Sympathetic Magic (The Witches of Cleopatra Hill Book 4) (4 page)

After sipping at her J&C again, and realizing it was disappearing far more quickly than she’d intended, she said in a purposely light tone, “Well, how alone can any of us be when we’re surrounded by clan members day and night?”

His expression shifted abruptly at her words, and the easy smile she remembered first seeing across Angela’s dining room table touched his mouth. “That’s for damn sure. At least in Flagstaff we’re sort of spread out. I don’t know how you do it, all jammed together here in Jerome.”

The moment had been lost. For a second or two, Margot regretted her words, regretted being so much of a coward that she couldn’t even handle a minute or two of honest communication with him. But no, it was better this way. Keep it light, and maybe he’d forget how they’d both started to open up to one another.

“Oh, we’re not all here, Lucas. We have quite a contingent down in Clarkdale and Cottonwood, and also in Camp Verde. There’s even a small colony over in Prescott.” Damn. Why had she brought up Prescott? Most of the time, she did a pretty good job of pretending the town didn’t exist. She didn’t want to think about Prescott…didn’t want to think about
him
.

She must have gotten her mask more or less back in place, though, since Lucas didn’t seem to notice anything strange in her expression or tone. “That’s true,” he said. “I guess I just associate you McAllisters so much with this crazy little town that I forget you’ve spread out a good deal.”

“Not much of a choice there,” she replied. “As you might have noticed, there isn’t what you’d call much undeveloped land around here. We had to go somewhere.”

“Well, I shouldn’t really be one to talk. The Wilcox clan isn’t exactly confined to Flagstaff, either.”

The conversation wended its way to safer topics then, as they talked about the places they’d been and seen, and the work involved in keeping the nature of their families’ talents hidden from the outside world. Somewhere in the middle of that conversation, both their drinks ran out, and Lucas got up to fetch them another round. Margot wasn’t sure how good an idea that was, but since he’d managed to slip out of the booth and get halfway to the bar before she could summon the will to protest, she decided to let it go. After all, the drinks weren’t that strong. She felt barely swimmy. A second one shouldn’t be too much to handle.

A few more people had trickled in during the past quarter-hour or so, and she couldn’t help noticing how the women in the bar watched Lucas’ progress, some of their stares downright predatory. All right, if she allowed herself to look at him objectively, forget that he was a Wilcox, then yes, she had to admit that he was a very handsome man.

Oh, who are you kidding?
she thought.
He’s probably the best-looking man you’ve ever seen.
Not that it really made much of a difference one way or another. So he was gorgeous. He was also severely off-limits.

Seemingly unaware of the way the women’s attention tracked him back to the booth, Lucas slid in next to Margot and set a fresh Jack and Coke in front of her. As he did so, several groups of people entered the room and headed straight for the bar.

“Looks like I made it back in the nick of time,” he remarked, raising his martini toward hers in a mock salute. “Is the dance over already?”

She never wore a watch, but Lucas’ was visible enough. Something slim and probably hideously expensive, although she didn’t know the brand. “Not at barely nine o’clock,” she replied after taking a quick glance at the time. “The band must be taking a break. I think some people come up here for a drink because it’s faster than waiting in line at the dance.”

“Makes sense.”

He drank, and since she didn’t know what else to do, Margot sipped at her J&C and barely avoided a wince. Damn. It tasted as if the bartender had reversed the ratio of Jack to Coke on this go-round. But she didn’t want to make a scene by sending it back, especially since she had a feeling Lucas would try to tease her about not holding her liquor if she protested that the drink was too strong. No, she’d just have to take very small sips and hope he wouldn’t notice that she was taking her time with this round.

Despite her caution, she could feel the whiskey hitting her, bringing with it a not entirely unpleasant sensation of lightheadedness. When was the last time she’d gotten tipsy? She honestly couldn’t remember. Not at Angela and Connor’s wedding. No, she’d been sober enough then, even though she’d wanted to blame her insanity in dancing with Lucas on being too drunk to know what she was doing. Unfortunately, a glass and a half of champagne wasn’t even enough to make her tipsy, let alone drunk.

Now, though….

She wished she’d asked him to bring her some water. Her throat suddenly felt dry, and wetting it too deeply with the concoction before her brought its own risks.

“…doing next Friday?”

“What?” she asked, blinking. Damn, once again she’d been off in the clouds and hadn’t heard what he said.

Lucas gave her a curious look, but only said, “Next week is the first Friday art walk in Sedona. I was asking if you were doing anything next Friday.”

The truthful answer was that no, she wasn’t doing anything at all…or at least nothing she hadn’t done thousands of times before. Puttering in the garden and maybe doing some sketches of the fall foliage, tidying the house, walking over Jerome to make sure all the subtle little illusions she’d set out were still there and doing their job of pointing the tourists and any other outsiders away from places the local witches didn’t want them going. It was a great way to keep in shape, that was for sure, hiking up and down all those steep, narrow streets. However, it certainly wasn’t anything she absolutely had to do that day.

She hesitated for a long time. The question had been phrased in the gentlest of ways, but Lucas was still basically asking her out on a date. She couldn’t go on a date with him. Totally out of the question.

“I have a lot I need to do here, actually,” she said, and took a fortifying sip of her Jack and Coke so she wouldn’t have to see his reaction.

“Connor’s going to have some new pieces at Red Rock Illuminations. He can’t really do a big opening right now, what with Angela needing to stay in Flagstaff after Samhain, but these are paintings no one’s seen before. I think it would mean a lot to him if there were some family members there to support him.”

Oh, very clever. Couch it as doing something for Connor, rather than going out on a real date. “I — ”

“It’ll be fun.” Lucas was holding his martini glass but not lifting it to his lips. Instead, he kept his gaze fixed on her, even as his mouth quirked. “You know,
fun?
Remember what that is?”

“I’m well aware of the concept,” she snapped.

He didn’t reply, but his gaze clearly said,
Are you?

“Fine. I’ll go.”

Was ever an offer of a date accepted so grudgingly? Lucas didn’t seem to mind, though, but only smiled and said, “Great. It starts at five, so I should pick you up around four-thirty — ”

“No,” she said, and his eyebrows went up again. “I mean,” she went on hurriedly, “it’s silly for you to drive all the way out to here to get me. I’ll meet you in Sedona. Just let me know where.”

He hesitated, then said smoothly, “Well, if we’re starting in uptown, then you could park in the structure at Sinagua Plaza and meet me out front there.”

Thank the Goddess he wasn’t going to press the issue. At least if she had her own car there, she could make a quick getaway if necessary. And if any other McAllisters showed up, well, she could think of some way to spin it — after all, there wasn’t anything so strange about one of her clan’s elders going to support their
prima
’s consort at his art exhibit, even in the company of Lucas Wilcox. He did seem to act as a sort of informal clan elder himself, and so the whole outing could be seen as two peers working together for the good of both their clans. Perfectly logical.

Unfortunately, she had a feeling neither of her fellow McAllister elders would view the situation in quite the same way, were they to discover her plans.

M
argot agreeing
to go out with him on the gallery walk was miracle enough. The even bigger miracle was that she hadn’t called sometime during the intervening week to cancel the whole thing. He’d been expecting the call the whole time, actually —
oh, sorry, Lucas, something came up. I hope you understand
— and had mentally rehearsed his replies so his disappointment wouldn’t be too blatantly obvious. Even worse would have been a text, since that would have made it clear that she didn’t want to talk to him at all, not even long enough to shoot him down one last time.

But she hadn’t called, or texted, and now he stood here in their designated meeting place, on the steps of the plaza as people streamed around him, talking and laughing, all intent on their various destinations. The sun had already disappeared behind the buildings on the west side of the street, and the air was cool. Well, probably downright cold to the people who lived here in Sedona or came from farther south, in Phoenix and Tucson, but to him it just felt pleasant, refreshing. Maybe as the evening wore on, he’d button up his black wool overcoat, but in the meantime he’d left it hanging open.

And there she was, moving through the crowds, a shawl in warm autumn hues thrown over her long dark dress. She’d pulled her hair back, and he felt a little twinge of disappointment. Her hair was so lovely when she let it flow loose over her shoulders.

Even so, she looked so strikingly beautiful to him that he wondered why everyone around her didn’t pause to stare, to drink in this woman who looked like something not quite mortal, like a goddess come down to earth to survey her domain.

Her first words weren’t exactly goddess-like, however. “Sorry I’m late,” she said, sounding annoyed. “The parking structure was full, so I had to find a place farther up the street.”

“It’s fine,” he replied at once, using his friendliest, most soothing tones. “I just got here myself.”

“And you found parking?”

“Not exactly,” he admitted. “I paid the valet at the resort down the hill from the structure to park my car for me.”

“Resourceful.” Now she sounded almost rueful, as if she wished she’d thought of that herself.

Knowing he should get things moving forward, Lucas said, “I figured we’d go to Connor’s gallery first, and then decide from there which way we want to head. He told me he wasn’t planning on staying too late — Angela was feeling tired and stayed home.”

“By herself?” Margot asked, sounding almost alarmed…for her.

That hint of worry in her voice told Lucas she wasn’t quite as detached as she wanted people to believe. “No,” he told her. “Mason’s with her. Angela’s fine — she isn’t due for another five weeks, after all.”

“I’m aware of that. But twins have a tendency to come early, you know.”

Actually, he didn’t know, and was sort of surprised Margot possessed that bit of arcane knowledge. He wished Angela and Connor had volunteered that information, but then, they’d been acting fairly relaxed about the whole thing. Of course Angela was being careful and not doing anything to stress herself or the babies, but she also didn’t seem too worried about the impending delivery. Maybe it was just that she and Connor had already been through so much together that giving birth to twins didn’t seem like too big a deal to her.

“Well,” he said easily, “as I told you, she has Mason with her, and Dr. Ruiz on speed dial. But Connor still wants to get back as quickly as he can.”

Then Lucas offered his arm to Margot, and she paused before taking it with just the slightest tightening of her mouth, as if she wished she could have thought of some rational reason to refuse the gesture. But since she didn’t, he allowed himself to enjoy the gentle pressure of her arm against his, and to breathe in her scent, subtle and sweet. Something floral, although he couldn’t identify it. And was that a hint of vanilla?

Probably not a good idea to ask. He’d just let himself savor their brief closeness, even though he knew it would be over as soon as they entered the gallery. And, sure enough, once they crossed the threshold, she pulled away, pretending to be occupied with drawing off her shawl and draping it over one arm.

Oh, well. It was still something that she’d taken his arm at all. There wasn’t much time to be disappointed, because Connor seemed to spot them in that instant, coming toward them with an expression on his face that managed to be both pleased and puzzled — probably because although Lucas had said he would be here, he hadn’t said anything about bringing Margot, not when he wasn’t sure that she wouldn’t back out at the last minute.

“Thanks for stopping by,” Connor said, giving a lift of his own eyebrow in Lucas’ direction. That eyebrow seemed to indicate there would be questions later, but for now he seemed willing to let the matter go. “My pieces are over in this side room, but really, you should look around the whole place. Eli’s brought on a bunch of new artists, so there’s a lot to look at.”

“Will do,” Lucas said, and Margot added,

“It’s impressive you were able to get this many new pieces ready, what with everything that’s been going on in your life lately.”

Connor hesitated, as if attempting to determine whether her remark contained some sort of jab. He appeared to let it go, however, nodding before he said with a grin, “Well, I’m enjoying my new studio space a lot…especially since Angela’s been binge-watching
A Baby Story
lately. I needed something to do while I was in hiding.”

Poor kid…Connor, that is. Lucas had only vaguely heard of
A Baby Story
, but it sounded like something he wouldn’t want to watch a single episode of, let alone a string of them.

Even Margot looked as if she wanted to smile. But since she apparently didn’t want to go on record as criticizing her
prima
, she only said, “Well, I’m sure she appreciates having the time to rest.”

“Oh, yeah. She’s been doing a lot of
resting
lately.”

Lucas chuckled. “She might as well do it now, because in a month or so, rest is going to be the last thing on her mind.”

Connor didn’t appear at all daunted by the prospect of a couple of babies invading his life in the near future. “True. Anyway, you two take a look around — I can see Eli over there, signaling me.”

He flashed them another grin before heading farther into the interior of the gallery. Lucas pointed toward the small room where Connor’s paintings hung. “Shall we?”

C
onnor really did have talent
. Margot had known that on an intellectual level, but the last time she’d been in this gallery, the tension had been so thick she worried that some sort of magical battle would break out between the McAllister and Wilcox contingents, and that would have been a terrible mess to clean up. Public displays of power were always so difficult to sweep under the rug, and you couldn’t get much more public than a gallery in the heart of Sedona’s uptown district.

This evening, though, couldn’t have been more different. She hadn’t spotted anyone from either clan yet, apart from Connor himself, but it was enough that she and Lucas were here together, wandering from painting to painting and chatting quite amiably about the merits of each. There were several she would have liked to purchase, actually, especially one of a stand of blazing yellow aspen trees next to a dark forest stream. It felt odd to be buying Connor’s work, though, especially with him right here in the gallery, and so she let it go for now. She could always check back in a few days and see if the painting was still available.

“Do you have many of his pieces?” she asked, after they’d exhausted his collection and went on to a display from another artist, one who worked in mixed media, with gold and copper leaf highlighting the heavily applied oils.

Lucas nodded. “A few. It was hard getting him to allow me to actually buy them — he just wanted to give them to me. I told him I wouldn’t take them unless he let me pay him a fair market price for them. But I knew he’d be going places if he kept up with his painting, even though at the time all he was doing was painting them and then stacking them up in his apartment and studio.”

“Why would he do that?” Such behavior was mystifying to her. Surely if you were lucky enough to be gifted with such talent, it was your obligation to share it with the world, not hide it away.

For a second or two Lucas didn’t say anything, but she could see his jaw tense. Then he said, sounding almost curt for him, “Damon.”

That didn’t really clear things up, but something in his expression told her she shouldn’t push it. That same reticence kept her from making an acid comment that it was all the better, then, that Damon was gone. She had a feeling that sort of remark wouldn’t go over very well at the moment.

They moved on to wander through the gallery, lingering at the pieces that captured their attention, moving more quickly past the ones that did not. Margot didn’t want to acknowledge the way she and Lucas seemed to be drawn to the same sort of work — neither of them had much use for abstract art, apparently, and they both tended to appreciate most the
plein air
–style landscapes, particularly the ones that brought out the wild and powerful beauty of the high desert country.

Since Connor was busy talking to an older couple, possibly some buyers, all Lucas did was wave in his cousin’s direction as they left the gallery. The next stop was a few doors down, and this time he seemed to remember that they hadn’t helped themselves to any of the wine and hors d’oeuvres set out at Red Rock Illuminations.

“Sorry about that,” Lucas said, handing Margot a plastic cup of white wine. “I guess I got distracted.”

“It’s fine,” she replied, and really, it was. She’d forgotten, too, although now she found herself a bit thirsty, and so was grateful for the wine. “If we drank at every gallery, we’d be a mess by the end of the evening.”

“True,” he agreed, and chuckled. His expression sobered then. “I thought after this we could hit the galleries at Tlaquepaque. And — ” He broke off, looking almost embarrassed.

“And?”

“Well, I hope you don’t mind, but since we were going to be ending up there around dinnertime anyway, I went ahead and made us reservations at René.”

So much for this not really being a date. Margot had never eaten there, but she had heard René was one of Sedona’s more high-end restaurants, the sort of place that mere mortals generally reserved for birthdays and anniversaries and other special occasions. And now Lucas wanted to take her there for dinner? Not that the cost would matter to him, but surely he knew it was not the sort of place you went with a woman if you were on a casual outing.

He was watching her with those dark eyes of his, though, looking almost but not quite nervous. Waiting for her to protest, to say she didn’t think the venue was at all appropriate?

Well, if that was what he expected, then she’d do the exact opposite. “That sounds wonderful,” she said calmly. “I’ve never been, but I’ve heard it’s very good.”

At those words, he did relax visibly. “It’s excellent,” he assured her. “Our reservations are for seven, so we might as well take the trolley down there so we can make the rounds of the galleries before dinner.”

Which was what they did, squeezing onto the open-air vehicle with a mass of tourists, and locals just wanting to get out and about. During the ride from uptown to the shopping center, Margot was all too aware of Lucas’ presence behind her, the way she could feel his body pressed up against hers in the tight confines of the trolley. It was a relief when they stopped and got out. Maybe then the unwelcome warmth that had pooled somewhere in the pit of her stomach would dissipate, and she could rid her mind of the way they’d been crushed together, of how solid and strong he seemed.

If he’d been thrown off-kilter at all by that unexpected physical nearness, Lucas didn’t show it. He only smiled and guided her toward the first gallery, a place that seemed to specialize in exquisite art glass, including some truly amazing ceiling fixtures.

She murmured her appreciation, and Lucas said, “Yes, I’ve been drawn to these pieces, too. In fact, I have one in my dining room. Maybe you can come see it sometime.”

Her immediate reaction was to tell him that was impossible, that no way would she be going up to Flagstaff any time soon, let alone to his house, but there was such a hopeful light in his eyes that she didn’t have the heart to refuse him point-blank. So she simply replied, “Maybe,” and then pretended to be absorbed in inspecting a triptych depicting a stylized landscape at sunset.

Being Lucas, he didn’t push, but gave the faintest of nods before following her around the gallery until they’d made the complete circuit. From there they went to several more, where they weren’t inclined to linger, as the pieces there were too modern for their taste.

In front of the last stop was a sort of garden of copper and bronze wind sculptures, even now moving slightly, although the night was quite calm, with little wind. Margot wandered amongst them, looking at all the different configurations, and wondering if she could justify the expense of having one installed in her yard. It would look lovely, catching the sunlight, speeding up and slowing down as the capricious winds flowed over and around Cleopatra Hill.

“You like them?” Lucas asked.

“Yes. I’ve seen other wind sculptures here and there as I’ve driven around, but these are so much more substantial, so beautifully made.” She pulled her shawl more closely about her; the air had only cooled further as they’d lingered in the last gallery. Maybe she should have brought a real coat.

“Which one’s your favorite?”

What a question, one she had no intention of answering. Knowing Lucas, he’d put in a call tomorrow, buy it, and have someone over at her house installing it before she knew quite what had happened. “I couldn’t really choose,” she hedged. “They’re all so lovely.”

His mouth twitched, as if he’d guessed at the true reason for her reticence. “It is hard to pick one.” Then he pushed back the sleeve of his overcoat slightly so he could look at his watch. “It’s almost seven. We should probably head over to the restaurant now.”