Under His Spell. Kathy Lyons
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