Night of the Magician by Stephanie James, Jayne Ann Krentz

table. “Yes.“ She didn
    ’t think she could move. What would she do if he reached out and took hold of her?
    “I want you,“ he whispered and then his hand moved to stroke the line of her shoulder. “Badly.“
    Wordlessly Ariana shook her head, trying to stifle the shiver that coursed through her at his touch. What was it about this man that tantalized her so? Why did it have to be Lucian Hawk of all people who could have this effect on her?
    “Just tell me that you know how much I want you,“ he murmured persuasively. “Tell me you are aware of the attraction between us.“
    “Lucian, there’s no point…“ she began urgently.
    “Tell me and 1’H leave,“ he interrupted coaxingly. “I want to hear you say the words.“
    “Why?“ she got out starkly.
    “Because there’s magic in the words.“ He half smiled, dropping the most delicate of kisses into her cinnamon hair.
    “Didn’t you know that? And the magic is strongest when you say the words aloud. Tell me you know how I’m feeling.“ The tips of his fingers moved again on the curve of her shoulder and Ariana quivered.
    “I… I know that you want me,“ she said and instantly regretted having spoken. He was right. Saying the words aloud gave them some kind of power. It was as if by having voiced them herself, she had in some fashion acknowledged his right to want her. “But I don’t want you, Lucian, she grated fiercely, turning to face him. I do not want an affair with you! How many times do I have to say it?“
    “Until you’ve convinced yourself, I suppose,“ he said politely. “Good night, Ariana. I’ll be right next door if you decide after all that you’re scared of thunderstorms.“ He bent and kissed her lightly, lingeringly, as if casting a tiny spell on her mouth, and then he turned and left There was a crackle of electricity in the night time sky as the door closed behind him, and Ariana was left wondering why there was power in his words but none in her own.
    With an effort she shook off the effects of his presence and doggedly went about the process of getting ready for bed. Too much had happened this afternoon and this evening, she consoled herself as she undressed and slipped into a lacy peach-colored nightgown. It was no wonder she was feeling overwrought.
    Overwrought. Now there was a fine old Victorian expression suitable for use in an inn such as this! She glanced wryly around at the hotel room, which had been done as an excellent reproduction of a romantic, old-fashioned lady’s bedroom. The wide bed came complete with four carved posts and a thick lace-trimmed quilt. The furniture was heavy and solid, and there was a charming flower print on the wallpaper.
    As she climbed up onto the high bed, Ariana decided that she understood now why ladies of the past century occasionally gave way to a fit of the vapors. There were times when no other reaction would quite do! Leaning across the quilt, she turned out the bedside lamp and idly watched the gathering storm outside her window. It was going to be a violent one from the looks of things.
    It seemed perfectly suited to the events of the evening, she thought with a sigh. Memories of the séance drifted back into her head, and she knew a surge of anger at Fletcher Galen for having shown her the weakness in herself. The man deserved to be exposed!
    The rain began then, pounding fiercely against the sliding glass doors that opened onto her balcony and had been patterned to resemble French windows. She lay on her side, watching the light and crackle of the thunderstorm, and thought about Lucian Hawk.
    What right did he have to want her? What right did he have to force her to acknowledge that wanting? And why had she been so weak as to admit it at his command?
    There were a lot of “whys“ and “ifs“ going through Ariana’s head, but the most treacherous question of all was why did it have to be Lucian Hawk who left her mind and body tantalized and aware?
    He was wrong for