gold mixed with chocolate. In this place, the analogy made sense and she willingly submerged herself in his power.

“Do you want more?” he rasped. “Yes,” she answered.

He grinned, but didn’t speak. Without moving his eyes, he reached down and pulled her narrow skirt up to her waist.

Finally! She spread her legs to ease the heat. It didn’t help, especially as his hands roved over her thighs.

“Thigh-high panty hose,” he murmured. Then his hands stroked higher. “And a thong!” He smiled at her even as he hooked his thumbs under the strings and pushed them down. Then his grin widened as he bent his knees, kissing his way down her chest and belly.

He had to stop where her skirt was bunched at her stomach. His mouth left her skin with a swirling tongue motion that could only be described as a flourish. Then he glanced up at her.

“I’m going take this off,” he said as he tugged at her thong. “But the thigh-highs stay on.” Then he glanced down. “And those heels. Love the heels. They’re so very corporate.”

He peeled the thong down and she felt the slow pull as the wet fabric separated from her skin. He used his fingers to maneuver the strings, but his thumbs slid in and around her mound. Then he groaned in delight.

“God, Nicky, you are a fantasy come true!”

She didn’t respond. She couldn’t. He was looking at her again, and she was lost in the swirling colors of his eyes. Or at least her mind was; the rest of her was absorbed in the sensation of her thong dropping down past her knees to be caught around her ankles.

She wanted to reach down and unhook it from the straps of her black pumps, but her hands would not release. He had told her not to let go, so she didn’t. She couldn’t, not without switching her brain on, and that was something she never intended to do again. Then he relieved her discomfort by lifting her left knee. The fabric stretched. His fingers caressed her calf and popped the cotton off. He returned her leg to the ground and shifted to her right knee. He lifted it up and she felt the thong hang in the air. She tried maneuvering her foot to shake it loose, but it was caught. How impossible that she couldn’t even release the stupid thong. But then her thoughts were distracted as he kept raising her knee up. Higher and higher as he fell to the ground before her.

She stared mutely at him as he guided her knee to his shoulder, his hand still stroking the silk of her thigh-highs with a kind of reverence.

“God, I love this,” he murmured against the fine hose. Then he leaned down, nipping through the silk as he roved higher on her thigh. Soon he was at the edge, murmuring something she couldn’t hear against her skin.

The moment his lips touched her unprotected flesh, another flash fire of heat erupted. A split-second burst of sensation that made her hiss. He started to pull back but she didn’t want that, so she tightened her leg and kept him right where he was. She even lifted her other leg and dropped it on his shoulder.

He helped her, his hands bracing on the wall behind her so that she rested on his forearms. She hung there, her core open to the cold air, her moisture making her feel wet and exposed. If she’d had the use of her hands, she would have stopped him. It was too much for her, too vulnerable.

But he had said she couldn’t let go and so she tightened her thighs. The idea was to ease some of the weight off her arms, but it ended up bringing his mouth right to her center. This wasn’t part of her fantasy, but it was fabulous nonetheless. Besides, she wasn’t in control here. He was, and she trusted him absolutely. In this place, he was the god who made everything safe and wonderful.

Then he began to lick. Long, thick strokes. Narrow pointy thrusts. Swirling combinations of both. Another flash fire hit with his first stroke. Then came another as he flattened his tongue and pushed against her clit. Another swirl and a shudder hit her spine. Her chest lifted as a wave of volcanic heat rolled over her belly, creating a pocket of fire under her skin.

She was gasping, her back undulating against the wall. Her arms were beginning to ache, her fingers slick on the posts, but she didn’t let go. The pain in her palms was nothing compared to the wonderful wet slide of his tongue.

She wanted to move her hips, to push her groin deeper and harder against his mouth. But her hands had no strength left in them. All of her weight rested on his arms and mouth. She couldn’t do anything. Her only participation was to experience, and that was more than enough.

He fluttered his tongue against her clit. A rapid flip-flip-flip that pushed her violently over the edge into orgasm. The volcanic fire from before was nothing compared to this. A supernova exploded across her skin. She screamed. She bucked. She lost herself to absolute pleasure.

Ahhhh!

She tried to stay there. She tried to hold on, but eventually the nova burst faded, leaving behind a warm glow. Her hands gave out and she sank bonelessly to the floor. He went with her, still holding her as she lay there dazed and happy. She felt him shift her around so that her head pillowed against his chest, and his arms cradled her sideways against his body.

She meant to open her eyes. She meant to say something. After all, she had broken the rules by releasing hold of the railing. But there was a second fantasy, more compelling right now. It was the dream of falling asleep in his arms.

She tucked her head tight to his chest, inhaled deeply of his rich male scent and succumbed to this other fantasy.

She slept.

JIM LOOKED DOWN at the sleeping woman, surprised that he didn’t feel more frustration. He could still smell her with every breath, and her taste lingered on his tongue. He was harder than a rock and could barely think for the need to bury himself to the hilt inside her.

And yet, he was holding her as she slept. This close, he could see the lines of fatigue in her face, the dark smudges beneath her eyes, only partially covered by her long eyelashes. The girl of his adolescent fantasies was asleep in his arms. The thought warmed his heart.

He settled her more deeply in his embrace, then stood up. He staggered, more from drunkenness than her weight. It wasn’t easy climbing the stairs. If he hadn’t spent a ridiculous number of evenings at the gym, he never would have managed it.

Fortunately, she didn’t notice their near-tumbles but slept on, completely undisturbed. He made it into the bedroom and settled her on his pillow. She made the shift easily enough, sighing deeply as he pulled the sheet over her. There wasn’t anything he could do about her skirt, which was twisted awkwardly beneath her, but at least she’d lost her shoes somewhere along the way.

Looking down at her, he rubbed a hand blearily over his face. He was still hard, his erection stretching for her even now. But hot as he was for her, he couldn’t stomach waking her. So he did the next best thing. He stripped and readied for bed. Then he climbed in behind her and wormed his arm beneath her shoulders before spooning her tight against him.

In one way, it was absolute torture. Here she was, with her sweet behind pressed against his swollen cock. It wouldn’t take much to do what he wanted.

On the other hand, this was his own dream come true. Nicky, his high school fantasy, was asleep in his bed. There was a mint scent to her hair and the hot reminder of her still in his mind. He closed his eyes and let himself drift into his own fantasies.

Sometime later he, too, slept.




4


NICKY SMILED IN HER SLEEP. She knew she was sleeping because nowhere else felt so wonderful except, of course, that fabulous island paradise. Wait … Island paradise and the god who created it. Oh yes, the god. She shifted her legs restlessly. She liked her island god.

There was something important for her to remember about that. About him. Perhaps she should get up and look for him. Was she still on her island? She felt warm enough to be, but in this fuzzy half-awake state, she couldn’t remember. Didn’t really want to know. She drifted back to sleep.

She had to pee. Mentally, she sighed. She would open her eyes—just a crack—and find the bathroom. After that, she could go back to bed and keep dreaming. Reluctantly, she blinked her eyes open. She frowned. She didn’t see anything familiar. That wasn’t her bedside table. This wasn’t her room. It didn’t even smell like her house!

She tried to hold on to her blissful state. But reality became too insistent. Panic clutched her chest and pressure built. Awareness burst painful and heavy across her consciousness, and she crumpled beneath the weight. What had she done? What had she done?

“OH, NO. OH, NO.”

Jim’s eyes popped open at the odd sound of a woman having hysterics in his bed. Light stabbed his eyeballs, and he immediately slammed them shut again, but the woman would not be quiet.

“Oh, no.”

Memory returned with a rush. Nicky in the audience. Nicky in his hallway. Nicky on his mouth and tongue. He would have smiled if she weren’t at that very moment jostling the mattress as she scrambled out of bed. He did manage to moan as the sudden cold air hit his body.

“Oh. Oh!”

This was not the morning he had envisioned last night. He cracked an eye. “Nicky?”

A door slammed nearby and the sound jolted him completely—miserably—awake. He clutched his head. How much had he drunk? It didn’t matter. All that mattered now was that Nicky was obviously panicking in his bathroom.

“Nicky,” he tried again, wincing at the sound. “It’s okay. I know this is weird, but really, it’s okay.”

The only response he got was the sound of a flushing toilet. It was a really loud sound, and he clenched his shoulders as if that could hold back the pounding in his head. He thought longingly of the medicine cabinet inside his bathroom, but kept the bulk of his attention on listening for Nicky. She was running the sink tap now. Why wouldn’t she speak to him?

“Come on, Nicky.” He tried again as he pushed to his feet and stumbled over to the dresser. Fumbling around, he managed to find a pair of sweats and pull them on. “We’ve known each other forever. This doesn’t have to be weird.”

It was a lie, of course. Being neighborhood pals back when they were twelve made everything more surreal, not less. Especially since they hadn’t really been pals. More like, oh-there’s-that-kid-who-lives-down-the-street acquaintances. And yet, because of that wonderful prom night, she was so much more important to him than just that. He scrubbed a hand over his face and went to lean against the bathroom door. “You have to come out of there sometime, you know.”

It took a few moments more before he heard the tap shut off. And then a soft voice wavered through the door. “Um … do you … um … know where my clothes are?”

Okay, that did not sound good. Her voice was high and tight, but he tapped down his nervousness and made sure his voice sounded calm. Stay casual, he told himself. It’s no big deal. And wasn’t that the lie of the century?

“Sure. I’ll go grab them.” He made quick work of it, though it took him a moment to find her blouse on his porch railing. Even with his hangover, he couldn’t resist smiling at that, not to mention what they’d done at his staircase railing. Last night had been beyond anything he could have expected. Now he just had to make sure she stayed in his life.

“I’ve got your clothes,” he said when he returned to his bedroom. “Did you want—”

The door opened a crack and a hand snaked out to grab her clothes. He tried to delay a bit. He didn’t hold on to the clothes, but he put his other hand on the door and tried to talk calmly.

“You want coffee or something? I’ve got … um … bagels. And cereal.”

It didn’t work. He caught the briefest glimpse of big eyes and dark circles. Lower down, his blue towel wrapped around pale skin. Then the door was firmly shut again.

He sighed. His head was pounding too much for him to think clearly. He wanted to be suave, to say something that would make it all better for her, but he just didn’t know what that would be. And while he was still standing there without a clue, the door to the bathroom quietly opened.

He tried a winning smile. “Hey there.”

She looked pale standing there in her wrinkled business suit. Her hair was loose, falling about her face in pretty waves. But it was the bruised look to her eyes that held his attention. And that she wouldn’t look him in the face.

“Nicky …” he began, but stopped when she flinched.

“No, thanks,” she said, her voice cracking slightly. “About the coffee. But if you … Do you know where my shoes are?”

He blinked and looked down at her bare feet. Her feet were unadorned. Even her toenails weren’t painted, and he found the sight oddly delightful. If only she didn’t look as if she was about to bolt.

“You kicked them off downstairs, I think.” He didn’t say what they’d been doing when she lost them. But then he saw the hot flash of color in her cheeks, and he knew her mind had already gone there.

He shifted awkwardly, wishing he knew what to do. “Let me take you out to breakfast. We can talk. Catch up.”

She shook her head. At least that’s what he thought she did, though it was hard to tell, given the tight set to her shoulders. “Um, I have to get to work.”

“I really want to talk to you, Nicky. Just talk.”

She bit her lip and he realized that, except for that small movement, she appeared to be frozen in place. When she spoke, her words came out in a high whisper. “Look, you don’t know this about me, but last night … I never … I mean, that’s not me. I don’t … do that.” Her eyes darted briefly for a moment to his bed, then back to the floor.

He looked at her, and his mind struggled with her words. If he weren’t so hungover, maybe he’d be quicker on the uptake. “Of course I know that. Nicky …” He took a step forward, and she gave a little pip of a squeak and shied backward. She was scared of him! He stared at her, his mind fumbling through the facts.

“What’s my name, Nicky?”

She didn’t answer. At best, her eyes went wider in horror.

He swallowed, feeling the sucker punch to his gut once again. It shouldn’t make a difference. So she didn’t remember who he was. His brother was right: he hadn’t been that memorable in high school. But this was Nicky. He’d shared the best night of his life with her. He’d forged a connection with her, damn it. Twice! Back years ago on prom night and again last night. She had to remember him.

“What’s my name, Nicky?” He still spoke quietly, but the gentle had gone out of him. His words came out more as a low command.

“Magic?” she finally said.

He stared at her, his pounding headache receding beneath the bare truth. “No,” he said slowly. “That’s not my name. Nicky, look at me.” He was pleading now, praying that in the harsh light of day she could look at him and know him. In fact, he stepped over to the curtains, hauling them open so that the sun shone harsh on his features.

She winced at the sudden flare of light. He did, too, for that matter. She swallowed and visibly drew in a breath, obviously trying to steady herself. Lord, he hated seeing her like that. She looked as if she was about to throw up.

“Let me give you a hint. We went to high school together.”

She blinked. Her expression shifted away from nausea, more to an intense confusion as she peered at him.

With a curse of disgust, he grabbed his glasses from his dresser and plopped them on his nose. “How about now?” he asked, then he gazed at her with a moony-eyed adoration that was, unfortunately, reflected in the mirror. He only saw it in his peripheral vision, but it was enough to churn up a well of self-disgust.

“Oh, my god! Jimmy Ray?”

“I go by Jim now. Sometimes James.”

Her hands dropped to her sides as she frowned, looking at him from top to bottom and then back up again. Her shoulders relaxed, but only a fraction of an inch. And then she just shook her head. “Jimmy,” she murmured, half to herself. “You’ve filled out.”

“I work out,” he returned. And was there ever a more inane conversation?

“Wow, Jimmy … uh, Jim.” She bit her lip. “You’re … a magician?”

He shook his head. “I’m an engineer who plays a magician on amateur night. Rick—my brother—owns the club and he calls me when they’re short an act.” Then his pride forced him to add, “But I’m a good engineer, so I’ve done well. And I’m taking a little time off right now. To … um … play.”

“Ah,” she said, nodding her head. He could tell she didn’t know what to say any more than he did. “Well, you always were good at anything you tried.”

Not true. He’d tried to impress her and had obviously failed miserably. But saying that would be surly. Humiliating, too. “You look like you’re doing well,” he said, gesturing to her wrinkled clothing. “Power suit and all.”

“Corporate America and all its pressures.” She shrugged. “I manage some distribution nodes for Korner Plastics.”

“Impressive.”

“Not really. It just requires a lot of time and attention to detail.”

“And you always sold yourself short,” he returned.

She didn’t answer. There was something in her eyes that he remembered, a vulnerability or an ache maybe. As if she wanted to believe what he said, but was too afraid. He shifted uncomfortably on his feet, the déjà vu making him reel. Hadn’t they played this scene before? Like ten years ago on prom night?

Before he could answer that question, a double electronic note sounded from downstairs. Beepbeep. Beepbeep. Her eyes widened, and her gaze hopped to the red numbers on his clock—9:14.

“Oh, crap. Crapcrapcrapcrapcrap!” Then she dashed downstairs.

He followed more slowly, mostly because he didn’t know what to say to her. He knew she was seconds away from rushing out the door, but for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out how he felt about that. This whole situation was just too bizarre.

By the time he made it to the first floor, she’d located her phone and was paging through messages. At least she’d stopped cursing, though he could hardly call it an improvement. Now her lips were pursed tight and her back was visibly hunched over her phone.

“Nicky …” he began. “I really want to talk to you …” He let his voice trail away. She wasn’t even looking at him but down at her phone. He’d faded from her conscious mind, her attention fixed on more important matters. Boy, did he remember this feeling. Ignored. Unimportant. How many times had he stood in the background watching her as she did something with someone else?

Well, he wasn’t that pathetic high school kid anymore. He wasn’t the school nerd with braces and acne. And he damn well was a decade beyond mooning after the hot volleyball player. With a snort of disgust, he turned his back on her and went into his bathroom. So maybe it was peevish of him to slam the door, but the resounding bang felt good.

This time he liked his reflection in the mirror. He looked strong and adult. All traces of adolescent yearning were erased from his body. Then he heard the front door open and close, and he sighed, accepting the truth. He’d had his shot at Nicky, and he’d failed. But that was it for him. A man could only take so much humiliation.

“Goodbye, Nicky.”




5


“LET’S GO OUT again tonight.”

Thanks to the miracles of Bluetooth, Nicky didn’t even need to take her hands off her keyboard to answer her little sister. “Sorry, Tammy, I’ve got to—”

“Work. No, you don’t. It’s Friday.”

Nicky didn’t even bother trying to explain that this crisis was different. Her boss had made it clear that if she even whispered the word layoff, she’d be fired on the spot. So she didn’t say anything. But it was one more stresser which threatened to send her over the edge. She keyed a new number into her spreadsheet and studied the result.

“Nicky!”

“Hmm? Oh, sorry. I can’t. I got in late today, this report isn’t setting up right, and—”

“And it’s Friday! Come on, Nicky. You had a good time last night, didn’t you?”

Her fingers froze over the number pad and her heart started thudding triple time. Her sister had finally managed to grab all her attention. “What do you mean?”

“What do you mean, what do I mean?”

Nicky clenched the edge of her desk, forcing herself to keep her voice normal. Even. “Tammy, I am not in the mood to play.”

“Like that’s different. Come on, sis, you relaxed last night. You were almost serene there at the end, don’t you remember? You actually forgot your phone on the table. I had to grab you and drop it into your purse. When was the last time that happened? You forgetting your cell?”

“Never,” Nicky murmured. Then she shook her head, though no one was there to see her. She didn’t remember forgetting her phone. She just remembered her sunlit island paradise and the god who’d created it for her. That the “god” was actually Jimmy Ray from high school just added more confusion to the whole situation. He’d been a friend when she needed one. A sweet guy she’d liked but never really thought much about in high school. Her life was too busy with other things, with flashier things, if she were to be honest.

But Jimmy Ray wasn’t forgettable now. She should know. She’d been trying to forget him all day, only to catch herself a moment later remembering the feel of his hands on her, the stroke of his tongue—and the way she had felt so absolutely free with him. That was the part she really couldn’t forget. She’d felt so safe that she had let herself do whatever sprang into her head with him. That hadn’t happened to her before. Ever.

What would she give to go to that place again? The question had been tantalizing her all day long. But then reality would hit with a gut-twisting wrench. She had school loans to pay off, a condo the bank mostly owned, a nest egg that was more like a nest prayer. She had to work, damn it. Jobs were on the line, and not just hers. So she swiveled her office chair to page through the dozens of papers on her desk, but her mind wasn’t really on her task. It had wandered somewhere else completely. “Hey, do you remember Jim from high school?”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. “Jim who?”

“Jimmy. Dorky Jimmy—”

“Math geek guy! Yeah, his brother, Rick, owns the club we went to last night. What ever happened to him?”

“He became the Magic Man and starred on amateur night.”

“No way!” Tammy’s voice echoed the same shock that still reverberated through Nicky’s brain. “Can’t be. The Magic Man was … well, he was …”

“Cute. I know.”

“Hot. I bet he has killer pecs under that tux.”

Oh, yes. Jimmy Ray did indeed have killer pecs. She’d gotten an up close look at them this morning.

“Oh, wow. I never would have guessed that. How’d you find out?”

“Um … it just came to me this morning.” Right after she’d woken up spooned against him.

“Oh,” Tammy said, obviously disappointed. “Then you don’t know, you’re just guessing. Which means it’s not him.”

“Trust me,” Nicky drawled, “it’s him.”

“Trust you on a people thing. Hmmm. Nope, don’t think so.”

Nicky frowned and she actually lifted her gaze from the reports on her desk. “No really. It’s him.”

“No really, sis, you suck at people memory. Numbers, shipping lanes, even employees—not a problem. But real people? Not so much.”

“That doesn’t even make sense!”

“What doesn’t make sense is that you’re a gorgeous woman who spends all her time working. What’s up with that, Nicky? Get out of the office! Practice those rusty people skills. Come to the comedy club with me tonight.”

Nicky sighed. They’d come full circle in this conversation. Unfortunately, she couldn’t bring herself to agree with her sister. Not after last night’s disastrous escapade. At the moment, she just wanted to slink her way home, bury her head under the pillows and not come out until next year.

“Sorry, Tammy,” she finally said, her breath short because of the tightness in her chest. “I really do have a lot of work to do. Maybe tomorrow. Or next week.

That’d be better.”

“Yeah, sure. Like that’ll happen,” her sister groused.

“Don’t be like that—” Nicky began, but Tammy interrupted.

“You’re going to have to face life someday, Nicky. One day you’re going to look up and realize you’ve spent yours trapped in that hole you call an office.”

“Tammy—”

“Gotta go. It’s time for my pedicure. Bye!”

The line went dead. Nicky grimaced as she pulled the earpiece off her head. Then she stared at the Bluetooth connector. Did it mean something that her ear felt weird without the thing attached to her head?

She looked down at the reports on her desk, flicking her eyes at her computer screen. There was a ton of work for her to do here, but she couldn’t force herself back to it. Her mind kept wandering.

It had been that way all day. As much as she tried to lose herself in her job, certain memories kept intruding. There wasn’t any particular order to the thoughts. She’d flash on Jimmy standing naked and angry before her. Then Jimmy onstage as the Magic Man. Then Jimmy’s hurt expression when he realized she hadn’t a clue who he was. And most jarring of all, the loud bang of his bathroom door this morning when she wouldn’t even talk to him.

It wasn’t that her morning e-mails had been all that important or that she’d needed to absolutely read every last one that second. But what did she say to the man who had rocked her world the night before? Nerdy Jimmy Ray had given her the best orgasm of her life, and she just didn’t know what to say about that. She didn’t even know what to think about that, except that she wanted more.

She’d never had a one-night stand before. Never really had time, to tell the truth. So rather than face him this morning, she’d buried her nose in her phone and pretended not to be excruciatingly aware of his amazing half-naked body less than three feet away from her. Then he’d stomped away in disgust—not that she blamed him—and she’d boogied out the door as fast as she could move in three-inch pumps.

Now here she was at the end of an unproductive work day, and she still couldn’t get him out of her mind. He’d hypnotized her, seriously put her deep in a way she never thought possible. So much so that she’d gone to his house and told him about her nipple fantasy. How had he done that?

Her face heated to crimson at just the thought. At least she hadn’t confessed any of her other fantasies. Nipples were the most mundane of what she wanted. But still, whatever would possess her to tell him that? To stalk him at night to do that?

She leaned back in her chair in stunned shock. The answer was obvious. She wouldn’t do that. Ever. Stalk a stranger and tell him her fantasies? Never.

Which meant someone else had made her do it. Jimmy. He had put in a posthypnotic suggestion or something. He’d planted something in her brain so powerful that she had leaped right over all her inhibitions and gone straight to hot sex in his house. Good God, it wasn’t possible! And yet … she had no other explanation for her behavior.

She snatched up her phone and quickly found his number. Then she started to thumb it in, only stopping herself with a physical jerk.

What was she doing? If he had truly planted some powerful suggestion in her brain, then she ought to be running screaming in the other direction. She stared at the number on her phone. The compulsion to hit Send was so strong! She wanted … no, she needed to talk to him, to see him again. Why? What for? For an embarrassing repeat of this morning? Never! So why the need to call him?

Was she still hypnotized? Still under the grip of his mental suggestion or something? Everything inside her rebelled at the thought. She was a smart, intelligent woman. She couldn’t possibly be under some hypnotic influence. Maybe she’d just really, really needed to get off, so to speak. That was way more logical than some heebie-jeebie hypnosis. But then why waste hours today thinking about him? This report was the most important thing in her life right now. Close to a thousand jobs were at stake. She needed to get it done and get it done right! She had to put all thoughts of Jimmy away.

With sudden resolve, she put down her phone. She was going to focus exclusively on work for the next couple hours. But just as she made to turn the thing off, her breath started to choke in her throat. With a dispassionate stare, she saw that her palms were slick with sweat. Next came the pain between her shoulder blades that expanded through her chest along with the spikes that split through her temples.

Another panic attack. They’d started about a year ago. Nothing major. They’d only happened a couple times before. She always hyperventilated in a sweaty, can’t breathe, can’t live kind of way, but then it faded. She just had to wait it out. She’d learned to distance her mind from the disaster that was going on through her body. She wasn’t going to die. She wasn’t going to stop breathing. She just had to live through the agony shooting through her chest. It would pass. It would pass, would pass … pass.

She sat sprawled in her office chair. Her blouse was plastered to her sweating torso and she was still panting. But the pain was receding, she was indeed taking in real oxygen, and she had not died. The panic attack was gone, and she would soon feel normal once again.

She glanced up at her office door. It was still closed. No one had come in, no one knew what had happened, so she could pretend it never had. That was, in truth, the reason why she had taken to closing her office door. These attacks were much more disturbing to other people than they were to her. They passed. The pain receded. She could go back to her real life now.

The real question was why it had happened just then. The answer, of course, was right there on her desk. The attack had hit at the very idea that she not contact Jimmy. Something was going on here. Something more than fantasy island sex.

She grimaced as she lifted her hair off her neck. The brush of air across her sweaty skin felt nice, but it also solidified her resolve. This had to end, whatever this




Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.


Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/kathy-lyons/under-his-spell/) на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.