Under His Spell. Kathy Lyons
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Did he guess that she was still in the wonderful place he had created?
“So, how do you feel, Nicky?” he asked.
She smiled. “I think I’ll go sit down now.” That was, after all, what he had said. After he counted to three, she would go back to her seat.
“Wonderful,” he said. “No hard feelings?”
She shook her head. “No hard feelings at all.” There was no room for anything that awful here.
“Great!” he said to the audience at large. Then he waggled his eyebrows. “And if you want to continue this later, just come by my house tonight. I’m listed in the phone book under Magic Man!”
The music hit her then with a crash of cymbals. The audience applauded and the lights flashed as Nicky made her way to her seat. Internally, she flinched away from all of that. It distracted her from her quiet island of pleasure. Better to find the darkness, and so she hurried to her seat where she could enjoy her freedom in quiet.
“I didn’t set this up,” whispered Tammy from the table. “I swear! But you were great!”
Nicky didn’t respond. She simply closed her eyes and breathed in. There was no restriction here—oxygen flowed in and out without restraint. She was never, ever going to leave this island he’d created.
“Aw, don’t sulk, Nicky. It was funny. In fact, it was great to see you let go like that. You need to do that more often.”
Nicky nodded. She would do that. After all, he had told her exactly what to do. She was going to see him tonight at his home.
“Nicky?” His voice interrupted her thoughts. But of course, he couldn’t interrupt anything. He was everything! “Nicky?”
She turned, smiling warmly as she looked into his sweet mocha eyes.
“I brought you back your cell phone. No hard feelings, right?”
“Of course not,” she said as she took her phone then started pulling up the Internet phone pages. There he was, Magic Man, complete with his phone number and home address.
“Nicky, you remember me, right? You remember who I am?”
She looked up just as the house lights dimmed for the next act. It didn’t matter. She knew the shape and color of his eyes, just as she knew the feel of his mouth on hers. He was her island god, and she was never leaving him.
“Nicky?”
“You’re the Magic Man,” she answered.
His expression faltered, and even without the full lights, she could see his face twist into a self-mocking grimace. “Of course. That’s exactly who I am,” he said as he straightened and looked toward the bar. “And I wanted to make your every fantasy come true.” That last was muttered beneath his breath, but she heard it. On this wonderful island, she was completely tuned in to his every whisper. After all, he said she’d feel safe as long as she could hear his voice.
She reached for him, but he was already moving away. She sighed. She wanted her every fantasy to come true, too. Fortunately, she had an answer. She delved into her purse for her car keys. She would go to his home. They could begin tonight.
3
JAMES RAY, AKA MAGIC MAN, didn’t feel so magical as he pushed open the passenger car door. He shouldn’t have drunk so much after the show. He shouldn’t have done a lot of things, but seeing Nicky again had hit him like a freight train. He couldn’t believe she was right there, just sitting in the audience like anybody else.
The real blow had come when he’d realized she didn’t remember him. He’d even brought her up on the stage, gave her the hint about her prom night, and nothing. Not the slightest flicker of recognition in those liquid brown eyes. And her face wasn’t quite the elfin pixie he remembered. She’d matured and looked more sophisticated than in high school. But still, how could she not remember him? While he, on the other hand, had picked her out of the crowd despite the glare of the footlights.
“You okay there, dude?”
He glanced back at Rick, his brother and the club owner. The man had taken one look at Jim’s flushed face and demanded his car keys. Now, an hour later, they were right outside his suburban house and Jim was about to manage the Herculean feat of walking up his own driveway all by himself. He gave his brother a thumbs-up. “Yuppers, duuuude.” Then he pulled out his house keys and jingled them. “I’m set. Thanks.” He stepped out of the car, feeling better as the cool night air hit him in the face.
“So she didn’t remember you,” his brother said from inside the car. “That doesn’t mean you can’t get to know her again. It’s not a big deal. You weren’t that memorable back in high school.”
“Thanks a lot,” Jim muttered as he found his physical balance. His mental balance was still way off. The reality that he wasn’t even a blip on Nicky’s memory radar still had him reeling. Enough so that rather than pursue the woman, he’d dived face-first into a bottle of vodka.
Rick flashed him a smirk. “Plenty of fish in the sea, Jimmy. Don’t forget that. Plenty of fish …” His voice faded out as he pulled away from the curb.
“In the sea,” Jim returned, his buzz fading. He didn’t want a fish, he wanted Nicky. Nicky who was all woman. Who had long legs beneath her boring gray skirt. Who had once put strawberry gloss on her lips right before he kissed her. Nearly ten years later, he could still taste that gloss. And she didn’t even remember him.
“Don’t want a fish,” he muttered as he turned toward his house. It was almost too dark to see. He should have remembered to leave on the outside light. Fortunately, there was enough moonlight to see around the short, blocky hedges that edged his walkway. He’d only gone two steps when he stopped. He saw something there. A dark figure on his front steps. White flesh, dark clothing and a face tilted down into shadows. He rubbed his eyes. What he was seeing couldn’t possibly be there. But when he pulled his hands away from his eyes, there she was.
He shuffled forward to see better. And miracle of miracles, she lifted her head.
“Nicky?” he rasped. It couldn’t be.
She smiled at him. God, she was beautiful. “I looked you up in the yellow pages,” she said. “Magic Man.”
“That’s me,” he returned, then winced at the really lame banter. He wanted to be witty, to impress Nicky, but then he’d never managed suave around her. The best he could manage right then was to walk up to the front step.
She slowly stood to meet him, her legs slipping beneath her, her black pumps making a soft click on the stone. And as she rose, he could see something else, something that made his eyes bulge.
Her blouse was undone. Her white silk blouse was open all the way down. It simply lay against her breasts, flapping loosely. He could even see the lace cups of her bra.
“You said you wanted to make my fantasies come true,” she said. “I have a fantasy.” She put her hands to the bra’s front clasp and popped it open. “I’ve dreamed of a man spending forever kissing my nipples until I come just from his mouth alone.”
Then right there—outside on his front steps—she pulled her bra apart. Her breasts fell forward, milky white in the moonlight except for the dark points of her nipples. They were full and heavy right there in front of him. Perfectly shaped—a bit more than a handful—and puckered such that he thought they were pointing to him.
“I’ve dreamed of it forever,” she said. “And you’re my island god. You can—”
“I can do that,” he rasped, unable to lift his eyes from her breasts.
“Would you?” she asked, and then she shrugged out of her blouse as if she meant him to do it right there on his porch!
“Inside!”