by Nora Roberts
with pleasure. “Tell you what?”
His mouth came to hers again, seeking, then lingered to draw the last taste. When he lifted it, his eyes were dark and demanding. “Tell me that you’re mine, Ryan.”
“Yours,” she murmured as her eyes closed again. She sighed into sleep. “For as long as you want me.”
Pierce frowned at her answer and started to speak, but her breathing was slow and even. Shifting, he lay beside her and pulled her close.
This time he would wait until she woke.
Chapter 10
Ryan had never known time to pass so quickly. She should have been glad of it. When Pierce’s Las Vegas engagement was over, they could begin work on the special. It was something she was eager to do, for herself and for him. She knew it could be the turning point of her career.
Yet she found herself wishing the hours wouldn’t fly by. There was something fanciful about Vegas, with its lack of time synchronization, its honky-tonk streets and glittery casinos. There, with the touch of magic all around, it seemed natural to love him, to share the life he lived. Ryan wasn’t certain it would be so simple once they returned to the practical world.
They were both taking each day one at a time. There was no talk of the future. Pierce’s burst of possessiveness had never reoccurred, and Ryan wondered at it. She nearly believed she had dreamed those deep, insistent words—You’re mine. Tell me.
He had never demanded again, nor had he given her any words of love. He was gentle, at times achingly so, with words or looks or gestures. But he was never completely free with her. Nor was Ryan ever completely free with him. Trusting came easily to neither of them.
***
On closing night Ryan dressed carefully. She wanted a special evening. Champagne, she decided as she slipped into a frothy dress in a rainbow of hues. She would order champagne to be sent up to the suite after the performance. They had one long, last night to spend together before the idyll ended.
Ryan studied herself critically in the mirror. The dress was sheer and much more daring, she noted, than her usual style. Pierce would say it was more Ryan than Miss Swan, she thought and laughed. He would be right, as always. At the moment she didn’t feel at all like Miss Swan. Tomorrow would be soon enough for business suits.
She dabbed perfume on her wrists, then at the hollow between her breasts.
“Ryan, if you want dinner before the show, you’ll have to hurry along. It’s nearly . . .” Pierce broke off as he came into the room. He stopped to stare at her. The dress floated here, clung there, wisping enticingly over her breasts in colors that melded and ran like a painting left in the rain.
“You’re so lovely,” he murmured, feeling the familiar thrill along his skin. “Like something I might have dreamed.”
When he spoke like that, he had her heart melting and her pulse racing at the same time. “A dream?” Ryan walked to him and slid her arms around his neck. “What sort of a dream would you like me to be?” She kissed one cheek, then the other. “Will you conjure a dream for me, Pierce?”
“You smell of jasmine.” He buried his face in her neck. He thought he had never wanted anything—anyone—so much in his life. “It drives me mad.”
“A woman’s spell.” Ryan tilted her head to give his mouth more freedom. “To enchant the enchanter.”
“It works.”
She gave a throaty laugh and pressed closer. “Wasn’t it a woman’s spell that was Merlin’s undoing in the end?”
“Have you been researching?” he asked in her ear. “Careful, I’ve been in the business longer than you.” Lifting his face, he touched his lips to hers. “It isn’t wise to tangle with a magician, you know.”
“I’m not in the least wise.” She let her fingers run up the back of his neck, then through the thick mane of his hair. “Not in the least.”
He felt a wave of power—and a wave of weakness. It was always the same when she was in his arms. Pierce pulled her close again just to hold her. Sensing some struggle, Ryan remained passive. He had so much to give, she thought, so much emotion he would offer or hold back. She could never be sure which he would choose to do. Yet wasn’t it the same with her? she asked herself. She loved him but hadn’t been able to say the words aloud. Even as the love grew, she still wasn’t able to say them.
“Will you be in the wings tonight?” he asked her. “I like knowing you’re there.”
“Yes.” Ryan tilted back her head and smiled. It was so rare for him to ask anything of her. “One of these days I’m going to spot something. Even your hand isn’t always quicker than the eye.”
“No?” He grinned, amused at her continued determination to catch him. “About dinner,” he began and toyed with the zipper at the back of her dress. He was beginning to wonder what she wore under it. If he chose, he could have the dress on the floor at her feet before she could draw a breath.
“What about it?” she asked with a gleam of mischief in her eyes.
The knock at the door had him swearing.
“Why don’t you turn whoever it is into a toad?” Ryan suggested. Then, sighing, she rested her head on his shoulder. “No, that would be rude, I suppose.”
“I rather like the idea.”
She laughed and drew back. “I’ll answer it. I can’t have that on my conscience.” Toying with his top button, she lifted a brow. “You won’t forget what you were thinking about while I’m sending them away?”
He smiled. “I have a very good memory.” Pierce let her go and watched her walk away. Miss Swan hadn’t picked out that dress, he decided, echoing Ryan’s earlier thoughts.
“Package for you, Miss Swan.”
Ryan accepted the small plainly wrapped box and the card from the messenger. “Thank you.” After closing the door, she set down the package and opened the envelope. The note was brief and typewritten.
Ryan,
Your report in good order. Expect a thorough briefing on Atkins project on your return. First full meeting scheduled one week from today. Happy birthday.
Your Father
Ryan read it over twice, then glanced briefly at the package. He wouldn’t miss my birthday, she thought as she scanned the typed words a third time. Bennett Swan always did his duty. Ryan felt a surge of disappointment, of anger, of futility. All the familiar emotions of Swan’s only child.
Why? she demanded of herself. Why hadn’t he waited and given her something in person? Why had he sent an impersonal note that read like a telegram and a proper token his secretary no doubt selected? Why couldn’t he have just sent his love?
“Ryan?” Pierce watched her from the doorway of the bedroom. He had seen her read the note. He had seen the look of emptiness in her eyes. “Bad news?”
“No.” Quickly, Ryan shook her head and slipped the note into her purse. “No, it’s nothing. Let’s go to dinner, Pierce. I’m starving.”
She was smiling, reaching out her hand for his, but the hurt in her eyes was unmistakable. Saying nothing, Pierce took her hand. As they left the suite, he glanced at the package she had never opened.
As Pierce had requested, Ryan watched the show from the wings. She had blocked all thoughts of her father from her mind. It was her last night of complete freedom, and Ryan was determined to let nothing spoil it.
It’s my birthday, she reminded herself. I’m going to have my own private celebration. She had said nothing to Pierce, initially because she had forgotten her birthday entirely until her father’s note had arrived. Now, she decided, it would be foolish to mention it. She was twenty-seven, after all, too old to be sentimental about the passing of a year.
***
“You were wonderful, as always,” she told Pierce as he walked offstage, applause thundering after him. “When are you going to tell me how you do that last illusion?”
“Magic, Miss Swan, has no explanation.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “I happen to know that Bess is in her dressing room right now, and that the panther—”
“Explanations disappoint,” he interrupted. He took her hand to lead her into his own dressing room. “The mind’s a paradox, Miss Swan.”
“Do tell,” she said dryly, knowing full well he was going to explain nothing.
He managed to keep his face seriously composed as he stripped off his shirt. “The mind wants to believe the impossible,” he continued as he went into the bath to wash. “Yet it doesn’t. Therein lies the fascination. If the impossible is not possible, then how was it done before your eyes and under your nose?”
“That’s what I want to know,” Ryan complained over the sound of running water. When he came back in, a towel slung over his shoulder, she shot him a straight, uncompromising look. “As your producer in this special, I should—”
“Produce,” he finished and pulled on a fresh shirt. “I’ll do the impossible.”
“It’s maddening not to know,” she said darkly but did up the buttons of his shirt herself.
“Yes.” Pierce only smiled when she glared at him.
“It’s just a trick,” Ryan said with a shrug, hoping to annoy him.
“Is it?” His smile remained infuriatingly amiable.
Knowing defeat when faced with it, Ryan sighed. “I suppose you’d suffer all sorts of torture and never breathe a word.”
“Did you have some in mind?”
She laughed then and pressed her mouth to his. “That’s just the beginning,” she promised dangerously. “I’m going to take you upstairs and drive you crazy until you talk.”
“Interesting.” Pierce slipped an arm around her shoulders and led her into the corridor. “It could take quite a bit of time.”
“I’m in no hurry,” she said blithely.
They rode to the top floor, but when Pierce started to slip the key into the lock of the suite, Ryan laid her hand on his. “This is your last chance before I get tough,” she warned. “I’m going to make you talk.”
He only smiled at her and pushed the door open.
“Happy birthday!”
Ryan’s eyes widened in surprise, Bess, still in costume, opened a bottle of champagne while Link did his best to catch the spurt of wine in a glass. Speechless, Ryan stared at them.
“Happy birthday, Ryan.” Pierce kissed her lightly.
“But how . . .” She broke off to look up at him. “How did you know?”
“Here you go.” Bess stuck a glass of champagne in Ryan’s hand, then gave her a quick squeeze. “Drink up, sweetie. You only get one birthday a year. Thank God. The champagne’s from me—a bottle for now and one for later.” She winked at Pierce.
“Thank you.” Ryan looked helplessly into her glass. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Link’s got something for you, too,” Bess told her.
The big man shifted uncomfortably as all eyes turned to him. “I got you a cake,” he mumbled, then cleared his throat. “You have to have a birthday cake.”
Ryan walked over to see a sheet cake decorated in delicate pinks and yellows. “Oh, Link! It’s lovely.”
“You have to cut the first piece,” he instructed.
“Yes, I will in a minute.” Reaching up, Ryan drew his head down until she could reach it on tiptoe. She pressed a kiss on his mouth. “Thank you, Link.”
He turned pink, grinned, then sent Bess an agonized look. “Welcome.”
“I have something for you.” Still smiling, Ryan turned to Pierce. “Will you kiss me, too?” he demanded.
“After I get my present.”
“Greedy,” he decided and handed her a small wooden box. It was old and carved. Ryan ran her finger over it to feel the places that had worn smooth with age and handling. “It’s beautiful,” she murmured. She opened it and saw a tiny silver symbol on a chain. “Oh!”
“An ankh,” Pierce told her, slipping it out to fasten it around her neck. “An Egyptian symbol of life. Not a superstition,” he said gravely. “It’s for luck.”
“Pierce.” Remembering her flattened penny, Ryan laughed and threw her arms around him. “Don’t you ever forget anything?”
“No. Now you owe me a kiss.”
Ryan complied, then forgot there were eyes on them.
“Hey, look, we want some of this cake. Don’t we, Link?” Bess slipped an arm around his thick waist and grinned as Ryan surfaced.
“Will it taste as good as it looks?” Ryan wondered aloud as she picked up the knife and sliced through it. “I don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve eaten birthday cake. Here, Link, you have the first piece.” Ryan licked icing from her finger as he took it. “Terrific,” she judged, then began to cut another slice. “I don’t know how you found out. I’d forgotten myself until . . .” Ryan stopped cutting and straightened. “You read my note!” she accused Pierce. He looked convincingly blank.
“What note?”
She let out an impatient breath, not noticing that Bess had taken the knife and was slicing the cake herself. “You went in my purse and read that note.”
“Went in your purse?” Pierce repeated, lifting a brow. “Really, Ryan, would I do something so crude?”
She thought about that for a moment. “Yes, you would.”
Bess snickered, but he only sent her a mild glance. He accepted a piece of cake. “A magician doesn’t need to stoop to picking pockets to gather information.”
Link laughed, a deep rumbling sound that caught Ryan by surprise. “Like the time you lifted that guy’s keys in Detroit?” he reminded Pierce.
“Or the earrings from the lady in Flatbush,” Bess put in. “Nobody’s got a smoother touch than you, Pierce.”
“Really?” Ryan drew out the word as she looked back at him. Pierce bit into a piece of cake and said nothing.
“He always gives them back at the end of the show,” Bess went on. “Good thing Pierce didn’t decide on a life of crime. Think of what would happen if he started cracking safes from the outside instead of the inside.”
“Fascinating,” Ryan agreed, narrowing her eyes at him. “I’d love to hear more about it.”
“How about the time you broke out of that little jail in Wichita, Pierce?” Bess continued obligingly. “You know when they locked you up for—”
“Have some more champagne, Bess,” Pierce suggested, lifting the bottle and tilting it into her glass.
Link let out another rumbling laugh. “Sure would liked to’ve seen that sheriff’s face when he looked in and saw an empty cell, all locked up and tidy.”
“Jail-breaking,” Ryan mused, fascinated.
“Houdini did it routinely.” Pierce handed her a glass of champagne.
“Yeah, but he worked it out with the cops first.” Bess chuckled at the look Pierce sent her and cut Link another piece of cake.
“Picking pockets, breaking jail.” Ryan enjoyed the faint discomfort she saw in Pierce’s eyes. It wasn’t often she had him at a disadvantage. “Are there any other things I should know about?”
“It would seem you know too much already,” he commented.
“Yes,” She kissed him soundly. “And it’s the best birthday present I’ve ever had.”
“Come on, Link.” Bess lifted the half-empty bottle of champagne. “Let’s go finish this and your cake. We’ll leave Pierce to work his way out of this one. You ought to tell her the one about that salesman in Salt Lake City.”
“Good night, Bess,” Pierce said blandly and earned another chuckle.
“Happy birthday, Ryan.” Bess gave Pierce a flashing grin as she pulled Link out of the room.
“Thank you, Bess. Thank you, Link.” Ryan waited until the door shut before she looked back at Pierce. “Before we discuss the salesman in Salt Lake City, why were you in a little cell in Wichita?” Her eyes laughed at him over the rim of her glass.
“A misunderstanding.”
“That’s what they all say.” Her brow arched. “A jealous husband, perhaps?”
“No, an annoyed deputy who found himself locked to a bar stool with his own handcuffs.” Pierce s
hrugged. “He wasn’t appreciative
