Surprise jolted him. He narrowed his eyes. “Why do you ask?”
Her expression turned fierce. “Because you put a spell on this bar to draw me in, didn’t you?”
Another surprise jolted him. “Good question, and a very good observation. Yes, I threw a spell to lure you into the bar, but if you had been strongly inclined to do otherwise, it wouldn’t have worked. It was more like an invitation.” He passed a hand over the card and erased the small spell he had cast on it. “Now this one is gone too.”
Her hand rose and hovered in midair. “What was it?”
“Same type of thing. A small encouragement,” he told her. “A welcome, if you will.”
She studied his expression, clearly questioning the veracity of that, but it didn’t stop her from snatching the card. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He waved his fingers, and the privacy bubble that had surrounded them vanished. “Talk to you soon.”
Giving him a jerky nod, she walked away. Her relief at leaving was so palpable his expression turned wry. Most women didn’t try so hard to get away from him. In fact, most women looked for ways to get closer. Talking to Molly had been a reality check for his ego.
His phone buzzed. Pulling it out of his pocket, he checked the screen. There was a text from Anson. Did you get a chance to talk to the Sullivan woman yet?
Fingers moving rapidly, he replied, Yes.
How’d it go?
Pursing his lips, he considered how to answer, and his mood turned grim. We might be facing trouble before we had expected. You’d better warn the others.
And they weren’t ready for trouble if it decided to show up soon.
Lost in thought, he drove to his apartment in the city. The DA needed to spend some time in his fashionable apartment before anyone noticed his absence and began to ask questions he didn’t want to answer.
* * *
Back in her hotel room, Molly threw the card on the table and spent the rest of the evening taking tags off her new purchases and putting them away.
Josiah claimed to have removed the spell on the card, and she couldn’t sense anything, but it gleamed against the dark wood as if enticing her to pick it up again.
She had felt overwhelmed before and talking to him was the equivalent of having another tidal wave wash over her head, only this one was bigger than the first. Now she felt so far underwater she had no idea how to swim to the surface.
As he had painted the picture of a possible future in his compelling, rich voice, she could see everything play out like a movie.
A life with no limits. Hadn’t part of her always yearned for that? She had made her choices and she had tried to stick to them. God, she had tried.
Austin had been her career. She had done everything from picking up dry cleaning to helping him make and foster the right connections. She had poured everything into his law practice, into building their life together.
In an age filled with takeout and professional catering, people had relished her sophisticated, home-cooked cuisine. She knew how to talk to legal professionals, and she had prided herself on being warm and welcoming to everyone.
But she hadn’t been loved or valued. She had been someone to get under control. With a fierceness that made her shake, she wanted to hurt Austin the way he had hurt her over the years. She wanted to make him cry like a baby. And wouldn’t it serve him right to see her thrive while he suffered?
Josiah had said she could be powerful in her own right. Buy her own fashionable house in an upscale neighborhood. Buy multiple houses in different parts of the world. She could have all the lovers she wanted and more money than she could ever need.
And while she’d been blessed with good genes and still looked youthful, over the past few years a couple of delicate lines had appeared at the corners of her mouth and eyes, and her blond hair had lightened at the temples. She hadn’t gone gray, not yet, but she would if she didn’t do something to hide it. Or maybe she could do something to stop it from happening entirely?
But something felt off. She had to pick through her reactions to figure out what it was.
For one thing, she didn’t trust herself right now. Normally she wasn’t vengeful, but she was too angry and hurt, and what sounded good in this moment might turn out to be just as toxic as what she was escaping.
And Josiah was sexy. Very sexy. She felt too raw to be comfortable with how part of her had liked it when he’d touched her. The gentle rasp of his callused fingers against her skin had been distinctly pleasurable. It had been a very long time since she had felt simple desire.
Something else made her uneasy. He had been too calculating, too pushy. At some point during their talk, he had come to a decision and had zeroed in on it like a heat-seeking missile. Powerful men did that. She had watched it happen before, and he had already said he had ambitions.
And even if everything he had told her had been the truth, she wasn’t willing to become the consequence of another powerful man’s decisions.
After settling that in her mind, she deleted all the texts, emails and phone messages clogging her phone.
Some were from her mother, and she bit back a sigh. Molly couldn’t put off going to see her any longer. She would far rather communicate everything in an email, but she should tell her mother what had happened in person.
Or at least they needed to talk about how she had left Austin. Her mother was the quintessential conservative and had consistently voted against any political platform that promoted the interests of the Elder Races or magic users. It would be beyond disastrous to talk about witches, spells, and suddenly acquiring Power.
Ugh, ugh, ugh. Tomorrow was going to suck. Grimly, she got ready for bed, and later that night she dreamed again.
When she came to awareness, she was sitting at the butcher-block table again while the woman stood at the counter, chopping herbs. This time the woman wore jeans and a black T-shirt, and her graying hair had been piled into a knot on top of her head. Molly glanced out the window. There was no sign of the shaggy blond man. Instead, rain lashed against the glass panes. A storm was rolling in.
“You’re a metaphor, aren’t you?” She huddled into herself. “Something I’ve created. You, this kitchen, and everything in it—it’s some kind of message I’m trying to tell myself.”
The woman’s voice was gentle. “Because everything is all about you?”
“No, of course not! But I’m making this dream up. Right?”
The woman shrugged. “If you say so.”
Uneasily, she shifted and rubbed her bare arms. “If I’m not making it up… You put a spell on me to find you. Why?”
“Seemed like a good idea at the time.” Chop-chop-chop. The herbs smelled good and fresh. Molly recognized the pungent, distinct scent of sage.
“What if something happens?” she persisted. “What if the spell breaks? What if I don’t want to come? What if I don’t want to be controlled?”
“The spell will work if you want it to.” The woman gave her a reassuring smile. “And it won’t if you don’t. It’s as simple as that. You’ll find me when you’re ready. Or not. It’s entirely up to you.”
Molly muttered, “I don’t find that at all reassuring.”
Throwing back her head, the woman laughed while outside the window lightning flashed. Then the scene fell away, leaving her even more in the dark than before.