Mistress of Magic Page 5

  “They all get longer and longer don’t they?”

  “Max—”

  “Sorry.” He stood, reaching a hand down to her. “Come on. I’ll take you home.”

  “I have my car.”

  “Leave it. I’ll get you at eight. That should be early enough to start another round of torture.”

  “Max, we can’t let it become torture.”

  “If we do,” he murmured bitterly, “I really will have let her won!”

  “We’ve got to hold the magic.”

  “You’ve always had the magic, Reggie. Always.” He shrugged suddenly. “Come on. Let’s get out of here for the night, eh?”

  When they reached her house, Reggie was surprised that he saw her to the door. He took her key and opened the front door for her and looked around.

  “What is it?” she asked him.

  He shook his head. “Nothing. I’m just feeling cautious. Hey, do me a favor. Call Wes tomorrow and explain what happened, huh?”

  She nodded. “Sure.”

  Gritting her teeth, she watched him leave. Damn Daphne. Even if she was dead. Oh, God, how awful! she chastised herself. I didn’t mean it, God, I didn’t mean it.

  But she felt hollow despite her protestations, and the questions plagued her while she showered and slipped into bed. She was afraid that she would stay awake all night thinking about her ex-sister-in-law.

  But she didn’t. She was exhausted. She fell asleep almost the minute that her head hit the pillow. And when she dreamed, it wasn’t about Max. Or Daphne.

  She dreamed about a dinosaur. An oddly trim, lean dinosaur. It was coming out of the shadows. Stalking her.

  It became leaner. More dangerous. Hard. Sharp. Suddenly there was light. Warmth. She knew she should run, but she was attracted to the warmth.

  Then she realized that it wasn’t a dinosaur coming toward her at all. It was Wesley Blake. Slow, purposeful. He moved like a tiger in the night. Set on his prey. Sure of it. Determined in his pursuit.

  She was his prey.

  And still she didn’t move. She waited. He came closer and closer. And she felt the gold fire of his eyes and the touch of his hand.…

  She had promised Max that she would apologize to Wes.

  Max had given him an office just down the hallway from her own, but when she stopped by, he wasn’t in it. Damn him. She’d had her speech all ready. It wasn’t going to be easy to apologize. She could have done it without stuttering or faltering, if she had just done it right away.

  She swallowed her annoyance and the entire tug of emotions caused by the man and hurried to her own office. It was going to be another very busy day.

  If Max was going to remain at the helm, they were going to have to be very careful. She stared at the phone on her desk for a moment.

  Even her phone was a dinosaur. It was David Diplodocus. David’s big, friendly body was the bulk of the phone, and his massive, curling tail was the mouthpiece and the receiver. She loved their creations, she really did. At the moment, though, she wished she had an ordinary phone.

  She picked up David’s tail and started dialing. She was going to call on every friend she had ever made in the media.

  Luckily, there were a number of them.

  She called Niles in his office and spoke to him about what they would and wouldn’t say. Then she started with her round of people. There was a lot in her favor, she thought thankfully, when she reached Fran Rainier, entertainment editor of a major paper. Max Delaney hadn’t exactly courted the press in the past, but no one seemed to be able to default him as a human being. She was glad she had called Fran. The silver-haired widow was a grandmother of five, a no-nonsense lady who didn’t believe in sensationalism as a way to sell papers.

  “Well, of course, we were wondering here what would happen,” Fran told her. “As soon as we saw the headlines on that rag Tongue Tattler—”

  “Um, well, we assumed that everyone would be wondering what had happened once it came out. I’m sure you’ve gotten a lot of the facts already. Her apartment was discovered in a complete upheaval, and her little yacht, Daphne’s Dare, was found sunk out in the lake. The police believe that a hole was purposely bored out in the bottom, then filled with some kind of makeshift caulking that would dissolve with time in the water. But I assure you, there’s been no arrest. There hasn’t even been a warning of possible charges against Max. They’ve been divorced over a year, you know.”

  “Yes,” Fran agreed, and she chuckled softly. “I’m a good friend, dear. You had best not sound quite so defensive with your next calls!”

  Reggie sighed. “You’re right. I’ll try.”

  “It’s going to get worse if they find a body,” Fran warned Reggie.

  “Much worse,” Reggie agreed glumly. “But it’s so unfair—”

  “Yes, it is unfair. I know Max Delaney. He has his temper, and he has his ways. But if he was going to kill Daphne, the man would have throttled her right out in the open, years ago! Don’t worry on my account. I’ll write a stirring article about his wonderful character and make it sound as if anyone suspecting him of foul play must be downright un-American! Biased reporting, and if you repeat a word of what I’ve said—”

  “Never! Never!” Reggie promised.

  Soon she hung up the receiver. She had several more calls to make, and as she made them, she became more and more grateful that she had called Fran first. She was careful not to sound too defensive. She thought the calls all went well.

  Then the interoffice line buzzed and she picked it up. “Yes?”

  “Reggie. It’s Max.”

  “Max, it’s going super. I just spoke with—”

  “Reggie, trust me, it’s not going so super. Ten more resignations in the last hour. Can you get to Dino-Shoe Falls right away? We’re missing a dance hall girl for the afternoon show.”

  She swore silently. She couldn’t even remember the numbers for the dance hall review.

  “Which character?” She asked.

  “Patricia.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  The one good thing, Reggie decided as she hurried to the dinner theater stage and into a dressing room, was that Max didn’t give her much time to worry about what she would be doing. She was alone in the dressing room, although there should have been an assistant there. She found Patricia’s bright red dance outfit and the garish black net hose that went with it. She tried to remember all the songs and words. It was a forty-five-minute show, most of it ad-lib, and a whole lot of it audience participation. She’d be all right.

  Out in the wings of the dinner theater stage she found the rest of the cast—Bob Winwood, Stevie Gentry and Alise Guest. The three were young, in their midtwenties, and had all started here together after graduating from a fine arts college. Max had given them their first big break. He paid them well.

  “That Lorna had no right to walk out—especially on such short notice!” Alise assured Reggie with a quick hand squeeze. “Don’t you worry, we’re not going anywhere.”

  “And we’ll make up for any mistakes you make!” Bob promised her cheerfully.

  “Thanks,” Reggie murmured dryly. Well, hell, she probably would make mistakes!

  They were being announced, so there was no more time to talk. Within seconds she and Alise were running out on stage, fluffing their boas into the faces of their audience and bursting into song and dance. Soon Bob came along on his bucking stuffed bronco-saur, the bad guy, ready to shoot up the saloon. Then Stevie, the blond, blue-eyed hero, showed up, ready to save the day.

  Patricia’s character was the flirt, the slightly dangerous lady, who fell in love with the bad guy. It was her job to race through the audience and convince them all that Bob’s character mustn’t be hanged by the masses. She had a great song, one that used the whole audience. It was fun. It was so much fun that—for a matter of minutes—she was able to forget just how serious their problems were.

  She strutted through the audience. She looped her boa aroun
d a bald man’s neck and asked his wife if she could borrow him for just a minute. His pink-cheeked, good-humored wife said that Reggie could borrow him for as long as she liked. Reggie assured her that she didn’t take any man for longer than a few minutes and turned her attention to the fellow behind him, one who had been sitting in the shadows. She stretched out a black-net-clad leg to climb up on his lap, flipping her boa out again.

  And then she nearly screamed.

  It was him again. Blake. Wesley Blake.

  Now he was in casual light beige chinos and a maroon knit shirt. He had almost blended in with the saloon decor.

  Damn. Over a hundred men out here, and she had found his lap to sit on.

  She fought the panic rising in her when his gaze locked onto hers. He was smiling. He had to be angry with her. People didn’t stand him up. But she had.

  Max had suggested that she apologize, and she’d tried, but he didn’t know that. And the way he was staring at her …

  She needed to escape, but she was in the middle of a show!

  “What did you find out there, Patricia?” Alise called out to her.

  Damn. She’d been silent. Dead silent. In the middle of a show. With an entire audience watching her. Waiting.

  But, oh … she hadn’t been expecting this!

  She could feel the growing warmth of his lap beneath her. His arms had fallen lightly around her, and though she knew that he would release her instantly the moment she got up to go, she could feel the strength of them, too, and it was oddly disturbing. She was breathing his after-shave, something very light and subtle, something that combined with a natural scent and made her acutely aware that he was the opposite sex. She could almost feel his freshly shaven cheeks against her own.

  And most of all, she was aware of his eyes. She could feel them, too. Glittering gold, with amusement, with more. They stared into her own. She grew hotter. His lips were curling into a smile. A knowing smile. As if she had come here on purpose. The smile was wicked, wicked.

  The heat inside her seemed to flash and grow, streaking throughout her body. She wanted to jump up immediately, to forget the role that she played, to run in swift, sure panic.

  Maybe he knew that he had that effect on her.

  Okay, maybe Max had been right for a long time. Maybe she did need to get a life. But Wesley Blake seemed to be just a little too confident for her liking. Perhaps she had been out of the mainstream for a long time. She still wasn’t going to give an inch to this stranger.

  Her eyes narrowed. She flipped the boa around his neck and pulled tight.

  “Oh, I did find a live one out here, I did, I did!” she drawled to Alise.

  There was a slight shifting in Wes’s legs. “Very much alive,” he murmured huskily.

  The folks closest to them heard him. They started laughing.

  Bob was a definite showman. He was down from the stage immediately, twirling his fake black mustache with his fingers.

  “Patricia, honey, I’m over here. Remember me?”

  She leaned forward, slipping her arms around Wes’s neck, letting her eyes focus hugely on his. “What was that?”

  The audience howled.

  It was a mistake. She felt his body tensing beneath hers. Felt the warmth increase.

  Felt his eyes. Warm. Acute. And she saw the slow curve of his smile and felt a steady sinking in her heart.

  “I said, I’m over here, honey!” Bob repeated. More laughter. He sighed dramatically and took a huge step over to the two of them. “Excuse me, sir, would you?” He set a finger underneath Reggie’s chin, turning her face to his. “Patricia, remember me?” He fell down on a knee before her. “Why, I’m going to cast aside my evil ways and make an honest woman out of you, honey! You’re in love with me, honey—’scuse me, sir, your lap is in the way there! You’ve made an honest man of me, Patricia.”

  “Oh, yes!” She exclaimed, blinking. “And your name was what …?”

  Again, the audience filled with laughter. It was probably one of the best shows they had ever done. It was killing her.

  “Martin. Martin Van der Crime. Ah, excuse me, sir, she does have to marry me, sir.”

  “I do?”

  “She does?”

  “Yep. You can’t have her, sir!”

  “I can’t?” Wes said. Another smile flickered across his features. “Why not?”

  “’Cause I’m in this show, sir, and you’re not!” Bob told him.

  She liked the way Wes laughed then. Good-naturedly. Willing to be part of the fun. Willing to believe in the magic.

  Just as he had been that morning. With Dierdre Dinosaur.

  “Well, heck, if you put it that way …” Wes murmured regretfully.

  She jumped off his lap. She didn’t want to fall for this much fantasy herself. She knew the other side to the man. There was a hard core to him as rigid as steel. He was interested in her. Ah, yes. He was interested.

  Because he had come for the truth. And he seemed to see her as a way to get to that truth.

  They were still in the middle of a show. Bob was staring at her, waiting.

  He had cast a cue line right into her lap.

  “Martin, oh, yes, Martin! I’ll be delighted if you’ll make an honest woman out of me. Marriage! Why, yes, marriage! It sounds just wonderful.”

  “And you’ll pledge your heart to me forever?” Bob said dramatically, his hands atop each other and playfully palpitating over his heart.

  “Why, sure, honey!” she said. Bob slipped an arm around her and they started through the audience toward the stage.

  But she was a showman herself. She couldn’t help flicking the boa over her shoulder. It flounced over Wesley’s shoulder and trailed across his face. Once again, the audience howled.

  She and Bob leaped on the stage with Alise and Stevie and they all joined in for the final number about the triumph of good over evil. There was wonderful applause, and the foursome hurried off the stage.

  “Oh, that was great, great!” Alise laughed as soon as they had reached the wings. “Gosh, Reggie, it would be wonderful if you would work with us every day. That was one of the best shows we’ve ever done.”

  “It was great,” Bob agreed, pulling off his fake mustache. “The audiences here are usually fun, but it’s rare to find a total stranger that you can play off of so easily! That guy was wonderful—”

  “Thanks,” a husky voice interrupted. “But I’m not a total stranger.”

  Reggie stiffened immediately. There he was again. Wesley Blake. Lounging negligently against the wall of the short hallway leading to the dressing rooms. His hands were in his pockets. He seemed so casual, so easy.

  All but those eyes of his …

  “Oh, so he’s a friend of yours!” Bob said, grinning. He offered a hand to Wes. “Hi! Any friend of Reggie’s is welcome. And to you, especially—thanks!”

  Reggie forced a smile to her lips. “He’s not exactly a friend of mine,” she murmured. “This is Wesley Blake. Major stockholder in our corporation.”

  “And don’t you forget it!” he said lightly. Reggie introduced the three performers. Wes shook Bob’s hand, Stevie’s, then Alise’s. She had a puppy-dog look about her brown eyes that made Reggie long to slap some sense into her.

  “You’re wonderful!” Alise said. “I mean—you were wonderful. The audience was just eating it all up.”

  He smiled at her. “But all to no avail.”

  “What?” Alise said. She still had his hand.

  His grin deepened. “Bob was right.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, he was the one in the show. He walked away with the girl.”

  “Oh!” Alise laughed.

  “But I do have a dinner date with her, right?” he said, looking at Reggie.

  “Do you?” Reggie murmured.

  “Don’t I?” He looked at Alise. “I was supposed to have a dinner date with her last night. Somehow, she eluded me.”

  “That’s terrible!” Alise to
ld him.

  “That’s what I thought.”

  To her annoyance, Reggie felt hot color flash to her cheeks. “I’m afraid I was busy making dinner for others,” she murmured. “I am sorry—”

  “Really?” he asked politely.

  She could hear her own teeth grinding. “I tried to reach you this morning—”

  “Did you?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  She didn’t owe him anything! Still she felt the most curious edge as she watched him. Was he really angry with her? She couldn’t tell.

  “Well,” he murmured, “we do have a dinner date tonight, right?”

  “So it seems,” Reggie agreed less than graciously, her eyes suddenly downcast. Was he a wolf in sheep’s clothing? No, just a wolf. The man made no pretenses.

  And the thing that made her so uneasy was herself. He was attractive. Too attractive. And she was just a means to an end for him, while he intended to pry into every single aspect of her brother’s life. And maybe even into her own.

  Again, she felt defensive. Every barrier had to be kept in place against this man!

  “Well,” Alise said with a soft sigh, “you two have a nice dinner. I guess it will be pizza and beer for me with this duo!”

  “Gee, Bob, doesn’t she make that sound like a great compliment?” Stevie asked.

  “Boy, that’s right. I could get a Mel Gibson complex, just listening to her!”

  Alise gave him a swat in the arm. “See ya!” she said to Reggie, leading the other two down the hallway toward the dressing rooms.

  Reggie suddenly felt tense and vulnerable. She pointed in their direction. “I’ll just change—”

  He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

  “What do you mean, you don’t think so!” Reggie demanded. “I’m dressed as a nineteenth-century floozy—”

  “Hey, that’s your problem. I’m not leaving you for a minute. Not tonight.”

  “Oh, now you are being absurd!” Reggie said. She started to turn. He caught hold of her arm.

  And the hold was fierce. Unyielding.

  He drew her around to face him. She saw that his jaw was twisted and set. He was a man determined.

  One who didn’t seem to give any quarter.