Lifestyles of the Witch & Famous (13 page)

There ought to be more to
passion
, damn it. Or was that just being naive? Molly searched inside herself, looking for a ray of hope. But hope for what?

She searched Tyler’s eyes, pure magic in their deep blue depths, pulling at her, holding her spellbound. It was safer probably to hope Carlotta was right – easier and less painful in the long run to let herself become as jaded as everyone around her seemed to be.

But she wouldn’t have been Molly if a little something in her didn’t hope for just a little bit more. She believed in magic. She had to; it was part of her faith. If she wanted to play dirty pool, there were numerous old “love spells” she could cast that just might trap Tyler like he was trying to trap her.

But that was a dangerous, manipulative form of magic, trying to
make
a specific someone love you. Most Wiccans avoided and advised against it, Molly among them. The energy you sent out always came back to you, so you’d better be very, very careful what you sent out.

The only spells Molly performed were simple ones for simple needs – like burning brown onion skins to attract extra cash when her coffers were low, adding basil to bathwater for spiritual cleansing, making “sweet dream sachets” stuffed with anise seed to banish nightmares… Easy, everyday herbal magic. “Green Magick,” some called it. That was Molly’s style of spellwork, soft and gentle, part of her lifestyle as a Wiccan, a way to connect with Nature and commune with the Divine.

She used a different kind of magic now, older, simpler, but far more potent in its way.
Woman’s Magic
, woven from perfume and make-up and a drop-dead sexy outfit borrowed from Carlotta. The smile on her lips, however, and the expression in her eyes were entirely Molly’s, and she played them for all they were worth.

A desperate move in a dangerous game with high stakes. Her children. Her heart. To win the first, she’d have to gamble the latter. A scary thought, but it was too late to back down. The bets were called. Somewhere a cosmic roulette wheel was already turning.

Tyler’s own magic reached out, merging with hers into a spell neither of them could stop now. Yin-Yang, male-female force spiraled up and around them, creating something greater than the sum of its parts. She’d just have to let it play itself out and hope that Carlotta was right, or that maybe…

Goddess…
Did she dare hope that maybe, just possibly, this spell would last?

No. Magic was one thing, but a miracle was something else. Any fire that burned this hot couldn’t burn for long. Heat poured off the man like a lava flow, steaming the air between them. Her temperature rocketed up the scale in response just from looking at him, sensing him.

Without a word, Tyler raised his hand in a gentlemanly gesture to help guide her down the last two steps. He did have some manners, didn’t he? When he cared to use them.

Molly stretched out her hand to meet his, bracing herself, knowing that lightning would strike when they touched. His fingers curved around hers, and electricity crackled in a brilliant white blaze, dazzling her—

Hell, she hadn’t meant that part about the lightning literally.

Or was that a camera flash?

Blind as a bat and teetering on her stilettos, she stumbled forward off the stairs. A second flash struck just as she crashed into a brick wall. Tyler’s chest? His arms closed around her, and he back-stepped, knocked off balance by the impact of her topple. Something let out a screech that sounded like a banshee and felt like an ice pick through the brain. Fang. He must still have been hanging around the man’s feet. No matter how many times he got stepped on, he never learned, that cat. Fluffy put in his two cents with an enthusiastic chorus of deep bass woofs.

“Shut up,” Molly told him.

“And get your nose out of my ass,” Tyler added.

“
Perfecto
!” André exclaimed. “The first shot I shall call ‘Cinderella’s Revenge,’ the second, ‘Fall From Grace.’ I am on a roll today, no?”

“I’m going to
roll
him out the door if he keeps this up,” Tyler grumbled under his breath. His hands slipped down to Molly’s waist, holding her against him. “Are you okay, baby?”

“I am excellent. Thank you for asking,” André said. “And you?”

Tyler made a strangling noise in his throat and slid his hands farther to cup silk clad hips. “Molly?”

What did he want her to say? That the muscular feel of his body made her weak in the knees? That his hands on her made it difficult to draw breath?

“I’m fine,” she lied.

“Fine? She is exquisite!” André declared. “Such expression she has! It is all in the expression, you know. The
expression of emotion
is what I look for in my subjects.” He glanced at Tyler. “You should try it sometime.”

“What? Photography?” Tyler gave him a chilly stare as Molly pushed out of the embrace.

André chuckled. “No. Emotion. A cold lot, you Americans can be. Too controlled. You are human, no? To be human is to feel! If you do not let those feelings out, they consume you inside. That is why your culture suffers so many heart attacks. It has nothing to do with –
pah
– cholesterol.” He spat out the word. “It is the build-up of emotions that clogs arteries!”

“Thank you. I’ll be sure to report your theory to the FDA and the American Medical Association,” Tyler said dryly.

André ignored him and turned with a click of his hot pink boot heels to Molly. “So, Cinderella” – a broad smile spilt his beard – “I see your fairy godmother has been busy with her wand, eh? Nice job. That dress looks better on you than it does on her. But do not tell Carlotta I said so.”

Shooting her a wink, he spun about to leave and nearly tripped over Fluffy who was sprawled out panting again, exhausted by the whole show.

“Who let a bear in here?” André demanded. He glared around, looking for the culprit, then stalked off, waving his arms and spewing forth foreign curses.

Molly blushed as Tyler’s gaze raked over her, his eyes narrowed. How fast the spell had broken. An icy tension stood between them now, suspicious, accusing.

“I should have realized this was Carlotta’s work,” he muttered.

It was Carlotta’s work, but feminine ego bristled at the underlying implication. “Excuse me? You think I can’t make myself attractive on my own?”

Well…um, maybe not this attractive. Five thousand dollar designer dresses were not her usual fare. And the shoes, quite frankly, were killing her feet. How did Carlotta walk in these things? It was like wearing stilts.

Feeling suddenly silly and sick of the game, Molly turned to flee back up the stairs. “Never mind. It was a dumb idea. I should have known better.”

Rule One: When wearing high heels, never try to run up an open spiral staircase.

Her foot slipped off the edge of the fifth step and she sailed backward…gasping, grabbing at air…

And landing smack in Tyler’s hold as he fielded her like a fly ball. One arm caught under her back, the other under her legs, and he clutched her high against his chest.

His eyes gleamed down pure danger.

Her breath snagged in her throat.

“It’s not dumb,” he said. “I just know Carlotta, and I’m sure she didn’t give you this dress without giving you some very specific instructions to go with it. I want to know what she told you.”

That’s what he thought. Molly doubted he wanted to hear even half of what Carlotta had said. But the magic was rising again, swirling up in warm waves. His energy surrounded her along with the feel of his arms, tugging at her like an undertow. If she fought, it would drag her down. The only recourse was to lie back and float, go with the flow. Maybe that way she could still salvage this situation, win what she’d set out for. Just one small concession, that was all she asked.

Unblinking, her eyes met the demand in his.

“Carlotta told me I should surrender to you. Completely.”

Tyler coughed. His gaze widened, and his arms tightened convulsively. For one brief second, Molly thought she saw straight into his soul, thought she saw something in him even deeper, stronger than lust.

But that had to be a mistake.

As quickly as it came, the moment passed. His eyes half hooded and a small, wicked grin teased his lips – teased her. The arm at her back tensed, and he raised her higher, bringing her face on level with his.

“If that’s true, I must remember to thank Carlotta.”

A fiery shiver tingled down her spine at the huskiness in his tone. Sultry sizzle. Her hands smoothed over his shoulders, and her arms locked around his neck. An unconscious gesture. She hardly realized she’d done it till their mouths were almost touching.

“It’s true,” she said hoarsely.

“Then the next question is…are you going to take her advice?”

“I…um…I’m seriously considering it.”

“Uh-huh. I see. And is there anything I can do to help you make up your mind?” His lips brushed hers with the words.

Too fast.
She needed her concession before the kissing started. That had been part of Carlotta’s advice:
“Keep him at arm’s length until he agrees.”

She wasn’t following that advice very well, was she? Such a difficult task with the magic building between them, sweeping her into its flow like a whirlpool. Molly wanted to sink into it, close her eyes and drown in his arms.

His lips grazed hers again, and she almost did.

Something stopped her. Three things actually, named Stevie, Jeremy, and Josh. She’d left them with Barry for well over an hour now! What on earth had she been thinking?

Never mind, don’t answer that.

Remembering the boys gave Molly the strength she needed to brace her hands against Tyler’s shoulders and push back.

“Put me down.”

His arms tightened. “Why? You’re not comfortable like this?”

Ha-ha.
She was too comfortable, in fact, but he gave the distinct impression he wouldn’t put her down even if she said the opposite.

“Tyler” – she pushed harder – “let go of me. I need to check on the boys.”

“What boys?”

Did he have a death wish?

“Your
nephews
, damn it.” She pounded a fist on his shoulder. “And if this is your attitude toward them, you don’t deserve them.”

“I thought you didn’t want me to have them, regardless.”

“And now you can see why!”

Adding kicking and writhing to the pounding, she made it more trouble than it was worth to hang on to her.

With evident reluctance, he let go of her legs and let her slide down the length of his body to land on her feet, but still held her against him with one arm around his waist.

“Molly, relax. I was joking. The kids are fine. I just saw them. They’re in the shallow end of the pool with a couple of Carlotta’s fashion models. The girls are teaching the twins to swim. Okay? Everything’s under control.”

How would he know?

“Swimming? With
models
?” And this seemed okay to Uncle Tyler? Not exactly a thought to ease a concerned mind.

Fashion models. Sheesh.

“I’m told they’re also champion swimmers,” Tyler said. “Don’t worry, I watched long enough to make sure everything was all right. The girls obviously know what they’re doing, and the boys looked like they were having fun. I should have been so lucky at their age to have swim teachers like that.”

Which meant what?

Molly shoved away to glare at him, struggling to recoup her dignity while wobbling on her stilts and feeling her hairstyle falling loose from its pins. Her lipstick was probably smeared, too. Oh yeah, she must look real dignified. She swiped the back of her hand across her mouth and pulled out the rest of the pins, trying to minimize the damage. The amusement in Tyler’s eyes told her she only made it worse – which neither soothed her spirit nor won him any brownie points.

“Will this help?” He fished out a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her, a suspicious twitching at the corners of his lips.

Go ahead and laugh, buster.

Men didn’t have to deal with crap like this. They simply had no idea how much effort it took to be fashionably alluring. Of course, since Molly wasn’t usually the fashionable type, she’d had no idea of the effort involved either. Which was why she was making a mess of it.

Heaving an aggravated sigh, she snatched the cloth from him and scrubbed it over her mouth. A closer look at him, and her lips began twitching in a visual echo of his.

“Here, you need this yourself. That shade of lipstick really isn’t your color.” Scarcely thinking what she did, she stepped close and wiped his mouth clean, too.

Such a simple gesture. Who could have guessed it would feel so intimate? Even through the cloth, the touch of his lips on her fingertips conjured memories of those lips touching elsewhere. Her heart hitched, and her hand jerked back, dropping the handkerchief. Tyler caught it as it fluttered downward and stuffed it into his pocket without a second glance. His eyes searched hers, and she sensed him guessing her thoughts.