There was a casual shrug to her shoulders as they waited silently for the wine to be poured and immediately approved. Over her glass, her eyes flashed something that was unmistakably magic.
“To answer you, it is – refreshing to be with someone with whom I don’t have to pretend normalcy.” Her thoughts fled briefly back to her last date, where in an awkward moment, champagne that had been in her glass had somehow found its way to her escort's lap. His character had been very obviously displayed in the barb, which had followed, barely hidden by a droll smile. “Darling, champagne this expensive is meant to be drank, not poured on someone.”
The real trouble, Rusty recalled, had begun after that – when she'd made an attempt to magic away the impending stain. The silly troll had leaped up out of his seat with a blood curdling cry as though she'd sent demons to eat the stain away, rather than beads of air to whisk it out of the expensive fabric! No, she couldn't have been normal with him or any of them… But Ian was something – and someone – else entirely.
Now, there was electricity in the air that almost snapped in the air. To anyone observing them, they would have appeared to be a handsome couple moving to the rhythm commonly known as a first date. But there was more, much more.
Over their meal, he charmed and chatted and she kept it light and amusing, and neither truly noticed their meal nor the wine that flowed into their glasses.
Reaching across the table, he traced a pattern across the back of her hand. “You intrigue me, Eve McCenery, and I’m not sure why.”
And that was the truth, he thought wryly. She was elusive and shy as a doe one moment, laughing and self-assured the next. He knew that she could be difficult at times; some stereotypes, it seemed, were very much based in truths, and her stunning red hair had certainly paired itself with a stubborn and willful temperament. Preferring women who knew the rules, and what to expect and what was more, what not to expect, she was everything that he normally avoided.
There was a minor sting and a warning flash of red as she slid her hand from under his. “Perhaps because you’re unaccustomed to not getting what you want.”
“Perhaps,” he mused, not bothering to deny that he wanted her. “And perhaps the same could be said about you.”
“It would,” she agreed amiably as she moved to her feet. “The difference being that I know what I want, and, more importantly, what I’ll never have. I don’t believe that you know the difference.” She placed out her hand as he rose to his feet. “Thank you, Ian; it’s been a lovely evening. Please stay, enjoy the dessert and the remainder of the night. I’m sure that before it’s over you’ll find – something to amuse you.”
“This isn’t over, Eve,” he said lowly, aware that she knew that he meant more than just dinner.
“No, it’s not,” she agreed easily, surprising herself with the even tone of her voice. ”Your Hera will be going into season soon, so I'm sure we’ll see each other then. In the meantime, goodnight Ian.”
He watched as, again, she walked away. She'd both managed to get away from him and have the last word on the subject, something he had never liked, and something to which he would never allow himself to become accustomed.
Well, he thought as he paid the bill and left soon after, knowing it was too late to catch her, but knowing it was not within Ian McAllister's character not to try, you might have gotten away once, Eve, but you won't do it again. Magic or not, you won't do it again.
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Chasing Destiny Page 2
