

# CLOSE UP MAGIC

# By Michelle Garren Flye

Copyright 2013 Michelle Garren Flye

Dedication

For everyone who's ever wanted to believe, and for those who help us to do it.

In Appreciation

Here's the proof that no book is ever written alone:

First, my family, for their unwavering support. You guys are the reason I have the courage to pursue this crazy dream of mine.

Second, my friends, for spreading the word on Facebook and Twitter and word-of-mouth, and also for the non-stop moral support. I'd mention you all by name, but I'm betting I'd forget someone, so I'm going to play it safe and just say I love you all!

Third, Rachel Simeone at ZetaBlue for the invaluable marketing advice on all my novels, and Farah Evers for the beautiful cover design and dealing with my learning curve.

Finally, NaNoWriMo. Yes, this is a NaNo novel, and I'm very proud of it. Thanks to the staff of National Novel Writing Month for lighting a fire under me.

### Chapter One

Stacey Matthewson plucked her smartphone from her pocket the moment the plane touched down, well before the pilot turned off the sign banning the use of electronic devices. It killed her to be out of touch, especially at a time like this. She hit the call button and said two words. "Tell me."

"Jeez, could that flight have been any longer?" Bella's smartass young voice greeted her. "You're gonna have to hoof it if you're gonna make the show."

"Forget that. I'll make it. Tell me you got me a ticket." Stacey fought to keep the anxiety out of her voice.

Her nineteen-year-old sister and part-time assistant made her listen to a sharp crack of bubblegum before she answered. "Of course I got you a ticket. It's waiting for you."

_Thank God._ "Good. I guess you're not fired." She hit the end button before Bella could tell her she couldn't fire her own sister. She was exhausted and exhilarated at the same moment. In an hour or so, she'd be in the same room with Andre Hawke.

Stacey had met a lot of celebrities, most of them much further up the A-list than Andre Hawke was yet—possibly further than he ever would be. As a free-lance entertainment reporter, she'd written stories exposing the secrets of movie stars, capturing the worst moments of the idols who, in the end, proved themselves to be only human after all. Andre Hawke was small potatoes for someone like her, but she'd found her sources drying up after what she privately referred to as "the incident"—at least, when she allowed herself to think about it at all.

_I screwed up. I didn't check my sources and I'm paying for it._ She winced at the memory, and, not for the first time, wondered how she'd ever even gotten into this aspect of reporting. Her college professors had expected great things of her. They probably wouldn't be thrilled to know she'd degenerated into a bloodhound looking to shake down the latest celebrity to fall off a wagon.

Stacey straightened her spine, shifting uncomfortably in the cramped seat and reminding herself she'd made a good living off the sensationalist reporting, at least until recently. And what other choice would have allowed her to support herself and her little sister for the past few years? What really sucked was that after so many years knocking other people's idols off their pedestals, she finally had to do the same thing to someone _she_ admired.

She thumbed through the web pages she'd bookmarked on her smartphone. Hawke was an up-and-coming magician, a definite rising star on the horizon of celebrity. Fortunately for her, he wasn't there yet, so the scandal that had rocked his little camp right after his first big appearance in Las Vegas hadn't reached most reporters in the industry. Which meant she had the opportunity to write the story and get it out there before anyone else caught on.

She paused on a picture of Hawke and felt another tinge of regret that it had to be him. She'd actually seen one of his magic shows at a tiny theater in New York and had followed his career with interest since. He had it all: he was good-looking, skilled, and had an air of sincerity that sort of made you not even mind being the victim of his act.

She didn't have time for regret, though. She clicked her phone off and stuck it into her pocket, reaching for the only bag she'd brought—a little overnight bag small enough to fit under the seat in front of her. Her purse was large enough to accommodate her laptop, so she didn't have to wait for baggage claim. As soon as the pilot clicked off the fasten seatbelts sign and the crew opened the door, she'd be out and hopefully arrive in time to catch Andre Hawke before the show. Just because no one else had picked up the story yet didn't mean it wouldn't happen.

She banished the last of her guilty feelings. _It's not like I'm the president of his fan club or anything._ _And Andre Hawke is a big boy. He can handle a little press. Even my kind._

Andre Hawke studied his reflection in the mirror. The lean, handsome face that looked back reminded him of the few memories he had of his father. He still had a hard time associating that reflection with himself, although the thick, curly dark hair and deep blue (some women said almost violet) eyes had always been his, even when he'd been a dorky kid. He smiled and the reflection smiled back, white teeth flashing. His brother had suggested the teeth-whitening. The thought of Tony made the smile fade.

Andre turned from the mirror, reaching for the leather jacket he wore instead of a cape when he was onstage. Softened by time, the jacket had belonged to his father. One of the things he'd left behind and Andre had adopted as a prop, a reminder of the family whose history was half true, half part of the act.

On cue, his cell phone rang and he punched the button. "Hey Mom."

"How'd you know it was me?" His mother's lazy southern accent made him smile.

"Who else would call me right before a show?" He picked up a white tipped cane, studying it with amused interest before tossing it aside. The producer had left several artificial-looking magic props laying around in the hopes Andre would choose to adopt some of them, but Andre had no interest in stereotypes. He wanted nothing to do with what people would expect. He reached for his Oakley sunglasses and imagined his mother sitting on the front porch of the little home where he'd grown up. Were the crickets still singing? Was it really October? He'd lost track of the seasons since he'd been in the Nevada desert, where the weather was hot and dry, just as it had been two months before, although maybe not quite as hot now as it had been early in the summer.

"Andy, you know I wouldn't do anything to mess you up. I just wanted you to know how much we all love you. We're proud of you, son. Really proud." She fell silent for a moment and he closed his eyes, knowing what would come next. "Your brother's really sorry, you know."

"I know." Andre tried not to sound too bitter. Tony's antics had put him in a bad spot financially, although he'd been able to work it out professionally. What really hurt was the betrayal by the brother he'd always thought he could count on. After all, they'd only had each other and their mother after their father left them as children. He sighed. "His timing leaves a little to be desired. Just make sure he stays in the program."

"I know you're hurt, son, but try to look at it from his point of view. You've always been the success of our family...don't interrupt!"

Andre shut his mouth, which had opened to protest automatically. He frowned at the phone. How did she always know? "I wasn't going to."

"Of course you weren't. What I was saying is that Tony's always felt he had to live up to you. You've got to give him a break this time. He failed. He's sorry."

"And when he's better, we'll move on." Andre took a deep breath, then covered the phone with one hand and exercised some of the same misdirection he used in his act. "I know I have to be on stage in thirty, Sara. There's plenty of time." He uncovered the phone. "Sorry, Mom. They employ overachievers exclusively here."

"It's okay, honey. I know you're busy. I just wanted you to know we're thinking about you tonight. We're right there with you."

"Yeah." For a moment, he wished it were really true. Or maybe he wished he could just pack everything up and go home. Maybe he envied his brother for giving in to his weakness, something Andre had never allowed himself to do. "I love you, Mom."

"Love you too, baby." The click of the line sounded strangely emptier than usual.

He stood for a second in the empty dressing room. Any moment it would fill up with assistants and stagehands seeking last minute direction. He'd never thought about the complications of losing his agent during his first big show. A six-month run at a large—if rundown—casino/resort on the Las Vegas strip was the stuff dreams were made of if you were an up-and-coming magician. It was the last thing Tony had pulled off before he got drunk and gambled away the advance. All of it. Not just his share. Andre had had to deplete his own savings to pay his few employees and Tony's extended stay in the rehab facility had zeroed it out. Andre was broke until the ticket sales surpassed the advance and his crew's expenses.

_Damn it._ Andre turned grimly, feeling like a caged animal. The loss of the money didn't hurt half as much as the loss of the one person he'd always thought he could rely on. He'd trusted Tony. Goddamn him. From the day they'd left their mother's tiny home in Bath, N.C., Tony had busted his ass to get Andre through the days of busking on the streets of New York and table-hopping at little cafes. He'd gotten Andre's first real gig at a tiny theater in New York and from there the theaters had gotten bigger, the audiences more enthusiastic. And it all had led to this engagement in Las Vegas. Tony should be here.

He shook off the lingering regret. He had Bobby to take care of the day-to-day stuff and the show revenue would soon be enough to tide them over if they kept selling out. The one thing he didn't have was a public relations person. Neither Bobby nor Mattie had the expertise to handle press, and he was beginning to feel the need for one urgently. He needed to take his time, find somebody he could trust, but he knew it was only a matter of time now before the vultures of journalism smelled decay and swooped in on him to get at the bones of the story about his brother.

As if on cue, a sharp rap sounded on the door. A second later, a woman dressed in a figure-hugging black sheath dress with a bleached-blonde mane of hair falling around her shoulders entered the room without waiting to be admitted. Andre was used to women barging into his dressing room, but this woman left him speechless. She might have been one of the million young women looking to cut loose for a Vegas vacation except for the sharp intelligence in her hazel eyes. His brain screamed for caution, but he ignored it, stepping forward to take her hand. "Good evening. I'm Andre Hawke. How can I help you?"

_He has no idea who I am._ Good. That meant he wasn't being flooded by journalists. If she could be the first to gain his trust, maybe she could get an exclusive about the dismissed agent... Stacey smiled her sweetest and tried not to be too thrilled that _Andre Hawke_ was holding her hand. "Mr. Hawke." She wished she could have freshened up a little more. She'd stopped at the airport bathroom, taken off her wrinkled blazer, changed her jewelry and washed up a little. She tilted her head with as much confidence as she could muster, glad her last dye job had turned out so spectacularly her hair sparkled even in dim light, let alone the bright lights of the dressing room. "So good to meet you."

He tucked the sunglasses he held in one hand into the inside pocket of his leather jacket. "My pleasure." His eyes scanned her up and down and back again.

Her heart gave an odd thump, but she was prepared for that, too. She'd watched countless videos of his stage performances on YouTube, and she knew his reputation for womanizing. The Great Andre—on stage _and_ in the sack, evidently. She summoned her best flirtatious smile, but his next words caught her off guard enough so she faltered. "Who exactly are you and how the hell did you get back here?"

She'd paid off a security guard but he didn't have to know that. "I snuck in. I wanted to catch you before the show." She fluttered her eyelashes and lowered her gaze, on cue as usual.

"Are you here to see the show, then?" He didn't release her hand, his eyes intense on hers when she looked back.

"Of course I am." She shot him a smile. "I can't wait, actually. I've been a fan ever since I saw you at the Clemson Theater in New York a few years ago."

"I remember that show." His smile widened, revealing perfect teeth for a moment before softening again into a sensual curve, and his gaze flickered to her mouth.

"It's obviously taken you to bigger and better things." Her chest felt tight and she found it hard to breathe. Was he going to kiss her? Dear God, she felt paralyzed. Was this really just desire or did he actually know enough magic to hold her immobile while he considered whether or not to kiss her? Or did she want his kiss so bad she was willing to sacrifice what was left of her career to get it?

She cleared her throat and fought her way out of whatever spell he'd cast. "I, um, do have another reason—" She reached into her purse.

"Save it." He dropped her hand. "I don't talk to the press before shows."

She couldn't disguise her astonishment. "How do you know I'm a reporter?"

"Fresh off the plane. I recognize the smell of the soap. Congratulations, you're the first. This evening, anyway." He glanced at his watch. "I'm not expecting any more for at least a couple hours." His glare was sharp. "They probably won't catch me until _after_ the show."

"All the more reason to listen to me now." She wasn't about to give up after flying halfway across the United States just to make her pitch. "We've got at least fifteen minutes before you're on stage."

"We've barely got two before my assistant barges through that door with a dozen questions."

"Plenty of time to schedule a meeting."

He laughed. "You're not going to give up, are you?"

"Not on your life." She took a step toward him. "I wasn't lying about being a fan. I've seen every one of your shows in one form or another. DVD, YouTube, videocassette. I know you're from Bath, North Carolina, and you started your career playing banjo for square dances. I know you did magic tricks on the side, and you went to college to please your mother, but your heart has always been in show business. I know you've got a genius IQ and an engineering degree, and I honestly can't believe I'm standing here in front of you right now." She stopped, feeling a hot blush spread over her face, but she could tell she'd gotten his attention. She dropped her gaze. "Sorry, I didn't mean to say that."

He snorted. "And you're twice the salesman I am." He started to turn away. "I almost bought it, too. A warning to my ego."

_Shit._ He was walking away. If he left without agreeing to see her again, she'd never get an interview, let alone an exclusive. It wasn't his ego talking when he said he'd have a flood of reporters after him soon, although maybe not _right_ after this show. Andre Hawke would soon be the hottest thing going. _Nobody_ could figure out how he did his tricks. His Las Vegas show was a springboard, guaranteed to propel him to bigger and better things. His agent had been an absolute fool to let himself get caught with his hand in the till at this point. His agent, who was also his brother. Stacey grasped at the last straw she still carried.

"I know about your brother."

He froze, and when he turned, his gaze was cold enough to freeze her in her tracks. His dark blue eyes were depthless, his expression stony. Her heart seized up in her chest, her breath caught in her throat. She opened her mouth to say more, but she couldn't get the words out.

"What exactly is it you think you know?" His voice held no teasing laughter now.

"About why you fired him." She stuck her chin out and carried on, as brave as could be under the circumstances. "And don't give me that shit about he was called home to deal with a family matter. He was drinking and gambling and he's probably got a problem with one or both." She paused, making her voice soothing. "I know you don't want to go public with it, but you're going to have to sooner or later. I can help you, but only if you give me an exclusive."

His eyes narrowed and he took a step forward. "My brother is taking a leave of absence from his work. He went home to take care of some family business. Which is none of yours, by the way."

She opened her mouth to tell him that cover story wouldn't hold water for long, but the door opened behind him, startling her. Andre didn't move, his eyes still locked on hers, as a young man with a faux-hawk and a clipboard rushed in. "Andre, you're due on in ten minutes and we still don't know where you want us to put the box for..." His voice drifted off. "Oh. I didn't know you had company."

"I wouldn't call _her_ company." Andre finally dragged his gaze away from Stacey's and she found she could breathe again. "Reporter. Get her information." He stalked out of the dressing room.

The kid raised his eyebrows but took Stacey's card without further comment and showed her out the door to the auditorium. When an usher approached, she reached for her ticket for the seat located somewhere up in the balcony, but the kid shook his head and motioned the usher away with authority. "He wants you to sit up front."

"What?" Stacey still felt breathless, hungover, she realized, from the sheer intensity of Andre's presence. Had she missed something or was "get her information" code for more than "let her leave her card"?

Bobby grinned, his voice ringing with pride in his employer. "Still can't believe it, huh? That's what he does to people. That's why he can pull anyone he wants onstage. All he has to do is look at them and they sort of melt. Doesn't matter if it's a man, woman or kid. He knows how to throw them off."

"Is that his secret?" She gave him a dubious look.

"One of 'em." He pulled out a chair at the bottom of the stage. "He's got a few. But then you know that, don't you?" When she frowned, he saluted jauntily. "Be seein' you."

She shrugged and seated herself, trying to shake off the lingering effects of Andre's presence. The whole thing was starting to annoy her. Admittedly, the seat was better than the one she'd paid for, but she remembered the icy look he'd given her too well to want to be this close to him again so soon. And what was he up to, putting her in the front row? Was it the old adage about keeping your enemies closer than your friends? She doubted it was just that she knew the truth about his brother. She'd actually threatened his carefully guarded family's quiet existence, so she must be dealt with. She lifted her chin defiantly. _Bring it on, Andre Hawke._

To the rest of the world—or at least those who knew about Andre Hawke—his father John Hawkins had been a loving father, supportive of his son, hard-working and devoted to his job in the paper mill, and he'd died in a horrible accident on the job. Andre had fostered this myth carefully. The truth was that his father wasn't dead and he'd never worked at a paper mill. He'd left his family when Andre and his twin brother were six years old. Rumor was he lived off the grid somewhere in Montana. He hadn't emerged to claim his successful son as his own, and as far as Stacey knew, Andre had never sought him out. Maybe he preferred the fictional father to the real thing.

But that wasn't going to work this time. Tony Hawkins wasn't the hard-working saint Andre would like everyone to believe, and his downfall had happened much more publicly than that of his father. She hoped Andre really had listened to her, because she'd meant what she'd said. He wouldn't be able to rewrite history again, but if he'd let her, she could make sure it wouldn't ruin him.

Unlike other magicians—in fact, most live performers—Andre didn't make a spectacular entrance onto the stage. He simply walked out, bowed, and performed a magic trick. It was never the same trick. That was what made him so amazing. His repertoire far exceeded those of illusionists with twice his experience. He must constantly be developing new tricks, working them in with favorites and rearranging the show's order so every one seemed new. Stacey shifted uncomfortably in her front row seat, aware that she shouldn't be so admiring of the man whose story could revive her faltering career. She tried to renew the irritation she'd felt a few minutes before, more comfortable with that than her growing sympathy with the man.

When the music started, she glanced expectantly at the stage. Tonight he didn't appear immediately, striding onto the stage with his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. Instead, she heard a murmur from the audience and turned to find him standing at her elbow. He gave her a jaunty grin, grasped her hand and pulled her to her feet.

"What the hell are you doing?" The gasp was wrenched from her lips. _Oh my God._ Of course he'd given her a good seat. He intended to make her part of the act. _Shit._ She tried to hold back, but he gave her hand a pull.

"Look at this, ladies and gentlemen, she's shy. Give her a little encouragement." He flashed his gleaming smile at the audience and they broke into applause. Leaning toward her as if he were bowing, he murmured in her ear, "You'll have to work for that seat."

"Am I even going to get a chance to sit in it?" She shot back. He gave her a blandly innocent look and bounded up the stairs to the stage, pulling her along in his wake.

The spotlight centered on them and she blinked in the brightness. His pupils contracted, but otherwise he seemed undisturbed. Used to the spotlight. He faced her. "Do you believe in magic?"

"No." She glared at him. "There's always a trick."

"Ah. A nonbeliever." His grin grew wider, and she heard a murmur of amusement and anticipation from the crowd. If anyone could make a believer out of her, it would be Andre Hawke. He was playing them with all the skill of a born entertainer, and she couldn't suppress her admiration. God, he was absolutely magnificent and if playing along with a magic trick could get her the interview, she better be game. She tilted her chin and his eyes narrowed. With a practiced flourish, he drew a blindfold from his pocket. "So, you're going to play?"

The words surprised her until she realized they were directed only at her and not at the audience. He must have a way of turning his mic off when he didn't want them to hear. She shrugged, pretending nonchalance. "Whatever." In spite of her response, however, the blindfold did disturb her a little. She didn't like not knowing what was happening to her. She lived her life by maintaining control at all times. Relinquishing it, even for a moment, was not something she wanted to do.

With laughing encouragement from the audience, he led her to a chair that looked like it might have come from a schoolroom somewhere and instructed her to check it out for any abnormalities. She did so, even lifting the chair and looking underneath it. Then he told her to sit and she felt him move behind her, tying the blindfold with practiced movements. Just as he finished, he leaned down and said softly in her ear, "Do you trust me?"

"Should I?" She folded her arms over her chest and crossed her legs, trying to look like she didn't have a care in the world.

The laughter of the audience let her in on the fact that this exchange had been with a live mic. He really was full of tricks. She pictured him moving away from her, pretending to be offended. When the laughter died down, he began talking about studying the beliefs of Tibetan monks and practicing their philosophies to broaden his mind. Her own mind wandered. She couldn't concentrate on his words, but she enjoyed the sound of his voice. Then he stopped talking, and she felt a light breeze soothing her hot cheeks. She thought of the look in his eyes before he tied the blindfold on her, and the words he'd whispered in her ear.

Do you trust me?

Hands touched her shoulders, tingling as if sending a light jolt of electricity through her. She jumped and he laughed. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you." He whipped the blindfold from her face. "Are you all right?"

"Of course." She blinked. "Is it over? What did you do?"

"Actually, I didn't do anything. You did." He put an arm around her shoulders and turned her to face a monitor. She stared, unable to comprehend at first that the instant replay of the chair hovering near the curtains at the top of the stage was actually the one she'd just been sitting in, and that the figure seated imperturbably in it was her. He moved behind her, placing both hands on her shoulders as if to brace her, his words oddly intimate even as they echoed across the huge room. "You flew."

"Oh my God." She felt sick. She looked at the ceiling, a good thirty feet above her head. She looked at the little chair she'd been seated on. No safety buckles, no harnesses. Her knees buckled and she might have fallen had he not caught her.

She heard a gasp from the audience as he led her off the stage and handed her over to a pretty girl with a clipboard and headset. She heard him murmur instructions, but she couldn't focus. The girl nodded and half carried her backstage. Andre returned to the stage, assuring the audience she was fine and recovering from her shock. The ensuing applause seemed to indicate that Stacey's reaction to the trick had done nothing but affirm their belief in him.

Stacey recovered herself as the girl in the headphones tried to lead her down a hall. She shook off the girl's grasp. "Where are we going?"

"Mr. Hawke wants you to wait for him in his dressing room."

"Right. I'm not doing that." She turned and started back toward the stage. "In fact, I think I'm going to kill Mr. Hawke now."

"You can't go back out there." The girl moved to block her path, unperturbed by Stacey's death threat. "I'm sorry, but you have to wait here."

"You can't do that." Stacey glared. "I bought a ticket."

"And sat in the seat Mr. Hawke provided." The girl might be young, but she wasn't stupid. "He always pulls a volunteer from that seat, and it's always with prior consent."

"Well, there was no fucking 'prior consent' tonight, I promise." Stacey glared. "He never told me I was going to be flying through the air. Or in a trance. I could have been killed."

"He'd never let that happen."

Stacey frowned, looking at the girl. She obviously believed what she was saying. In fact, Stacey figured the girl would sit on any chair Andre asked her to. And go into any number of trances at whatever inopportune time Andre chose. She shook her head. "Dear God, how does he do it?"

The girl sensed she was no longer going to cause trouble and said, "Look, if you really feel well enough, you can watch the rest of the show from backstage. I'll show you. It's even better than your seat was."

"Excellent." She folded her arms. "Are you sure he'd want you to do that? He did tell you I'm a journalist, didn't he?"

"He said you were a reporter. I don't think he's particularly concerned." The girl shrugged and held out her hand. "I'm Mattie. He wants me to take care of you. Can I get you something to drink?"

_A good strong Scotch._ She shook her head. "No. I mean, just water."

Mattie turned and issued an order to a stagehand, who hurried to follow instructions. Stacey wondered who exactly the girl was. She certainly seemed to have more authority than the stagehand/groupie Stacey had first assumed her to be. Within a few moments, Mattie had installed her in a chair in the wings of the stage, a bottle of artesian water in her hand. From her new seat, Stacey had a very good view of Andre as he performed a couple of amazing card tricks, plucked a rose out of a woman's hair, and turned a paper airplane into a white dove. If he was misdirecting the audience, he must surely be a master because even from her angle, she couldn't catch the trick.

_Would they let me move, though?_ She glanced at Mattie talking to a stagehand. She saw Bobby, the kid from earlier, watching from the other side of the stage. What if she got up and started over there? Just as she considered this, Mattie placed a hand on her shoulder. "I have to ask you to keep your seat for the next few minutes. He's ready for his finale and if you move you could endanger someone."

Stacey relaxed in her seat, wondering what exactly was wrong with her, anyway. She was a tough kid from a rough upbringing. Ordinarily, she wouldn't let anyone boss her around, and if she got thrown out while in the quest for a story, she wouldn't care.

But I'm not here to find out how he does it. I'm here to find out what was done to him. That's my story, and if I get thrown out now, it'll ruin everything.

She was prevaricating, and she knew it. She didn't _want_ to know how the magic was done. If she did, she'd never be able to believe, never be able to experience that sense of wonder that, to be honest, Andre had first woken in her. She smiled a little, remembering that show. It had been a rare treat for her and Bella back during her senior year in college. She'd won the tickets on a radio show and gone, never expecting the show to work its way past her cynical exterior and touch something else, some carefully guarded desire to believe. She shook off the memory. She couldn't afford to believe in magic when she'd been given so many reasons not to during her life.

The finale was a spectacular illusion in which Andre performed an escape worthy of Houdini himself while hanging upside down over a tank of water while a flame slowly burned through the rope. A curtain was drawn around Andre, and a circle of witnesses surrounded the area. Stacey watched the rope jerk with his movements, so completely caught up in the moment that when the rope gave way and she heard a splash, she half-started out of her chair. She heard a chuckle and glanced to her side as he walked out of the backstage area, completely dry, and grinned at her. "You worried?"

"Of course not." She pretended not to be startled by his appearance. She'd been watching the entire time. He had definitely begun the illusion suspended from the rope. The audience members he'd pulled onstage still stood in a circle with their hands joined. The logistics of the trick boggled her mind. _Holy cow._ She shrugged. "I knew there was a trick."

"You have serious trust issues." With these parting words, he loped onstage, startling one female volunteer with a kiss on the cheek and taking his well-deserved bow.

He finished his bow, then shook hands with each volunteer as they were escorted off the stage. He paused to speak quietly with both Bobby and Mattie before returning to her side. "You still mad?"

"Mad?" She snorted. "Why would I be mad? Oh, you mean the little putting me in a trance and sending me floating in the rafters thing? Ha!" She glared at him. "You keep pulling shit like that and you'll have lawsuits on your hands, buddy."

"Umm." He compressed his lips, then held his hand out to her. "Let's go for a walk."

"A walk?" She blinked. "You're kidding, right?"

"Not at all. I always go for walks after a show. Come, we won't go far."

She checked his forward momentum with an angry sneer. "I really don't have any desire to go anywhere with you. Have you forgotten you nearly killed me? _Without_ my consent?"

He looked amused. "Are you mad because I forgot to ask your consent to kill you? Would you have given it?"

"Ha. Ha." She put all her contempt into the two syllables. "That's not what I meant. Do you do that all the time?"

"Actually, that was a first." He tilted an eyebrow. "But then, you have a reputation for doing your research, so you'd know that, wouldn't you?" He started down the hall, still talking so she had no choice but to follow him if she wanted to hear what he was saying, which, in spite of her fury, she did. "I'd planned to use the trick for the first time tonight, but I didn't actually plan to open with it. You were a little easier to put into a trance than I'd anticipated." His voice indicated this wasn't a compliment, and another source of heat began to burn in her, this time from humiliation. Was that what he wanted?

But he was still talking. "I needed to get you under control, and that seemed like a good way. I figured you'd have a strong reaction to it, although I have to admit, I didn't anticipate fainting. Fear of heights?"

She gritted her teeth. "You didn't have to do any such thing. I was on my way to my spot in the back row when that kid waylaid me and put me in the front row seat you selected. And besides, I'm not here to discover your secrets. I'm not that kind of reporter."

His lips curled. "Oh, I have a pretty good idea what kind of reporter you are, Ms. Matthewson. You're here to question me about Tony. You want _that_ story. The one where I bemoan the fact that my brother and closest friend betrayed me."

Now they were getting somewhere. "Are you saying your brother betrayed you?"

He broke off. Had she rattled him? But then he shook his head, speaking in a regretful tone. "And if it weren't for the fact that this is so far beneath you, you'd've been out on your pretty little ass right after the show."

"Beneath me?" She blinked. It almost sounded like a compliment. At least it was far enough from his former line of humiliating repartee to both intrigue her and throw her off.

"Beneath you." He whirled, taking both her hands in an abrupt motion. They were on the casino floor, standing close to the windows. People at the nearby craps tables shot them curious glances. Had she followed him this far, blind to her surroundings? "I did some research. Not much, but enough to know who you are and what your capabilities are. You write crap, Ms. Matthewson."

She winced. "Call me Stacey, and who the hell are you to make that judgment?"

"Doesn't matter what I call you, you still write crap. And as your next intended victim, I think I'm pretty well qualified to make any judgments I want. You prey on people's worst moments, immortalize the shadows and sell it to the highest bidder." He paused, his lips compressing as if he didn't want to say anymore, but then he added, albeit reluctantly. "And yet...you write well."

"I write well?" She shook her head, aware he was still holding her hands. The warmth of his grasp combined with an unexpected gratitude for the compliment, and she felt a little too warm and also as if he were playing with her emotions so skillfully she was almost enjoying it. "Are you saying I write good shit?"

"Not really." He dropped her hands and gestured around them. "Life is chance, Stacey. Have you never noticed that? I wonder what chance has brought you into my path. Was it Lady Luck?" As he spoke, a woman at a slot machine near them gave a cry of delight as bells and whistles began to sound. Andre grinned. "We better move on. Management tends to blame me when things like that happen." He grasped her forearm and started toward the exit.

"Wait!" She pulled back, trying to check their forward progress. "Where are we going?"

"To talk."

"Where?" She shook her head. She felt exhausted from the yo-yoing of her emotions. "I don't..."

"There's a coffee shop in the shopping center across the street. It'll be quieter than here." He cocked an eyebrow at her again. "Of course, we could go to my suite, but then natural assumptions would be made..."

She blushed, wondering if he meant natural assumptions by him or someone else. Mattie or Bobby, maybe? "Oh. Okay."

He bought two coffees and brought them back to the table where she'd dropped. She looked drained, exhausted from traveling, probably, but he had a guilty feeling he was partly responsible. He quashed the guilt. He didn't want to feel concerned about her. She'd threatened his family, after all. But he couldn't help it. There was more to this woman than her beautiful, tough exterior showed. He'd seen it in the articles Mattie brought him before the show. Especially in the later ones, he'd sensed sympathy for the subjects. She could definitely prove useful to him.

Tossing a few cream and sweetener packets on the table, he said, "I didn't know how you took it."

As he'd suspected, she disregarded both, taking a cautious sip of the steaming liquid. "Can you explain to me why exactly we're here?"

He leaned back in his chair. "Could you please make up your mind? First you're dying to interview me, now you don't want to spend a moment alone with me."

"You've made it pretty clear you don't approve of my style of journalism." Her mouth primmed up into a thin line. He wanted to tell her not to do that. Her lips were lush and full of promise, but compressing them that way made part of her allure disappear.

"I'm curious. What was your angle, anyway?" He took a sip of coffee, studying her over the white plastic rim. "How were you going to make this appeal to the masses? I'm not exactly a star. Yet."

"Exactly." She scrubbed her face wearily. "Fine. You're not a star, but you're an up-and-coming magician doing your first big gig in Vegas. Nobody doubts you're _going_ to be a star. And your agent—who also happens to be your brother—gets caught gambling away your advance a few weeks after you get here. You kept it quiet for longer than I would have imagined you could, too." Her gaze was frankly curious. "What was it a week...or ten days ago that you sent him away?"

He shrugged. "Didn't want exactly this kind of press to overshadow me." _And you're going to help me with that._ He leaned forward. "I'm pretty good at reading people. Requisite job skill for my chosen career, I suppose. You intrigue me. You're afraid to be yourself, but you don't like the person you're pretending to be."

She looked startled, but she quickly covered it up with a slightly derisive smile. "You're grasping. You don't really know anything about me."

He brought one hand up to tick off points. "You're not a natural blonde, you drink your coffee black even though you'd probably prefer it a little sweeter, you write crap when you're capable of doing much better and you're chasing a story in Vegas when you're usually the bane of the A-list in Hollywood or New York. What's your angle? You're hunting a next-to-nobody in Vegas and even compromising the few scruples you still have. Why would you do that for me?"

She took a deep drink of the coffee. Too deep. It made her cough and sputter, and he knew she was hiding something.

He patted her on the back and continued. "I have a business proposition for you."

"B-business?" She gasped the single important word.

"I'm thinking for one reason or another you're a bit down on your luck. As you've noted, I'm down a staff member. I have no intention of hiring another agent, at least at this point. I have Bobby and Mattie for the day-to-day stuff and at least a six-month run here in Vegas. However, I could use someone to handle the press."

Her coughing stopped. Was she too astounded by his offer to remember she'd nearly choked herself? The thought made him smile, but he hid it by standing.

"I expect you'd like to sleep on it, especially considering how late it is. Where are you staying?"

She stared at him and gulped. "I—haven't had a chance to..."

He frowned. "You haven't checked in or you don't have a place to stay?"

"I came straight from the plane..." She trailed off, looking more tired than she had before, probably at the idea of finding a room at this late hour.

He glanced at the bag at her feet. He'd assumed it was a large purse, but he realized it was probably an overnight bag. Without waiting to hear her protest, he slung the bag over his shoulder and pulled her to her feet, starting toward the mall entrance.

"Where are we going?" She followed him.

Deciding she was tired enough to come with him regardless of whether he answered or not, he shushed her, pulling out his phone.

Greg answered on the second ring. Greg was the concierge in charge of keeping Andre happy, so when Andre called, he answered. So far, he hadn't had a problem fulfilling Andre's requests, and Andre hoped tonight would be the same, but considering his depleted bank account, he might be pushing his luck. As usual, however, Greg sounded courteous and ready to help. "Mr. Hawke. What can I do for you this evening?"

"Greg, I need a room. For a new staff member."

"Certainly, sir. What will your staff member's requirements be?" Greg had no doubt been anticipating this since Tony's departure.

"A queen room should serve. With a study area."

"And when will you be needing it?"

Andre eyed the woman stumbling along beside him. She needed a room sooner rather than later. She was dead on her feet. His financial position was well known at the hotel, however, and he couldn't risk being too demanding. "Could we get her something tomorrow?"

"Absolutely. Shall I phone you when it is ready?"

"Thank you, Greg." He hung up, pushing open the door to the resort. Maybe it would be better to keep her close until he had a full commitment from her anyway.

### Chapter Two

Stacey rolled over and stretched, feeling the cool rustle of Egyptian cotton sheets against her body. Startled, she sat up, looking around. She remembered the coffee shop with Andre. He'd called someone, asked them about a room for her. She couldn't remember what the upshot of it had been, but she did remember him bringing her to the hotel and showing her to a room before he left. _I was really out of it._

Her bag sat at the foot of the bed, and she was still fully dressed. "Jeez, I must've been shattered to go to bed without changing."

She frowned, remembering Andre's job offer. Public relations. A press secretary. It wasn't something she'd ever imagined herself doing, but since that story two months before that might have run if a sharp-eyed editor hadn't double-checked her facts, she'd found it more and more difficult to sell her stories. Freelance reporting was an unforgiving career without room for error, especially when you were dealing with celebrities with enough money to sue at the slightest provocation. She pulled her knees up to her chest, hugging herself. Maybe this was what she needed.

Especially if it came with a perk like this room. She gave the floor-to-ceiling windows an appreciative look, located a remote and pressed it so the blackout curtains slid back. She let out a low whistle at the view of the Las Vegas skyline in the bright morning sunlight. "Nice."

She needed a shower. The clothes she wore stuck to her skin, and she could feel the grime of travel hanging about her like a cloud. She thought of the kid in the Peanuts cartoons and smiled. "Pigpen. That'll never do." She threw back the covers and stripped to her bra and panties, deciding to carry her bag into the bathroom with her.

The bathroom wasn't immediately visible, so she opened the bedroom door and stepped out into the short hall. Halfway down, she paused and sniffed. The scent of coffee pervaded the place. She shook her head. This place might be magnificent, but an automatic coffeemaker would be too much to ask. A small dining area opened to her left and she glanced in, pausing in amazement. A carafe of steaming coffee sat on the table, a folded newspaper and a couple of covered dishes beside it. She frowned. Room service? Without her having to even answer the door? A sudden terrifying suspicion filled her. _Oh my God._ She turned, ready to race back into the bedroom, but instead she ran directly into Andre, dressed in a robe and looking as if he'd just gotten out of the shower.

For an anguished moment, she froze, feeling his arms come up in an instinctive motion to steady her. She couldn't look at him, her face burning with embarrassment.

"I ordered enough for two."

She stole a look up at his amused expression and gritted her teeth, but then his grin softened, and she became aware that his hands were on the bare skin of her waist, the only thing between them her underwear and his robe...and she couldn't look away from his violet eyes, a sudden rush of desire overcoming her embarrassment.

She'd dropped her bag when she ran into him, and her hands moved of their own accord to his arms, feeling the definition of his muscular biceps through the material of the robe. He didn't look this muscular on stage. _I guess he_ is _hiding something up his sleeves._ The thought made her smile, which fortunately broke the mood.

He grinned as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. "Good morning." He stepped away from her, letting his hands linger just a moment longer before sliding away reluctantly.

"What—" She broke off and fought for control. Finally gaining it, she focused on him. "What are you doing here?"

"It's my suite."

" _Your_ suite?" She gulped, feeling idiotic. "Oh God. Of course it is." Hot blood flooded her face and she swallowed hard. "I—I didn't think...I mean, I wasn't... I'm really sorry. I just need to shower—"

"Go ahead." He picked up the newspaper. "Then I'd like you to join me for breakfast."

She fled the room, slammed the bathroom door behind her and locked it. She immediately felt silly. He hadn't really done anything wrong. _She_ was the one who'd assumed the suite was hers. Guilt overcame her. Had he slept on the couch so she could have the bed? God, she was such an idiot.

And this was a marvelous bathroom. Sunken whirlpool tub, sauna/shower, separate toilet and double marble sinks. She wished she had time for a bath but opted for a quick shower instead. She carefully applied her makeup and dressed in the dark red wrap dress she'd packed. She stepped back and examined her reflection with approval. The dress flattered her curves and showed just enough cleavage to be interesting without being too distracting. Taking a deep breath, she turned to the bathroom door. Time to face the music.

He wasn't in the dining area or the living room. She noted the bedroom door was shut. He must be dressing. She felt a twinge of mixed disappointment and relief, which she quickly shook off, deciding to distract herself with a cup of coffee. He had said he'd ordered enough for two. She poured a steaming cup and took a sip just as the bedroom door opened.

Andre emerged, looking casually handsome in jeans and a white t-shirt with the logo for a Las Vegas bar on it. The shirt was just tight enough to accentuate the muscles of his chest and upper arms. He wasn't exactly what Stacey would call brawny, but he was well built in a wiry sort of way.

She hadn't noticed the sheaf of papers in his hands until he tossed them on the table. "There you go."

"Pardon?" She raised her eyebrows over her coffee cup.

"The agreement for employment." He nodded toward the papers. "Unless you've got something better going."

"Better?" She snorted. "As you've already discovered, my career is at a standstill. And if you're not going to give me the story I came for, it's likely to remain that way. But why would you trust me enough to hire me?"

"I keep asking myself that same question." He uncovered one of the dishes on the table and plucked out a danish, turning to contemplate her. "I keep coming back to instinct. You're a beautiful, talented woman and you can do more with that than you have been. I'm willing to give you that opportunity, so why wouldn't I trust you?"

His seemingly naïve logic took her breath away. She shook her head. "Because I came here to get a story. I'm a journalist, not a public relations babysitter." She frowned at the paperwork. "Is there some magic in here that'll stop me from getting my story and running with it? I could use the job to do it."

He swallowed the bite of danish and motioned at the contract. "Standard non-disclosure agreement. You betray me and I'll ruin you."

The cool tone he uttered the words in chilled her. He could do it, too. His career was on the way up while hers was falling rapidly. Why shouldn't she hitch herself onto his star? It wasn't a particularly odious job. She could do it easily. But she'd be tying herself down. She wouldn't enjoy the same freedom she had as a sensational journalist flying from one coast to another, writing stories and selling them to the highest bidding tabloid. And she wouldn't suffer the same bouts of conscience every time she sold a story, either. She realized abruptly why his offer was so tempting.

_It's honest work. I haven't done that in a while._ She faced him. "The only way this will work is if you tell me everything."

"Understood." He took another bite of pastry.

"I mean everything." She glared to make him understand how serious she was. "Anything that happens, anything that's going to come up in a press conference. I have to know about it first, whether it's personal or not. If you've gotten a woman pregnant or contracted gonorrhea, you tell me."

He made a face. "I'm very careful about _that_ sort of thing."

"Right. Well, nobody's perfect." She studied the papers, flipping through them. Then she looked around for a pen, scanned the last page and signed, feeling as if she'd let go of a weight that had been pulling her down for a while. "Fine. The first thing we have to get through is this thing with your brother. Tell me."

"You don't waste time, do you?" He flipped through the pages. "But you forgot the nondisclosure agreement."

"I'm not signing it."

He leveled his dark blue gaze on her. "Then we don't have a deal."

As he turned away, she spoke. "You and I both know that agreement doesn't mean shit. If I broke it, the damage would be done. I could have a book published and on the market, telling every secret you've got and you wouldn't be able to stop me."

He wheeled around, his eyes dark and angry. "I won't work with someone who won't agree not to sell my secrets."

"I won't be bound and gagged. Or put in a trance." She folded her arms over her breasts. "You're big on trust. You have my word. I will not disclose anything I ever learn about you or your magic while I am employed by you without your permission."

"Then why won't you sign the agreement?" He waved the paper at her. "No one else has ever had a problem with it. I'm offering you a real chance to do something positive with your life and you're snubbing your nose at it. Why?"

"Because I'm not going to be another magic trick you can pull out of your hat. You can't own me because I'm not for sale." She paused, taking a deep breath. "You're right. This is a good chance for me. I know my career's in the toilet and I put it there. I made a mistake. I don't have any intention of making another one. Standard confidentiality is already covered in the contract for the job. I signed that. I don't intend to go above and beyond that just so you can be certain I'm in your pocket."

His frown deepened and she nodded. "I can see this won't work. I'll get my things and be out of your hair in five minutes."

As she started toward the bathroom where she'd left her bag, she heard him slap the papers on the table. "You're maddening, you know that, right?"

She glanced over her shoulder. "That could be said for everyone in this room."

Did she see a ghost of a smile? She couldn't be certain, but then he shrugged. "Fine."

"Fine?" The single word made no sense.

"Fine! Get back here. We have work to do." He glared at the table, then looked back at her. "Don't you dare make me regret this."

His voice had lost its threatening edge, and she sensed a plea in it. _Don't make me wrong about you. I don't want to be betrayed again._ Her heart gave an extra thump and she stepped back into the room. "He really hurt you, didn't he?"

His eyes narrowed. "We need to get to work, not talk about our feelings."

"And you say _I'm_ the one with trust issues." She sat across from him, pulling out her computer.

He hesitated a second longer, then dropped into his seat, his expression still grumpy. "You do have trust issues. What if I asked you about your relationship with _your_ family? From what I gather, it wasn't the best, was it?"

Startled by the revelation that he'd delved into more of her life than just her professional work, she frowned. "My family is off limits."

"But you expect me to tell you all about mine." He grinned wickedly. "Tit for tat. Let's play. I tell you something personal, you tell me something."

"No." She shook her head. "You made your family part of your professional life. Mine isn't."

"Don't you work with your sister?" He raised his eyebrows, blue eyes studying her. "In fact, you've taken care of her for the past couple of years, haven't you?"

_Bella._ Her heart squeezed with an almost maternal instinct. Bella was nineteen now, easily of age to take care of herself, but Stacey wondered how her sister would react when she called to tell her she wouldn't be returning to New York anytime soon. Bella would be fine, though. She could keep the apartment and find some part-time temp jobs to help pay her way while she continued school. Stacey cleared her throat, opening her laptop and keeping her gaze averted from his. "Bella's a big girl. She can take care of herself now."

"Maybe." He nodded. "If she's anything like you, she can. But that begs the question of _why_ you were taking care of her at all. I know your parents are alive and well and you have a younger brother in high school not more than an hour away from Manhattan. What's up with all that?"

"And I know your father is alive and well and living in Montana." She glared at him. "Tit for tat. Shall we get to work?"

"Touché." He seemed undisturbed, and he leaned across the table. "You'll tell me, you know. Eventually you'll trust me enough to tell me all about it. Do you know why?"

She shook her head, her eyes caught by his. God, this man knew how to get under her skin. Under her skin, into her mind...as if he were determined to own her, as if her determination to hold him off was just fuel for his determination to _have_ her. It was enough to make her grit her teeth against a wild desire to give into him.

His smile was confident. "Because I'm going to tell you all my secrets. And when I do, you'll want to give me something back."

He sat back, a satisfied expression on his face, and motioned toward her computer. "So let's get started."

Cursing him inwardly, she forced her attention to the work she knew needed to be done. True to his word, he told her about the evening he'd come back from dining with the producer of the show to find his brother gambling and drinking. Stacey could see the pain and concern beneath his cool exterior. She didn't mention it, however, knowing he would end up turning the conversation onto her. He might be right about getting her to tell him her secrets, but she wasn't ready for that. Not yet.

She kept her guard up throughout the morning, not giving him any opening until they were nearly done with the press release about his brother's dismissal as an agent. Stacey had agreed to keep the scandal out of it, but she couldn't resist pointing out to him that any press could be twisted to be good press.

"Not for my brother." Andre's expression was determined.

"You're very forgiving. How long had he been stealing from you, anyway?"

"I didn't say I forgive him. I haven't. Not sure if I will. But he's my brother and I won't let this ruin him."

"Is this a blood is thicker than water thing?"

He sat back in his chair. "What about your siblings?"

"My sister's a sweet kid. My brother's a bastard." She turned her attention to her notes.

"You don't like him or he's literally a bastard?"

She snorted, smiling a little. "Literally. I don't really know him, so I don't know if I like him or not. My mom had an affair."

"But your parents are still together? Did they work it out?"

She made an impatient movement, scattering the signed contract he'd set on the table. "Maybe I should have had _you_ sign a nondisclosure agreement. Or a non-nosy one."

"That would never work. Being nosy is in my nature." His eyes twinkled.

"I get that." She stood. "Look, I've got enough to work with here—"

"One more question." He studied her, holding his coffee mug in his hands.

What was it about him that put her so off her game? She straightened the papers she'd been making notes on and snapped her notebook computer shut before answering. "What is it?"

Her unfriendly tone made him smile instead of flinch. "You mentioned you saw one of my early shows. The Clemson Theater in New York."

She hadn't expected that. "Yeah. That was the one."

"What did you think?"

This time the question stopped her cold. She ceased shuffling the papers and met his gaze, almost reluctantly. Her carefully guarded memory of that last trick he'd performed and the way his eyes had met hers for a moment returned to her with a jolt. Of course he didn't remember that moment. She'd been one in a crowd, just another girl. But he'd been and _was_ Andre Hawke, a man who could make even the toughest of disbelievers think again.

_Or believe._ She yanked her gaze away, putting her computer into her bag. "It was great." Her voice sounded a little shaky to her own ears. "I enjoyed—"

His phone rang, interrupting her. He held up one hand. "Just a sec." After a brief conversation, he hung up. "Your room is ready."

"You mean I don't get to stay here with you? Bummer." She rolled her eyes, happy with the change of subject. "Where'd you sleep last night, anyway?"

"Couch." He motioned at the living area. "It's not super comfortable, so I'll be glad to send you your own way tonight."

"Not to mention that a boy your age needs his privacy." She gathered her notes. "How do I get to this room you mentioned?"

"Bellman is on his way to take your bag. And don't worry about the tip. I'll take care of it." He touched her shoulder and she glanced up, raising her eyebrow. His next words surprised her...again. "I'm looking forward to seeing what you can do."

_Damn it._ She could get lost in those eyes and that velvety voice. He wasn't going to work his magic on her, though. She straightened her spine. "Don't get your hopes up too high. I've been writing trash for so long, I may not be able to do anything else."

His enigmatic smile was her only answer, for the bell sounded at that moment. He escorted her to the door, carrying her bag for her. When he opened it, he spoke quietly to the bellman, then turned back to her. "When you get the press release ready, email it to me. And perhaps you could join me for lunch here so we could go over it?"

"Sure. If you don't need it before that." She frowned, a little confused. He seemed so in control of everything. As if no one would dare cross the Great Andre before he was good and ready. But he was just a man, after all. Not a wizard, no matter how great an illusionist he might be. If she'd found out a good day and a half before, his secret was not safe much longer. Her sources were good, but they weren't _that_ good.

"We won't. Schedule a press conference for this evening right before the show. I'll let you know where." He closed the door.

She shrugged and followed the bellman down the corridor to the elevator.

Her room was in an older part of the hotel. Much smaller and less luxurious than Andre's suite, it was nonetheless very comfortable and adequate for her needs. An arrangement of fresh flowers was, she suspected, there at Andre's request. Was he just being thoughtful or did he have ulterior motives? And what might those motives be? She ran a finger over a silky lily petal, remembering the moment in his suite when his hands had lingered on her skin. She considered letting her imagination run wild with the fantasy, but knew she couldn't afford it. She worked with him now, and she suspected Andre was far too intelligent to mix business with pleasure.

She forced herself to concentrate on what needed to be done. Her decision to take this job didn't just affect her. Bella might be technically an adult, but she was still dependent on Stacey. If Stacey wasn't going to return to New York right away, she needed to let Bella know. Maybe she could find a roommate, take a temp job for a while. If this became more permanent, they could figure it out then.

She set up her computer and called Bella. "Hey."

"Hey, yourself. How'd it go last night?"

"Huh?" Stacey started, remembering her earlier fantasy about Andre.

"The show. The magician...what's his name?"

"Andre. Andre Hawke." She took a deep breath. How _had_ it gone? Too early to tell.

"C'mon, fangirl, dish. Is he as hot as he looks in his pictures? I can't remember that show you're always talking about. Guess he didn't make as big an impression on me. But more important, did you get your story?"

"Not...exactly."

"Oh my God, you slept with him."

"No!" Bella's accusation shocked Stacey, more because it was so factually stated than because it was close to her real fantasy. Who wouldn't fantasize about Andre Hawke after spending an hour or two in his company? But Bella had jumped to that conclusion from thousands of miles away without any real idea of what Andre's magnetic presence was like. "Why would you say that?"

Bella snorted. "Because you're a total groupie. You've hero-worshipped that guy ever since you first saw him. And why else would you not get the story you went after? Anyway, are you coming back soon? I've been looking at the temp jobs, but none of them are half as interesting as working for you."

Now was the time. Stacey squelched her big sister protective instincts. It would do Bella good to survive on her own for a change. By the time she was Bella's age, she'd been supporting both of them. Bella rarely even went to the grocery store alone. "That's the thing. I'm not exactly coming back."

"You're not coming back?" Bella sounded incredulous. "What? Why? Did you find another story?"

"No. Not exactly." Stacey sighed. "It's just that he offered me a job. Public relations."

" _Who_ offered you a job? The magician? You're kidding me."

" _Andre_ offered me a job, and I'm not kidding. Salary and benefits and everything."

"You've always said you don't want a job like that." Bella's voice was understandably confused. "You've always said you prefer the freedom of—"

"Yeah, well, look where my 'freedom' got me." Stacey bit off the words. "I'm next door to unemployed and destitute." She paused and took a deep breath. "Look, I'm sorry. I'll send you a check as soon as I can, but could you do me a favor and pack up some clothes and send them out this way? Jeans and whatever I've got that even vaguely looks like something you'd wear in Vegas."

Bella finally broke several seconds of silence. "You're not sleeping with him... Is he nice or something?"

"Nice?" Would she call him nice? Would anyone call Andre nice? The word didn't seem to fit, at least not as well as so many others: mysterious, gorgeous, sexy, magnetic, charismatic... "I'm not...I mean, I guess so, yes."

"Are you sure you didn't sleep with him?"

"Of course not!" Stacey let her outrage slip into her voice. This was getting far more complicated than the simple conversation she'd anticipated having. "Look, could you just send the clothes here? I'll email you the address."

"Fine." Bella had changed from shocked to sulky. With a sharp click, she hung up. Stacey looked at the phone blankly. What the hell? Her sister could act childish at times, but she'd always been grateful for what Stacey had done for her. Was it too much to expect her to be happy Stacey had found permanent employment, especially if it enabled Stacey to continue to support her?

Halfway through his morning workout, Andre's doorbell rang. He opened the door, knowing it would be Mattie and Bobby. He'd expected them ever since his email half an hour before. He motioned them inside and reached for a towel. "What's up?"

Mattie's unplucked eyebrows shot up. She refused to spend money on spas and salons, but she was somehow more attractive than most of the women he'd dated who spent a great deal of money and time on their appearances. Mattie was smart, beautiful, loyal and one of his best employees, and she wasn't going to take any crap from anyone, including Andre Hawke. "You're kidding me. Who _is_ this woman? She's on the payroll now? I thought you just wanted to sleep with her."

"He did." Bobby helped himself to a water from the minibar.

"You did?" Mattie swung around to glare at Andre. "You slept with her and now she's on the payroll. I guess _that_ at least makes some sort of sense."

"I _didn't_ , not that it's anybody's business." Andre whacked the back of Bobby's head and took the water bottle from him. He looped a fluffy towel around his neck and uncapped the bottle to take a long sip.

Unperturbed, Bobby plucked a pack of almonds from the bar. "Fine. Whatever. You don't usually do much sleeping when a beautiful woman spends the night in your suite, I guess."

"Jesus, Andre." Mattie shook her head. "Haven't you gotten fucked by enough employees this month?"

"Drop it." He'd had enough. Mattie and Bobby were his oldest friends, but he wasn't going to let even them talk about Tony. That was between him and his brother.

Mattie looked a little uncomfortable, but she didn't back down. "Sorry. But seriously. You can't just hire someone like her. She'll dig up every secret you have and publish it. You'll be ruined."

"Relax, Matts." Bobby grinned at her, sucking the salt off an almond. "Don't you remember all those privacy agreements and shit we had to sign? And _we've_ known him forever." He gave Andre a satisfied look. "I'm sure Andre had someone like _her_ sign twice as many agreements."

Andre hesitated, uncomfortable. Mattie noticed and groaned. "Aw, shit. You're _kidding_ me." She shook her head. "And he's not even screwing her."

"She wouldn't sign it." It sounded weak in his own ears, but he refused to question his decision now. "I decided it wasn't necessary."

" _You_ decided?" She stomped to the door. "Fine. Just don't say I didn't warn you."

"Mattie." His voice stopped her in her tracks and she glanced back. He scrubbed his hands on the towel and held his right hand out to her. She took a half step back toward him, as if she were about to take his hand, and he passed his left palm over his right. It burst into flame and she started. He smiled, closing his hand, reopening it and offering her the lily that had appeared there. "How many of my secrets do _you_ know?"

She took the lily with a scornful look. "I'm not _her_. She's got magic of her own, and the sooner you realize that, the better off you'll be." And she flounced out of the room without another backward glance.

Bobby stood, looking amused. "She's got gypsy blood in her, you know. She half believes all this shit you do."

"Well, see if you can convince her Stacey isn't a danger." Andre wiped his hand on the towel again. He dropped into a chair across from his friend. Bobby was his best friend and only real confidante, now that Tony was out of the picture. _Some might think that was pitiful._ He'd picked up the kid at one of his earliest shows. A good eight years Andre's junior, Bobby idolized the magician. Over the past few years, they had grown close. Almost as close as brothers. _Almost._ Andre winced a little but he kept it inside. He wouldn't discuss his problems with Tony...not even with Bobby. And Bobby wouldn't want him to.

He'd never expected Bobby and Mattie to hook up. Mattie was older, but not by much, and she'd been with Andre longer. Andre had always respected the woman who could do everything from manage his bookings to keeping his checkbook balanced. And she hadn't looked at him twice as far as considering sleeping with _him_. But when they brought Bobby onto the staff, it hadn't taken long before the two became an item. Their relationship had lasted the years, probably because Bobby idolized her even more than he did Andre.

He laughed at Andre now. "Are you sure she's no danger?" He bit an almond in half and examined the insides like a surgeon, chewing thoughtfully. "I mean, she _does_ seem to have some sort of magic. I didn't think you'd trust _anybody_ again after Tony, but this woman shows up with ulterior motives from the get-go and before the night is out, you're offering her a job."

Andre considered. Bobby had always been able to make him think twice. He didn't resent his younger friend's intrusions as much as he did Mattie's hot-blooded accusations. "That's just it. She never made a secret of why she was here. I mean, she wasn't backstage more than a minute before she laid her cards on the table. I respect that." He took a swig of the water.

Bobby raised one eyebrow and stood, popping the other half of almond into his mouth. "I'll work on Mattie, but don't count on much."

"Sure." Andre remained in the seat he'd taken, looking at the blank wall on the other side of the kitchen. "Thanks." He stayed there as Bobby left the room, thinking of Mattie's words. _She's got magic of her own, and the sooner you realize that, the better off you'll be._

### Chapter Three

Stacey answered the knock on the door expecting Andre, although it was half an hour until time to meet him in his suite. Instead, Mattie stood there, her arms crossed over her chest in a defensive posture. "Oh, perfect." Stacey grabbed the other woman and pulled her inside.

"What?" Mattie looked startled by the greeting.

"I need someone to read this press release before I give it to Andre. You know him, you can tell me what he'll think." Stacey repressed her anxiety with difficulty. She'd agonized over the press release more than she'd ever done over a story. _Probably because I'm not meant for this kind of crap._ She shoved the thought away and pushed Mattie into the desk chair. When the woman looked up at her with her impressive green eyes, Stacey motioned at the screen. "Read! Please."

Her eyes narrowing at the tacked on polite interjection, Mattie turned her attention to the screen. Within a few moments, she appeared to be engrossed. Stacey paced, nervous. Maybe the other woman was finding plenty to object to, or maybe she had spotted errors Stacey couldn't possibly understand, having been there for such a short time. However, she finally sat back and turned her luminous eyes on Stacey. "It's good."

"Oh, thank God." Stacey sank into the soft chair next to the desk. "I was worried. I didn't know Tony at all and I barely know Andre. But this will work?"

"It's plausible." Mattie nodded. "They're devoted to family, so yeah. A family emergency is plausible. Andre, unable to go himself because of obligations here, would definitely send Tony home to deal with it. And hold the position open for him."

"Oh." Stacey considered. "Is that why he's not hiring a new agent? To make it look like Tony could come back?"

Mattie shut her mouth with a snap, her expression closing up at the same time. She stood. "I need to go."

Stacey stared at her back as she started to the door. She stood. "Mattie. You can trust me. I swear." Something drew the words from her, but she felt how right they were as they hung in the air between her and the other woman.

Mattie turned, very slowly. "Can I? Really? Do you love him?"

"Love him?" Stacey bit her lip and wished whatever elves had provided her last words would resurface. She had no idea what the correct answer was.

Mattie took two steps toward her. "If you love him, I can trust you, at least as long as it lasts."

"Oh." The syllable felt silly in her mouth, confronted by this passionate creature. She remembered what Andre had said about assumptions being made if he were seen taking her to the suite where she'd spent the night. "I—uh..."

"I didn't think so." The woman looked disappointed. "You don't actually know what I mean, even. _I_ love him, Bobby loves him. He _can_ trust us. For some reason _he_ trusts you, though." She shook her head. "And you don't love him."

"I just met him." Stacey shrugged. "I admire him and what he's accomplished." _I think he's sexy and I'm actively lusting after him..._ She shook off the thought. "Maybe you need to give me a chance to get to know him."

"I'd feel more confident if I thought a woman like you knew _how_ to love." Mattie turned on her heel, but she paused with her hand on the doorknob and glanced over her shoulder, her gaze shining with a prescient light. "I think you will love him. I just hope it's not too late by then." She smiled a little and swept out.

Stacey stared after her, then shook her head. "Holy shit." It was the only thing she could think to say in the wake of the devoted woman who'd just left the room.

Andre greeted her at the door of his suite. "Lunch isn't here yet."

"Did you read the press release?" Stacey felt certain she couldn't eat until after she'd found out what he thought.

He waved her question away, peering down the hall. "I'm hungry. Maybe we should just go out."

"Jeez, stop thinking about your stomach for a second." She brushed past him into the suite and set her computer up on the table. "We've got work to do."

"Work? What do you want to work on? The press release was fine. You scheduled the press conference for this afternoon, right?"

"Yes. But we still need to go over some stuff." She faced him. "I need to be sure I know everything that happened. With Tony."

His face closed down. He had no interest in telling her anything more. But she wasn't going to accept anything less. "Look, I realize you don't want your brother to be hurt by any of this."

"You're right about that." He dropped into a seat at the table, picking up a pack of cards and beginning to shuffle them idly.

"The best way to make certain of that is to be sure I don't get blindsided out there." She motioned vaguely at the rest of the world. "This morning you told me he gambled away the advance the theater gave you. I don't know how much that was or why he did it, though."

He continued shuffling the cards, passing them from one hand to the other so that they almost floated in midair. She looked away, remembering seeing herself suspended in midair. How had he done that, anyway? Not to mention putting her in a trance. How was that accomplished?

He paused, leaning forward, the cards held in one hand. "If I take your word that none of this will ever get out, can I trust you?"

"I thought you already did. Mattie thinks it's misplaced trust, though." She met his eyes. "And yes. I give you my word."

He shook his head. "I don't know why I do trust you, honestly. You're a pulp journalist without integrity. Why would I trust _you_?" The question wasn't intended for her to answer so she stayed silent. He dropped the cards on the table. "My brother didn't just steal from me. He's an addict. Drugs. Alcohol. You name it. He fell off the wagon. I guess it's been going on for a while, but it got out of control that night."

She blinked. "Seriously?"

"Seriously." He fanned the cards over the table with his long fingers. "It started a long time ago. He was just a kid. Fell in with a bad crowd. I tried to get him out of it, but I couldn't do anything about it until he was ready. He came back to us, though. I thought he was going to be okay." He shrugged and looked up at her. "I was wrong."

"So you feel responsible."

"Yeah. My dad was gone by that time. I'd sort of stepped into that role, and I felt responsible for my brother. I feel responsible for him now. Kind of like you do for your sister." His gaze was bland but pointed.

She considered this. "And your brother hasn't been sent home, has he? You put him in rehab somewhere."

"Close to home, to keep up the illusion." He flipped a card over. The Ace of Hearts. She watched as he flipped it back over and idly turned another one. The Ace of Hearts again. He continued down the line, flipping each one over with the acumen of a blackjack dealer, and each card was the same. Then he turned them all over at the same time to show each was a different card, but Stacey couldn't find the Ace of Hearts among them.

"Where—?" She looked at him in wonder. He motioned at her computer and she saw with amazement that the Ace lay on her keyboard. "Neat." She smiled at him, but the weariness in his eyes worried her. As she reached across the table to hand him back the card, she lay her hand on his. "Look, we'll keep it out of the press. I don't have much influence anymore, but I'll figure it out if it comes to it."

He turned his hand over, his slender fingers closing over hers. "Thank you." He squeezed her hand and their eyes locked for a moment. Then he drew away, and she cleared her throat, looking back at the computer screen. _I think you will love him. I just hope it's not too late._

The doorbell rang, and she stood, startled, hoping it wasn't Mattie. Although maybe Mattie would like to witness her prediction coming true. Wouldn't she think the rapid beat of Stacey's heart certainly meant that it had happened? _Already._ Stacey winced, shaking off the creeping feeling of helplessness. _I'm not in love with him, I'm just falling for him. And I won't let that happen._

"You okay?" He stood, stretching as the doorbell sounded again. "Probably our lunch." He grinned, seeing through her with the same disturbing tendency he'd shown earlier. "Afraid it's Mattie?"

She snorted, tossing her head. "Of course not. Why would I be afraid of her?"

He shrugged, sticking his hands in his pockets and swaggering down the hall, pausing to open the door. As he did, he paused, a huge smile on his face. "Oh hey. We were just talking about you."

Stacey had turned to close her computer, but at his words, she whirled, knocking her computer across the table and almost onto the tile floor. She glanced up and saw Andre watching her with amusement. He stepped back, holding the door for someone...and a room service waiter rolled a cart in. "Where would you like it, sir?"

"Dining room will be fine." Andre gestured down the hall.

Stacey quickly rescued her computer and placed it on the counter. She stood out of the way as the waiter bustled about pouring ice tea into glasses and placing condiments next to their covered plates. Andre came to stand next to her, close enough so she could smell his spicy aftershave. She took a deep breath, enjoying the scent at the same time as she calmed her nerves. At least, she would have liked to calm her nerves, but even as she made the attempt, he slid his hand down her arm and laced his fingers through hers, running his thumb over the backs of her knuckles. "You suck," she muttered under cover of the clash of the cutlery the waiter placed on the glass-topped table.

He chuckled. "On occasion."

She couldn't help smiling at the double entendre he'd made of her words. "You know I could sue you for sexual harassment?" Her voice trembled a little as his caress sent little rivulets of pleasure through her. He flashed her a smile that said he really didn't think he was in any danger and released her hand to sign the waiter's bill. "Thank you, sir." The waiter actually bowed and backed out of the room before turning to let himself out of the suite.

They took their seats on opposite sides of the table. He flipped his napkin open and laid it in his lap. "I hope you like club sandwiches. I took the liberty of ordering for you."

"Who doesn't like club sandwiches?" She took the cover off the plate and looked with satisfaction at the creation of toasted artisan bread, crispy bacon and deli-sliced ham and turkey topped with fresh lettuce and tomato. "This looks fantastic."

"It is. I have it every day. Well, almost. Except when I have meetings." He made a face and took a bite of his sandwich.

"You don't like meetings."

His lips curved and he chewed for a second. "Not really," he finally replied. "Not the kind I have these days, anyway. Once upon a time, it was fun, meeting with new people who could push my career further along. Now it feels like everybody wants a piece of me. It's gotten old."

"You're pretty young to think like that."

"How old do you think I am?" He wiped his mouth.

This was one thing she hadn't thought to look up about him. "Younger than me, probably." She considered. He did look young, but as if he'd seen a lot of the world. She remembered her grandmother talking about someone having "old eyes". This was what she'd meant, then. "Twenty-seven? Maybe twenty-eight."

"I'm flattered." He picked up his sandwich again. "I'm thirty-two."

"Really?" She shook her head. "You're actually two years older than me, then."

"Imagine that." He grinned. "But we didn't finish our game."

"What game?" She blinked.

"Tit for tat. Remember? I told you about my brother's drug problem. Tell me about your parents."

It wasn't a request, but she hesitated a second, examining her feelings before replying. She sensed something more than idle curiosity behind his demand. He honestly wanted to know her better. The realization warmed her a little, but she chose here words carefully. "I told you my mother had an affair."

"You mentioned it."

"My parents never really got over it. Of course, they were never really happy with each other. They fought constantly most of my life, it seems like, but after Michael was born, it got really ugly." She winced a little, remembering, and he covered her hand with his. She took a deep breath. "I don't know why they didn't just divorce. I remember wishing they would, wishing it could all just be over already. It got so no matter how much they hated each other, I hated _them_ so much more." She pulled her hand away from his, turning an almost angry glare on him. "I didn't want to live with them any longer than I had to. And I knew I had to get Bella out of that environment. Do you know what it does to you, living with that much hate?"

"What about your brother?"

She looked away, feeling guilty. "What about him?"

"How old was he when you left?"

"Little. Elementary school, I guess."

"And you haven't kept up with him?" His voice was gentle.

She swept her gaze back at him, searching his expression for judgment. "No. I haven't. Because it would mean keeping in touch with my parents, and I swore once I had Bella out of there, I wouldn't look back. And I haven't."

Silence fell between them. Finally he leaned across the table. "So tell me why you're scared of Mattie."

She blinked, startled and grateful at the same time for the change in conversation. "I'm not scared of her...exactly." _Scared she's right._

He tilted his head doubtfully and she laughed. "Okay, a little bit in awe, maybe. But not scared."

"You're not scared of much, are you?" He considered her for a moment. "Except heights."

She shivered. "Don't remind me. I'll get mad at you again."

"So you'd forgiven me?" He inclined his head. "I'm grateful."

"Don't be. I didn't say I'd forgiven you, just that I'm not mad anymore. Don't you _ever_ try that with me again." She snapped a chip in two. "Besides, I know there's a trick."

He leaned back in his chair. "And yet, an entire auditorium saw you fly. And you yourself saw the instant replay of it." He looked pleased. "I assume you didn't _see_ a trick."

"But you insist I was never in any danger."

"You weren't." He leaned forward again, reaching for her hand. "And you never will be with me."

She drew away, uncomfortable with the tingle his fingers made on her skin. "Good to know. But about the press release. I wonder if we shouldn't come a little closer to the truth with it."

"How do you mean?" He plucked a stray chip from the scraps of his sandwich.

For answer, she stood, reaching for her computer. "I'll email you in half an hour."

"You can't do it here?" He popped the chip into his mouth.

"I need to concentrate and you're...very distracting." She tore her eyes away from the sensuous curve of his mouth, her face inexplicably hot all of a sudden.

If he understood what she meant by distracting, he gave no indication, simply rising to walk her to the door with great courtesy. As she started through, however, he touched her arm. "Stacey?"

"Yeah?" Her heart thudded at the touch and she hoped her eyes didn't betray her as she looked at him.

He gave her arm a little squeeze and released her. "Welcome to the team."

She nodded, unable to find suitable words, and fled.

### Chapter Four

Andre stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over the dusk gathering in the Spring Mountains to the west. Soon, the darkness would be complete out there, falling in velvety softness outside the lights of the Vegas strip. Stacey would be there in a few minutes to prepare him for the press conference he'd scheduled immediately before his show.

_Stacey._ He closed his eyes against the impressive scene in front of him. He couldn't explain the way he'd taken her in. As Mattie had pointed out, he had every reason _not_ to trust her and very little reason _to_ trust her. And yet, the straightforward way she'd approached him about the interview she'd started out wanting had impressed him. It would have been easy enough for a woman as beautiful as she was to play him a little, try to worm her way into his confidence. He didn't think she'd go so far as to seduce him for what she wanted— although the idea sparked his interest, and she certainly could have. But she hadn't.

The file of articles Mattie had collected convinced him of more than just her skills as a reporter, too. The interviews she conducted were thorough, and her instincts seemed to be on target. But he'd read between the lines, something he did often as part of his own job. He could see something like personal growth in her writing, enough to intrigue him and convince him there was more to her than a tabloid reporter. By the time Andre stepped out into the audience and stopped beside her seat, he'd known he was going to offer her the public relations job.

His own instincts had never failed him, so why the doubts now? She'd done an excellent job with the media release, and she was surprisingly easy to work with. Almost too easy. He liked having her around, enjoyed her smile, and when he touched her skin, he could feel her energy. Earlier, when he'd asked her for her impressions of the early show she'd seen, he'd spotted a vulnerability in her that he hadn't expected. Something about his early show had touched her, and that knowledge was strangely compelling.

He opened his eyes. That was the problem. He was attracted to her, but not in a way he'd ever been attracted to a woman before. If it were a simple sexual attraction, he could overcome it in order to continue working with her. But though her beauty was hardly the least of what he liked about her, it went far beyond that, and he worried that working with her would only deepen his desire for her.

And if he were wrong about her and she betrayed him? The thought made him grit his teeth.

The doorbell rang and he composed himself, putting on the same face he used for his shows. The charm was part of his magic, and he had long ago manufactured an illusion of what the rest of the world expected to see from him. He opened the door and faced her without revealing any of the inner turmoil.

"Ready?" She tilted her chin in the way he admired.

He let a grin spread across his face, as if he hadn't a care in the world. "Ready."

After introducing herself to the press who'd gathered in the little meeting room downstairs in the resort, Stacey explained that Mr. Hawke had a short statement and that she would then answer any questions so that he could finish preparations for his show. She stepped away from the podium and Andre took her place. He didn't even glance at the notes she'd left for him, instead leaning on the podium and regarding the press with an earnest look. Stacey's hands clenched into anxious fists, but she made herself relax. Andre could handle an audience this size with no difficulty.

"Many of you have probably already heard that my brother has left the show." He looked down, his face shadowed with sadness she knew was genuine. She realized her idea to tell something close to the truth was a good one as Andre continued. "I am saddened to report that he is struggling with health issues that have plagued him most of his life."

"Health issues?" Mattie appeared at Stacey's elbow. "Was that your idea?"

"Hush." Stacey gave her a warning glare. The last thing she needed was a sharp-eared reporter listening in on and reporting the private exchange he'd overheard from side stage. She didn't know many of these journalists by more than reputation but she had a pretty good idea how far an entertainment reporter would go to get a story. She concentrated on the play of emotions on Andre's face, the gentle inflections in his tone as he spoke of his love and support both for and from his family. Glancing around the room, she could see no animosity or disrespect in the expressions of those around them...until her eye lit on a face on the far side of the room. _Shit_.

She must have made some sharp movement, because Mattie put a hand on her arm. "What?"

"Nothing." Stacey didn't have time to explain this situation to Mattie. Andre had finished his part of the evening's festivities. "It's fine. Get him out of here fast." As Andre turned to leave, she summoned a smile and stepped up to the podium. She waited until Mattie had ushered Andre out the door. Only then did she address the waiting reporters. "I'll take your questions now."

Every voice rang out, but one managed to carry above the rest, commanding her attention in spite of herself. "Larry Stevens from _The Biz,_ Stacey." When her eyes turned reluctantly to him, he smirked a little. "Maybe you remember me?"

"Yes, Larry." She kept her voice even. "You have a question?"

"More of a statement, actually."

"Well, it's not show and tell, Larry, and I don't have time for games." She started to turn away, but his voice called her back.

"Let me rephrase it as a question, then. I understand the police were summoned to the hotel in the early hours of the morning before Mr. Hawke's brother left. Did that have anything to do with Tony Hawkins's mystery illness?"

Bobby had been standing just behind her, but he must have taken a step forward because she could see him in her peripheral vision as she gave Larry her best condescending smile. "I'm not aware of the police being summoned, but I'm sure it's not an unusual circumstance at a Las Vegas casino, Larry."

A murmur of agreement greeted her answer and she would have turned away except for his voice riding over the general surge of chatter again. "A follow-up question, if I may." Again, she reluctantly turned her head toward him. Larry's presence demanded attention. As a colleague, she'd even admired that about him. As his target, however, she found it difficult to believe he'd ever seemed attractive in any way to her. Still, his status as a reporter for _The Biz_ gave him seniority over the other reporters in the room.

He glanced at his notebook, then back up. "Could you enlighten us on how long you've been with Mr. Hawke? Last I knew you were chasing down the next story, not spouting PR crap for a magician."

"Give it a rest, Larry." She turned her back firmly on him and answered several more questions about Andre and his family, closing with a plea for privacy for the family during a difficult time. She then managed to make it out the door with Bobby running interference for her.

In the hallway, she took a deep breath, realizing her hands were shaking. She was supposed to meet Andre in the theater, but she wanted to be sure she had collected her scattered nerve endings first. Dammit, why did Larry have to be there? Although she should have been happy for Andre that _The Biz_ had chosen to send one of its best reporters, she couldn't be happy that it was Larry. _Anyone else_ but him.

She turned toward the back corridor leading to the theater and jumped when Larry came around the corner. "Crap. Larry. What are you doing back here?"

"Looking for you, sweetness. You know I'm not letting you go until you give me the real story." He moved purposefully toward her, confident in his own skin. He had good reason to be. Tall and powerfully built, his sharp features classically handsome, Larry had always made a favorable impression on the female sex.

_Including me. Once._ Her skin grew hot at the memory. It wasn't her proudest hour, and she'd done everything she could to live it down.

"I just gave you the real story." She moved to get past him, but he reached out and snaked an arm around her waist, pulling her against him. "Dammit, Larry, let me go. I don't have time for this."

"That's not what you said in New York the last time we were there together. Or don't you remember?" Not waiting for an answer, he lowered his lips to hers.

A throat cleared behind her and she jumped, pushing Larry away violently enough to disentangle herself from him. Bobby stood a little way down the corridor, his expression bland except for a suspicious glint in his eyes. "Sorry." He glanced from one to the other. "He's waiting." The words were both reminder and demand, and Bobby disappeared down the hall toward the theater.

"You've got to go." Stacey turned away from him with renewed resolve. "I've got work to do and you've got a story to write."

"Jesus, who is this Hawke guy, anyway? Kid say's 'he's waiting' and you jump to." His eyes narrowed. "Are you sleeping with him? Is that why you're so protective?"

"Go away, Larry. You're boring me. And you're not getting anything else out of me." She strode past him and started down the hall again.

"You realize you just confirmed there's more to this story, don't you?" He didn't speak loudly, but his voice carried to her ears.

Refusing to acknowledge her slip, she waved over her shoulder and continued on her way.

Andre hadn't stopped pacing his dressing room since Bobby arrived to tell them what he'd witnessed in the corridor. He had seen the exchanged glances between Bobby and Mattie and knew what they thought, but his mind had gone down a different path entirely.

"You left her there?" He reached for the doorknob. "Jesus, Bobby. What if he was assaulting her?"

"Didn't look like an assault to me." Bobby shrugged.

But it was Mattie's voice of reason that brought him up short. "You know she wasn't being assaulted, Andre. She knew him, and that's why she told me to get you out." She shrugged. "I don't know what was going on between them when Bobby saw them, but I suspect Stacey can take care of herself."

He frowned, his hand falling from the knob. "I hope you know what you're talking about."

"It's not like it's not a public place," Bobby said.

Andre raised his eyebrow and might have argued the point that many of those back service corridors were hardly ever occupied, especially at this time of the evening, but at that moment a light tap sounded on the door, and he opened it, reaching outside to catch her hand and pull her inside. He stopped just short of putting his arms around her, searching her eyes for any sign of fear or discomfort. "Are you okay? Bobby said..."

"Yeah." She didn't look happy. "I think it's okay." She moved inside the room and waited until he'd closed the door behind her. "His name's Larry Stevens. He's an entertainment reporter, mostly for _The Biz._ I've known him for a while although I haven't seen him in over a year. I think he was in Britain for a while." She sank into a chair and Mattie handed her a bottle of water. She took an absent swig and turned to Andre. "I thought you'd told me everything."

"I did." He spread his hands, a classic magician gesture to indicate he had nothing up his sleeves. Bobby made a little movement, then stilled as she glared at him.

"What about the police? You failed to mention that tidbit." She turned her full attention back to Andre.

He hesitated. "It was nothing, really."

"They don't call the cops for nothing in Vegas, Andre. Private security handles most disturbances in casinos."

He sighed, resigned. "Tony got drunk, caused a little ruckus when he started losing. I wasn't around when it started, but when I got back to the resort, I was notified of it and managed to talk the police into letting us handle it privately."

"I imagine that took a lot of fast talking on your part." She made a face as if she had tasted something bad and took another gulp of water.

"Not really. Tony's a good guy, and the resort preferred to handle it privately as well. Thankfully the man Tony punched was an employee and not a guest." He shrugged, perching on a stool with a nonchalance he didn't feel.

She shook her head and stood, crossing the room to stand immediately in front of him, her cheeks flushed, her eyes glinting with anger. "Next time I say tell me everything, you better do it. This could've blown the whole thing out of the water. All it would've taken is a paper trail and Larry would have everything he needed." She jabbed him in the chest. "And you'd have no one to blame but yourself when he took you down right with your brother."

She stood close enough so he could smell her perfume and he imagined nuzzling the little hollow of her collarbone, kissing her neck just below her ear... He pulled himself out of the fantasy with difficulty. "Okay. I'm sorry."

At her dubious look, he spread his hands again. "It's all I can say. I guess I was still trying to protect him."

"From me?" She raised her eyebrows a tiny bit, and he shrugged.

"Yeah. From anybody that might hurt him."

"Great." She nodded. "Good. You go ahead and keep that up, then. Keep on protecting him, and you'll ruin yourself." She brushed past him and out the door, slamming it behind her.

He stared after her, a little stunned. "She is magnificent." He said it to himself, forgetting he had an audience. Mattie snorted and Bobby grinned, but they both—thank God—kept their comments to themselves.

### Chapter Five

Stacey stalked around the casino for half an hour, but she felt herself cooling down and getting more worried. Larry wasn't the type to let up when he felt there was more to the story, and he wasn't given to hero worship. Which made him the perfect entertainment reporter. He didn't have idols, so he never minded grinding other people's under his heel.

She paused beside a slot machine with Batman depicted across the top. "I didn't used to be a hero worshipper, either." She remembered walking through the casino with Andre. He'd grinned when the woman next to them hit the jackpot. _Management tends to blame me when things like that happen._ His eyes had sparkled with such mischief, she'd wondered if he could actually have had something to do with it.

_Bella was right. I really am a freaking fangirl._ She groaned inwardly, leaning on the slot machine, her mind rewinding to the first time she was in the same room with Andre Hawke...

"Who did you say this guy is?" Bella looked at the dingy exterior of the little theater dubiously.

Stacey glanced at the tickets. "Andre Hawke. He's a magician." She shrugged, her mind still on the story she'd turned in that morning. An actress with a drug habit had overdosed the night before. Her drama company thought they'd shut it up fast enough, but Stacey had nabbed the story along with photographs, thanks to one of her growing network of sources. The triumph of the editor's praise still rang in her ears. _You're going a long way if you keep this up, Stacey. And God help anyone who gets in your way._ Admittedly, Stacey had never really thought her career path would take her this route, but it seemed to be where the money was and she needed that if she was going to take care of Bella and cut off her dependence on her parents.

"What kind of magic?" Bella's petulant young voice interrupted her.

"Close up magic, I think, where you sort of gather around the stage and watch, try to catch him doing his sleight of hand stuff. Who cares?" Stacey laughed. "We're celebrating. The tickets were free, and I'll take you out for dinner after. C'mon, Bella, let's just have fun for a change."

"Never thought I'd hear _you_ say that." Bella shrugged and followed her into the theater. "But if we get mugged coming out of this place after dark, I'm blaming you."

The "theater" was more of a pit with a small table set up in the middle. But it was full, and Stacey's tickets were good ones, front row center. Andre Hawke commanded the little room from the moment he walked in. Stacey found herself admiring his showmanship, even with the simple card tricks, gypsy thread and chameleon silks. However, between the standard magic tricks, he performed a few truly extraordinary effects that she couldn't figure out to save her life. At the end of the show, he stood at the table folding a piece of paper and talking about the ancient art of origami. "This is called a houou," he said, holding up the beautiful long-tailed bird he'd crafted. "The Chinese call them fenghuang, and believe they once ruled over all other birds." He walked a slow circle around the table, displaying the bird. He paused in front of Stacey, kneeling and looking directly into her eyes. "You would call it a phoenix."

She caught her breath as he produced a lighter. His eyes flicked over to meet hers and he smiled a little. "Don't be scared." As he spoke, he lit the tail of the bird on fire and, still holding it flat on his palm, made a gentle motion above it. Stacey blinked, certain she'd seen the beautiful creature flap its wings. Her eyes widened as it undeniably rose into the air above his hand just before the flames engulfed it and it fell, turning to ash before it hit the ground.

Unable to contain her wonder, she leaned forward, looking at the small pile of ash on the floor. Andre still knelt before her. "Do you know the legend of the phoenix?"

"Yes." She breathed the word. "It rises from the ashes."

"Do you believe beauty can rise from ruin?" His eyes met hers with shocking intensity. "Do you believe in magic?"

For just that moment, she wanted to say yes. She wanted to believe. But she couldn't say what she couldn't feel, and she stayed silent. His lips curved and he reached into the ash pile, pulling out a tiny paper bird and handing it to her. "Maybe someday you will."

And he stood, moving away from her, leaving her with nothing but the folded bit of paper in her hand.

He doesn't remember that moment, of course. He couldn't. He's done so many shows, touched so many lives. He doesn't realize he touched mine that day.

Her phone buzzed in the back pocket of her jeans. She reached back for it, frowning when she saw Bella's number. She answered, but Bella's voice wasn't nearly loud enough to overcome the cacophony of the casino floor.

"Hold on a sec, Bella." She walked around the corner to a marginally quieter spot near a restaurant and jewelry store. "Hey, what's up?"

"Don't you ever answer your phone?" Bella sounded put out. "I've been here for twenty minutes trying to reach you and _management_ won't just give me a key."

Stacey frowned. "I'm sorry, what do you mean, Bell? Here? Where?"

"Here! At the freaking front desk trying to call you."

"Holy shit." Stacey hung up and started walking, breaking into a little jog as she approached the desk. Bella stood near the concierge desk, looking irritated and tired, but she smiled her beautiful smile when Stacey approached.

"Hey, big sis. I brought that luggage you wanted."

"You incredible, gorgeous knucklehead." Stacey swooped her sister into a bear hug. "I said _mail_ the clothes."

"Well, you know, I was thinking about that, but then I decided you know, you wouldn't get the clothes until next week, and that's a lot of wearing the same stuff, and I knew you hadn't brought anything decent, so..." Bella laughed breathlessly. "Besides, you need me here, you know."

"What happened to the temp job?" Stacey stepped back and glared at her sister.

"It was temporary." Bella shrugged. "They understood totally when I told them my sister needed me. At least, I'm sure they did when they got the voicemail."

"Jeez." Stacey shook her head. "Fine. Come on, then."

As she took one of the bags from her sister, a man stepped out from behind the concierge desk. "Ms. Matthewson?"

Stacey turned, raising her eyebrows. "Yes?"

"I'm Greg, the concierge in charge of seeing to Mr. Hawke's staff's needs."

"Yes." She nodded. "I've heard Andre speak of you." Well, to him, anyway, but of him sounded better, more in control. "How can I help you?"

"I understand your sister has come to stay with you for a few days." He gave Bella a courteous bow.

"She has." Stacey paused. "Is that a problem?"

"Not at all, although it is irregular. However, we wish to keep Mr. Hawke happy, and he hasn't been overly demanding. Still, I will need to confirm that this is his wish."

Stacey gave him a bland look. "You do that. His show should be over in" she glanced at her watch "about half an hour. I'm sure he'll be happy to speak to you about it."

She took a step away, putting an arm around her sister's shoulders to lead her down the hall to the elevators. "That was awesome!" Bella grinned. "You sounded so grown up and sophisticated. But is his show really almost over? Can't we make it before the end?"

Stacey hesitated, glancing at her watch again and doing some mental calculations. She doubted they could make it all the way to her room and back to the theater before the show ended. And she really should give Andre a heads' up about her sister joining her before Greg got hold of him.

She glanced over her shoulder and saw Greg still standing beside the concierge desk, speaking to a woman in a business suit. She grabbed her sister's bag and ran back. "Listen, we have to run if we're going to make it to the show. Could you possibly keep these behind the desk?"

"I'll have a bellman take them to your room for you, Ms. Matthewson." He gave her a friendly smile, and she couldn't help but admire his professionalism.

"Thanks, Greg." She waved and ran back to Bella. "Come on, we'll have to hurry."

They arrived and made it through security in time to join Mattie and Bobby backstage for the finale. Mattie gave Bella a nonchalant glance and didn't stop to ask questions. Instead, she nodded to Bobby, who came over to offer the girl a chair and stand beside her. Mattie pulled Stacey behind the stage into the corridor near the dressing rooms.

"I didn't get a chance to ask earlier, but do we still have a problem?"

Stacey had been looking forward to her sister's reaction to Andre's act, but the reality of the possible disaster the press conference could so easily have become still frightened her. "I don't know."

"You know the guy, right?" Mattie raised her eyebrows. "Pretty well, to hear Bobby tell the story."

Stacey's stomach turned at the memory. "I didn't want him to kiss me, if that's what you're implying."

"I'm not implying anything. I'm asking. Can you control him?" Before Stacey could reply, Mattie added, "Would you be willing to do _anything_ you had to do to control him?"

The implication of these words hit Stacey hard in the stomach. She gasped. "Are you—? You can't be suggesting I sleep with him." She shook her head. "God, no. It wouldn't work, anyway. If I slept with him now, he'd just assume I was doing it to try to hide something from him."

Mattie nodded, looking strangely satisfied. "Good."

"What?" Stacey stared at her. "What's good about this? I guarantee you Larry hasn't left because I gave him a song and dance about family illness and needing privacy. Everybody else might be under Andre's spell, but Larry isn't. He's been eating celebrities up and spitting them out for twenty years now."

"Then you're worried?" Mattie nodded again. "That's what's good. You're worried about Andre, which means you care. And about more than just your job, I'm guessing." Before Stacey could formulate a reply, Mattie grabbed her arm. "C'mon, the show's ending."

They arrived back at the side stage in time to see Andre, a captivating smile on his handsome face, kiss Bella's hand. Stacey could see her sister falling in love with him on the spot and she smiled. "He really knows how to charm people, doesn't he?"

"And you really like to pretend you're not one of us." Mattie grinned, and, to Stacey's surprise, gave her a quick hug. "Sorry, but welcome to the club. Your sister's cuter than you, by the way."

"How'd you know she was my sister?" Stacey followed her, mystified.

Mattie tapped her headset. "Not much escapes me."

"I get that." Stacey smiled a little as they joined the little group at side stage. Andre, still charged up from his show, included them all in his happy grin as they approached. Stacey felt her spirits lift, especially when he reached for her hand and pulled her to his side as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"I need a minute alone with you, if you don't mind." His eyes seemed very dark in the gloomy backstage area.

"Um, okay." She glanced at Mattie for help.

"How about we get some food and join you in your dressing room in a few minutes?" Mattie set her clipboard aside and took Bella's hand with a friendly grin.

"Thanks." Stacey gave her a weak smile as Andre drew her down the hall into his dressing room, not releasing her hand until the door was closed. "What's up?"

"I need you to tell me about this guy." He folded his arms across his chest, giving her a commanding look, obviously not in the mood for evasion.

She hesitated. What did he want to know? "He's a reporter. For _The Biz_ mostly, but he has been known to sell to the highest bidder when he has something good."

"Like you used to."

"Like I probably still would if you hadn't given me a job." She gave him a stern look. "You act like those days were years ago. I've barely been working for you for twenty-four hours."

He waved it away. "That doesn't matter. Are you sleeping with him?"

"What?" The question caught her off guard.

"You heard me."

She gritted her teeth. "Not that it's any of your business, but...if you're talking about the present, the answer is a definite no."

He took a step closer. "And the past?"

"Now _that's_ definitely not your business. It has no bearing on my work at all." She lifted her chin defiantly, her eyes sparkling.

"Fine." He looked away for a second, then turned back. She saw him grit his teeth. "But the future? Is _that_ my business?"

She opened her mouth to tell him no, it wasn't, he couldn't ask her about her sex life in any context and have it be okay. It wasn't okay, it was sexual harassment, and she could sue his ass... And closed it just as quickly when she realized she actually wanted her future sex life to be his business. Wanted it so much her heart quickened to a dizzying pace, pushing blood to tingly places of her body...

He stopped waiting for her to answer, turning away to pick up a stack of messages lying on his dressing table and flipped through them. "Sorry. I suppose I got sort of stirred up at the thought of some guy kissing you."

"Stirred up?" How could he sound so casual when she had begun to ache for him with an intensity that startled her? She covered for her embarrassment with anger. "Okay. Well, keep your territorial shit to yourself from now on or I'll sue your ass for sexual harassment."

"Deal." He motioned at a chair and pulled out a bottle of red wine, pouring her a glass and handing it over. "Tell me about this Larry guy."

"So long as we steer clear of my sex life." She gave him a dark glare.

He finished pouring a second glass and perched on a stool across from her, waiting, refusing to give her any guarantees. She sighed. "Fine. I've known him for—God, at least six or seven years. I met him right after I graduated, when I was trying to get into entertainment reporting. I think I stole my first big story from him, actually."

"Interesting." He took a sip of wine and set it down on the dressing table. "He didn't mind that?"

"Of course he minded. But he respected me for it, anyway. And he returned the favor later on, stealing a story from me." She smiled a little, remembering. When she caught his surprised look, she shrugged. "It's not the prettiest business, you know. Entertainment reporters, especially freelance ones, don't really have much in the way of journalistic integrity. I guess it sort of becomes a game to find out who has the least."

"I can imagine. So how come he's working for _The Biz_ and you're scrabbling for stories about second-rate magicians?"

"He's one of the best there is in that business, and I screwed up." She shrugged and raised her eyebrow at him, taking a deep drought of the wine. "And you're not a second-rate magician. If Larry's here, there's something big on the horizon for you. And he knows it."

He shrugged. "Do you think he's happy with what you've given him?"

She opened her mouth to protest his continued snooping in her love life and then laughed when she realized she'd created a double-entendre where he hadn't intended one.

He frowned quizzically, then grinned. "Meaning the press release, of course."

"Thanks." She choked back her laughter, hoping she wasn't beginning to sound a little hysterical. She forced herself to calm down. "Likely not. I don't think he has any plans to leave right now, anyway, not judging by what he said...after the conference."

"Hmm." He considered her words, then nodded. "We'll handle him. And that brings me to your sister."

"I didn't know she was coming." Stacey struggled to switch gears as quickly as he did. "Really. She just showed up, but, well, she hasn't been on her own, like ever. And it's not like my parents would be there to help her if she needs anything and..."

His face assumed a pleading expression, his voice a childlike timber. "And she followed me home, Mom, can I keep her?" He grinned, turning from a kid to himself again in a second. "And the answer's yes. I've already asked Mattie to take care of having you moved to a larger suite."

"That's really not necessary—"

He held up a hand. "I don't think it's a problem, either. Greg will make sure everything's taken care of by the time we finish dinner. Which should be here any minute."

At that moment a light rap sounded on the door and Bobby pushed it open, holding a paper bag between his teeth and a tray of drinks in his hands. Bella followed looking absolutely joyful. "This is the most amazing place!"

"Indeed." Andre rose and took one of the bags from her hand. "It is, especially when my favorite hamburger is brought to me by a beautiful girl. Can I pour you a glass of wine, Miss Bella?"

"No." Stacey stopped her sister before she could answer. "She's not twenty-one, Andre. Diet Coke will serve just fine."

"Protective older sister. You're a lucky girl." Andre's eyes twinkled, his mood jovial.

"I don't feel that lucky sometimes." Bella gave her sister a hooded glare.

"Coulda stayed in New York." Stacey started divvying up the food. "Where's Mattie?"

"She stopped to speak to that concierge guy. The one that spoke to you earlier."

"Greg spoke to you, did he?" Andre's good mood didn't waver. He reached for the wine bottle and refilled her glass, producing two more for Bobby and Mattie and filling them as well. "Mattie will set him straight. You'll be very comfortable here." He addressed the last to Bella. "I assume you'd like some work to keep you busy, though?"

"I've done a lot of research for Stacey." Bella leaned forward, eagerness apparent in her features.

"You've done enough, Andre." Stacey stepped forward. "Really. I don't want to..."

"How could you impose by allowing me to find a place in my staff for your beautiful, talented, intelligent younger sister?" He smiled and turned his attention to the bacon cheeseburger on his plate. He took a bite and closed his eyes. "God, that's good."

The door opened and Mattie entered. She handed Andre a note and took her seat next to Bobby, picking up her wine glass first. Stacey watched Andre flip the note open, read it and tuck it into his pocket. Whatever information had just been passed to him, he didn't intend to share it.

For the next few minutes, they concentrated on food, and Stacey realized it was nearly ten thirty and she hadn't eaten since her earlier lunch with Andre. Mattie and Bobby eventually began discussing the show, talking to Andre about some fine-tuning he might want to do with a few performance points, although no one mentioned any of the trappings that made up the tricks. Andre listened and seemed to make mental notes, even teased the two about making out behind the scenes and missing half the show. Bella watched, entranced by the whole scene.

Stacey noticed the hungry look on her sister's face...a look that had nothing at all to do with cheeseburgers and everything to do with the close-knit group they'd found themselves included in. _It's like a family meal. The closest thing we've ever had to one, anyway._ She bit her lip and took a deep drink of her wine, but she choked on it and wondered why she hadn't switched to water long before. Her wine glass had remained nearly full the entire time she'd been in the room in spite of the fact that she'd only seen Andre refill it once. She stood, a little confused, and found him next to her. "Are you all right?"

"Fine except for the drugs." She filled her voice with as much sarcasm as she could and was rewarded by his smile. Bella stood, her expression full of concern, but Andre spoke first.

"I'll walk you back to your room." He glanced at Mattie. "Stacey's dead on her feet. Did you get the key to her room?"

"Two." Mattie held one out. "Why don't you go ahead and take her back? I'll walk Bella back on my way."

"Bella and I can—" Stacey started, swaying a little and catching hold of Andre before she could fall. " _Did_ you drug me?"

"With nothing but my presence, I swear." He slid an arm around her waist. "Feel free to lean on me."

She snorted but let him lead her down the hall and out into the casino, past the lively bars and to the elevators. Everything blurred, and she breathed the scent of his cologne.

"You're not much used to drinking, are you?"

"Think it's the desert." She heard her words slurred and hoped he could understand. "Thirsty all the time. How much did you give me, anyway?"

"Couldn't have been more than two glasses. Good red, though." His voice was a boat rocking at anchor, warm and peaceful. She wanted to curl up in it and sleep.

At the door of her new suite, he held her against the wall and slid the card in, then pushed the door open, drawing her in with him. She giggled and tripped over her own feet, falling against him. "This is _not_ a good way to set an example for my sister."

"Fun, though." His arms tightened around her waist and she looked up at him, the tingly warmth of his embrace penetrating to her core. She should have protested, should have pulled away, but he felt so good and she was so tired, she lay her head on his shoulder. He held her for several minutes, and she waited for him to make the move she knew he would. He was Andre the magnificent, after all, known almost as much for his bedroom activities as his magic shows. She knew he found her attractive. He'd made no secret of it.

And here she stood, too drunk and tired to fight any longer, too willing to make even a token resistance to any advance. And all he did was hold her.

Well, not all. He stroked her hair back from her face, caressed her cheek with his thumb, even kissed her lightly. She closed her eyes, enjoying the light touch of his lips on hers, waited for more, wished he would kiss her more deeply even as she was grateful he didn't. It was all moving so quickly, she wanted to slow it down, knew she needed to tell him that and searched for the words, pulling a little away to look at him.

"Andre, I—" She stopped short as a shadow fell across the light from the still open door. With difficulty, she struggled up to focus on the man in the doorway. "Larry."

Andre didn't release her right away, although she shot him a warning look. Instead, he made sure she was steady on her feet, then slowly turned, keeping a hand on her arm, just in case.

The other man stood just outside the door, his face still in shadow. Andre reached for the light switch and flipped it on. Larry blinked only once, his eyes narrowing in the light, then opening again, meeting Andre's stare directly. He had handsome, chiseled features, was powerfully built and looked like a man used to getting his way. "So this is the great Andre who's stolen away one of the best entertainment reporters I've ever met."

"I don't believe stolen would be the right word." Andre held out his hand. "Purloined, nicked, kidnapped...or you could just say I made her an offer she couldn't refuse. Andre Hawke. You must be Larry Stevens. I think I saw you at the press conference."

"Reporter from _The Biz._ " Larry accepted the hand Andre offered, his grip firm, his gaze more direct than Andre had expected. If he hadn't known better, he would have thought this was a trustworthy man who probably wouldn't be a threat. But his past experience with reporters warned him they could be as good at performing as he was.

"What do you want, Larry?" Stacey's voice interrupted his thoughts. He marveled at how clearly she managed to speak, and, although she hadn't moved away from his supporting arm, she stood sturdily on her own feet. Obviously Larry wasn't the only reporter in the room who could carry off a good performance.

"I came to see you." Larry's eyes hadn't moved from Andre's, but he managed to direct his words at her, anyway. "To see if I could get an interview with Mr. Hawke, actually. I hadn't anticipated finding him here."

Andre ignored the baiting tone and the implications behind the other man's words. "I'd be happy to. Why don't you phone Stacey in the morning? She'll have access to my calendar then."

"Of course." For the first time, Larry looked at Stacey. "Sorry to have disturbed you." Although his tone was courteous, something about the way he said the words made Andre clench his fists, but he forced his lips into a smile and shut the door gently behind the other man.

"Shit." Stacey dropped onto the couch. "What are we going to do? He smells weakness and he's not going to give up." She looked around. "Hey, this is nice. Greg did us up right, didn't he?"

"I figured he would. Are you okay? Want some coffee?"

"Why would I need coffee? Larry's enough of a buzzkill." She reached for her computer. "If we're going to do an interview with him, we'll need to make a plan of action."

"Plan of action?" He frowned. Whatever he'd started to hope the evening would be, this wasn't it.

She eyed him. "Of course. You should start out reading some of the legit articles he's written. Real interviews. He's good at it. But he's also good at the kind of stuff I wrote, too. If he sees an opening, he'll be all over it."

"And you can prepare me for that." He considered, then shrugged. "Okay, but just until your sister gets back. Which is probably going to be soon, if I know Mattie. Then you have to get to bed." He ached with a sudden desire to be the one to tuck her in like had the night before. He'd been very careful not to cross any lines, just removing her shoes and helping her into the bed. Tonight, he was pretty certain he would have a much more difficult time staying on the right side of those lines.

They worked steadily for half an hour, reading together, working on practice interview questions. He found himself enjoying the process. It felt good to tell her things about his past, things he didn't mind her knowing. He told her about learning the craft of magic from his uncle, quickly surpassing his uncle's simple sleight of hand and moving on to devour books about the subject from the local library, working and perfecting his craft throughout his childhood. He told her about the good days with Tony and how he'd met both Mattie and Bobby. He could tell by her intent expression that she was listening with the same acute intelligence she would use for any interview, but possibly with more personal interest than those interviews would excite in her.

Finally, he glanced at his watch and was startled to find it was after midnight. "I should go. You need to rest."

She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, exposing her slender white throat in a becoming way. "I can't sleep until Bella gets back. Besides, I thought the original point was to get me drunk so you could take advantage of me."

He smiled and moved closer to her. "Believe it or not, I didn't intend to get you drunk." He took her hands in his and kissed them. "And as tempting as the thought might be, I don't intend to take advantage of you."

She opened her eyes and looked at him. "Really?"

Did he detect a note of disappointment? Unable to resist testing his theory, he placed one hand on the back of her neck and lowered his lips to hers, tasting her sweet kiss for the second time that night. He felt her arms slip around his neck, knew she would surrender to him. _God, I want that._ The hot intensity of his own desire surprised him, and, paradoxically, made him pull away. She opened her eyes, looking up at him almost lazily. "You're a wonderful man, Andre." She yawned. "A good kisser, too."

He laughed. "You're still drunk."

"I'm not drunk." She pushed him away and struggled to sit up. "I'm just really, really tired. Jet-lagged. Plus, my new boss is an absolute freak. Total slave driver."

"Asshole."

"Totally." She grinned and for just a second, he considered taking it to the next level, but the sound of a card key in the lock made him stand, moving into the kitchenette to make coffee instead.

The door swung open and Andre heard Stacey greet her sister. He finished measuring the coffee and turned the maker on. He paused, doing his best to get himself under control. What was it about this tough, blonde reporter that he couldn't seem to resist? He'd always made it a point never to sleep with any woman who worked for him, but he was beginning to suspect that vow would be hard to keep with Stacey.

Banishing the memory of the sweet taste of her lips, he went into the living area in time to catch Bella's enthusiastic recounting of the street performers on Las Vegas Boulevard. "I'm surprised Mattie took you out on the Boulevard at this time of the night." He glanced at his watch. "Traffic can be pretty heavy around now."

"She, um, didn't. I just sort of went, once she showed me where the room was." Bella gave him a defensive look. "I may not be twenty-one, but I'm no baby, either. I don't need a babysitter."

"Umm." He nodded. "I have no doubt that is true." He turned to Stacey, who gave him a warning look he couldn't quite interpret. "I started the coffee for you, but I should get back. We'll talk tomorrow."

"Sure." She stood and walked with him to the door, glancing behind her to make sure Bella wasn't listening. "Look, are you sure you want to do an interview with Larry? He can be tough. He's probably out there trying to find out all your secrets right now."

His smile was confident. "I'm sure. I'm also sure he won't find anything."

She looked mystified. "How can you be so certain? A magician has a lot of secrets."

He grinned, leaning down and crooking his finger so she came closer. He brushed her hair away from her ear, feeling her tremble a little as his fingertips brushed her neck. Her hair smelled like strawberries, and he took a deep breath before whispering in her ear. "I only tell my secrets to the people I trust."

She looked up sharply, but he'd already gone, the door closing as if he'd truly vanished. She reached for it, told herself not to look outside like some little girl trying to prove magic existed—or to reassure herself that it didn't. In the end, however, she couldn't resist. She poked her head out the door and spotted him halfway down the hall. He glanced over his shoulder, grinned when he saw her watching him, and turned around to walk backward for a few steps. "Get some rest." He waved and turned back around, half dancing, half loping down the hall to the elevator.

She smiled and turned to see Bella standing next to her. Bella frowned after him, her reaction obviously more pragmatic than her sister's. "Jeez, he's a little weird, isn't he?"

"He's not weird." Stacey caught her sister by the collar of her shirt and pulled her back inside. "What exactly were you doing wandering around on Las Vegas Boulevard by yourself? That could have been dangerous."

"I wasn't by myself, exactly." Bella didn't look at her, but she yanked her collar out of her sister's grasp.

"What do you mean? It's not like you have a ton of friends in Vegas."

"No, but I did run into someone I knew."

Bella walked into the kitchen, her hips swaying in a way Stacey didn't like. She followed the girl, watched her unwrap a paper coffee cup and pour a cup of black coffee. "Who? Who did you run into that you know in Vegas?"

"Friend of yours, actually. That reporter Larry what's-his-name. Not that your name really matters when you're as gorgeous as Larry is." Bella took a sip of the coffee and made a face. "Ick. It's like sludge." She pulled out two packets of sugar and creamer and added them.

Stacey shook her head, shock coursing through her body. Larry was more than her little sister could handle. Bella's approach to men was much the same as her attitude with the coffee. She liked to act tough, like she could drink black coffee with nothing in it, then claim it was undrinkable and add sugar and creamer. But black coffee was nowhere near as dangerous as Larry Stevens, and Stacey had no intention of seeing him leave her baby sister crumpled by his bedside when he was done with her.

"Holy crap, Bella, I turn my back for thirty seconds and you're hanging out with enemy number one."

"I wasn't _hanging out_ with him. We ran into each other in the hallway. I guess he'd just come from here or something. He was sort of broken up because he'd caught you two together."

"He caught _who_ together?" Stacey frowned.

"You and the magic man. Remember him? Guy who just left, pretty reluctantly, I might add. Jeez, are you still drunk?" Bella snorted, taking another sip of her coffee.

Stacey opened her mouth to say nothing was going on between her and Andre and remembered that he'd actually kissed her twice that evening, and the second time she'd kissed him back and who knew what might have happened if Stacey hadn't returned? She stopped, temporarily discomfited. Bella seized the opportunity.

"There, see? So he walks in on the two of you, and you know, he was hurt. He wanted to talk and he remembered me from the last time you walked all over him."

"He doesn't want to talk to you, Bella, he wants to use you." Stacey shook her head. "You've got to be careful, especially if you're going to work for Andre. His career—"

"Oh heavens, we wouldn't want to hurt the magic man's career, would we?" Bella laughed again. "Go to bed, Stace. You're just embarrassing yourself now. And who says I'm going to work for Andre, anyway? Maybe I'll get a job with Larry."

"He won't hire you." Stacey frowned. "And maybe you _shouldn't_ work for Andre."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever." Whatever Larry had said to Bella, it had turned her into someone Stacey didn't recognize. With an abrupt movement, she stalked past her sister. "I'm going to bed."

Stacey stood for several seconds after her sister left the room, wondering if Larry might not be the real "magic man".

### Chapter Six

Stacey woke earlier than she wanted to the next morning with her phone ringing in her ear. She rolled over and punched the screen to silence it. "Crap."

"And a happy sunshiny morning to you, too, Beautiful." Andre's voice was entirely too chipper for—she raised up to look at the clock and dropped back—eight o'clock.

Her head hurt, she felt like someone had walked on her and then gone and gotten a motorcycle and driven it over her. "What in the hell was in that wine you gave me?" She massaged her temples.

"Good old fashioned fermented grape juice. I'll tell you all about the process over breakfast. Join me at the Terrace."

"What the hell's the Terrace?"

"They serve the best waffles in Vegas and it's _outside_ , of all places. Fresh air, sunshine. You'll love it. But from the sound of you, you might want to wear dark glasses."

He hung up before she could answer, and she rolled over and cursed the ceiling and Andre and her sister and Larry and everyone who had kept her from sleeping for a full twenty-four hours, or however long it took to get rid of a hangover.

She was glad he'd warned her to wear sunglasses, but the bright Nevada sun pierced right through them, seeming to drill a hole directly into her brain. Shading her eyes, she peered around and spotted him at a small table on the right, next to the fountain. Gratefully, she noticed a large pot of coffee and two cups.

As she approached, he filled her cup and stood, leaning across the table to kiss her cheek. "You look rough."

She tried her best not to look goofy about the kiss, but found it difficult to avoid thinking about the other two they'd shared. She couldn't tell through his dark sunglasses if he were thinking about the same thing, but she blushed anyway, dropping her gaze to the coffee in her hands as she sat. Black. "I can certainly use coffee. Thanks."

"You're welcome." He resumed his seat, picking up his own mug. "Not sure how you can drink that."

"Don't want anything between me and the beans." She arched an eyebrow at him. "To what do I owe the early morning wakeup call?"

"You mean besides our unfinished business?" His lips curved as he studied her over his coffee cup.

She smiled in spite of herself. He wasn't going to just let it go, which meant he'd enjoyed the kissing part of the evening as much as she had. She made a brushing motion as if it were negligent. "That could have waited."

"Hmm. Speak for yourself." He dropped his gaze to her lips for a moment, then cleared his throat and leaned forward, his brow wrinkled. "But you're right. I have something slightly more urgent in mind. Concern. For your sister. Do you know who she was with last night?"

"Yes. She told me." She took another sip of coffee, thinking that if it were Mattie bringing this up to her, she'd know the concern wasn't for Bella but for Andre. But she honestly believed Andre was worried about her sister.

"It's none of my business, of course, but she's kind of on the young side, and he seems like the type—"

"—who'd take advantage of her." Stacey nodded and set the cup aside, her stomach suddenly queasy. "Yeah, I know. That's what I told her." She hesitated. "I think I should send her home, but I'm not sure she would go. And I can't just throw her out. And it's not just her I'm worried about."

"You think she'd spy for him." He spoke the words imperturbably.

She rolled her eyes. "Look, don't get me wrong. I love my sister. She's talented and smart and she'll be something one day. But yes, she's naïve and she's never had good taste in men, and she can never see that they're using her until it's too late. Unfortunately, Larry knows her, too. I think she had a crush on him back when..." She paused, looking for the right word. She and Larry had never dated, and they hadn't been in love. She wasn't even sure why she'd ever had sex with him. She felt like she'd changed in the couple of days since she'd been in Las Vegas...since she'd been with Andre.

Just as the thought hit her, temporarily knocking the breath out of her, the waitress arrived with two plates containing enormous Belgian waffles, bacon and grits. Stacey stared at the plate the waitress placed in front of her. "What on earth made you think I'd want this?"

"I told you. They make the best damn waffles in Vegas. Aren't we lucky to be staying in the same hotel?" He raised his eyebrows.

"Lucky. Yes." She regarded her plate dubiously.

"You don't take anything on faith, do you? You're so damn literal. Here." He cut a generous bite of waffle from the corner of his own and held it out. "If you don't love it, we'll send yours back for an egg-white omelet or whatever other nonsense you want."

She hesitated only a second before leaning forward to accept the bite. The moment the butter-and-syrup-soaked waffle hit her tongue, she closed her eyes in ecstasy. "Oh my God. That's luscious." She opened her eyes and smiled at him. "When you're right, you're right."

His expression had changed a little and she realized they were only inches away from each other. Her heart began its normal up-tempo response to his proximity and she realized she couldn't tear her eyes away from his lips. They moved, saying something, but she couldn't hear it over the rush of blood in her veins. He reached up, drawing the pad of his thumb across her lower lip, wiping away a bit of syrup. The tenderness of the gentle touch made her want to moan with longing. Time and place had lost meaning to her. Her lips parted and he paused, his gaze holding hers, his thumb lingering near the corner of her mouth. Then he leaned across, closing the distance between them to touch his lips to hers.

She wanted to give herself completely to the kiss, but with a table full of waffle and syrup between them, it was impossible to get more than just a taste of him. Still, when he drew away, his breath had quickened as much as hers, and she suspected he'd at least considered suggesting they skip the rest of breakfast—a suggestion she almost certainly would have accepted.

He cleared his throat, sitting back. "Told you." At her quizzical look, he indicated the untouched waffle in front of her. "Now eat. Yours. You're not getting any more of mine."

Sight and sound replaced the world of pure sensation she'd existed in for a few seconds. She heard the clash of silverware, the tinkle of the sparkling fountain and smelled the waffles. She felt ridiculously certain that everyone in the restaurant had seen them kiss, been shocked into silence and had just resumed their normal activities at that moment. After casting surreptitious looks around, she dipped her head self-consciously to her plate, and they ate in silence for a few minutes, giving their hearts a chance to slow. Finally, she dared to look at him again. "So tell me why you're more concerned about my sister than yourself."

He chewed and swallowed, wiping his mouth with his napkin before answering. "I'm in no danger."

She wished she could be so confident. "Larry's not just after your magic secrets, you know."

" 'Magic secrets'?" He looked amused. "That's an interesting way to put it."

She waved her hand in a shoo-fly motion. "Whatever. You know what I mean."

"I do." He took another bite, then leaned forward, removing his glasses so she could see his dark blue eyes for the first time that morning. He reached over and pulled her glasses down her nose. She froze in mid-chew as he looked directly into her eyes. "I told you last night I only tell my secrets to people I trust."

He released her and sat back, replacing his sunglasses as the waitress stopped by their table again. This time she asked him, giggling a little, if he'd sign a napkin for her. "I saw your show last night. My girlfriend was in town and we got tickets way up in the balcony. You were so great. Would you mind signing another one for her? Her name's Marilynn."

While Andre charmed the pretty young waitress, Stacey's phone dinged. She glanced at the text.

Bella: Where are you?

Stacey sighed and typed back. Breakfast with Andre.

Another ding.

Bella: Are you mad at me?

Bella: Don't be mad.

Bella: I'll do your laundry.

Stacey laughed out loud, drawing a bemused look from Andre and an irritated one from the waitress. She grinned and waved at them. "Gotta go make a call." She gave Andre a narrow look. " _Don't_ eat my waffle." She dialed as she walked away from the table.

Bella answered immediately. "You're not mad!" She sounded jubilant. "I'm so glad. I'm really sorry. I'm pleading temporary insanity. Of course you're right, and Andre's awesome. He really is, and I'd love to work with him."

Stacey waited for the tide of words to slow and then jumped in. "We're having breakfast now. I know he wouldn't mind you joining us. It'll give you a chance to talk to him."

"Awesome! Where? I'll be right down."

Stacey gave her sister directions and hung up, thinking with relief that maybe her sister was growing up a little after all. As she walked back to the table, however, her phone rang again. She glanced at the caller i.d., then at Andre to make sure the waitress had left, and continued back to the table. "Hi Larry." She sat, raising her eyebrows at Andre.

"Good morning." Larry cut to the chase. "I want to schedule that interview with Andre Hawke."

"Awesome. Let me check his calendar. Just a sec."

"The sooner the better. I love Vegas, but I can't spend too long on one story."

"Then you'll be leaving after the interview?" She tried not to sound hopeful but could tell by Andre's tiny smile that she hadn't managed it.

"That's the plan, unless you can give me a reason to stay." His voice was uninterested enough so she knew he didn't think she would.

"Nope. No reason. Let me check his calendar and see if we can fit you in today." Andre jotted something down on a napkin and handed it to her. She frowned at it, then said, "How about lunch?" She followed it up with, "I think both Andre and I are free then."

"You're a very devoted babysitter." Larry's voice had an edge of bitterness, but when she didn't answer, he said, "Fine, that'll work. Don't expect me to take it easy on him, though."

"I'd never ask that. Bye, Larry." She hung up. "We don't have much time."

"Good thing I got you up early, then." He nodded at her plate. "Finish up."

She made a face. "If I'd known you were going to set this up so quick, I wouldn't have invited my sister to join us."

"Why not?" He glanced at the door from the hotel. "I love having breakfast with beautiful women. I take it you two made up?"

"How'd you know we had a fight?"

His gentle smile warmed her. "No offense, but you're very easy to read."

"Thanks." She made a face. "Fine. We did have a disagreement last night about her seeing Larry. But it looks like that's not going to be a problem. He's leaving right after the interview, and maybe my sister is finally getting smart."

"I thought you thought I was smart already." Bella spoke from behind her, and Stacey jumped. Bella laughed. "You don't have to look guilty. I know I'm a goose sometimes. Lucky for me, you're always there to steer me back on the right path."

Stacey hugged her sister and Andre motioned for another chair. "You've got to try the waffles." He waggled his eyebrows. "To quote your sister, they're scrumptious."

"Luscious." Stacey glared at him. "Quote me correctly please."

"Luscious." He nodded, and she could feel his eyes on her even through his sunglasses. "I like that word better."

An absurd happiness and sense of well-being filled her as she finished her own waffle and listened to Bella and Andre chat. She couldn't come up with a word to describe what was happening to her. She only knew that she was sitting at a table eating delicious food, drinking really good coffee with two people she cared about more than anyone else in the world. Her sister and a man she'd met less than two days before. _Dear God,_ how _does this happen to somebody like me?_

Stacey wasn't the type to fall in love. She certainly never had before. Falling in love required trust, and she'd never trusted a man. But how could she not trust Andre? She looked at the man sitting across from her laughing at something Bella had said. _He must have a million secrets or he wouldn't be as successful as he is. But he trusts me._ The thought made her feel warm inside. At some point her head had stopped aching, and she was just enjoying herself, as if she'd known him forever. _Maybe he is magic._

"I think we can find something for you to do, if you're serious about staying," Andre said. "You'll be working for Mattie, though, and she's not an easy boss."

"You think _she_ is?" Bella snorted, poking her sister in the arm. "Mattie will be a nice change of pace."

"I can only imagine." Andre's cell phone beeped and he glanced at it. "Speak of the devil, she's waiting for us now in the theater." He glanced at Stacey. "If you'd like to finish your coffee and join us later..."

"No, go on." Bella waved them away. "I'm fine. I'll read the paper or something."

"What paper?" Stacey hesitated.

Bella pulled out her smartphone. "Everything I need right at my fingertips."

They left her tapping away at her phone. In the corridor, Andre took Stacey's hand and wove his long fingers through hers. "I think I've been waiting for you most of my life."

The comment startled her because it so closely echoed the way she was feeling. Unable to come up with a suitable reply, she focused instead on her gratitude for his acceptance of her sister. "Thank you for giving my sister a job. I wouldn't blame you if you didn't trust her."

"But you trust her?" He ran his thumb over the back of her hand as they walked.

"Yes." The reply came out more breathlessly than she'd intended and she saw him smile out of the corner of her eye.

"Good. And I trust you. We're like one big happy family." He brought her hand to his mouth, kissing the knuckles to the bemusement of a group of well-dressed older women walking in the other direction.

Her heart thudded at the touch of his lips on her skin. "You're nuts."

He leaned over as they walked and kissed her just below her ear, sending shivers down her spine as he whispered, "I know."

An unexpectedly strong wave of desire threatened to engulf her. They were downstairs now, away from the casino and restaurant traffic. Making a decision, she pulled him into a side hall and found an alcove. No longer caring if she were acting like his many female admirers, she backed up against the wall, grasped his collar and pulled him into a deep kiss.

Even caught off guard as she had no doubt he was, Andre responded with enough passion to reawaken the aching desire she'd been feeling all morning. It came roaring back with a vengeance, and she gloried in the luxury of being in his arms.

His lips left hers, and she felt his teeth graze her earlobe, startling her into crying out. He covered her lips with one hand, drawing away, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Shh. You've got to be quiet, or we can't finish what you started." As he spoke, he slid one knee between her legs, molding her to him in a very satisfying way. "Of course, I'm assuming you _want_ to finish it?" He touched his lips to the hollow of her neck, flicked his tongue across the sensitive skin, bringing an inadvertent moan from her.

He laughed, taking his hand from her mouth. "Hush, baby. If you're too noisy, I can't keep doing this. And I _really_ want to keep doing this." He covered her lips with his for a moment, the heat of his mouth yet another stimulus for her desire. He tugged her t-shirt from the waistband of her jeans, sliding his hands over her bare skin. She moaned, grateful for his muffling lips and tongue, longing to have him touch her and knowing she could never keep herself quiet. She lost herself in pure hedonism until a group passed by in the corridor a few feet away.

He drew away. "Maybe we should save this for later." His hands rested on her ribcage directly below her breasts.

Part of her wanted to pull him back against her, but she recognized her own responsibility for him and his career now, and she sighed, leaning her forehead against his chin for a second. "What have you done to me?"

He chuckled and kissed the top of the head. "Nothing compared to what I plan to do. And nothing you haven't done to me as well, I swear."

She wondered if that were true. She was no virgin, but sex had always been recreational, fun or even business. No man had ever held the power to make her heart skip a beat by just looking at her or to warm her soul with nothing more than a smile. She'd never hungered for a man the way she did for Andre. _Is this love?_

What if it was? There was no guarantee he really did feel the same way. The lingering doubt frightened her and she couldn't totally banish it. Andre was well known for his _joie de vive_ and the way he enjoyed women. To the best of her knowledge, no one had ever deplored this habit in him before. It was part of him, part of what brought the flocks of women to his shows and had made him so intensely popular so quickly.

_How could he love me? Hell, how can_ I _be in love with_ him? _What if I'm really just another groupie?_ The thought disturbed her because of its plausibility. Why else would she remember that moment so many years before when their eyes had met as he raised the tiny phoenix from the ashes? In that moment, she'd believed in magic, and she'd treasured that tiny escape from reality most of her life, guarded it jealously from the rest of the world. No one knew about it except her...and maybe Bella, a little. _What if he actually cares more than I do?_

Thinking this, she put her hands on his chest and pushed him away. It was an instinctive movement and one she had not thought out. When he gave her a questioning look, she plastered a smile on her face. "We should go. Mattie is going to have a heart attack."

"I might have one myself if you pull me into another dark corner." He searched her eyes, not moving further away from her than the few inches she'd managed to push him. "Are you all right?"

"I didn't exactly expect this." She looked away. "I never planned..."

She broke off as he toyed with her hair. He looked back at her. "I'm listening, I just wondered what color your hair really is."

"What, are you blind? It's really blonde." She pushed him completely away from her and ducked under his arm to move back out into the corridor.

He caught up to her, wheeled around and started walking backward in front of her. He was amazingly nimble on his feet, able to avoid oncoming traffic without even glancing over his shoulder. She shook her head. "Don't you think you need to watch where you're going?"

"Why?" He shrugged. "I can never see it until it's past anyway. Most people can't."

She rolled her eyes. "I had no idea kissing made you philosophical."

He tsked. "Kissing makes me horny. _Life_ makes me philosophical."

He was starting to get on her nerves. "Get over it, Andre. So we made out. We got carried away, that's all."

"I think it was more than that...for at least one of us." His words teased her, but she wouldn't ask him which one of them he was talking about. He kept walking backward, and this time, he was heading directly toward another man—a very large one—walking toward them. Stacey opened her mouth to say something but before she could, he'd walked directly into the other man, almost as if he'd intended to do it. He laughed out loud, catching himself by putting his arms around her. He glanced over at the large man, breaking off his embrace of Stacey to turn and shake his hand. "Thank you! That was perfect. Sorry about that, I'm trying to make a point, though, and you just did it very effectively."

He turned back to Stacey. "You say you never saw it coming. I say we _never_ see things coming. I mean, look at this particular incident. I was walking backward, couldn't possibly have seen him, right? But what's _his_ excuse?"

The man glared at him, but his expression cleared a second later. "Hey, you're that magician—" He snapped his fingers as if trying to remember. "—Andre somebody or other. My girlfriend dragged me to your show the other night. It was fantastic."

Andre winked at Stacey. "Thank heavens for his girlfriend."

"Can I get your autograph? She tried to stay after the show to get it, but security made us leave."

"That's what I pay 'em for." Andre reached into his back pocket and produced a pack of cards, shuffling them. "Pick a card."

"You gonna do a trick?" The guy sounded eager and reached for a card. Another small band of passersby paused to watch.

"Nope." Andre scribbled his name on the back of the card the man had chosen and handed it back to him. "You asked for an autograph, didn't you?" At the disappointed look on the guy's face, Andre laughed. "On the other hand..." He fanned out the cards and snapped them back together. "You still got your card?"

The guy looked down and his jaw dropped. The card in his hand didn't have a signature. "How—?"

Andre fanned the cards again, displaying the card with his signature. He plucked it out and handed it to the man. "Hang onto that this time."

The little group burst into applause and Andre bowed as he caught Stacey's hand and propelled her down the hall. "You understand what I mean now?"

"About not seeing things coming even when you're looking right at them?" She shrugged. "I guess. And it's not like it matters, even. I'm sorry I mentioned it."

"No, it doesn't matter." He put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a little hug. "It's like a ride at the amusement park. You get on it, and maybe you regret it a little, even though you're sure it's going to be fun. But regardless of how you feel once you're on it, you're already there and you ain't getting off."

She smiled a little. "Yeah, I guess."

"So what color is your hair?"

"Blonde."

He tsked again, shaking his head. "You know I won't give up that easy."

"You tell me how you made me levitate...and more than that, how did you put me in a trance? What's the trick?"

They'd arrived at the back of the theater and he opened the door for her. "What makes you think there's a trick?"

She blinked. "Because you're an entertainer. An illusionist."

"Does that mean there's no such thing as magic?" He raised his perfect eyebrows, drawing her into the depths of his eyes, hoping to charm her with his charisma and smiling when he saw he'd managed it.

She cursed and shook her head. "Cut it out."

"Cut what out?" He grinned at her. "For a skeptic, you really want to believe, don't you?"

Yes. I want to believe in magic. Because then I could believe in you and if I believe in you, I could let myself fall in love with you and believe that you could fall in love with me.

She turned without answering to walk down the dimly lit hall to the backstage area. "Come on. Let's get this stuff taken care of so I can get you ready for Larry."

"I do love it when you talk shop." He followed her and she could feel his confident grin even from behind her. He was so sure of himself, so certain she wouldn't resist him... And damn it, she was more and more certain he was right.

### Chapter Seven

Andre left her tapping on her keyboard in his dressing room and found Mattie onstage. "Hey."

She glanced at him. "Hey. Are you going to sleep with her?"

Mattie's innate intuitiveness had always disturbed him. Bobby claimed it was her gypsy blood. Mattie just said she was good at reading body language. Andre didn't know if it was either, but he had a feeling Mattie knew way more about magic than he did.

Either way, he knew better than to try to prevaricate with her. Telling her it was none of her business wouldn't work. It was her business if she said so, and he couldn't run the show without her. Besides, if he slept with Stacey, it could potentially affect everyone on his staff. He'd never considered sleeping with someone he worked with. He shouldn't consider it now. So why was he?

_Simple. I've gone crazy._ He groaned inwardly.

"It's a simple question, Andre." Mattie gave him a blank stare. "Is that why you hired her?"

"No." That _was_ a simple question. Whether he'd been attracted to her or not, he had hired Stacey because he could see that she needed a job and that she had the talent to do well.

She nodded. "Good. I did wonder, though. It was so sudden." She took a deep breath as if relieved. "You didn't think it would be a problem, though? I mean, you must've been attracted to her _before_ you hired her."

"I didn't know her then." At her disbelieving look, he sighed. "Look, I know she's only been around for a couple of days, but she's not like any other woman I've ever met. She's tough on the outside but there's this core of real sweetness in her. Look at how she is with her sister—"

"You did tell her about her sister meeting up with that Larry Stevens guy, right?"

"Yes, and she was concerned, but she already knew about it. Bella told her last night. And then she apologized to both of us this morning—"

"This morning." Mattie hugged her clipboard against her chest and crossed her arms over it. Her emerald gaze bored into him, seeing right through him, as usual. "You hired her sister, too, didn't you?"

"She's going to help you out a little." He gave her a fake imploring look, as if she were really in charge and he couldn't hire anyone he wanted. He'd learned a long time ago that the best way to handle Mattie was to foster that illusion. The trouble was, the illusion all too often came close to reality.

"I don't trust her." Mattie frowned. "Stacey's one thing. I knew from the beginning that she would fall in love with you. Her sister's something else, though. You say Stacey's only tough on the outside. Well, trust me, her sister's tough all the way through."

"You can't possibly know that. You've only spent about half an hour in the same room with her."

"More like two. Remember who was babysitting her last night so you could make time with Stacey?" Mattie waved her clipboard at him. "And I'm a good judge of character. You used to be. What happened?" She stopped, a stunned expression crossing her face. "Oh shit. I didn't see _that_ coming."

"What?" Mystified, he shrugged, looking over his shoulder as if to find something coming at him, remembering his earlier conversation with Stacey about never seeing things coming until they were past. "What are you talking about?"

"You're in love with her."

"Bella?" He snorted, deliberately misunderstanding her. "Be serious, please."

" _You_ be serious. Of course not Bella. You're not _that_ dumb." Mattie dropped her arms to her sides, letting sheets flip over on her upside down clipboard. "Stacey. I knew she'd fall in love with _you_ but I never thought... Holy shit."

"C'mon, Mat." He gave her his most charming smile. "It's not the end of the world. I mean, it's not like I haven't been in love before."

A sheet fell from her clipboard, but she was still staring at him, dumbfounded. "Yes it is. It's exactly like that. You like to play, but this isn't play, is it? You really care about her."

"Care" was so much less threatening a word than "love", but Andre knew enough about Mattie to know what she meant. He'd fallen hard for women before, but he'd never really cared about them. Not the way he felt about Stacey, and he knew it wasn't a passing fancy this time. He wouldn't wake up one morning and find he didn't care anymore. He couldn't look at his future now without thinking of her in it.

He cast about, trying to convince himself his feelings for Stacey didn't run any deeper than those he'd had for dozens of other women. He remembered the feel of her skin against his hands, the sound of the soft moan she'd made against his mouth as he kissed her and desire rose in him again, as hot and lusty as any he'd ever felt for a woman. But it was tempered by tenderness when he thought of the way she laughed, the play of emotions in her eyes and even her reluctance to trust him.

_She's right. I am in love with Stacey._ Feeling queasy, he sat, and because there was no chair at that particular spot, he sat on the floor. _Holy shit._

Mattie knelt beside him. "Are you okay?"

He snorted. "I'm not sure okay sums it up quite right. But yeah. It's just—that's the first time I admitted it to myself."

"She is one lucky lady and I hope she realizes it. But be careful, Andre. I don't want to see your heart broken." She kissed him on the top of his head and walked away.

Andre felt as if a weight had been lifted off him. He could surely fly among the rafters now. He wanted to fling himself down the hall and grab Stacey and dance all the way through the casino, but he knew he couldn't do that. As difficult as it had been for him to admit he was in love, surely it would shock her even more.

He'd have to approach this one with care. If he could accomplish it, it might turn out to be his greatest magic trick ever.

Stacey scanned through her file of Larry's stories again and glanced at the door. What was holding Andre up? He had some reading to do, and then she had a list of practice questions to run through before the interview. He'd been with Mattie for going on forty-five minutes now. She stood and walked restlessly to the door, hesitated, then turned back. She considered returning to her work but she knew it was impossible to concentrate. She paced over to the dressing table, wondering idly at the lack of personality the cluttered dressing room had without Andre actually in it. She'd been in many dressing rooms, most plastered with some sort of personal paraphernalia of the occupants.

_Why are there no pictures of his family in here?_ Come to think of it, she hadn't seen any in his suite, either. But then, he was very protective of his family. Maybe he worried about their privacy. The surface of the table was littered with clippings and bits of paper. She thumbed through them, pausing with surprise at her own name. A printout of one of her stories, one she remembered well. You didn't forget things like that. A minor Hollywood starlet found dead in the bedroom of a major Hollywood director.

She closed her eyes for a moment, her heart beating in her throat. God, that had sucked. The girl had been so beautiful, with so much potential. Her death had been more of a tragedy than the entertainment world realized. And it had been ruled accidental overdose. She still wondered about it sometimes.

He'd written something in the margin. She pulled it out and looked at it closer to make sure she'd read it right. " 'What does she feel?' "

"I wanted to know what you felt when you wrote it." His voice from the door made her start. He walked in and took the paper from her hand, scanning it. "It seemed so tragic, and I had a feeling you didn't write it with your usual detachment."

"No, I didn't." She hesitated, wondering at his intuitiveness. At the point when he read that, he'd spent maybe five minutes with her. "Maybe I stopped being detached a long time ago. Maybe that's why I started making mistakes."

"I thought so." He set the paper aside. "Are you ready to get started?"

For just a second she let herself think about all the things she'd love to get started on with him. Then she shook herself out of it and nodded. "I've got a folder of Larry's stories, but maybe we should run through the practice questions again."

"Practice questions." He looked amused as he dropped onto the couch and patted the cushion next to him. "I feel like I'm getting ready for a pop quiz."

"You can't get ready for a pop quiz." She sat on the other end of the couch from him, determined to avoid distraction. "If you did, there'd be no pop. But you should never go into an interview with a journalist like Larry without preparing."

"I'm not worried about him." He sounded sober, much more introspective than he had that morning. She wondered what Mattie had said to him to put him in such a mood and if she'd ever be able to keep up with his mood changes.

Under cover of shuffling her notes, she ducked her head and spoke in as casual a voice as she could muster, "How does Mattie feel about having Bella for an assistant?"

"Great." His voice betrayed nothing. "She's been begging me for an assistant for a while now. She's thrilled."

Stacey sat back and shoved her notes away. "Now I know you're lying because Mattie's not going to 'beg' for anything. Even _I_ know she doesn't do that." She groaned. "You're doing this for me, then."

"Of course I'm doing it for you." He shrugged. "What's wrong with that?"

"What's wrong with that?" She stood, glaring down at him. "Shall I count the ways it's wrong? For starters, Mattie barely tolerates me as it is. Now you want her to directly supervise my sister, who you hired so you could convince me to sleep with you." She knew it wasn't fair, but she needed to convince herself he didn't have a deeper reason for helping her. _Or maybe I'm hoping he does._

"That's not why I did it." He leaned back, looking up at her lazily.

She folded her arms across her chest and tilted her head. "Really?"

"Yes. Really." He grinned. "It's kind of funny, though, if you consider that Mattie accused me about an hour ago of hiring _you_ so you'd sleep with me."

She startled and immediately berated herself for being surprised. Evidently, she had a very high opinion of her own work if such a thing had never occurred to her. Of course that was why he'd hired her. What could there possibly have been in her portfolio—extensive though it might be—that would convince him somebody like her would be a good risk?

"For the record, I didn't do that either."

She refocused on him just as he snaked a hand up and grabbed her forearm, pulling her off balance and into his arms. "Andre!" She struggled into a sitting position. "You just said you _didn't_ want to sleep with me."

"Quote me correctly." He let her sit up but didn't release his hold, and she ended up sitting in his lap, an arrangement he evidently liked. "I said I didn't _hire_ you for that reason. But I definitely want to sleep with you...among other things." As he spoke, he nuzzled her ear.

Was it the words or the touch that elicited the immediate response from her? She couldn't tell for certain. Not that it mattered. She closed her eyes, fighting her body. "You can't...we can't...we've got a lot to do."

He didn't release her immediately. "You never told me what color your hair is." He slid one hand into her thick mane and drew it out slowly.

She squelched an instinct to lean into the caress and wiggled away from him, leaning forward and looking at him over her shoulder. "You don't like it the way it is?"

"I love it the way it is." He sat up next to her, kissed her on the tip of her nose and curled a bit of her hair around his finger. "Because it's part of who you are right now. And it's gorgeous, soft and smells good. To be honest, if I didn't already have a bit of a fetish for beautiful hair, I would still have a thing for yours."

She'd lost any desire to move away from him. "So why this concern about the real color of my hair?"

"Because, my love, your hair color is part of who you are right now. A lovely, accomplished woman with deep trust issues. What if, one day, you woke up without those trust issues? What if you wanted to change the color of your hair to your real color? Shouldn't I be ready for that?" He kissed the curl he'd wound around his finger, his eyes on hers the whole time.

She trembled, more from the impact of his words than from his caresses. "You—you're saying you'll be there when I don't have trust issues anymore?"

For answer, he leaned back into the couch cushions and pulled her with him, arms curving firmly around her waist. He kissed her, then pushed her hair back so he had an unobstructed view of her face. "I not only intend to be there, beautiful lady, I intend to be the reason you no longer have them."

Her heart pounded in her throat. Blood surged through her to tingle in all the right places. Her lips ached to kiss him, her hands to rip his clothes from his body...and she did the only thing she could do.

She panicked.

"I—have to go." She jumped up, startling him. "I—just remembered...something."

"What about the interview?" He rolled over on his side and propped himself up on his elbow.

"Just...just look over the questions I printed out. I'll be there. At lunch. I'll meet you there." And she fled the room before her hunger for him could overcome her panic.

She flung the door to her new suite open and crashed in, slamming it behind her and closing her eyes. _Ohgodohgodohgod...I'm in love with him. What am I going to do?_ Was it even possible to fall in love with someone so quickly? What if it was just infatuation? What if she fell out of love as suddenly as she'd fallen _into_ it? Could she hurt him that way?

_Why in the hell did I ever take this job anyway?_ She groaned.

"Stace? Are you okay?"

Stacey opened her eyes to find Bella sitting on the couch with her computer in her lap and her cell phone next to her. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again. Finally she shook her head and sank down into a ball on the floor, clutching her legs to her chest and burying her face in her knees.

Bella gave an exclamation and rushed over to kneel beside her sister. "Stace? What's wrong?" She put her arms around Stacey's shoulders in an awkward hug.

Stacey let the embrace pull her out of her tight fetal position. She rested her head on Bella's shoulder. "I think I'm in love with him, Bell."

"Who? Andre? Are you kidding me?" Bella sounded disbelieving. "You barely know him. That would be like, what, love at second sight?"

"I know, I know." Stacey groaned again and sat back. "I can't be in love with him, right? It's ridiculous."

"Well, yeah, if you want me to tell the truth. It is a little ridiculous." Bella held up her closed fist and began to tick off fingers. "One, you barely know him. Two, he's sort of a player, isn't he?" At Stacey's miserable nod, Bella continued, "Three, you're not the type to fall in love, Stace."

"What do you mean?" Stacey felt a quiver somewhere inside as if Bella's words were an arrow that had hit something essential to her being, leaving it reverberating.

"Oh, come on. You don't believe in that stuff. You never have. I remember when I wanted you to read me _Cinderella_ when we were kids. You know what you said?"

"I told you they ended the fairytale before it got ugly." Stacey sat quietly for a moment.

"That always stuck with me because I figured you were right...especially when I looked at Mom and Dad. Now you want me to believe you're in love with a womanizing magician you've known for two days? C'mon. Maybe you're in _lust_ with him, but there's a difference, even with somebody as hot as Andre."

Her sister's flat tone made Stacey smile a little. "I would think that, too, but..."

"But what?" Bella gave her a quizzical look.

What indeed? What had convinced her that she loved him? She closed her eyes for a second, remembering that moment in the alcove, his hands on her bare skin, her heart racing...she would have done anything to have him right then. But it was more than that. She loved his confidence and tenderness, the way he held her and the way his eyes sparkled when he teased her.

And he loved her, too. She was as certain of that as she would have been if he'd said it out loud.

But he hadn't actually said it, had he? And since when did she take such things on faith? She sighed, shifting on the cold tile floor. "Let's get up. This isn't comfortable at all." She stood and glanced back when Bella didn't follow. "C'mon, get up. Let's have some coffee. I'll be fine if I get a little more caffeine in my system."

Bella looked up at her sister. "Stace—did he tell you he's in love with you?"

"Not...exactly. He implied it, but he didn't say it." Stacey tried to recall exactly what Andre had said. He'd said he wanted to help her get over her trust issues, that he'd be there when she did. He hadn't actually _said_ the word love, though. "I don't think so, anyway."

"Well, there you go, then." Bella looked relieved for some reason, but before Stacey could figure out why, she bounced up next to Stacey. "You're projecting. I mean, let's face it. You've been sort of fixated on this guy for years, ever since that magic show we saw him do. He's fascinating to you, not to mention sexy and charming, and maybe it's different from what you're used to feeling—heaven knows, _he's_ different. But you'll get over it. Maybe you should just sleep with him already and get it over with. Out of your system."

Stacey stared at her sister. "When did you become such a skeptic?"

"Seriously?" Bella headed into the kitchen. "After the childhood we had?"

Stacey winced. "Yeah, I guess. But Mom and Dad weren't all bad. They tried, right?"

Bella tossed her head. "Tried. Yeah, I guess. And we never needed anything, either. We had clothes and food and the basic necessities. Maybe if they'd ever stopped fighting long enough to take a look, they might have realized they had some pretty awesome kids." She paused, a look of sorrow on her face. "I sometimes wonder about Michael."

"Michael?" Stacey frowned.

"Yeah, our brother, remember?" Bella poured a cup of coffee and handed it to Stacey.

"I remember the source of our problems, yeah." To be truthful, Stacey barely remembered the kid. He'd been little more than a baby when she left home, and she'd been so intent on never looking back, she had practically erased him from her memory.

"He wasn't just a problem. He was cute. I used to babysit him some after you left. And when you came for me..." She trailed off, filling her own mug and sipping cautiously.

"What?" Stacey frowned. "When I came for you?"

Bella looked away. "I just...I was sad to leave him there. I wanted to make him the same promise you made me...that I'd get him out of there. He wasn't the source of our problems. None of it was his fault, you know? He was just this cute little kid caught in the middle of it all."

Stacey stared at her sister, shocked, a horrible, sad comprehension engulfing her. She'd always thought she'd saved her sister, rescued her from the crossfire of her parents' war. But in reality, she'd taken her sister from her role as protector of the real center of the conflict. Michael. And she'd never even thought about it.

Bella's voice broke into her horrified realization. "But I'm sure he's fine, you know? I mean, life isn't perfect and what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Hell, you practically raised me and you've never been a big believer in 'magic' and 'love'..." She made sarcastic air quotes around the words, then paused, giving Stacey a narrow look. "Until now, anyway. Has he really changed you that much?"

"I haven't changed." Stacey shoved past her sister. _Yes I have. He's changed me. He's touched something inside me that I haven't felt for years._

"Thank goodness for that. We both know what happens when people get married." Bella shook her head. "And it's not pretty."

Their gazes locked, and Stacey thought of her parents and the fights they'd had. Bella was right. Marriage didn't work, and she knew it. Her parents were proof.

Stacey threw her pencil on the notebook page full of scribbles with exasperation. Trigonometry was hard enough without distractions. With the kind of ugliness going on right outside her door at that moment, it was impossible.

" _Stacey?" A small voice from the darkened corner of the room made her turn. Bella poked her head around the curtains they'd hung together so the younger girl could sleep even when her older sister's homework kept her busy late at night._

" _Yeah, babe? The light bothering you?" Stacey knew it wasn't the light that bothered her sister. It was the raised voices and obscenities._

But it was an unspoken agreement between the girls. No one mentioned the fighting. No one complained. If they did, the stark reality would invade their private fortress. So instead of answering, Bella held her arms out, and her sister went to comfort her. They snuggled together behind the curtains, and Stacey wished they were made of a more solid material. She pulled the thin girl's body against hers and wondered what would happen to Bella next year when she left for college.

Can I really leave her here? _Listening to the voices of her parents spitting vitriol at each other, Stacey wasn't so sure. If she could figure a way to take Bella with her, she'd go in an instant without ever looking back. Columbia, NYU, somewhere she could get a scholarship. She'd work nights and send Bell to school and they'd get an apartment where the nights were quiet enough for Bell to sleep and Stacey to study. Pulling her sister closer, Stacey promised her she'd manage it somehow._

"You did it, too. You got into Columbia and got your degree, and you convinced Mom to let me come live with you after you got your own place." Bella took her sister's hand. "And ever since then, you've been the only one I trust."

Stacey squeezed her sister's hand. "I know. And I know you're right. It doesn't make sense for me to feel this way about Andre." She thought about him, trying to analyze her feelings, remembered the intense, mysterious expression on his face when he pulled off a magic trick. _There's always a trick._

It was true, she knew it, and she wondered if it meant she couldn't trust him. Maybe the fact that he hadn't said he loved her, but had just implied enough to make her think it—maybe that was the trick in the magic he was trying to use on her. Andre was so used to tricks, they'd become his truth, what he believed in.

Could she trust a man like that with her heart?

She called him half an hour later while Bella showered. He answered the phone sounding slightly breathless. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." She hesitated, but curiosity got the better of her. "What are you doing?"

"Come back to the theater and I'll show you." He paused. "But you should know you'll never see the show the same again."

"You mean you want to show me some of your tricks."

"I mean I'm willing to share some of my secrets with you." His velvety voice was firm. "And as you know, I don't share them with everyone."

She stalled. "You know we have lunch with Larry in an hour and a half."

"I can handle Larry. Call him and tell him to meet us here. I've ordered lunch to be catered."

It was a good idea. The magician in his own setting. She couldn't deny his instincts were solid, and they'd both be better equipped to handle Larry on home turf. "Have you looked over the questions I left you?"

"All set." How could he sound so normal when she'd fled his dressing room in terror earlier? Was he trying to put her at ease or did it not mean anything more than an attempt at getting her in bed?

"Okay, I'll be there in half an hour."

"So I can share my secrets with you?" His voice teased her.

"No." She hung up on him and sat on the edge of her bed for a minute, wondering why she wouldn't let him trust her, even if she didn't trust him.

_Maybe I don't trust myself._ She remembered his words: _It's like a ride at the amusement park...regardless of how you feel once you're on it, you're already there and you ain't getting off._

### Chapter Eight

Andre finished the run-through of the night's act and sent the rest of the crew off to lunch. Mattie and Bobby lingered, and he knew better than to tell them to get lost with the rest. They'd be discreet, probably hang out in the dressing room. A couple of the guys from his crew put a round table on stage left, and Mattie covered it with a plain black tablecloth. Room service would bring the food and wine he'd ordered shortly before Larry arrived. He considered the setup and was satisfied. He'd dealt with a few reporters before and knew they wanted a story more than they wanted to know his secrets. He'd always managed to give them that.

_Until Stacey._ He wondered what would have happened if he'd given her a story. Not the one she'd come for, of course. His loyalty to his brother wouldn't allow that. But a story, nonetheless. What would she have done with it? Her type of sensational journalism wasn't hard to predict, but she was. He'd noticed it in the sorrowful tone of the story about the actress overdosing in the director's apartment. Even before she came to him, she'd started to feel something for the people she wrote about. He suspected she'd seen her life very differently at one time. Maybe she'd planned her career in a very different direction.

His phone rang, interrupting his speculation. He glanced at the screen and frowned when he noticed his brother's cell number. Tony wasn't supposed to have access to his cell phone yet. Obviously he was breaking the rules somehow or other. Maybe he'd bribed one of the nurses. Andre wasn't certain he was in the mood to take on his brother's problems right then. He considered not answering but gave up. If he didn't answer and Tony needed him, he'd never forgive himself.

"Andre." The relief in his brother's tone made him cringe. He knew what it meant. Tony wanted something, probably money, and that meant he had left the rehab facility Andre had checked him into after the ugly Vegas incident.

He decided it was best to cut to the chase. "Where are you?"

"I couldn't stay there, Andre. It was awful. Look, man, I'm sick. I know that, but you gotta let me come back. I helped you get there! It's what we worked for..."

"You almost destroyed it." Andre kept his voice cold. "If you want to come back, you've got to be clean—"

"I am! Man, I swear I am. I haven't had a drink since—"

"I know when you had your last drink, Tony." Andre kept his voice as gentle as possible. "About the same time you stole all our money and gambled it away. Go back to the clinic. If you're serious about ever coming back to work for me, check yourself back in. And don't stop for a drink on the way."

Tony was silent, but Andre could hear him breathing. "I— Would you really let me come back, Andre? Really, after what I did? Can you forgive me?"

"I already have." Andre made himself hang up then. Someone cleared a throat behind him, and he turned to find Bella standing there. He raised his eyebrows. "Good morning."

"Hey. Um, Stace is on her way, but I thought I'd come see if I could get started..." Her voice trailed off and she looked very aware and slightly guilty. He knew she'd been listening to the conversation. He remembered Mattie's warning about Bella, but then he shook it off. Like it or not, he was on the ride now and he had no intention of getting off.

"Excellent." He took her arm. "Mattie's back here somewhere. Let's go find her."

Stacey approached the theater with caution. After her abrupt departure earlier, the heat of embarrassment filled her at the thought of facing him. She found the theater deserted. Happy for the momentary reprieve, she looked around, noticing the table placed on the stage with a black tablecloth covering it and a single red rose in its center. She nodded with satisfaction. "Perfect."

"You like it?"

Andre's voice came from so close behind her, she jumped a little. She wheeled around, determined not to appear self-conscious. "Oh, hey. Where were you?"

"I was just showing your sister the ropes with Mattie, actually." He smiled a little, stepped up on the stage and ran his long fingers over the black cloth. "I wondered if the black was a bit much."

Thank heavens he was acting normal. At least, as normal as Andre could act. She drew a deep breath, glad he wasn't pushing her to continue their earlier discussion. She needed to get him through this interview first. "It's perfect. And eating here is a good idea." She glanced at her watch. "When will the food be here? Larry will almost certainly be late."

"So he's setting the stage already." He looked over his shoulder at her. "Isn't he self-conscious of trying to pull the same tricks on you that you already know?"

"I doubt it." She shrugged. "Why would he be? He thinks he invented them."

He laughed. "Good point. But if he's going to be late..." Abruptly, he stepped off the stage and landed lightly in front of her. He held a rose in his hand, and she thought he'd taken it from the table, but a glance showed her the one in the center of the table remained. He caught her chin with his other hand, holding it firmly so she couldn't turn away. "You ran away from me earlier."

She opened her mouth to protest that it wasn't the time, but found something entirely different coming from her. "I'm...sorry."

He relaxed, bent and kissed her gently, his lips almost feather-light on hers sending sparks and waves of electricity all the way to her navel. Dear God, how did he do it? The man barely had to _breathe_ on her to make her nerve endings throb with pleasurable yearning.

The theater door opened noisily, and she stepped quickly away from him. Larry appeared at the end of the aisle. "Hello!" He waved and started toward them, a big grin on his face. "This is a great idea. Magician in his own setting. Did you come up with this, Stacey?"

Thrown off by his unexpected early appearance, she opened her mouth to deny it, but Andre had already spoken. "It was all her idea. She's a natural, don't you think?"

"Hmm. I've always thought so." Larry scanned her up and down as he approached, then stopped and kissed her cheek. He stepped back. "I wasn't aware your talents extended to making celebrities look good as well as bad."

"I'm hardly a celebrity." Andre took Stacey's arm in a proprietary sort of way. "Not of the caliber you're both used to working with."

Stacey fought off the urge to shake loose from his hold. Instead, she smoothly took the rose from his other hand and stepped away, toward the stage. "Up and coming. Would you like a drink, Larry?"

As if on cue, a waiter rolled a cart out onto the stage, reminding Stacey that until that moment, the lunch hadn't been there and she wouldn't have had anything to serve Larry if he'd taken her up on it. She could have been imagining it, but she thought she saw Andre raise his eyebrow in her peripheral vision. She ignored him, remaining focused on the man she'd begun to think of as her nemesis.

"What are you serving? I could certainly use a drink before I get on the plane." Larry followed Stacey up onto the stage, hovering just a little too close to her elbow for her comfort when her body was still singing from Andre's touch. Did Larry know? Did some instinct tell him she was distracted by her desire for the other man? She couldn't let him take advantage of it. She forced herself to refocus, channeling the throbbing energy into a steely resolve.

Andre beat them to the table, uncorking the bottle of wine the server had handed to him and pouring three glasses. Stacey noted a bottle of water and poured herself a glass of that. She needed to have her senses around her for this interview.

Lunch went smoothly. During the course of small talk, Andre revealed little bits about his act, talking about the sleight of hand he'd become so expert at performing and even demonstrating a couple of simpler tricks at Larry's request. Every time Larry mentioned Tony, Andre steered the conversation away, employing every trick of circumvention and misdirection. By dessert, however, Larry's frustration with the practiced avoidance was obvious. He turned his attention to her. "You look fantastic by the way. I remember the last time you wore that dress."

Startled by the change in subject, Stacey looked down at her dress. She'd had limited wardrobe choices and had selected a black knit dress that she wore over a lacy black slip that just showed at the low cut front. "Um. Thanks."

He smiled his most charming smile, teeth flashing just a little. "You do remember that night, don't you? In New York?"

Heat rose with nuclear force through her entire body. Of course she remembered the night he was referring to, although she hadn't connected the dress to the memory until that moment. He'd just stolen another story right out from under her, and to celebrate he invited her to dinner. She'd gotten far too drunk and they'd wound up having sex on the elevator of her building in the small hours of the morning.

Without meaning to, she looked at Andre. Some flicker of emotion passed through his eyes—contempt? anger?—but she couldn't tell if it was directed at her or Larry. Although his posture didn't change—he remained leaning back in his chair as if savoring his wine—he looked as if every muscle in his body had tightened. A tiger ready to spring. His gaze moved smoothly to Larry. "Why don't we get on with what you came here for?"

Larry's head snapped around toward Andre. "I thought we were."

"You didn't think any such thing." Andre smiled. "You were more frustrated than you probably were last night when those two cocktail waitresses turned you down."

Larry frowned. He shot Stacey a sharp look, then returned his gaze to Andre. "Fine, let's get to it then. Why did your brother leave here three weeks ago?"

"Health issues." Andre gave him a bland look.

"Did the disturbance in the high stakes poker room on the evening of the 22nd of September have anything to do with your brother's health issues?" Larry looked like a cat with a big fat canary in his mouth.

Alarm bells went off in Stacey's head. She sat forward, trying to draw Larry's attention away from Andre. "We've been over this already, Larry."

"I remember." He spared her a quick glance. "You said, if I remember correctly, 'I'm not aware of the police being summoned, but I'm sure it's not an unusual circumstance at a Las Vegas casino.' Not exactly an answer. Besides, if my information is correct, you weren't even here at that time. In fact, you were—" he flipped a sheet on his notepad—"oh yes. In LA trying to repair the damage to your career after one of your 'exclusive' stories turned out to be a hoax." He tsked and shook his head. "So I don't think you'd know anything about this, would you?"

"Enough." Andre's voice commanded attention. His expression hadn't changed, but his resignation to the inevitable was palpable in the air around them. "My brother is an alcoholic and is seeking treatment. Yes, there was a disturbance, and as no one was hurt and the damages were paid for, the casino did not press charges. Is that all you need?" He stood.

Larry didn't follow his lead. "Why not just be up front about this? There's nothing particularly damaging for you or your brother. Why not tell the truth?" He knew there was more to the story, and Stacey could tell he didn't want to let it go, but she also knew Andre wouldn't give up the fact that his brother had stolen the money from him that he gambled away that night, and he definitely wouldn't reveal the financial difficulty Tony's escapade had put him in.

Andre paused, looking up at the ceiling. "Did you know magic is about timing? Kind of like playing piano. You can't rush it. That's what this is like. I was waiting for my brother to reach a point where he was ready for the truth to be told."

"And that time was now?" Larry looked dubious.

Andre flashed him a smile. "Sometimes life can't be held to the beat of a metronome, can it?" He held out his hand to Stacey, and she accepted it.

"Good-bye, Larry." She walked with Andre back stage. Two stagehands—large men with tattoos and shaved heads—stood just behind the curtain. Andre gave them a slight nod and they moved out to the stage. Stacey smiled a little. He'd thought of everything.

Or maybe not. He practically yanked her into his dressing room and pulled the door closed, releasing her only to fix her with a stern glare. "Did you wear that dress on purpose?"

Her shock rendered her speechless, but only temporarily. Her face flushed, half in embarrassment, half in anger. "Why would I do that?"

"You wouldn't unless—" He broke off, scrubbing at his face. "I'm sorry. I know you didn't...you wouldn't..."

Her heart melted at the sight of him struggling between his conscience and—what? Jealousy? No man had ever put so much trust in her before. The fact that he could do that when he so obviously feared betrayal meant more to her than any declaration of love.

"Andre." When he looked at her, she swallowed hard. "You can trust me. I swear. I'm not having an affair with Larry."

His face relaxed. "I know you're not. It's just...the thought of you with him, with any other man..." A tortured look crossed his face and he caught her up against him with a soft sound. His desire to erase every other man's touch from her memory was evident in the pressure of his lips on hers, and she gave in to instinct, responding with the same hunger to be the only woman he ever wanted again. He pushed her back against the door, holding her there with his hands on her hips, his mouth on hers demanding her lips to part, to allow him entry, and she gave in with relief. She wasn't aware how complete her surrender had been until he slid one leg between hers to rest on her crotch. She moaned and moved her hips against him, longing to ease the ache inside her and knowing he was the only one who could give her that release.

Very slowly, however, he drew away from her. She felt it happening, slid her arms around his neck and tangled her fingers in the dark curls of his hair. She didn't want the kiss to end. She wanted to kick off her underwear and wind her legs around his waist and take him inside her right then...but he was in control, and she felt with frustration that he wouldn't let it happen that way. Andre wasn't Larry, and what he felt for her was so much more than what a man like Larry could ever feel. The realization terrified her because she couldn't be certain she deserved what Andre could offer. And because she was terrified, she held on tighter.

The kiss ended at his gentle persistence. He still held her, leaning his forehead against hers. "God, I can't remember what my life was like before you. I can't imagine how I lived it the way I did."

Her breath came faster. "I know. So much has changed. But I'm scared." She bit her lip, struggling to put her fears into words.

"It's all right, baby." He reached up to brush her hair back. "Tonight I want to make love to you. I want you to know you can trust me, though. Do you think you can do that?"

Could she? She raised her eyes to his, knowing he could read the desire and terror that warred within her heart. She wanted to trust him, wanted to let him love her, longed to love him back. But years of betrayal and hurt and solitude held her back.

He nodded, putting one hand behind her neck, his thumb beneath her chin so he could tilt her head back and cover her lips with his again. His kiss was slow and gentle, as if they had all the time in the world and he'd never rush again. The effect the kiss had on her was the exact opposite of slow, though, as everything about her grew moist. He moved closer, and she felt his thigh against her again. She moaned at the contact, but he continued to kiss her, drew away for a moment to look into her eyes, smiled a little, looking totally relaxed, and turned his head to kiss her from the other side.

Someone tapped on the door, and he turned his head as it opened, his body still shielding her. Grateful for the protection, Stacey buried her face in his chest. His voice rumbled through his throat, still gentle and unperturbed. "Do you need something?"

Mattie's voice, sounding unsurprised and not in the least embarrassed, answered. "Jeff wants to run through the levitating thing once more if you're going to use it tonight."

"Give me a minute. I'll be right out." Only when the door closed did he step away a little.

She straightened her clothing. "I guess you have to go."

"You want to throw caution to the wind and help me with the levitating trick...with your eyes wide open this time?"

"Not on your life." She answered without thinking, and was almost immediately sorry. His tiny nod was the only indication that she'd disappointed him, but it was enough to send a jolt of pain through her. He'd just offered to show her one of the closely guarded secrets of his craft, and she'd refused. He could only see it as a lack of trust in him. She flushed and looked away. "I, uh, need to make some calls. From my room."

He nodded again, turning away as if it didn't matter. "Fine. You'll need to go ahead, then. Once we start the run-through, the auditorium will be locked up, including the back-stage area."

"Okay." Every part of her that he'd been touching just a few moments before felt cold, exposed, as if a protective layer had been removed from her skin. "Andre—"

He glanced over and smiled, as gentle and reassuring as always, as if she hadn't just hurt him the way she knew she had. "We'll talk later."

She nodded and left.

_I am, without doubt, the biggest idiot in the world._ The monologue had been running through her head the whole way back to her room. She'd picked up a copy of _Las Vegas Entertainment Weekly_ on the way back when she saw a picture of Andre on the cover. The headline read: "Sexy Magician Gives 'Strip' Another Meaning for Hopeful Women". She couldn't help but smile at the headline and the story, which was mainly about female fans gushing about how gorgeous Andre was, how his smile was so sexy, how numerous his love affairs had been... She stopped reading there. She knew Andre had played around a lot, but she also knew what he wanted for her was something different. And how many women would have taken her place in a second was obvious from the story.

_So why am I having such a hard time with this?_ She opened her door and stopped short.

Larry stood on the other side of the living area with Bella. They both looked surprised by her sudden appearance. Bella's face flushed and Larry's gaze shot to the door. Was he looking for Andre to walk in after her? Or was he wondering if he could escape?

"What are you doing here?" Stacey walked in cautiously, her eyes on Larry.

It was Bella who answered. "Mattie asked me to leave. I guess they were getting ready to do some top-secret magic stuff, and she still doesn't trust me. Andre would've let me stay." She pouted, but Stacey barely spared her sister a glance.

"I was talking to you." She jabbed her finger at Larry. "Aren't you supposed to be on a plane? Why are you here with my sister?"

"Waiting for you." His smile was so close to a smirk, she could barely see a difference. "I wanted to talk to you, not leave things the way we did. You know I don't burn bridges."

She raised her eyebrows, tossed her key card and the paper onto the coffee table. "Fine. The bridge isn't burned, but it's pretty damn shaky, so watch your step." She folded her arms over her chest.

He glanced at Bella and back at her. "Couldn't we do this in private?"

"I have absolutely no desire to be alone with you." She glared at him. "All I want from you is your assurance that you'll be on the next plane out of here."

He spread his hands. "I feel so unwelcome and I just can't imagine what I've done to deserve such treatment." His eyes narrowed. "You of all people should know what it's like to chase a story to the ground. Don't you miss that, Stacey?"

Bella spoke up. "I could go into my bedroom?" She looked at Stacey questioningly.

"Okay." Stacey waved her away. "Whatever will get him out of the room fastest."

Bella nodded and retreated, leaving her door slightly ajar. Stacey faced Larry. "Say what you need to say and get out."

"Ouch." He pretended to pout, but he looked inexplicably pleased. "I just wanted to thank you for helping me get my story."

" _Helping_ you?" She frowned. "I didn't _help_ you get anything. Andre made the decision to let you in on what happened with his brother."

"Oh, you thought I meant the interview." He smiled and bent to kiss her cheek.

She jerked away. "What _else_ would I mean? What do _you_ mean, and what do you think you've got?"

He laughed and picked up the paper she'd put on the table, examining Andre's picture. "What else could I possibly have? It would take a magic trick to get anything else on Vegas's favorite magician other than that he has a nice ass, wouldn't it?" He laughed and tossed the paper down again. "Oops. Forgot who you've been hanging out with. You actually believe in magic."

He grinned as he turned toward the door. She watched him go, half of her wanting to pursue him and demand to know what it was he thought he knew. But how could he know anything but what they'd told him? It was impossible. He paused at the door, glancing back and winking. "I'll send you a copy of the story, shall I? Should be out next week."

Bella emerged from her room when the front door closed. "Hey, you okay?"

"Fine." Stacey shook off her lingering misgivings. "Yeah. I'm good. Larry just...he knows how to get to me. He's gotten a clue of how much Andre and this job mean to me, so he's pretending he's got more than he does. Or maybe he's trying to fool me into slipping up, I don't know. At any rate, he's gone now."

"So what happened?" Bella looked at her curiously. "I figured you'd be locked in the auditorium." She rolled her eyes. "I'm sure they didn't ask _you_ to leave like they did me."

"Andre can't let everyone see how he does his illusions." Stacey knew she was avoiding the question and hoped Bella wouldn't see past her evasiveness. "But he's probably done by now. You should head back."

"What about you?" Bella gave her a suspicious look. "Why don't we walk back together?"

Stacey indicated her laptop. "I have work to do, a few calls to make. I'll be back in time for the show, though."

Her sister shrugged. "Okay, suit yourself." She waved as she left the suite.

Her cell phone rang and she glanced at it. She didn't recognize the number, but it had a New York area code. She shrugged and punched the answer button. "Stacey Matthewson."

"Stacey? Hey, how are you? It's Rhonda Day."

It took her a minute to place the name. She sat up straighter. "Rhonda." Rhonda Day was a television producer. The last time Stacey had spoken to her, Rhonda had been giving her hell for a story she'd written. She waited, half expecting another tirade, although she couldn't think of anything recent that would have gotten under the other woman's skin.

"I'm glad I got you." Rhonda's warm voice made Stacey's eyebrows shoot up.

She frowned out at the darkening skyline of Las Vegas. "What can I do for you, Rhonda?"

"I understand you're handling Andre Hawke's publicity now. Since he doesn't have a manager at the moment, I thought I should go through you. Let me put it simple. I've been asked to approach Andre about doing a series of television specials. As many as three, possibly, although we can't promise that."

" _Three_ television specials?" Stacey caught her breath and managed to keep her voice calm. "Well, if you'd like to send me the information, I'll pass it by Mr. Hawke. I can't speak for him." Her tone came out sounding almost bored, although inside she was singing.

"I'll email the preliminary contract immediately. I'm sure you'll have changes to make, but we'd like to get started as soon as possible." Rhonda's brisk tone sounded more subservient than usual, and that confirmed what Stacey had always suspected, what she'd predicted from the beginning. The network really wanted him. Andre Hawke was going to be the next big thing, and they wanted to get in on it. On him. Like everybody else did.

Her gaze fell on the newspaper on the counter with her key card. Without thinking to say good-bye to Rhonda, she punched the disconnect button and picked it up, looking at his charming smile lighting up the front page. She remembered the disappointment in his eyes when she refused to help him with the levitating illusion, his first real offer to show her how one of his tricks worked. It had taken a lot of faith on his part to make that offer and she'd refused him.

_It all comes back to trust. He wants to trust me, but I don't want him to. Because I don't trust myself or because I don't trust him?_ Did it really matter? For the first time in a long time—possibly the first time ever—a man had something real to offer her. And all she had to do to accept it was take a leap of faith. _And believe I'm worth it._

Making up her mind, she grabbed her computer and key card, tossed the newspaper into the wastebasket and started for the theater.

### Chapter Nine

Andre fastened his cufflink without focusing on what he was doing. His mind was preoccupied, and he knew he needed to get himself back on track, but between Stacey and Tony, he felt pulled in a hundred different directions. The image that brought to mind intrigued him. He liked for his illusions, especially the bigger ones, to be something everyone could relate to. He made a mental note to explore the concept for a possible future illusion.

He didn't have the time or the concentration to do it now, though. He hadn't been able to get back in touch with Tony since their earlier conversation. His cell phone went unanswered, the rehab facility said he hadn't checked back in and his mother was worried. Andre knew if Tony didn't check back into rehab, he might be lost, at least temporarily, but quite possibly beyond recovery.

And Stacey. Every thought of her brought a mix of emotions with it that he wasn't sure he was equipped to deal with. After a decade of playing around, having affairs, enjoying women to the nth degree...he was in love with this woman whose trust issues were so deeply rooted, she wouldn't even tell him the real color of her hair.

_God, my life has been a mess since she walked in the door. Was that just two days ago?_ He stood and paced and worried. How could he get through the show with these things on his mind, crowding out the rhythm and language of magic he needed to accomplish his illusions?

As if in answer, his phone rang. He glanced at the screen and muttered a little prayer. "Thank God." He answered. "Where the hell are you?"

Tony sounded clearer and much calmer than he had earlier. "I'm in a hotel. I wanted to call you, let you know. You were right—what you said earlier. You were right. I need to take responsibility for what I've done."

"Then you'll check back into the rehab facility tomorrow?" Andre tried not to sound too relieved. "You're making the right decision."

"Yeah, tomorrow everything will be better. I promise. Just— I'm sorry about everything, Andre. You've done your best to protect me, too, and I know I don't deserve it."

Andre frowned, thinking of the statement he'd given Larry. Not enough for front-page headlines, maybe, but enough for a second- or third-page story, anyway. Everybody loved a family tragedy. But he could tell Tony about it later. Once he was back in rehab, he'd be protected from what went on outside. Until he was stronger.

"Andre? Are you still there?"

Andre shook himself out of his reverie. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm here. It's all good, bro. Just get back to rehab tomorrow. And call me when you do."

"Yeah, sure."

Something about the way his brother spoke made Andre hesitate about cutting off the call. "Listen, Tony, I love you. You busted your ass for me and it's paying off, and I'm not forgetting all you did."

"Yeah." Tony sounded distant. He sighed. "Thanks, Andre. I'm gonna get some rest now."

The connection was cut so abruptly Andre wondered if the call had been dropped. He considered calling Tony back but looked up at a soft sound by the door. Bella stood there. "Sorry." She looked embarrassed. "I just keep popping up at the wrong times, don't I? Mattie sent me to tell you it's thirty minutes to curtain time."

"Thanks." He studied her for a second, wondering if he hadn't closed the dressing room door. When Bella lingered, he stuck his phone in his pocket. "Did you need something else?"

"Yeah." She acted hesitant. Then she gulped and continued. "It's about my sister. Stacey."

"The one and only." He kept his tone even and motioned toward a chair as he perched on the dressing table stool. "How can I help you?"

She took a deep breath, as if getting ready to pour out her heart to him, then laughed. "She's right, you _are_ amazing."

He wondered why it didn't sound like a compliment coming from her. "Pardon?"

"Nothing, it's just, you're sitting there all prepared to help me with whatever my problem is, and you don't even _know_ me." Her eyes flashed with a little contempt and a lot of suspicion.

He remembered what Mattie had said about Bella being tough all the way through. He didn't think Mattie was quite right, though. Bella's defenses were thicker than Stacey's, but he suspected her heart was much softer than most people suspected. He nodded with a self-deprecating smile. "That's true. It's in my nature to want to help people, though, especially people I care about."

"Or people who are related to the people you care about." Bella looked down at her hands for a second. "I think my sister is in love with you."

"I hope so." He didn't blink, even when she looked back at him with hazel eyes very like her sister's. "Is that all?"

"God. You're kidding me, right? Stacey doesn't fall in love with people. Especially not in three days."

"Two." He shrugged. "I don't usually fall in love with people, either. At least, it's never happened before."

"Then you are in love with her." She narrowed her eyes a little, her brow contracting. "And you won't hurt her, no matter what happens? And you trust her?"

"Yes. I trust her. And no, I don't want to hurt her." He smiled at the girl, feeling as if he might eventually be able to be a friend to her.

She didn't smile back, however. Instead, she nodded, looking distracted. "Yeah, well, thanks. For that. It's good to know." She swung around and stopped.

Andre followed her gaze to find Stacey there, looking at them with interest. "What's this?" She walked in.

"Nothing!" Bella grinned. "Just asking Andre for some advice about...something. No worries. Gotta run." She glanced at her watch. "Oh wow. Mattie's gonna kill me. Twenty minutes to show!"

Stacey stepped out of her sister's way, a slight frown on her forehead. However, as soon as Bella was out of the room, she turned to Andre. "I got a call a while ago."

"Who from?" He didn't want to discuss business with her, but he did want to be in the same room with her and he would take what he could get.

"An acquaintance with a network in New York. They want you to do a series of television specials." She held out the papers she carried.

He accepted them, glanced through them and looked back at her. "I'm committed to doing shows here through the end of the year."

"They know that, I imagine. Television never works that fast, anyway. It might not happen until next year." She took a step closer to him. "I don't know much about these contracts, but it looks pretty fair, and it could be a great opportunity for you."

He tossed the contract onto the dressing table. "I'll look at it after the show. I have more important things on my mind right now."

"More important?" Her jaw dropped. "What's more important?"

For answer, he reached for her, caught her by the wrist and pulled her to him. He brushed her hair back from her face. "Wondering whether or not you're coming to the show."

"I—" She stopped. "Yeah. I am."

"Want to sit in the front row? I always keep a seat or two available for VIPs."

Her smile was nervous, but she'd lost that deer-in-the-headlights look that had made him release her earlier. "Is that what I am?"

"Yes." He dipped his head and kissed her lightly. "Very, very, important." He drew away. "I would like to see you after the show as well."

"To talk about the contract?" She had to know that wasn't what he had in mind.

"Mmm." He brushed her hair back, kissed her again and released her. "Among other things."

"Okay." He saw the acceptance in her eyes, knew she knew what he wanted to discuss. He even thought he saw a glimmer of anticipation there. He hoped so. His desire for her was becoming a distraction he couldn't afford. He needed to know they were on the same page.

Mattie showed her the seats in the front row. "If I can find Bella, I'll send her to join you." She rolled her eyes. "She seems to have slipped off the face of the planet right now, though. She may be your sister, but she doesn't have your work ethic."

Stacey smiled absently and slid into her seat, pulled out her phone and checked her emails. Still anxious about what Larry had said before he'd left, she'd made some calls to some contacts in New York. So far, no one had heard from him, and he hadn't filed any stories—at least none that anyone was willing to tell her about.

Finding nothing there, she made sure the phone was in silent mode and stuck it into her pocket, amusing herself by listening in to the couple sitting behind her. Evidently they were on their honeymoon and the tickets had been a surprise from the groom to his bride. She was grateful, to judge by the soft sounds and whispers from the little table behind her. Stacey sighed inwardly, reaching for her phone again.

Before she could check her email for the umpteenth time, however, a waiter stopped by her seat with a glass of red wine that he handed her with a little bow. "Mr. Hawke's compliments, ma'am. Can I get you anything else?"

She accepted the glass with a little smile. "Thanks." She hesitated, knowing she had an opportunity to cement things between them, to finally show him she trusted him. _A leap of faith._ Her heart felt frozen in her chest as she scribbled a single word on her napkin, folded it and handed it to the waiter. "Could you see he gets this, please?" Her face flushed as she noticed their exchange had been noted by her neighbors. What did it look like? None of them could possibly know she worked for Andre. Did they think she was just his latest paramour?

And wasn't that what she planned to be after tonight? Paramour, lover, sexual partner... whatever she wanted to call it, if she hadn't intended to go that route, she wouldn't have done what she just had. She sipped the wine and ducked her head to hide her face, suddenly glad Mattie had evidently not found Bella. She didn't want to discuss this with her sister. She didn't want to talk about any of it anymore. So much had happened over the past couple of days, she just wanted to relax in his arms for a while.

She hadn't noticed the subtle change in the lighting, but when the music started, she looked up and gave a start of surprise when she saw Andre standing next to her seat with a happy grin on his face. He held a napkin, the one she'd sent back to him with the single word "brown" scribbled on it, and he reached for her hand before she could signal her horrified "no" to him. But the moment his fingers closed on hers, she gave herself up to him, and when he pulled her to her feet and into his arms, wrapping his arm around her waist and kissing her right there in front of everyone, she forgot the spotlight and the show and everything else. As they drew apart, he tucked the napkin into his jacket pocket, still holding her hand.

The audience had sat in stunned surprise for a moment, but then a ripple of applause started near them and Andre, still holding her hand, bowed. "Okay, everybody, that's the show!"

Laughter greeted this announcement, and Andre grinned. "All right, maybe not yet. What do you think?" He directed this question to Stacey.

She laughed and gave him a little shove toward the stage. He rolled his eyes, produced a rose out of thin air and handed it to her, kissing her on the cheek as he did so. His lips lingered near her ear just long enough to whisper, "I love brunettes, by the way."

She sat with gratitude, a little shaken by his acknowledgment of her note. Andre leapt gracefully onto the stage. "Sorry about the delay in getting started, everybody, but my friend there gave me something very special earlier." He patted his pocket and winked at her before turning his attention to the audience. "I guess you could say my mama raised me right. I believe in saying thank you."

The audience "aww"ed in appreciation and he responded by holding up his hands. "On the other hand, it caused a delay and I want to make it up to you. And since I'm in a really good mood, let's make this the best show of the season, what do you say?"

He proceeded to do just that, pulling out all the stops. He levitated a woman sitting on the same chair he'd used the first night on Stacey. From her spot in the audience, she had to admit, it was a very impressive illusion and she was damned if she could figure how he did it. He did amazing sleight of hand tricks with a camera zeroing in on his long fingers to provide close up shots that left very little room for error. At one point, he produced an entire bouquet of roses and tossed them, one by one, into the audience.

He was in top form, kept the audience engaged the entire time and performed more than one trick that left everyone in the room shaking their heads and saying "how did he do that?" Every now and then he'd call a volunteer onto the stage to participate in or witness an illusion. When he did, his eyes would find Stacey's in the darkness, and she felt like he was saying, "I can do this because of you. Because of your faith, I can do anything."

Her heart pounded at the thought that she could mean that much to him, and when he glanced her way as he escorted a beautiful woman up onto stage to witness one of his tricks, she saluted him with her wine glass, no longer caring what anyone thought.

He closed the show as normal, but when the audience's thunderous applause made it clear he would have to come back onstage, he reappeared in a single spotlight, the rest of the theater remaining dark. He had a bottle of water in one hand and a towel around his neck, as if he'd already started his after-show routine when they called him back. He took a swallow of the water, then looked around as if surprised to see so many people out in the audience still. "One more, huh?"

The audience hooted and clapped, and he smiled. "Okay, then!" He clapped his hands and the lights came back on. He took off his leather jacket, tossing it over the levitating chair with a casual flick of his wrist. "I will, however, need an audience member for this one, and it needs to be the most beautiful lady here."

Stacey shrank back into her seat and looked for an escape as he pretended to scan the audience. "Oh crap."

"How about her?" The shout went up from behind her, and she looked back in horror to see the bride she'd noticed earlier pointing at her. The audience clapped and whistled, and Andre cocked his head, considering her.

"I don't know about _her_ ..." Someone booed loudly from the back and Andre laughed and waved. "Oh, all right! I was kidding!" He grinned wickedly, crooked a finger at Stacey and held out his hand. With no other choice and the spotlight now zeroed in on her, she accepted the invitation and stood to cheers from the entire room.

Onstage, he faced her, his expression completely serious. "Have we ever met before?"

She stared and then laughed. Sobering, she shook her head. "I don't think that one's going to work this time."

"Shh." He produced a deck of cards, waggling his eyebrows impressively and speaking in a businesslike tone. "Now, would you please examine these cards? Are they all different? Anything odd, any bent corners or other distinguishing markings?"

She examined the cards as instructed, then handed them back. "Nothing wrong."

"Nothing wrong, she says." He waved dramatically at the audience, then added, "Of course, she might not tell you if there was, but I promise you, there's no funny business going on up here...with the cards."

Laughter, quickly quieted as he began shuffling the cards. "Now, as you know, I _do_ know this lovely lady. What you _don't_ know is that she's pretty headstrong and doesn't do what I say most of the time. But I'm going to attempt to make her do something tonight. I am going to attempt to control which card she picks from this deck." His gaze locked with Stacey's. "Now, look directly at me and don't stop as I send you my instructions via telepathy."

She controlled her amusement with difficulty and stared back at him just as intensely, trying to play along as best she could. Finally he blinked and stepped back. "Sorry, I didn't mean to stare at you so long. You're just so pretty...isn't she pretty?" The last words were directed to the audience who applauded enthusiastically. Andre turned back to Stacey. "Now, choose the card I instructed you to."

"Any card?" Stacey reached toward the deck.

He rolled his eyes and tsked. "Not _any_ card. The one I just told you to pick."

She gave the audience her own dubious look, much to their amusement, and selected one of the cards. "Do I look at it?"

"Before you do, I would just like to ask you if you know which card it is?"

She shook her head.

"But I do. You see, I know there is only one card in this deck suitable for you, and that is the Queen of Hearts. I instructed you to choose that card, and now you should show it to everyone." He gave a grand flourish and bowed his head, as if to accept the flood of admiration and applause he knew would be coming.

Stacey looked at the card in her hand and hesitated, then shrugged and held it up. The Ace of Spades. A little titter from the theater.

Andre raised his head and looked, then shrugged at the audience. "I told you she never does what I tell her. Okay, I can fix this." He turned to Stacey. "Stacey, my love, I want you to place the card face down on my chest and hold it there."

"Like this?" She'd warmed to the game now, and she put the card on his chest as instructed, letting her hand spread over the smooth silk of his shirt above his heart.

This time when he smiled, it was as if the rest of the theater had disappeared. "If that wasn't right, I wouldn't tell you." He covered her hand, pressing down, and she felt his heart beat through the card and the warmth of his palm against the back of her hand. She was caught up in his intense blue gaze and for several seconds nothing else registered on her senses. Then he dropped his hand from hers and said in a gentle voice very unlike what he'd used before. "Show them the card."

She tilted her head, a little concerned. She was sure the card hadn't left her hand the entire time. It couldn't possibly be anything but the Ace of Spades she'd drawn from the pack before. Very slowly, she turned it over and gasped. She now held the Queen of Hearts. She held it up to show the audience, who erupted into applause.

Andre bowed and waved and took her hand. A moment later, he pulled her off the stage. Mattie grabbed them both and threw her arms around their necks. "I _knew_ you two would be perfect together! That was awesome!"

"You knew what?" Stacey's voice was lost in the congratulations from the passing crewmembers. Andre didn't release her hand the entire time, though he paused to speak to several people, thanking them for their help in carrying out the show. Stacey's phone rang, and she answered it while Andre discussed something technical with Bobby, his fingers still wound through hers.

"I just wanted to make sure you got the contract." Rhonda's voice reproved her for not calling back immediately.

"I, um, yeah." Stacey wished she could move a little further away from the conversation next to her. "I'm afraid he hasn't had a chance to look at it yet."

"I just heard about the show tonight. From what I understand it was pretty spectacular. And you don't have to worry about your little thing with Andre. The network will like the romance angle of it."

Rhonda's voice reminded Stacey of a peach with no juice. Smooth and pretty but dry and lifeless. She sighed, feeling some of the joy of the evening being sucked away. "Rhonda, I really can't give you any feedback at this time..."

Andre plucked the phone from her fingers. "Hi, Rhonda, this is Andre Hawke." He listened for a moment. "Well, thank you. I certainly appreciate that. But at this time it's not what I'm looking for." He paused, listened politely. Stacey, her eyes wide with horror, made a frantic motion for him to stop! already. Bobby winked from behind Andre, a little smirk on his face. "Yes, ma'am, I certainly understand. I know there are other magicians. We're basically a dime a dozen here in Vegas. I'm sure you'll find someone else to fit the bill." He hung up and handed the phone back to Stacey. "And good luck with that."

"Way to go." Bobby high-fived him.

Mattie chortled. "Awesome."

" _What_ are you all talking about?" Stacey yanked her hand from his, feeling like stomping her foot in frustration. "This is a huge opportunity for you. You're crazy to pass it up."

"Not totally." Andre sobered, but his eyes still twinkled, his good mood undisturbed. "Come on. I'll explain it to you." He started down the hall behind the stage.

"This better be good." Stacey groused as she followed him. "You just turned down a deal that would have made you a millionaire and a household name. That deal could have made your career, Andre."

He paused and looked at her. "You think I do this for money?" A tiny smile tugged at the sides of his mouth. A fantasy of wiping that grin off his face with a passionate kiss flashed through her mind in an instant, weakening her knees and dampening her groin in a rush of hormone-induced lust. Involuntarily, her eyes flickered down to his mouth, and she thought she saw the smile grow deeper. "Come on, I want to show you something."

Still focused on his mouth, she bit her lip and gathered the shreds of her resolve around her as she forced herself to look into his eyes. "What?" Her voice came out in a croak and she stepped back, knowing she couldn't respond normally to him in such close quarters. She cleared her throat, wishing she could clear her head so easily. "What do you want to show me that's going to help me understand why you'd give up a multi-million dollar deal?"

His face broke into a wide grin as beaming as sunshine after rain, and he grabbed her hand, undoing the careful distance she'd placed between them without effort. "Come on, then."

He led her through the casino, deliberately setting a running pace. It was crowded, as the casino was likely to be after midnight, but he didn't care. He felt exhilarated, and he had to let it out some way or other. If he didn't run, he might stop and pull her into his arms and kiss away the frown she still wore. And God only knew where that might lead them. She'd come a long way that night, but he had no doubt she'd retreat into her distrust of him in an instant.

People turned to stare as they passed. Who ran in Las Vegas? He couldn't stop smiling. No matter what she thought, the offer from the producer meant a great deal to him. Television was not in his plans yet, but the fact that the offer had been made was a gratifying acknowledgment of the work he'd done up to this point.

He glanced sideways at her. God, she was beautiful, even panting and doing her best to keep up with him, and he could see that the craziness of her situation had caught her up in a sense of excitement, too. A security guard stepped toward them, then, recognizing him, stopped. Andre paused just long enough to pull a dollar bill from his pocket. Unable to resist the opportunity, he released her hand, gave the bill a quick twist and fold, transforming it into an origami bird and tossing it to the guard. Midair, it seemed to falter and hang motionless for a moment, like a paper airplane without the correct aerodynamics. Andre made a slight motion with his hand and, on cue, the bird gave a tiny, undeniable flap of its wings, landing in the security guard's hand.

The bystanders who'd turned to watch gave a collective gasp and broke into applause. He saluted and bowed, reaching for Stacey's hand, but stopped when he saw her face. She looked surprised and a little vulnerable. "What is it?"

"That trick. It just reminded me of the one you did when I saw you the first time. At the Clemson Theater." Tears came to her eyes and she swiped them away impatiently.

Uncertain about her reaction, he pulled her out of the crowded, open area, searching for a quieter spot. He found it down a hallway in a deserted little lounge area. He pulled her down onto a couch and sat on the ottoman in front of her. "Tell me."

"It was a phoenix. You made a phoenix and it flew and burst into flames." She shook her head. "It's silly, but...you did it right there in front of me, and when you pulled the little baby phoenix out of the ashes... I—I really believed, Andre. Not just in magic, but in _you_." She frowned and hit him. "That's why I'm so angry about this television thing. How could you pass up what you've been working for for so long?"

He smiled, fending her off. "I remember that trick. I've always liked the origami magic tricks. Just the folding of the paper alone is magic, never mind the rest of it." He brought her hands to his lips. "I wish I remembered that moment. Thank you for sharing it with me."

She nodded, taking a deep breath. "Didn't you say you had something to show me?"

He smiled and stood, holding out his hand. But instead of resuming the jog, they walked together, fingers twined, as if they had all the time in the world, to the elevators. He released her to turn his key in the elevator control panel.

"Where are you taking me, anyway?" She leaned her head against his shoulder and he kissed her forehead.

"Somewhere I don't usually take women."

She frowned at the control panel as they came to a halt. "The roof? You have access to the roof?"

"It's not impossible to get access to anything you want in Vegas...if you know how to ask." He took her hand. "Come on."

She hesitated, resisting his tugging hand. "I don't...I'm not sure I want to..."

The fear in her eyes touched him. Who would guess her weakness was heights? She was so sure of herself as long as her feet were firmly on the ground. He relaxed the pull of his arm and summoned the gentle smile that had enabled him to blindfold hundreds of trusting audience members. "Shut your eyes." He put an arm around her waist. "You're safe with me."

For just a second she hesitated, then did as instructed. His heart soared at the open admission of trust. He wanted to kiss her, but he had something else in mind. He led her down the short hall and out onto the roof, positioning her just right for the maximum view of the Las Vegas Strip. Then he moved behind her, placing one hand on each hip, feeling the curve through the thin dress she wore. "Now." He breathed the intoxicating scent of her hair and exhaled. "Open your eyes."

In spite of his reassuring presence behind her, she wasn't totally certain she wanted to open her eyes. It was bad enough staying in a suite twenty-two floors up where at least she could close the drapes and pretend she was on the ground level. Nobody slept on the ground level of the Las Vegas Strip. That space was reserved for casinos, theaters, a few restaurants. Sleeping—the little that actually happened in Vegas—took place in hotel rooms and suites, most of which were hundreds of feet up.

But this was different. She could feel the dry desert breeze on her skin, a welcome relief after the canned air she'd been breathing all day. This far up, the air smelled fresh, free from the musty mix of sweaty bodies and sewage that often pervaded the street level of Vegas. If she kept her eyes closed, she could almost imagine what it had been like hundreds of years before when the cowboys rode through the desert...

She was wasting time. If she were going to do it, she should go ahead. She bit her lip, felt his hands on her hips, the warmth of his body behind her. As if he understood her inner battle, he leaned forward, his lips almost touching her ear, making her dizzy with desire at a time when she desperately didn't want to be dizzy. At first she barely understood his words, but when they penetrated, she found her courage. "Sometimes you have to do something that frightens you just to be sure you're still alive."

Her eyes fluttered open, and she waited for the vertigo and fear to crash down on her. But with him at her back, she found she could look out at what was undeniably an amazing view. Somehow beautiful in its blatant excess, the Strip spread out below her in a medley of lights, looking like crystal and jeweled glass. She could see the people strolling along the street, slower and more peaceful at this late hour and at this great distance than she knew they would seem if she were among them. Light of every color bloomed and blossomed and split the night. The light breeze brushed her hair back from her face, almost as gentle as his touch. For the first time, she could understand why Vegas had become known as the flower of the desert. "It's amazing."

He stood close enough so she could feel him nod. "From up here it is." He moved to her side, and she immediately wished he hadn't. She liked the solid feel of him behind her and edged closer to him, feeling his arm tighten on her shoulders. He contemplated the view for a moment. "Do you know what I see down there?"

She shook her head. "What?"

"A lot of people looking for something. I've always believed it's magic. Do you know what I think magic is?" He turned, searching her eyes.

Again she shook her head. A gust of wind whipped her hair across her face and he reached up to brush it back, his palm warm against her cheek. "Magic is the absence of doubt." He bent his head and tasted her lips, and she responded by putting her arms around his neck and moving closer to him. She remembered that moment on stage when she held the card against his chest and knew that in that moment she'd found whatever magic she'd been searching for, and she wouldn't have felt any differently even if the card had stubbornly remained an Ace of Spades. The magic she'd found had been in the feel of his heart beating against her palm because her own heart had beat with his.

As they drew apart, she leaned her head against his chest, felt his arms surround her. "Andre, can I tell you something?"

"Anything." He tilted her chin up so he could look into her eyes.

She felt shy, the words sounding wooden but wanting to be spoken, even in her hesitant voice. "I think...even if you showed me every secret to every trick you do...I'd still believe in you."

His lips curved and he kissed her nose, her cheeks and finally her lips. " _Now_ I believe you trust me."

### Chapter Ten

Stacey let him lead her back to the elevator. It was a short ride to his suite, and he opened the door, holding it for her to go first. Inside, she realized she felt a great deal like she had standing on the roof of the building with her eyes tightly shut. Unprotected, uncertain about what might happen if she opened her eyes. Would the world whirl out of control around her, throwing her off the precipice?

Andre's hand on her bare arm startled her, and she spun. "What?"

His gaze remained level, and he seemed unsurprised by her startled reaction. "Would you like a drink?"

"I think I better." At his amused look, she added, "I'm sorry. Heights make me jumpy. No pun intended. Just water will be great." She followed him through the plush living area into the full kitchen. He opened the refrigerator, took out the familiar square bottle of artesian water and filled two glasses, passing one to her. As she accepted the glass, her hand shook, sloshing the liquid.

He steadied her hand, looking into her eyes. "You don't have to be jumpy now."

"Why not? I'm about to take a plunge right off the highest height I've ever been on. I think that requires a little nervousness, doesn't it?" She gulped the water and set the glass aside.

"If it helps any, I'm jumping with you." He reclaimed her hand, bringing it to his lips, his eyes not leaving hers.

She trembled at the touch of his lips, closed her eyes as he flipped her hand over and tasted the inside of her wrist. She couldn't open her eyes, if she did, the world would change, the floor fall away and she'd lose herself in vertigo. He seemed to enjoy teasing her as she stood, her eyes firmly shut. He kissed the inside of her elbow, her shoulder, nipped her earlobe and paused to whisper, "Open your eyes."

"Why?" She shivered at the warmth of his breath on her neck.

"Because you're looking for something and you won't find it with your eyes shut." He moved behind her, and she felt his hand on her shoulder, brushing her hair away from her neck, his lips touching her nape, and now the tremors that shook her were becoming an earthquake. She reached behind her to curve one arm around his neck.

"What am I looking for?" She whispered the words as he kissed the spot below her right ear.

"Magic." His teeth teased her earlobe before he turned her to face him. "Open your eyes and I'll help you find it." This time she didn't resist his command. Safe in his arms, she found the courage and her eyelids fluttered open to meet his gaze. His eyes were very dark, desire for her apparent in his expression, and the thought excited her. He could have any woman he wanted—she'd seen it in their eyes in the casino, backstage after his shows, _during_ the shows as they sat next to their husbands and boyfriends and sometimes even their sons and daughters. But he didn't want them. He wanted _her_.

He placed his hands on either side of her face, his thumbs resting just below her ears, and kissed her, brushing his lips over hers, teasing them until they parted and he plunged inside.

Her body burned inside the thin dress she wore, and she reached for the zipper herself, knowing she had to get rid of everything between them. He laughed softly, brushing her hands aside and slowly drawing the zipper down her back. He pushed the straps from her shoulders and knelt in front of her, peeling the dress away from her slender form. "You're so beautiful, baby." He breathed the words, helping her step away from the entangling fabric.

His warm hands on her thighs made her shiver in anticipation. He moved them slowly, caressing, teasing, sliding up between her legs to the wet spot of her panties, pausing there before moving up to snag the thin lace and pull it down, revealing her body completely to him.

Her head whirled with the madness of having him kneeling in front of her naked body like a worshipper of a goddess. If he touched her now, she would surely fall. He couldn't expect her to keep standing. No magic in the world could keep her from crumpling to the floor with desire. But he did touch her, his lips and hands moving over her, tongue lapping at her, his fingers sliding into her, finding her rhythm as easily as he performed his magic. But the mounting pressure in her body was no illusion, and she found the strength to stand until, crying out in release, she surrendered to the pleasure.

She was falling, as certain of peril as she had been on the roof. But he caught her, scooped her into his arms and held her tight against him, carrying her down the hall. He laid her on the bed in the room lit only by the lights from the strip outside, filtered through the sheer window covering. She rubbed the palms of her hands over his arms, pleased to find he'd discarded his shirt. She wanted all of him, hungered for him in a way she wouldn't have thought possible after the orgasm she'd just experienced.

His lips covered her left nipple, sending tremors of heat and pleasure through her, as the pad of his thumb caressed her right breast. She reached for his jeans, helped him discard them along with his boxers and gasped at the hot, hard feel of him released against her. She wanted to see him, not just shadows silhouetted against the light from outside. "Could you turn on the light?" She realized how wanton her request might seem and blushed.

He sat up, reaching for the bedside lamp. The light made her blink, but her vision cleared a moment later, and she let her eyes wander over his splendid form, hard and ready for her. He took her hand and pulled her closer. She raised her eyes to his face, smiled and brushed her fingers across his lips. He kissed them and held up a condom. "Will you help me?" His confident smile seemed to indicate he had no doubt of her reply.

Unable to resist the excuse to touch him, she took the condom and tore open the wrapper. As she covered him, she let her hand apply enough pressure to make him moan and move against her. He snaked one arm around her waist and pulled her back against him, kissing her. "That's better."

She laughed. "Yeah. You could say that." She threw one leg over him so she straddled him. "But it could be even better."

"Hmm." He pulled her closer, kissing her so lazily that when he entered her, she gasped in surprise against his lips. He held still for a moment, then slowly withdrew. She let out a low moan and he responded with another smooth, slow stroke that threatened to demolish everything resembling self-control in her.

Her hands grasped his shoulders. "Oh God. Ohgod." With the next stroke, it was as if everything that held her back, gave her control, kept her sane—all of it dissolved, and she lost herself in the rhythm he established, determined to have him all inside her, all that mattered the crazy passionate moment they shared. The heat inside her built to an explosive point and then she clung to him as he rolled them over, his body slick with sweat under her hands, and thrust into her one final time, crying out her name before collapsing on her.

She caressed his back, exploring the taut muscle and bone and sinew of the man she could now call her lover. His shoulder pressed against her mouth and she kissed it, turning her head to place her lips on his jaw and breathe the scent of his cologne. He stirred, rolling to his side and pulling her against him. His breath was rough against her hair. "Thank you."

Her heart skipped a beat. "Really?" She struggled to turn her head so she could look at him. "You're _thanking_ me for that? Good God, I wasn't even in control of what I was doing, I just—"

He smiled and laid a finger against her lips. When she fell silent, he kissed her. "And _that_ is what I'm thanking you for, for letting go, for trusting me finally." He chuckled. "Although I have to admit I wasn't altogether in control either."

"Really?" She gave him a stern look. "Is that what it's like making love to a magician? He just loses control?"

"No." He frowned at her. "That's just what it's like when _I_ make love to _you._ "

She smiled and relaxed into his arms. "Good answer."

He toyed with her hair, curling one lock around his finger. "It's really brown?"

"Right now it isn't."

"But if you let it grow out, it would be." He sounded thoughtful.

She winced. "To be honest, I don't really fancy looking like some sort of reverse skunk, so I'd probably have to dye it brown first."

He kissed her forehead and smoothed her hair back from her face. "Tell me about you."

"I figured you had a dossier on me by now." She gave him an innocent look.

He smiled. "I've done my research, it's true. I always do before I hire someone. But there are things even thorough research can't turn up. What is your family like? Other than your sister, that is."

She frowned. "I don't know. I haven't seen any of them except Bella for the past five years."

"How did you end up taking care of Bella?"

She took a deep breath, rolled over on her back and laced the fingers of her right hand through those of his left. He had long fingers, surprisingly strong, probably part of the conjuring and sleight of hand that he was so good at. Of course, she had good reason now to know that wasn't all those hands were good at. She let out her breath slowly.

"I told you about my parents and the baby my mom had after her affair. And how horrible life was there. They weren't bad people or even bad parents, but they shouldn't have stayed married and they were too damn stubborn to admit it. When I was eighteen, I got out of it. I was smart enough to win a scholarship to Columbia. A year later, I convinced my parents to let Bella come live with me. I was supporting myself by then, waitressing and writing whenever I could, whatever I could. I had a decent apartment in a good school district, and to be honest, I'm not sure they'd even noticed I was gone, so they didn't really care when I took Bella away, too. We've never looked back since."

"Do you ever hear from your brother?"

Her fingers tightened on his for a moment, then she said, "No. He was so little when we left. I guess he's about fourteen now. I think my parents are still together, although it isn't like I call every week to give them a report, at least not since I stopped asking them for money."

He rolled over toward her, putting his other arm around her waist and pulling her tightly against him. "I guess I know where your trust issues come from now."

She smiled at him, enjoying the warmth of his body against hers and twining her legs with his. "I'm feeling pretty trusting right now."

He responded by molding her even closer to him and kissing her lips and eyelids. "I could really go for some more trust right now."

She laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck, dizzily happy to be in his arms, to feel his hands working their magic on her body, and his aroused response to her own caresses...

A cell phone rang. He cursed softly, his lips buried against her neck. "Hold that thought?"

She smiled and released him reluctantly as he turned to the bedside table. She noticed a tiny frown crease his forehead as he turned on his side facing away from her to take the call.

She rolled onto her back, her gaze tracing the ornate ceiling tiles of the suite. She wondered where Bella was and why she'd been incommunicado for several hours. She reached for her phone to check for messages, but there weren't any. Maybe Bella had seen the show from backstage after all and figured Stacey wouldn't be home that evening. Discretion was a sign of maturity, after all, and Bella was growing up. Maybe the move to Las Vegas would be good for her.

Of course, if it was going to be a long-term thing, they'd need to make some arrangements. Bella would need to enroll in college. She needed a degree. And the tiny apartment in New York could be let go...

Andre hung up the phone, but he didn't turn back to her. Instead, he sat up, staring at the cell phone in his hands as if he couldn't quite figure what to do with it. Stacey sat up, too, moving to put her arms around his shoulders. "Andre? What's wrong?"

"My brother." His voice didn't sound right. Weaker than she'd ever heard it before. "That was my mother. Tony...tried to commit suicide tonight. He took something. A lot of different things, actually. She said she wasn't even sure what it all was. He's in the hospital."

"He'll be okay, though, won't he?" She tried to hide her horror at the news, tried to sound reassuring. "If he's in the hospital..."

Her voice faded when he turned his head to look at her, his expression haunted, as if all hope had been sucked away. "Oh God."

He stood, reaching for his pants. "I have to go. I have to get there." He paused. "The shows—"

She waved him away, reaching for her phone. "Go. Take a shower. I'll make all the arrangements."

She called Mattie, explaining the family emergency and the need to cancel the next week's shows. Mattie promised to take care of it. She found a robe and started making phone calls to airlines. After half an hour on the phone, she managed to find him a flight to Charlotte, and then arranged for another flight an hour later to Greenville. He'd arrive in the early hours of the morning, hopefully in time. Her heart broke at the thought of what he might have to be in time for.

After that, she helped him throw clothes into a suitcase. Mattie arrived, concerned but efficient, to reassure him that although there'd be some disappointed female fans, everyone would get their money back and the management had been very understanding. "Get it taken care of and get back." She kissed his cheek. "Bobby's waiting downstairs with the car."

Andre nodded and turned to Stacey. She managed a weak smile. He touched her face. "It'll be okay."

Her breath hitched in her chest. "I should be telling you that."

His lips curved. "Probably." He stroked her hair back and kissed her. "No matter what, I'm not sorry about what happened between us tonight, and I have every intention of picking up where we left off when I get back."

Not trusting her voice, she nodded. He kissed her again, held her close for a moment, then turned. "Okay, ladies, hold down the fort."

Mattie closed the door after him and turned back to Stacey. "I imagine you could stay here while he's gone, if you wanted."

Stacey gave her a weary smile. "No worries I'll stumble onto some of his secrets and my worse nature take over, then?"

"Not anymore." The other woman shrugged. "I told you I'd trust you if you loved him. And you do, don't you?"

To her horror, a sob threatened to choke her, and Stacey sank onto the couch, burying her face in her hands. The emotional roller coaster of the night was too much. The joy and terror of realizing she was in love with him, the fun of the show and making love to him finally combined with her horror and fear for Andre and his brother overwhelmed her. When Mattie sat next to her and put her arms around her shoulders, she could only nod. Yes, she loved him. Somehow the admiration she'd felt for him from the beginning had grown so quickly into a deep-rooted love, she could no longer imagine her life without him.

Like magic.

### Chapter Eleven

Bella was in her bedroom when Stacey arrived back at the suite. She didn't come out immediately, but a light was on, so Stacey knocked and entered without waiting for her sister's reply.

Bella turned from the dresser, closing a drawer. "Hey!" Her eyes swept over Stacey's rumpled clothing and tear-stained face and she crossed the room in two strides. "What happened? Is it Andre? I thought—"

"I do." Stacey closed her eyes, answering her sister's unvoiced question and dropping onto the bed beside the still unpacked suitcase. "I love him. But he's gone."

"He's gone?" Bella sat on the bed next to her, taking her hands. "What do you mean, gone?"

"He got a call. A family emergency. He's had to cancel the shows for the next week. He's gone home."

"Oh." Bella gave her sister's hands a squeeze. "And you miss him."

"It's more than that." Stacey searched for the words to express her feelings. "He's in so much pain. God, I can't..." She shook her head. "It's his brother."

"Oh God. The brother again? Seriously?" Bella rolled her eyes. "Maybe he ought to let his brother work out his own problems."

"No! It's just..." The need for a sympathetic ear overrode her instinct for caution and Stacey heard herself telling Bella everything. It wasn't even a conscious decision. She'd told Bella everything for as long as she could remember. She trusted her sister more than anyone else in the world. She and Bella had been everything to each other for as long as she could remember. She'd once told Bella it was the two of them against the rest of the world. _Me and you. That's all we've got._

Bella didn't disappoint. She held Stacey and listened, as only a sister can, to the story. She murmured reassurances that were probably meaningless and stroked Stacey's hair while she cried. Finally, she insisted the best place for her exhausted sister was bed and helped her to her room.

Stacey let her little sister bully her into going to bed, but sleep evaded her, her mind thousands of miles away with Andre. She finally fell asleep at almost four o'clock in the morning after his quick text told her he was on the way to the hospital in Greenville.

Andre rented a car and drove to the hospital. Greenville was a sleepy little university town on a weekend morning. Very few of the university's students would be stirring for at least a couple of hours and traffic was light. He remembered crashing frat parties with his friends during high school, gaining entrance by performing sleight of hand tricks that left the stoned frat boys utterly amazed. He knew he'd worried his mother more than he should have.

_Not as much as she's worried now._ He pulled into the parking deck of Pitt County Memorial Hospital and sat for a moment. His mother had assured him his brother's condition was "unchanged" when he called to check right after landing. He'd texted Stacey to let her know he was safe and her immediate reply let him know she'd been waiting for word. He longed to hear her voice, but he wouldn't call her. It might be eight o'clock in the morning to him, but it was five o'clock in Vegas and he hoped she'd fallen asleep. He pictured her asleep and wished he could be there with her. He wanted to watch her sleep...

_Enough._ He yanked the keys from the sedan's ignition and got out, slamming the door. _We have our whole lives ahead of us. This is a speed bump, nothing more._ But as much as he tried to convince himself his worries were entirely for his brother, he couldn't deny a niggling suspicion that things would not be what he'd thought they were when he returned to Vegas.

Andre's phone rang an hour later. He'd arrived in time to be with his mother while the doctor told them Tony's condition was unchanged, which he knew at this point was not a good thing. If the emergency room had managed to get all the drugs out of his brother's system, Tony should be on the road to recovery by now. As the doctor left, he pulled his mother into his arms and said a quiet prayer for a miracle.

His phone rang and Andre backed away from his mother, glancing at the screen, half hoping it would be Stacey. He frowned at the screen when he saw Mattie's name. He didn't want to deal with his career right now, but he knew Mattie wouldn't call if it wasn't important. He glanced at his mother.

Hope Hawkins gave him a tired smile, her forehead wrinkled with worry. "Go ahead, Andy. It's fine."

He kissed her lightly. "It's gonna be okay, Mom." _Whatever happens, it's going to be okay._ At her nod, he turned, answering the phone. "Hey."

"Hey." Mattie's voice had an odd sound. "Is everything all right?"

He knew she was asking if Tony was still alive. "Yeah. What's up?"

"I'm sorry to call you like this, but it's sort of an emergency and it can't really wait for you to get home. I...have you seen today's _The Biz?_ "

"Not yet. Larry's story in it?" He'd told Mattie about the story he'd given Larry to get him out of town. He was a little surprised Larry had managed to get it in the paper so quickly though. Exhaustion had begun to fuzz the edges of his brain, and he couldn't quite comprehend why Mattie would be calling him about something she knew was coming.

"More than that, Andre." The odd, reluctant note in Mattie's voice irritated him.

"Mattie, I don't have time for this. What's going on?"

"He's got everything. More than you told him. It had to be—"

_Stacey._ The unuttered name hung in the airwaves between them. He closed his eyes. He wanted to curse and scream and beat himself over the head with whatever blunt instrument was handiest just to get away from the pain. How could he have believed her? She couldn't love someone like him, a man whose lost faith in his brother had resulted in him trying...and probably succeeding...to take his own life.

"Andre?" Her voice was anxious now.

"How bad is it?"

"It's everything. Including...including what happened last night. She even told him about Tony trying to commit suicide." Anxiety had given way to anger now.

"Have you talked to her?" He opened his eyes. Now that he knew the truth he wanted to face it head on.

"Not yet. I wanted to know how you wanted me to handle it...considering."

_Considering the fact that I slept with her and she fucked me?_ He let the anger take over. It was ugly and easier to deal with than the pain.

"What do you want me to do?" Mattie sounded like a pit bull aching to dispose of its prey.

"Find out what she had to do with it and get her out of there before I get back." He felt hot with fury and cold with determination at the same time. It was a powerful and not very pleasant feeling. He disconnected and stood for a long moment staring out at the early autumn afternoon. Then he turned to his mother, putting his arm around her. Holding onto the only stable ground he felt he had left.

Loud banging on the door woke her. She sat up, blinking blearily at the clock beside the bed. Eight o'clock. She frowned. _What the hell?_

"Stacey! Open up! Right now!" Mattie's voice sounded urgent. Stacey's heart leaped into her throat and she jumped out of bed.

"Andre." She raced to the door, sleep disheveled, unbathed, still in the clothes she'd worn the night before, and flung it open. "What is it? What's wrong?"

Mattie's face was streaked with tears, but the expression that twisted her face wasn't sorrow. It was fury. Bobby stood right behind her, his own appearance grim. Mattie stormed in, waving a newspaper at Stacey. "How could you do it? God, I thought you loved him!"

Stacey couldn't focus, let alone defend herself. Her brain still fogged from sleep, she could only mumble, "Is Andre all right?"

"All right? Are you kidding me? I _know_ you're kidding me." Mattie looked like she might throw herself at Stacey, but Bobby caught her hand.

"Maybe you should explain." He looked less sure of himself than Mattie did, although no less upset.

" _That_ is all the explanation she needs." Mattie threw the newspaper onto the coffee table. "How could you do that _now?_ "

Stacey reached for the paper and drew her hand back as if it had burned her. "Oh my God." She covered her mouth, then uncovered it and read it out loud. "Vegas Magician Rushes to Bedside of Dying Brother, Blames Himself for Suicide Attempt". Her eyes dropped to the byline and a rush of hatred blinded her temporarily. "Larry."

"Don't even _pretend_ you weren't in on this with him." Mattie's voice came out in a snarl.

"I didn't—I wouldn't—"

"Bullshit!" Mattie glared at her. "You would and you did. He couldn't have gotten all this information himself. It had to be someone Andre trusted, and that's you, me and Bobby. Look at what it says! 'A source close to Hawke'. Isn't this what I predicted all along? Isn't this why you didn't sign the confidentiality agreement? Andre says—"

"You've spoken to Andre?" Stacey felt something curl up inside her and turn into ash. " _He_ thinks I would do this?"

"He never said—" Bobby started to speak.

"Yes. He does." Mattie cut him off, looking satisfied. "He's finally accepted what you are. My only question is, why are you still here? Why didn't you leave after you got your story? Were you hoping to get something else?"

"That's three." Stacey looked at the paper and then at her sister's closed door. Why hadn't Bella come out when she heard the shouting? She remembered the still-packed suitcase on her sister's bed and a horrible certainty filled her.

"What?" Mattie looked surprised.

"Three questions. You said you only had one." Stacey handed the newspaper back to Mattie and stalked across the room to her sister's door, throwing it open without knocking. As she'd suspected, it was empty except for a small folded piece of paper at the foot of the bed. She picked it up, crumpling it in her hand and turning to the astonished people in the other room. "You don't get another. Get out."

"You—" Mattie's face went from flushed red to white. "He wants you gone. You can't stay here, you know."

"I don't plan to." Stacey's voice fell flat, like a heavy piece of metal landing on another. No ricochet. No bounce. Just a whoosh of air and then nothing. "I'll be gone by lunch."

She sat for a long time on the end of her sister's undisturbed bed after Mattie and Bobby left. Andre's actions—or lack thereof—had left her powerless. Did he want her to call him and plead with him to believe her? She couldn't see herself doing that, especially while he was dealing with his brother's suicide attempt. She wanted to be angry with him. _He_ was the one always talking about trust, wasn't he? How could he jump to such quick judgment of her?

She wanted to be angry, but she couldn't manage it because she just felt empty. Anger would be so much better than this horrible empty feeling. Anger was something she could relate to. Emptiness was something she hadn't felt since she realized her parents didn't care about her.

She smoothed out the rumpled paper she still clutched and looked at it. Her heart ached. Andre wasn't the one who'd born the brunt of the real betrayal. The real betrayal had gone much deeper than anything she could have done to him. She opened the short note and read it, each word like a tiny stab in her heart:

Dear Stacey,

I'm sorry. By the time you read this, you'll know what for. I'm in love with Larry, and I'm moving back to New York to be with him. He says he'll take care of me. We'll have a real home together. I'm only sorry I had to hurt you to get it. Please, call Andre. Tell him it was me. I know he'll believe you. Nobody over there ever trusted me, anyway. Except you.

No matter what you think, I love you. Bella

Stacey stared at the last line. _No matter what you think, I love you._ Trust Bella to add that last defiant parting shot. It broke her heart, mainly because she believed it. What Bella had done probably hadn't been easy for her. She'd probably rationalized and reasoned with herself. And she knew Stacey would be okay in the end. She still had Andre.

_No. I don't. Now I don't have anything._ Stacey crumpled the paper in her hand, gulping against the tears. Everything was gone. Her sister had betrayed her, her lover didn't trust her, even her career had disintegrated in the past half hour. How could she return to chasing down celebrity tragedies and scandals? _You can't. You don't have any sources left. No one will trust you now..._

_Trust._ She snagged onto the one word that gave her hope. Andre had said he trusted her. If that trust was really gone so quickly, she needed to hear it from him. Without allowing herself to think any further about it, she dialed his number.

At first, she thought he might not answer. Then, just as she thought it would go to voicemail and she wondered if she could say any of the things she needed to in a voicemail, he picked up. "Stacey."

He sounded so tired and sad and...detached from her. She closed her eyes, wishing he were with her. None of her words made sense anymore, so she chose the only one with any meaning left in it. "Andre."

"Haven't you spoken to Mattie yet? I thought she would make everything clear to you."

"She did. She told me..." Her voice wavered but she took a deep breath. "She told me you wanted me to go, that you thought I helped Larry—"

"If not you, who?" His voice hardened and sounded like a plea at the same time. In an abrupt flash of clarity, she realized what had happened. Andre had lost faith. His brother had betrayed him again, so surely Stacey must have done it too. Because if one person who loved him could do it, everyone must. Stacey felt a surge of passionate anger. She wanted to hit Andre, and if he'd been there, she probably would have. "Give me a name, Stace. Who else knew everything?"

"You stupid idiot." It was all she could think of to say.

"I agree." Anger had taken over his voice too. "Mattie warned me. She said not to trust you. You'd think your insistence on knowing everything and not signing the agreement would have tipped me off, wouldn't you? But no. And you have the gall to _call_ me? Tell me, does Larry know how many different ways you screwed me?"

The ugliness of the words stunned her. She opened her mouth and closed it again. She could tell him it had been Bella, but in the end, she was the one who'd told Bella everything, wasn't she? And if her instincts were right about Larry, Bella was in enough trouble right now. Angry as she was at Andre for being an idiot, she didn't have the energy to spare for him any more than he did for her. She closed her eyes and hit the disconnect button without saying anything else.

Andre was gone. He wanted her to leave, and he'd never really believed in them, anyway. _No matter what you think, I love you._ She smiled a little, letting the tears come, feeling them cut hot paths down her cheeks. Those words rang truer than any others she'd heard that morning. And like it or not, her sister would need her when Larry turned his back on her. She folded the crumpled note and stuck it into her purse. Then she reached for her phone and dialed Larry's number.

Stacey checked the address Larry had sent her. It wasn't the same apartment he'd owned during their brief affair. Slightly more upscale. As she'd suspected, Larry had gotten what he wanted from Bella. She was young and beautiful, so no doubt he'd taken more from her than he'd given back. But at least he'd been willing to let Stacey come and take her sister instead of throwing her out with nowhere else to go. He'd even promised not to be there when Stacey arrived and had left instructions with the doorman that she should be let in.

_Honor among thieves._ Over the course of the past forty-eight hours as she cleared her things from the suite and left Las Vegas, the emptiness inside her had hardened and Stacey now felt as if she carried a rock in her chest. She would do what she had to from here, but happiness seemed out of reach and joy too far away to ever aspire to. She rang the bell.

Bella flung the door open, smiling, but her expression changed swiftly when she saw Stacey. "Stace." Her voice came out in a gasp.

"Hey, Bella. Can we talk?" Stacey kept her voice even. Her anger with her sister and Larry had to take a back seat to what she knew she had to do now. Larry hadn't done anything she wouldn't have done once, except for taking advantage of her baby sister. But it was in his nature and Bella was old enough to learn her lessons the hard way if she insisted on it.

Bella hesitated, then stepped back into the apartment. She wore jeans and a t-shirt, which meant Larry had told her he wouldn't be back soon. Bella always dressed up when she expected her boyfriend. Stacey walked past her sister. "You need to start using the peephole."

"We _have_ a doorman. I figured you were Larry."

" _Larry_ would have a key." Stacey shot her sister a pointed look. "You need to be more careful who you let in. We're in New York."

Bella rolled her eyes, still holding the door open. "If you came here to lecture me you can just leave." In spite of her bravado, she didn't quite meet Stacey's eyes.

"Close the door." Stacey picked up a book lying on the coffee table and leafed through it without seeing it. She waited until her sister complied and then she sat on the plump black couch. Everything in the apartment was black and white with sharp silver edges. So very New York. Larry must be doing well for himself. She sighed and set the book aside. "I want you to pack your things and come home with me."

"Come _home_?" Bella sounded incredulous. " _What_ home? A suite in Las Vegas? Like Andre'd ever let me come back there..."

"Andre has nothing to say about it." Stacey took a deep breath. "And anyway, not there. Back to our apartment."

"Why—?" Bella broke off. She gulped. "Oh Stacey. You didn't tell him, did you?"

A sharp pang pierced the numbness in her chest and Stacey had to wait a moment before she could answer. Finally, she shook her head. "It didn't work out."

"Oh no." Bella looked like she might cry. "No, no, no! You weren't supposed to do that. You were supposed to tell him. You love him and you were going to be with him and everything was going to be okay for both of us."

Stacey made an abrupt cutting motion with one hand. "Stop being such a princess, Bella. Things like that don't happen for us."

"Don't you see?" Bella knelt beside her, taking her hand. "It _could_ be that way. I've got Larry and you could have Andre. All you have to do is—"

"What? Call him? Sure, call him. That's simple, right?" Stacey grabbed her phone and threw it on the coffee table. "You know what he did, Bell? When he heard about the article, he sent _Mattie_ to throw me out. And when I called him, he wouldn't listen." _That_ was an understatement. She still felt a rush of anger at the memory of his words. Anger and a horrible pain she couldn't squelch no matter how she tried. She choked back the tears she'd sworn she was done shedding and finished in a calmer tone of voice. "He didn't bother asking if I did it. After all his talk about trust, he just assumed I did. So _you_ call him if you're all hot to do that. And then you get your ass in there and pack up your clothes and come home with me before that prick of a pseudo-journalist gets back and throws you out."

"Larry wouldn't do that." But even as she spoke, a flicker of awareness passed over Bella's young features.

"He would. Do you know how long it took me to talk him into letting you go, Bella? Five minutes. He gave me the address and told me when to come. He's done with you, baby girl. He got what he wanted." She knew the words were cruel. She'd made them that way to get Bella to listen, because the alternative was too awful to contemplate. If she didn't convince Bella to come home with her now, Larry would probably tolerate her for another couple of days, but then he'd throw her out. And would Bella have the courage to come to the sister she'd both scorned and betrayed? She softened her voice. "Bella, listen to me, please. I've never wanted anything but the best for you, I swear. I want that now, and Larry's not it. He uses people up and throws them out. I don't...I _can't_ see him do that to you. Please. You know I'm right."

For just a second Bella looked like she might argue. Then her resolve seemed to collapse and she deflated. "Do you really mean...that y-you've forgiven me?"

_No._ Even Stacey knew forgiveness would take a while. But she could look past that to what she knew she had to do. She shook her head. "Forgiveness has nothing to do with it, Bell. It's about responsibility and love. And in the end, I know we've got what we've always had. We've got each other."

"I...it all happened so fast. Maybe...maybe we should take a step back." Bella looked confused. She glanced at the bedroom. "Maybe...if I...just left him a note."

"You do what you have to do." Stacey opened a magazine. "I'll be here when you're done."

"Okay." Bella started back to the bedroom and stopped, glancing over her shoulder. "Stace, I'm really sorry. I'll make it up to you."

"Okay." Stacey continued studying the magazine until she heard her sister go into the other room. Then she bowed her head and wondered if anything could ever make her heart stop hurting the way it did at that moment.

### Chapter Twelve

Andre sat by his brother's bedside. Day three of the coma, and his condition was still unchanged. During the day when they were allowed to sit with Tony, Andre and Hope were tireless, talking constantly, holding his hand. In the evenings, Andre drove his mother back to his childhood home in the tiny community of Bath, N.C. When he went out, he was recognized. Everyone in town over the age of twenty had known him since he was a baby, practically. They all knew about his career and his brother, and—thanks to Stacey and Larry—the circumstance that surrounded Tony's suicide attempt.

The slow anger that burned inside him still flared at the thought of the article. He could imagine Stacey and Larry laughing at him, probably in bed together in New York. Laughing at Andre's stupidity and naiveté. Andre bowed his head, trying not to think of it, because when he did, the slow burn flared into an all-consuming flame. He'd sent his mother to the coffee shop because she needed a break. Maybe now was the time to talk about his anger and frustration. Maybe voicing it would be cathartic enough so he could move on.

And he did, pouring out his heart to the man who'd first betrayed him, but whose original trespass now seemed like small change compared to what he saw as Stacey's. He'd forgiven Tony almost as soon as it happened, although he still hadn't dug himself out of the financial hole his brother had created. Could he forgive the woman he'd thought he loved, too?

"Love. I still love her." He spoke the words out loud, wincing at the compression of his chest.

"Who?" The single word, spoken in a tired, almost grumpy voice made him stand up, looking behind him, beside him and finally at the man on the bed.

"Tony?" His heart leapt, temporarily banishing the shadows of his ill-starred love.

"Yeah. Who do you love? What are you yapping about, man? I'm trying to sleep here." Tony squinted up at him. "Where am I, anyway?"

Andre turned at a soft sound in the doorway to see his mother standing with her hand over her mouth. He reached out to her and she came to him and fell on her knees next to Tony's bed, seizing both her boys' hands and closing her eyes as tears ran down her still youthful face.

Tony recovered quickly physically, but he didn't remember the night he tried to overdose. He admitted he'd left the rehab facility and gotten drunk, but he didn't remember buying the drugs they'd found in his system. Andre convinced him to return to the rehab facility for another two months. Two mornings after his brother awoke, Andre drove him back to the clinic. They sat in the car for several minutes looking at the front door.

Tony finally broke the silence. "You never answered my question. Who's this girl?"

"What girl?" Andre evaded the question as skillfully as if it were a knife in one of his escape routines.

"The girl you're in love with." Tony gave him a pointed look. "The one you were talking about when I woke up."

"Of all the things I talked about, you had to hear that one." Andre groaned, running his hand over the steering wheel. "Doesn't matter. It's over and it ended badly. I just have to get her out of my system."

"Yeah, you could do that." Tony nodded. "You've got your pick of the pretty girls in Vegas, huh?"

"Get better and I'll share the bounty with you." Andre grinned.

"I'll work on it." Tony nodded, but he hesitated as he reached for the door handle. He still looked weak and much more serious than he ever had before. Andre wasn't sure if it was a good thing or not. He missed his happy-go-lucky brother, and he had a hard time finding him in the serious man sitting beside him.

"Do you ever wonder what happened to Dad?" Tony's voice interrupted Andre's worries.

"Dad's gone." Andre tried not to think about the father who'd left him and Tony and their mother so long ago, and who now nursed a drinking problem and a pickled liver somewhere in Montana. Andre had tracked him down years before, but he'd never told Tony what he'd found. Maybe he'd been wrong to hold back that information.

"He didn't just disappear, Andy. It wasn't a magic trick. He's out there somewhere. Maybe he's got the same problem I do. Maybe that's why he left." Tony sat still for several seconds, as if he were concentrating on his breathing. Finally he looked up. "If there's one thing I've learned—am learning—it's that the people who leave our lives don't vanish. They're still out there living somewhere. She's out there, too, Andy. I don't know what she did, but you need to make sure you want her to disappear from your life before you let her go."

His words stunned Andre for several seconds after Tony had gotten out and closed the door behind him. Did he want to let her go? And if he didn't, could he bring her back? Or was that a trick beyond even his grasp?

Andre returned, exhausted, to Las Vegas on Sunday. Bobby met him in front of the airport and took his suitcase. He looked glum, and Andre knew there was bad news, but he got into the car without comment, glad of the air-conditioning. It might be fall in the rest of the United States, but the heat in Vegas was still oppressive. He stared unseeing out the windshield.

The driver's door opened and Bobby got in with a whoosh of warm air. He put the car into gear and pulled into traffic before asking, "How's Tony?"

"Better." Andre knew he should be grateful for that blessing, but his heart felt heavy with what the trip had cost him. "He'll survive and he's back in rehab. It's really on him now."

"Well, he knows he has all of us behind him."

Some light inflection in Bobby's tone made Andre turn. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Bobby shrugged. "Just what I said. He's got his whole family behind him. You, me, your mom, umpteen aunts and uncles and cousins... It's more than a lot of people could say."

"You're talking about Stacey." Andre sat back with a sigh. The betrayal still hurt, but what hurt more was knowing she wasn't in Vegas anymore. She wasn't waiting for him at the hotel. He'd probably never see her again, but that was what he wanted, right? He'd certainly indicated as much to her when they spoke on the phone that last time.

"I'm not accusing you of anything." Bobby shrugged again. "I know how you feel. She betrayed you, right? But look at what she's been through in her life. You don't know what that feels like. You don't know how hard she's had to work to support her sister and get away from her parents."

"How do you know all that?" Andre frowned at the windshield, refusing to look at his friend.

"Looked at her file. Read between the lines, I guess."

Andre nodded absently. "Well, it's done. She's gone, right? Back to New York or wherever." _And she won't answer my calls._ Plagued by doubt, he'd tried twice after dropping Tony off at rehab, but she hadn't answered. He hadn't left messages, and he'd stopped calling, partly because he was afraid if he kept doing it, she'd change her number. What did it mean that she wouldn't answer? Did she feel guilty or was she angry? Either way, things didn't look good for them. He sighed. "I'm sure she didn't leave a forwarding address."

"No, not her or Bella. Guess they didn't care about their paychecks."

They rode in silence the rest of the way to the hotel. Bobby unloaded the suitcase and Andre took it to his room. Mattie stood from her seat on the couch as he entered. "Hey."

Andre gave her a tired grimace instead of a smile. "Go away, Mattie. I'm not in the mood. I want a shower, a good stiff drink and sleep. I'll face any crisis you can throw at me tomorrow."

She seemed hesitant, shuffling her feet just a little. "Bobby told me— I mean, I think maybe I should—"

He groaned. "Spit it out, Mattie."

"I just...wonder. About Stacey."

"What about Stacey?" He raised his eyebrows. Tired as he was of talking about the woman who'd betrayed him, he couldn't stop thinking about her anyway. And Mattie's hesitant voice intrigued him because it was so out of character for her.

Mattie looked uncomfortable. "She—the morning after you left when we came up here to confront her about the newspaper, she...well, I didn't think about it at the time, but she sort of seemed surprised. Like she wasn't expecting it at all."

Andre set his carry-on on the coffee table and glanced at the bar. He really did want that drink. "How do you mean? Did she deny it?"

"No. Not exactly." Mattie looked uncomfortable, her voice almost pleading. "You have to understand, Andre, I was furious. I could barely see straight, and if Bobby hadn't held me back, I probably would've attacked her. I thought...I honestly did...that she had betrayed you. But then after she left—after a while, anyway—I guess I cooled down a little and I started thinking."

"Why wouldn't she deny it if she was innocent, though?" He shook his head. "When she called me, why didn't she—" _What? Swear it? Beg?_ He almost laughed at the thought of Stacey begging. She wouldn't do that. Not even for him, and especially if she was innocent.

"We woke her up." Mattie's next words caught him by surprise. When he turned to look at her, she continued, "Why would she be asleep if she knew this was coming? Even if she was sadistic enough to hang around for the aftermath, why would she be asleep? And her first coherent question wasn't about the story."

He tilted his head, not sure if he wanted to know what she was driving at but unable to resist his own curiosity. "What was it about?"

"You. She asked if you were okay."

"Why would she ask that?" Andre frowned.

"She wouldn't." Mattie looked guilty. "Not if she knew anything about the story. Maybe if I'd been paying attention that morning, I would have realized that. I'm really sorry, Andre."

Andre waved the apology away. "She never said she didn't do it, did she?"

"No." She shook her head but she still looked uncertain. "I don't...think so, anyway. Like I said, I was furious, and I wasn't really listening, and I told her you said—"

"You told her you'd spoken to me." He nodded, putting the final piece of the puzzle together. Of course she wouldn't beg him after that, even if she was totally innocent. _Especially_ if she was innocent. She'd see his suspicion of her as both unreasonable and a betrayal of the trust he'd insisted on establishing in their relationship. And when she did call him, he'd done nothing but cement that feeling for her. He sighed. "I may have been wrong, and if I was, I'll have to live with it." He didn't feel much like living with it right then, though, and the stiff drink he'd been thinking about was sounding better and better.

"You could call her." She didn't sound hopeful. "At least try and tell her it was all my fault. I didn't listen. I was so angry."

He held up his hand. "It's fine. It wasn't your fault, Mattie. Not totally, anyway. I'm the one who assumed it was her as soon as you told me about the story. I should have called her myself instead of sending you to do it. I knew you would be angry." His shoulders slumped. "I need to be alone now."

Mattie nodded and started toward the door. The doorbell rang and she let Bobby in with a tray of food. "Hey, Boss, brought you a sandwich." He walked boldly past Mattie and set the tray on the coffee table.

Andre gave the food an uninterested look. "Thanks." He jerked his head over his shoulder. "Now, get out. Tomorrow we have work to do. Tonight I want to be alone." He waited until they'd left to pour a glass of wine. He walked over to the large windows to gaze out at the flashing pool of neon lights that was Las Vegas at night. Green neon shining through red wine turned almost black. Interesting. He set the wine on a table and squatted down to look closer and thought about Stacey and how she must have felt when Mattie flew at her with all the accusations. Especially when she heard Andre had told her to do it.

_I just assumed it was her, that she'd been playing me all along. I was so afraid of being betrayed by someone I loved, I condemned her without waiting to find out if she'd actually done anything._ Andre groaned and dropped his face into his hands. _Why didn't I call her? I would've been able to tell if she was lying. Then I could've held Mattie off and when I came back, she would've been here and we could've figured the whole thing out together._

But that wasn't how he'd done it, was it? He'd jumped to the conclusion that another person he loved had betrayed him. And when she'd called him, he'd been intentionally cruel. The neon lights mocked him. He closed his eyes and wished he could be anywhere but there.

### Chapter Thirteen

Late in October, Andre was approached about doing two shows a night. Eager to overcome his lingering financial problems, he accepted. It wasn't like he had anything else to do. Despite his growing popularity—especially with the opposite sex—he found it impossible to continue dating when Stacey was on his mind. And she was always there. Even a deck of cards reminded him of her hand lying flat on his chest. He spent his extra time perfecting his illusions, folding origami birds and walking the length of the Strip, trying not to search the face of every woman he saw for Stacey.

He had an hour break between shows and he usually spent it on the roof, getting his head straight. On an early November evening he stood in the darkness gazing out over the lights of the Strip and wondering what Stacey was doing. He was beginning to find it difficult to concentrate. At an odd moment, he'd start calculating the time difference between Nevada and New York. He couldn't afford this type of slipup during a show.

His cell phone rang and he glanced at it. An absurd hope surged in him when he saw the New York area code. It wasn't her number, but maybe...

"Andre Hawke."

"Good evening, Mr. Hawke. I hope I'm not disturbing you." The woman's voice was vaguely familiar and mixed in with another, more pleasant memory, but he couldn't place it.

"Not yet." He turned back to the scenery, considered hanging up.

"Pardon?" She sounded startled.

"You're not disturbing me yet. But I can't promise that will last."

"Oh. I, uh, okay." She evidently decided to start the conversation over now that she was flustered. "This is Rhonda Day from—"

" _That's_ where I remember you from." He snapped his fingers. "Sorry, I'm a little off my game. Didn't I tell you I wasn't interested?"

"I thought perhaps I'd call and see if you've changed your mind. We're prepared to offer you a much better deal now. In fact, I ran into your friend Stacey the other day and I told her—"

"You saw Stacey?" He straightened, gripping the phone tighter. "Where?"

"I see I've got your attention." She sounded like a cat with a mouthful of yellow feathers. "Perhaps we could meet to talk? I'm in Las Vegas."

"Where?" He repeated the question but with a different meaning.

"I can be at your hotel in half an hour. Perhaps we could meet at a bar? In the casino?"

He thought fast. He couldn't resist the draw of Stacey's name, and he knew she was counting on that. But if he played his cards right, she'd be the one helping him. He smiled, feeling energized for the first time since Stacey left. "I have another show. Why don't you come? I always save a seat for VIPs."

Stacey let herself into the little apartment she shared with Bella, still shivering from the cold nip of the wind outside. Covering the theater district for a small tabloid newspaper didn't pay well, but at least the hours were horrible. Thanks to her three-day employment by Andre Hawke, she couldn't seem to make herself go back to her more lucrative career writing the damaging stories she'd written for so many years.

_At least I got good money for those._ She sighed, closing the door softly so she didn't wake Bella. Her sister had an exam the next morning and needed her rest. Stacey felt a surge of pride in Bella. They'd been back in New York for two months and Bella was doing so well. She'd been hurt, at first, that Larry hadn't pursued her. She'd moped and eaten ice cream and refused to do anything useful for a week.

And then she'd pulled herself together, enrolled in some community college courses and even gotten a job. When Stacey asked her about her turnaround, Bella hugged her. "I'm just so grateful you're able to forgive me. I gotta live up to you, somehow." She looked away. "I know you miss him."

_Miss him? I feel like I left half my life in Vegas. The half with my heart_ Not that that was what Stacey told Bella. "It was Vegas, sweetie. I got carried away, but I left it all there." And she threw herself into her work.

_Not that it helps much._ Stacey opened the refrigerator door and contemplated the contents, wondering if she were actually hungry. It might help if she knew what to be hungry _for_. She couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten. Breakfast? Maybe. Certainly not lunch. And dinnertime had been spent at the theater... _Maybe I should just go ahead and eat breakfast before I go to sleep so I don't have to bother when I get up. I'll probably sleep until lunch, anyway._

The door to the apartment opened and she turned, surprised at the cheerful voices. Bella's and a male voice, just beginning to deepen. She blinked at the sight of her sister and the young man she was with. He couldn't be more than fifteen, at most. She closed the refrigerator and turned, frowning. "Bella? What's going on?"

Bella gasped, clapping her hand over her mouth. "Oh, Stacey! You're home early."

"Early?" Stacey scratched her head quizzically. "I'm not that early, and it's probably past _his_ bedtime." She nodded at the kid, who looked uncomfortable, his hands stuck in the pockets of his jacket.

"Maybe I should wait outside."

"No." Bella grabbed his arm. "It's time we told her."

"Told me what?" Stacey stared at her sister. What the hell could her sister need to tell her about this kid? She scanned the boy, and he met her gaze in a straightforward way she liked. He was a good-looking teenage boy, obviously athletic, his eyes and expression intelligent. But he was at least five years younger than Bella, and Stacey could think of absolutely no legitimate reason her sister should be hanging around with him at this time of night.

"Stacey, this is Michael." Bella said it very gently, but the name sent a shock through Stacey nonetheless.

"Oh my God." She shot her sister a shocked gaze, then looked back at the boy. _Michael._

"As in your brother Michael." The boy didn't smile. "Not surprised you don't remember me." The laughter was gone, his expression sulky. He glanced at his watch. "I should go. It's getting late." He reached for the doorknob, Bella was telling him not to leave, not yet...

"Wait." Stacey felt as if her lips didn't want to move. Michael looked over his shoulder at her but didn't speak. His hand remained on the doorknob. She heaved a deep breath. "Don't. Don't leave. Look, I know you probably don't really have any interest in getting to know me, but Bella's lost too many people. You don't have to leave her just to stay away from me."

"What makes you think _I_ don't want to get to know _you_?" The kid turned and took a step back toward her.

"Because I left you. And I took Bella away."

"I know why you did that. Mom explained it to me."

"Mom?" Stacey stared at him and snorted. "I didn't figure she knew."

"She knew. Knows. And she's been keeping tabs on you guys, too. I think it was kind of an eye-opener when you took Bella away. They started to pull themselves together, her and Dad." He shrugged. "I guess I should thank you for that."

Stacey looked at Bella. "How long has this been going on, anyway?"

"A while." Bella gave her sister a defiant look. "I called him a month or so ago. I've missed him."

Stacey nodded. It made sense. Michael might be practically a stranger to her, but Bella had spent an extra year with him. He'd been old enough to be a brother to her by the time she left. "Okay."

"Listen, Mom and Dad would probably love to hear from you guys." Michael gave her a cautious look.

"I'm a little way away from wanting to do _that_." Stacey opened the fridge and pulled out a beer, twisting the cap off without taking her eyes from the boy. "You want a soda?"

His eyebrows shot up and he nodded, walking into the kitchen with Bella, a hopeful look on her face, right behind him.

Stacey's cell phone rang and she glanced at it, frowning when she saw Rhonda's number. "You guys excuse me a minute." She tossed her keys on the bar and punched the answer button as she moved out of the room. "Rhonda, I thought I told you I'm not with Andre anymore. Remember, I gave you his cell number last time?"

"And I appreciate it, hon. But I'm calling about something different. It's your stories. They're really good. The one about the Broadway play that opened up last week was tremendous. I loved the way you really analyzed the play. You know your stuff."

Stacey took the phone away from her ear and looked at it suspiciously, then replaced it. "Thanks. But I know you didn't call to tout my literary acumen at this time of night. What do you want?"

"A favor, actually. We're doing a dry run of a new show next week. A sort of variety show. I thought with your experience in entertainment reporting, plus handling press for Andre Hawke, you might be able to provide fresh perspective. It pays."

"I was Andre's public relations manager for all of three days and if you didn't notice, I totally screwed that up."

"Are you talking about Larry's article in _The Biz?_ Honey, nobody even remembers that anymore, and if they did, well, Andre came off pretty good in it, didn't he? Rushing to his brother's bedside and all. And now he's the hottest thing going in Vegas with Hollywood producers haunting him at every turn. You couldn't have orchestrated it any better."

"I didn't— Oh, forget it." She couldn't get rid of the suspicion that Rhonda had another agenda. "So, you know I'm no longer with Andre, right? So I can't give you an in there. But you want me to be part of some sort of test audience for a new show? Because of my 'expertise'?"

"It's an easy five hundred dollars of consultant work. You might even enjoy it. I know I'm looking forward to seeing it." Nothing in Rhonda's tone sounded off, but Stacey had worked around entertainment types enough to know _everyone_ in the business had another agenda. Rhonda wanted something from her. As if to deny this, however, Rhonda added, "How about if I throw in an extra ticket. Bring that cute little sister of yours, unless you're seeing someone?"

Stacey played with an ornament on the little Christmas tree she'd put up, more for Bella's sake than her own. She considered the offer. Yes, it was suspicious. But she couldn't afford to pass it up. Aside from the money, it offered plenty of other networking opportunities and another entry on her resumé. Finally, she said, "Okay. Give me the where and when." She jotted down the information. She glanced back at the kitchen where Bella and Michael chatted and a thought occurred to her. "Hey, Rhonda. Listen, could I get three tickets? There's...somebody else I would like to invite. Maybe."

"Sure." Rhonda's voice was light. "I'm sure you'll all find the program entertaining."

Stacey hung up, wondering why Rhonda's offer meant so much to her. For the first time since she'd left Las Vegas, her heart beat with a rhythm that seemed like a promise, no matter how she tried to squelch it. Whatever it meant, she intended to take advantage of the one aspect of it that might actually pan out into something real, for Bella and for her. She thumbed through the contact information on her phone, searching for her parents' number.

### Chapter Fourteen

Rhonda herself greeted Stacey, Michael and Bella at the door of the theater an hour later. At first sight, she looked as plasticky as ever with her stiffly sprayed and styled blonde hair and her bleached teeth, but Stacey could tell when they got closer that she was actually very nervous. She grasped their hands tightly. "Thank you so much for coming. I'm really excited about this show. It's kind of my baby, you might say."

"I was surprised by your choice. A variety show is a little old-fashioned for you." Stacey raised her eyebrows questioningly. "Although I am looking forward to seeing what you do with it."

"I'm sure you'll love it." Rhonda's eyes slid sideways as she spoke and Stacey wondered why the other woman wasn't as sure of herself as usual. But then she looked back and her face broke into a grin. "And speaking of old-fashioned, I barely recognized you with your hair all brown and everything. What happened?"

Stacey shrugged. "Decided to stop trying to be something I'm not. Or I just got tired of covering up my roots. I'm not really sure which."

"Maybe I'll do the same one day. Between you and me, though, I think my natural color would be gray now." Rhonda winked at her and added, "Come on, I'll show you to your seats."

The theater wasn't large but it was slowly filling, mostly with reporters holding notepads and checking email on smartphones. Stacey had dressed in blue jeans and a red blouse that complemented her new (old) hair color. She knew she looked good, but she felt a little under-dressed in this audience of stylish, suited young men and women.

Bella and Michael chatted with an air of repressed excitement that amused Stacey. As an entertainment reporter, she was used to live shows, but her brother and sister were obviously enjoying the glamorous aura. _I should bring them to more things like this._ She knew the opportunities were going to start presenting themselves. Her reviews and coverage of Broadway plays were in demand and just last week the _New York Times_ had contacted her about the possibility of a monthly column. _Who knew I could write legitimate stuff and make a living?_

But the answer sent a pang through her. _Andre._ What was it he'd said that first night? He'd told her the stories she wrote were beneath her. _"You write crap...and yet...you write well."_ She bit her lip and looked away. _If he hadn't believed in me, I'd still be writing that stuff. I'd still be chasing the next broken life, ruining the next career, and selling it to the highest bidder. Instead of building something like I am now._

"Thanks for bringing me to this." Bella's voice broke into her thoughts as Michael, on her other side, studied his program. "It's really cool of you. You know, considering."

"Considering what?" Stacey glanced at the program. She recognized a couple of names of performers. A dancer here or a soloist there that she'd seen perform on Broadway. Most were relatively unknown on television, so this could be their chance to break into a more lucrative career. She paused on one name. A magician. She'd never seen him perform, and the thought of seeing anyone else perform magic after Andre's smooth grace was painful. _Maybe I'll take a bathroom break then._ She glanced to the side, noting an exit. _I could slip out easily._

Bella's hand covered her program and she looked up into her sister's eyes. "Sorry, what?"

"Considering everything I've put you through." Bella lowered her gaze. "With Andre."

Stacey sucked in her breath. It was the first time Bella had uttered his name since she came home. _Can we please stop with the little needling reminders? Please? It just hurts too damn much._ "We worked through that already. Besides, it wasn't—completely—your fault."

"How was it not my fault?" Bella shook her head. "I totally set you up."

"And Andre fell for it. If he'd truly trusted me, he would never have believed I'd betray him that way." Stacey folded the program savagely in two and glanced toward Michael. She lowered her voice. "Now, can we stop talking about it? It just makes me angry."

"Oh, Stace." Bella reached for her sister's hand. "That's not anger, you know."

_How does she know?_ Stacey let her sister hold her hand. _How can she know it stopped being anger a while ago?_ She almost wished the anger would come back. The regret was so much harder to deal with.

The lights blinked twice and the audience members who'd left their seats scrambled to get back in them. A moment later, the lights dimmed, music started and the master of ceremonies, an actor Stacey recognized from a now-defunct sitcom, stepped out on stage to greet them.

After a couple of light jokes that elicited a warm response from the audience, the MC assumed an excited look. "We have a great show for you tonight, although I would like to point out one minor change in the program. Bill Cloud, the magician, whose tricks are truly amazing, will not be able to join us tonight." He held up his hands at the little groan of disappointment. "I know, I know. We've been told that Mr. Cloud will make an appearance later on in the season, and he's very sorry for the inconvenience."

The MC rubbed his hands in anticipation. "However, we did find a replacement, and I don't think you'll be disappointed. We're so excited to have him on our stage, we're going to let him open the show because we just can't wait to see him perform. Ladies and gentlemen, fresh from his Las Vegas tour, help me welcome...Andre Hawke!"

The jolt of surprise that went through Stacey was like pure electricity. She half stood, intending to get out of the room as quickly as possible, but Bella grabbed her arm on her left side, and to her surprise, someone else grabbed her right arm. She glanced over. By magic, because that was the only way it could have happened, Mattie had appeared there.

Mattie pulled her firmly back into her seat. "You have to listen to him."

"Please, Stace." Bella's eyes had tears in them. Michael, a surprised expression on his face, looked over her shoulder as she pleaded. "Please, please, please."

Stacey yanked her arms away from both women, folding them firmly over her chest. _Dear God, was this all a setup? Rhonda, Bella, Mattie? They were all in on it._ And then her eyes lit on the man standing on the stage, his eyes seeking hers, uncharacteristically still for him. The entire audience had frozen, as if everyone were waiting for her response. She set her jaw firmly, raised her chin and tried to telegraph her message to Andre. _This doesn't change anything. You broke my heart and I'm not going to let you do it again._

He nodded slightly. Message received. And then he turned to the audience, flashed his trademark grin. "Thanks for having me here tonight. I'm told television is a good bit different from the stage, and I only have a few minutes where I'm used to a couple of hours—something about attention spans and commercial breaks—so I'll get right to it."

He paced the stage, shuffling a pack of cards with the ease of long practice. "I'm going to let you in on a secret." Someone in the audience hooted, and he glanced up, still shuffling. "Don't believe me? Well, listen up then. Magicians are afraid of the light. It's true. We live in a world of shadow and illusion, but there's one thing missing from that world. Trust can't grow in the dark. Recently I made a mistake." He paused, looking out at the audience. "I didn't trust someone when it really counted, and I lost her."

The audience "Aww"-ed on cue, and he nodded. "Yeah, that's kind of how I felt when I realized what a mess I'd made." His rueful tone elicited a little laughter, but it died down quickly. "Tonight, I'm going to reprise one of my favorite illusions, but I'm going to do it with the lights on. And I'm going to invite someone very special to join me on-stage. Stacey Matthewson is a well-known entertainment reporter." A rumble went through the crowd. Stacey knew quite a few of the members of the audience by reputation, and they obviously recognized her name. Andre nodded, his expression determined. "Usually, we magicians keep reporters at a distance. I'm not going to do that. With the lights on, she can see any tricks, and if she wants to share them, she certainly can."

As he spoke, he walked to the steps. Stacey closed her eyes and wished herself somewhere else, anywhere else. How could he do this to her? It would serve him right if she did share his secrets. She opened her eyes and he stood in front of her. Her heart skipped. _Oh God, he looks so good._

He did. He'd dressed simply in black jeans and a white shirt open at the neck to reveal just a little of his chest. He didn't wear the leather jacket, and she wondered what that meant. Was he tired of pretense now, too? His blue eyes were focused on her. She wanted to touch him. She wanted to stand and take his hand. She wanted to believe in them again.

She wanted to run away and hide from all of it, everything he made her feel.

"Get up!" Bella hissed anxiously.

"That's your cue, Babe." Mattie sounded surer of Stacey's reaction. After all, who could resist Andre Hawke?

When his eyes met hers, she knew it wasn't in her to humiliate him this way. She loved him, even if he'd hurt her. She stood, but she didn't take his hand. "Fine."

His lips curved. "Awesome."

The crowd applauded as she followed him on-stage, but she sensed hesitancy, as if they weren't sure they should be happy she'd taken him up on his offer. To be honest, she wasn't sure they should be either. She noticed the chair sitting to the side. If he thought for a second that she was getting back into that chair, he had another think coming.

Instead, he produced the cards, cut them and shuffled them. "Cards are a mainstay of any magician. The illusions and tricks we are able to produce with them can seem shocking, but we always know how they're going to turn out. I will say right now, however, that I have no idea how this particular trick will work. It's a variation on one Stacey and I have done together before. However, I think her feelings for me were a little different on that night than they are right now."

"You're right about that." Stacey wasn't even thinking about what she was saying until the audience tittered.

Unperturbed, Andre shuffled the cards. "Last time, I telepathically told you what card to choose."

"And I didn't do it."

His lips curved in a sensuous little smile. "Not at first. Anyway, I learned my lesson. This time, I'm not going to tell you what card to choose."

She arched her eyebrow. "Do I get to check out the cards first?"

The audience laughed, warming to their banter. Andre bowed and handed over the cards. She inspected them carefully and handed them back. "Looks okay."

"Nothing like proceeding with caution." He accepted the cards, his long fingers caressing hers as he did so.

She trembled, teetered on the edge of giving in to him, but then took a careful step back. She noticed a little frown flit across his face, but he turned to the audience, displayed the cards and the fact that they were all different. "Keep in mind that when we do card tricks, there are thousands of ways it can go wrong. And really, only a one in fifty-two chance that it will go right." He held the deck out to Stacey. "Cut the deck anywhere you like and turn over the top card."

She did so, turning over the top card. The Queen of Hearts.

He took the card from her, studied it with interest and handed it back to her. "That was the card you wanted to choose?"

"No. It was chance." She glared at him.

He smiled and she knew she was responding as he'd anticipated. "Fine, let's do it again."

Furious with him for playing her like this and herself for allowing it, she shuffled the deck and cut it just a few cards down. Keeping her eyes on him, she flipped the card over and almost cursed when she uncovered the Queen of Hearts again. The audience applauded. Andre searched her eyes. "Still not convinced that's your card, are you?"

She shook her head, not trusting her voice. He took the card, folded it and tore it in half, letting the pieces flutter to the ground. "Choose again." He nodded at the deck. She flipped the next card over and closed her eyes, but she heard the audience's amazed reaction and applause. She opened her eyes then, looked at him pleadingly. It was too much being this close to him and knowing what he wanted but not being able to give it to him. He nodded, produced a gallant smile and single red rose with a flourish and a light kiss on the cheek. Then he escorted her back to her seat. Mattie was no longer there and Bella looked like she was about to break into tears as she held a confused Michael's hand tightly. Andre paused, his fingers twined in hers, then he brought her hand to his lips briefly, released her and went back onstage.

He performed two more tricks, but Stacey couldn't pay attention, any more than she did to the acts that followed. She felt sick to her stomach. _Why had he done that?_ Misery settled over her like a heavy blanket. At the intermission, she stood, intending to tell Bella she needed to go. Bella and Michael could come with her, or they could stay for the rest of the show. Something red fluttered to the floor. Her fingers trembled as she bent to retrieve it. A beautifully folded origami bird. A phoenix.

He'd written something across the bird's wings in silver ink. She read it and her heart beat faster. _Sometimes you have to do something that frightens you just to be sure you're still alive. Thanks anyway. Love always, Andre._

Bella stood next to her. "Do you want to leave?"

_Do I?_ The idea of walking out without seeing him again suddenly terrified her. She stalked up the aisle to where Rhonda stood talking to a cameraman. "Where is he?"

Rhonda turned. "What?"

"Don't play innocent with me." Her face flushed hot, as if she'd just run around the block instead of up the aisle. "You set me up."

Rhonda looked around to see if anyone was listening. "Look, I'm sorry. He said he'd sign the contract if I helped him get back in touch with you. It was his idea, not mine."

"So answer my question. Where the hell is he?"

"Backstage, I guess. Nursing his wounds, maybe." Rhonda shook her head. "You sort of royally blew him off."

Stacey didn't reply. Instead she wheeled around and half-ran toward the stage. She spotted a door to the side with a security guard standing next to it. To her surprise, he stepped aside as she approached.

The backstage area was brightly lit, clean and uncluttered. If she'd been thinking clearly, she would have been amused by the difference television made. Backstage areas of plays and other live performances tended to be crowded with performers changing clothes and rehearsing lines, and bits of costumes and props discarded in a rush by actors. These corridors might have been swept clean by fairies just a moment before.

A door opened at the end of the hall, and Mattie stuck her head out, gasped and pulled it back in. A moment later, Andre emerged. He looked tired. "What's up?"

"What's up? You think you can just set me up like that in front of an audience and get away with it?" She came to a stop in front of him, breathing heavily.

"I wasn't trying to set you up."

"Bullshit!" Tears burned her cheeks and she swiped them away. "You fixed the whole thing with Rhonda. You made some sort of deal with the devil and now you have to sign that damned contract..."

"I already signed it." He reached up to brush the tears away from her eyes.

"What?" She shook her head. "I don't understand. You said you didn't want to do television."

"I said I didn't want to do television _right then_ and not in that particular way. I want to continue doing the live shows, not have it all canned and sent out over the airwaves. What she's come up with in this variety show, though, that's good stuff. I can do a series of guest appearances, starting with tonight, and still have time to do my live shows." As he spoke, he moved closer to her, putting one arm around her waist. "And I wasn't trying to set you up. I was trying to get you back."

"Why?" _And why am I letting him do this again? He's just getting what he wants._ She shoved him away. "You haven't even said you're sorry."

"It's not something I can put into words how sorry I am." He gazed down into her eyes as she tilted her head up toward him.

"Try." She bit her lip. "Please."

He looked thoughtful, then said quietly, "The evening after I dropped my brother off at rehab, I went out kayaking and paddled up to Bonner's Point where Bath Creek meets Back Creek. It was getting dark and I looked out at Teach's Point and beyond to where the water met the sky and saw all the stars and how beautiful they were. All I could think about was how I'd never get to take you there. And then I got back to Vegas and found out what I'd always known, really: it wasn't you that had betrayed me at all." He shook his head. "I'm sorry, Stacey. I truly am, but I can't tell you how much. It'd be like trying to put a number on the amount of raindrops in the creek or stars in the sky."

She stared at him for a second longer, then nodded. "That'll work." She jumped into his arms and he caught her, throwing his head back with a whoop that brought laughter and applause from all directions. Mattie and Bobby and a man she didn't recognize stood just behind Andre, hugging each other. She jerked her head around and saw Bella hugging Rhonda and Michael with a camera crew right behind them, everyone clapping and cheering. Startled to realize their confrontation had had witnesses, Stacey blushed and hid her face in Andre's chest. "Put me down. Put me down _now_."

"Fine, I'll put you down." He did, his hands on either side of her face as he kissed her. He drew away. "But I'm never letting you go again." And he kissed her again and again until she was breathless and no longer cared who was watching.

Stacey glared at Rhonda. "You're never airing that footage." She sat in Andre's lap on a couch in the crowded dressing room, a glass of champagne in one hand, her other arm around his neck.

"I wouldn't need to if you'd just cooperated at the show. But you know damn well television needs a happy ending." Rhonda took a sip of her own champagne. "Besides, I would think you would cut me some slack considering how diligently I worked to get you two back together."

"So you could get your damn happy ending. Don't pretend that was for my sake."

"I don't care whose sake it was for." Andre's arm tightened around her waist. "I love your hair, by the way."

"Trust me, it'll play so well once I get it edited, you'll be in tears yourself." Rhonda just couldn't let it go. Stacey could tell she was already playing it out in her mind, probably planning her Emmy speech, too.

Not that it mattered, anyway. She was in his arms again, even if it was in a room that was too crowded and noisy to do more than snuggle a little, or trade a kiss or two. Besides Rhonda, Bella, Michael, Mattie and Bobby, Andre's brother Tony was there. He looked like a less healthy version of Andre, too pale and weak to be handsome, but with the same curly black hair and blue eyes.

Eventually the champagne bottle emptied and Mattie suggested dinner. Michael said something about needing to meet his parents before nine. Bella stood with the others and glanced at Stacey. Stacey knew her sister was uncertain of being with Mattie and the others alone. She started to move away from Andre, but he caught her wrist and stood next to her. "Can we talk for a minute?"

A minute? She wanted to spend all night with him. But she had a responsibility to make certain Michael and even Bella made it home all right. She glanced at her siblings. "I'll be right there."

Mattie gave Bella an evil grin. "C'mon, little traitor. Let's leave the lovebirds alone. You can tell me how you expected I'd ever let you get away with what you did."

Stacey opened her mouth but Mattie's grin widened in a much more friendly way. "Or we can plan our revenge on the son-of-a-bitch who orchestrated the whole thing. You know where he lives, don't you?" She threw her arm around Bella's shoulders and they walked out together.

Michael hesitated, looking from Stacey to Andre before holding his hand out. "Not really sure what's going on here, but you seem okay, and I have to assume my big sister knows what she's doing."

Andre accepted his hand. "I'll do my best to live up to your expectations."

"Do that." Michael nodded before following Bella and Mattie out the door.

Bobby saluted as he and Rhonda walked out talking about some sort of technicalities of lighting and staging that didn't interest anyone but them. Tony hesitated before following the others. He shot a look at his brother. "See you in a while, then?"

"Damn straight. You're going back to work, aren't you? You gotta get me another gig or two now my contract's run out in Vegas. Maybe in New York this time." His arms tightened around Stacey and she felt a surge of contentment.

"Shouldn't be a problem." Tony's smile was dry. He nodded to Stacey. "Nice to meet you."

"You too." Stacey smiled back warmly, but as the door closed behind him, she couldn't resist teasing Andre. "Your brother seems nice."

"Very nice." He nuzzled her neck, obviously not paying any attention to what she was saying.

As his hands tugged at her shirt, she kept her breath in check with difficulty. "And he's obviously going to go right to work for you. I can tell he's champing at the bit."

Andre drew away, giving her a long look before replying. "Why exactly are we discussing my brother?"

"I'm just impressed, that's all." She assumed an innocent look. "You're a very forgiving man, Andre Hawke. And he's obviously determined to be what you believe he is."

"And?" He arched his eyebrows, his hands moving away from the skin he'd bared at her waist.

She opened her mouth to tell him she was just teasing him, then decided to be completely honest. After all, he'd asked if they could talk, and now that the cameras and audience were gone and they were alone, she needed to be sure they were truly on the same page. She walked across the little room, finally leaning against the dressing table facing him. "And, I'm just making sure you really do believe me. That I never misused your trust or betrayed you. And you didn't just forgive me if I did."

"That's not what happened." He started across the room toward her, and she felt a rush of longing that she suppressed. This was too important to let lust ruin it. If they didn't work through this now, it might haunt any relationship they managed to build.

"Are you certain?" She put out a hand to stop him when he would have closed the distance between them. "I know you are a forgiving man, Andre. I can see that with Tony...and with Bella, too. I know she's told you she was the one who gave Larry the story, but I need to know you truly believe it."

"That morning..." He flinched a little, as if at a bad memory. "I was with my mom and she was all broken up about my brother. We'd barely gotten any sleep and the doctors weren't letting us in to see him. I honestly didn't think he was going to make it. I blamed myself completely. I felt like shit. Then Mattie called and told me about the article. Of course, I thought you were responsible. It was the only thing that made sense right then because how could you possibly care about me enough not to betray me?"

Stacey felt a shock of complete understanding. Her hand still pressed against his warm chest, and she felt his heart beating against her palm. She felt tears in her eyes. "I was so worried about you. And then Mattie came in and she was raving about how you wanted me gone and I'd sold you out and..."

His hand came up, covered hers, enfolded it and brought it to his lips. He kissed her palm and held her hand in both of his for a moment. "I am so sorry for what I said on the phone that morning. I wasn't back in Vegas for more than ten minutes before I started to suspect I'd been wrong. Mattie and Bobby felt horrible about it, Mattie especially I think."

"So, where do we go from here, then?" Somehow she'd moved back into his arms, all doubts gone. _Vanished_. She smiled at the thought.

"We can go anywhere you want." He kissed the top of her head. "The studio's given me a limo or two, and, to be honest, my name's starting to mean a little something, even in this town. I could get us all reservations for dinner just about anywhere you wanted—or I could send everyone else out and you and I could do something a little more private." His hand slid down her arm, warm even through her sweater, but producing chills that ran down her spine. "I've never actually taken you on a date."

"A date sounds nice." She stretched up to kiss him. "And I would definitely like to do that. But right now I just want to make sure my brother and sister make it home okay."

He smiled, brushing a curl of hair back from her face. "And then?"

Her smile was as brash as it had ever been when she was a blonde reporter looking for the next sensational story. "And then I want to spend an entire night without interruption in your arms. I want to make love at least twice and then I want to find out how good the room service is at your hotel."

His kiss indicated he was in perfect agreement, but he drew away after a moment. "We should get out there. Mattie's probably got the limos all lined up by now."

She nodded, but hung back for a moment. "What about your career, though? You're really not going back to Vegas? What happened to your desire to bring magic to the masses?"

"You don't think there's as many people here in New York looking for magic as there are in Vegas?" He raised his eyebrows, his thumb caressing the back of her hand.

She hesitated, thinking how long she'd searched for her way. Maybe what she'd needed all along was a little bit of magic. As he brought her hand to his lips, his blue eyes full of mystery and a little bit of merriment, she drew in a breath of contentment. "One less than before, anyway."

## About the Author

Michelle Garren Flye is an award-winning romance author. Reviewers have described her work as: "an engaging novel with charming and likable characters", a story that "will make you believe in love and second chances", and a "well-written and thought-provoking novel."

Michelle placed third in the Hyperink Romance Writing Contest for her short story "Life After". Her short stories have been published by the romance anthology Foreign Affairs, Opium.com, SmokelongQuarterly.com and Flashquake.com. She has served on the editorial staffs of Horror Library Butcher Shop Quartet and Tattered Souls.

Michelle has a Bachelor's degree in Journalism and Mass Communication from the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill and a Master's degree in Library and Information Science from the University of North Carolina at Greensboro. She lives in North Carolina with her husband, three children and their rapidly growing collection of pets.

Also by Michelle Garren Flye:

Sleight of Hand Series:

Close Up Magic

Escape Magic

Island Magic

Carolina Wine Country:

Ducks in a Row

Saturday Love

Agapi Mou (Coming...someday)

Published by Carina Press:

Where the Heart Lies

Published by Lyrical Press:

Secrets of the Lotus

Winter Solstice

Also set in the North Carolina Mountains:

Weeds and Flowers

Synchronicity Series

Out of Time

Time Being (Coming January 2017)

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I love hearing from my readers.

Here's what reviewers have said about some of my other work:

"Michelle Garren Flye is a wizard with words and I completely enjoyed her voice."

—LAS Reviews

"...a well written sweet story that renews our faith in happily ever after."

—Michelle Bowman, We Love Kink

"I highly recommend this unsettling book."

—Lauren Strait, Amazon Reviewer

"...well-written and thought-provoking novel..."

—Book Reviews & More by Kathy

"...a poignant story of loss, grief, secrets, love, redemption and second chances."

—Jersey Girl Book Reviews

"...a book that will take you on a trip where failing or giving up is NOT an option."

—Bunny's Book Reviews

"This book has so much depth on so many levels. The thought process, and how everything played out was so great!"

—We're Jumpin' Books

"Readers will feel good and happy about this story... it made me smile."

—Guilty Indulgence Romance Review

"Michelle has a way with words, she draws you into the small town life of these characters and keeps you hooked until the last page." — Stitch Read Cook

"...a well-written romantic novel with an unusual amount of depth."

—Book Addiction

