"You could easily have conjured up stagecoach tickets and left town."

She shook her head. "We're not allowed to use our magick for personal gain and our obtaining tickets without using cold hard cash would have been considered that." She traced the snowy white tablecloth with her fingertip, her pink polished nail shimmering in the soft candlelight. "When we were expelled from the academy we were told we were fully on our own. We had to make our way using our wits, not our magick. Over the years we discovered it was fascinating to see what we could do to make a living." She wrinkled her nose as if recalling some of her past jobs. "Eurydice wanted to make sure our banishment wasn't easy for us."

"What prompted you to return to Moonstone Lake so often?" he asked.

"I guess a part of it was how we felt about the lake from the first day we were there. It seemed to call to us."

Trev toyed with his gla.s.s. "Called to you as in magick?"

She shook her head. "Not exactly. The town wasn't called Moonstone Lake back then. Rain and mud was an everyday occurrence during the spring, and our first spring here had more rain than usual. The lake overflowed its banks. Blair and I were afraid it would flood the town, so we went out there one night to set up protection. What we saw was a lake surface the color of a moonstone. Moonstone means sanctuary. We felt it was a sign for us and we decided to stay as long as we could."

"How long did you stay that first time?"

"Almost ten years. We used some glamour for subtle aging purposes. We found a way to buy the building we have now and we've kept it going all these years. In between times we were here, we rented out the building."

"And now that everyone knows what you are? Will you stay past the time you'd normally leave?" He finished his drink and shook his head when the waiter came by to see if he wanted a second one.

"No, we won't stay. Even with them knowing about us we wouldn't feel right seeing them grow older while they see us stay the same, and even if we used a glamour to appear older for a while, they would know it wasn't so. It would be ... hard." She set the menu down.

"How would you feel about Chateaubriand for two?" Trev asked when the waiter approached them.

"It sounds wonderful."

A nod of Trev's head had the waiter returning and he placed their orders. "And something tells me the lady would love to indulge in the chocolate souffle for dessert," he said.

Stasi's mouth watered at the thought of the dessert that the resort's dining room was famous for. And for a second the image of a chocolate-covered Trev entered her mind.

Bad Stasi! Bad!

She quickly brought herself under control. She recalled her resolution to be Ms. Tough Witch and settled back in her chair with a small smile.

"So why did you go into law?"

"Family tradition. Every son has gone into some form of the law."

"Is going into law a tradition you enjoy or one you've felt compelled to follow because it was expected of you? You just don't seem like a lawyer to me," she commented, wrapping her fingers around the stem of her wine gla.s.s.

"A tradition I very much enjoy. I like the intricacies of the legal profession and I even practiced a few times among the humans for a while, so I could better understand their law," he replied. "You might not believe it, but law has many challenges and I like nothing better than a challenge."

She studied the expression in his cobalt eyes and was positive he was looking at her as another challenge. The room suddenly felt warm, but even warmer was the heat that simmered deep within her body.

She wanted to fight the attraction she felt for Trev, but no matter how hard she tried to see him as the enemy, she feared she was in the midst of a losing battle. She knew she was in a conflict that would leave behind at least one casualty since there was no chance anything could ever come of this. The supernatural communities were very tightly knit, and veering out of expected protocol wasn't easy. That Jazz and Nick managed to do so was something Stasi envied.

But she couldn't see that happening with Trev and hearts over their heads notwithstanding, she didn't want to think about romance with him. She reminded herself that she was a witch and he was a wizard. She was the defendant in a lawsuit, and when the day came that the case would be heard in Wizards' Court, he would sit at the opposite table and do his best to destroy her life. So why couldn't she just stay away from this man before he took her heart, too?

She enjoyed her simple life, and judging by the cost of the Egyptian cotton b.u.t.ton-down shirt and well-tailored wool slacks he wore, she knew he lived a vastly different lifestyle. One she had no desire to share.

So why did the idea that the day would come when he would walk away with her heart bother her so much?

To distract herself, Stasi looked around the dining room, only half filled since it was the middle of the week and skiing season wasn't in full gear yet. Her gaze was arrested by one set of eyes that looked at her as if they wanted to slice her in half.

Stasi didn't know Connie Benton well, other than that the woman occasionally shopped in her boutique around the holiday season for gifts for her nieces. But she did know that the woman was a close friend of Carrie's. There was no missing Connie reaching into her purse and pulling out her cell phone. The woman was faster than the Internet in getting the news out. Stasi had a bad feeling that if Carrie was home, she could end up here and wouldn't be averse to creating a big scene. She mentally urged the chef to cook fast.

Trev noticed her distraction and looked around.

"Someone you know?"

She shook her head. "She's from town and one of Carrie's closest friends. This isn't good."

"There's no crime in our having dinner together. For all the woman knows we're discussing the case. It's nothing new in our world." He dismissed her worries.

"It's a big problem in their eyes. Don't forget that Carrie's idea of the court system is what she sees on television and that has nothing to do with our world at all. The plaintiff's attorney wouldn't be having dinner with the defendant."

Trev leaned back when the waiter set their salad plates before them and the sommelier brought a bottle of Chateau Latour Pauillac that Stasi feared cost more than the entire meal.

"If you allow her to bother you, she wins," he said softly. "Is that what you want?"

"Not at all. Especially since I intend to win." She picked up her wine gla.s.s and tasted the Bordeaux. "This is very nice."

Stasi did her best to ignore Connie's venomous gaze and enjoyed her dinner. It turned out to be remarkably easy, since Trev kept the conversation going, discussing his travels over the years. They were both surprised to learn they had sometimes been in the same cities at the same time.

"Really? I know that hotel very well!" Stasi exclaimed when he mentioned his frequent stays in Lisbon.

"You stayed there also?"

She laughed and shook her head. "I worked as a maid there for several months. Who knows, I may have made up your bed for you," she teased.

His eyes darkened. "A pity you made it up and not the opposite."

That all too familiar s.e.xual heat flickered to life again as she thought of Trev tumbling her into his bed. She reached for her water gla.s.s since she was positive the wine started a major wildfire in her stomach. Judging by the cerulean glow in his eyes, the feeling was definitely mutual.

Trev held up his wine gla.s.s. "To a lovely evening and getting to know you better."

Stasi stared at him, convinced the red hearts that plagued her every time she saw him were pulsing to a seductive beat. Coupled with this, she had a wild vision of a naked Trev and herself equally nude lying among tumbled covers. For a moment she couldn't breathe. She was amazed her hand wasn't trembling as she picked up her wine gla.s.s and softly clinked it against his, but she didn't say a word. She feared if she did speak it would be closer to the kind of remark Horace would make than the sort of polite words she would ordinarily come up with. If she didn't know any better, she'd swear she was bespelled by the man.

It's Cupid's hearts doing this. It's creating an attraction that wouldn't ordinarily be there.

"Hic!" She wasn't sure what was more horrifying-that she had hiccupped or that the bubble floated from her lips to Trev, suspended momentarily in front of his mouth before it winked out of sight. If he had said one word she would have gladly crawled under the table and made herself disappear. Luckily, he settled for a smile and changed the conversation.

Dinner was perfect and by the time the rich chocolate souffle and coffee arrived, Stasi had forgotten that anyone else existed in the semi-private world their table provided them.

"After the main course I didn't think I could eat another bite," she lamented, staring at her now empty plate. "I'm just glad you helped eat the souffle so I didn't feel like a glutton."

"I'm a sucker for chocolate too."

She eyed his lean frame. "No one would know it."

"I only indulge on special occasions."

"The great thing about chocolate is that it doesn't need a special occasion." Stasi smiled. "This was very nice, thank you." She noticed a change in his expression. "What is it? Please don't tell me I have something between my teeth."

Trev pulled in a deep breath and blew it out. "Please don't take this the wrong way, but I'd like the chance for us to have more time to talk."

"I thought that's what we were doing now."

"I mean privately." He pulled a plastic card out of his jacket pocket and placed it on the table. "I thought we could go upstairs to my suite where we'd have more privacy."

Stasi stared at the gold plastic key card positive it was pulsing with a life of its own and mouthing the words say yes. She found she couldn't ignore the room key card any more than the red hearts over Trev's head or the knowledge she had her own share of the d.a.m.n images courtesy of Cupid.

"Anastasia?" he whispered her name, his expression showing he was unsure about her response. "Nothing has to happen. I just want to talk to you in a place where we don't have to worry about anyone overhearing our conversation. I'm sure if we went back to your place Blair would be all ears." He flashed a brief grin. "My room is large enough to make you feel comfortable. I want to know more about you and I'm not talking about the case. Please," he added in a whisper that said more than all the words before it.

His plea made her decision easier to make, but that didn't mean she wanted to make it easy for him.

She remained silent for so long, she could tell that Trev thought she was going to reject him.

"One thing I could never get enough of here is their chocolate souffle," she murmured. "Why don't you see if they'll have one sent up to the room?"

She was surprised to see more relief in his eyes than triumph. That told her she'd made the right decision. He pushed the key card across the table toward her. "It's room 422." He drew his black AmEx out of his wallet. "If you care to go up first, I'll follow after I ask for a souffle to be sent up to the room."

Stasi picked up the card and left the restaurant, veering left to the elevators. She pushed the b.u.t.ton for the fourth floor and walked into the waiting car.

I've lost my mind.

She was blind to her reflection echoing in the mirrors all around her.

How can we be alone in a hotel room and just talk?

She worried the elevator would stop at one of the lower floors and she would lose her nerve, but luckily, it continued upward.

I can't tell Blair about any of this.

Blair will know everything the minute I get back.

She'll probably conjure up a bra.s.s band and fireworks to celebrate.

I can't breathe!

The elevator dinged for the fourth floor and then the door slowly slid to one side. Blair stepped out carefully, and walked down the thickly carpeted hallway until she reached the correct room.

"Oh my," she whispered, walking into a luxurious mini-suite. Her gaze swept from a sofa that looked so comfortable she wanted to sink down into it to the open arch that revealed a king-size bed covered in a creamy spread and mounds of pillows in cream, gold, olive green, and dark brown. Proof of occupation was a laptop sitting on a desk near the French doors and a blue sweater tossed on a chair in the bedroom. She had a sudden urge to poke through the drawers and see whether he was a boxers or briefs man. Luckily, she squelched that idea before her thoughts caused the drawers to fly open and reveal their contents. The last thing she wanted was to be caught with her hands in his underwear.

Stasi felt a quick flash of heat as that thought took on a whole new meaning.

She walked over to the French doors leading onto the balcony. The early snowfall-very early, Stasi thought idly-covered the deck floor and standing outside to watch the skiers enjoying the slopes by torchlight after dark would have been comfortable only for a few minutes, before a serious chill set in.

She looked over her shoulder when the door opened and Trev walked in, carrying her coat over his arm.

"You don't stint, do you?" she asked, gesturing to her surroundings.

"I like my comfort." He walked over to the mini-bar and pulled out a bottle of champagne.

Stasi's eyebrows lifted at the label. She wasn't particularly conversant with wines and champagnes, but she knew expensive when she saw it.

I told you this was a bad idea!

Proof positive Blair wasn't in her head. If she had been, she'd be urging Stasi on and requesting she take notes. Not to mention Horace would beg for video.

She laughed at the distinctive pop of the cork and watched Trev pour champagne into two crystal flutes.

"The souffle will be up in about twenty minutes." He handed one of the flutes to her and held his up for a toast. "To an evening of relaxation and conversation."

She hesitated before tapping her flute against his. "As long as the name Carrie Anderson isn't brought up."

His cobalt eyes lit up with suppressed laughter. "Who?"

Stasi sat on the couch, toeing off her heels before she curled her legs up under her. Her pant leg shifted upward revealing her ankle bracelet.

"I noticed Blair wears one also." Trev indicated the delicate gold chain with its gold broom charm topped by a creamy pearl that matched the ones in her ring and pendant.

"We all wear one because it's a part of us. Each witch has a different stone. Blair's is blue topaz, Jazz's is amethyst, Thea wears a red diamond."

Trev settled on the couch beside her, half turning so he could see her face. He rested his gla.s.s on the top of the couch. "I have friends from my days in the Wizards' University, but I don't think I have the closeness with any of them that you have with your friends."

"We were close in school and even more so when we were expelled from the Witches' Academy," she replied, lifting the flute and sipping the bubbly liquid. She took a second sip because the first tasted so good. "After a while, we drifted to different parts of the world, but we always managed to find each other when we needed to." She hid her smile when Trev switched his gla.s.s to his other hand and his arm managed to stretch along the back of the couch, his fingertips just touching her shoulder.

"Do you think you need them now?"

She laid her head back against the couch and closed her eyes. "No."

She felt her gla.s.s taken from her fingertips and heard the soft clink as it was set on the coffee table in front of them. The cool air was displaced with the warmth of his body as he moved closer and his mouth hovered over hers while his hands cupped her face.

"I thought we were here to talk, Wizard Barnes," she murmured with the tiniest of smiles.

"There are so many ways to speak, Witch Romanov. I've always found this one to be the most effective." He moved his hands up, spearing his fingers through her hair, dislodging the loose knot on top of her head. Her golden brown tresses fell down in careless disarray.

She could taste the champagne he'd drunk, but she also caught a hint of his energy in the unique flavor of the tongue that was gently seeking out hers. All that made him what he was. She found it more intoxicating than the champagne she'd drunk, and she felt the world tilt around her. She gripped his arms with her fingertips; afraid she'd slide off the couch if she didn't hold on to something. Right now, Trev looked like her best bet.

"Anastasia," he murmured, before he deepened the kiss and pulled her into his arms. "From the first moment I walked into your shop I felt as if I was looking at someone not only exquisite, but so beautiful, warm and caring you made me feel I was well and truly alive."

She released a startled laugh. "Obviously, you have a different memory of that moment than I do. I recall that I acted like a virago because I wanted to blast you into another realm. I wanted to turn you into a spiny red-bottomed worm."

Trev's smile was warm against her lips. "You really like to punish a guy, don't you? Is that what you want to do to me now?"

Stasi traced the angle of his jaw with her fingertips. "Well, maybe not at this moment. We'd have to send you to the bottom of the sea to live. Plus you wouldn't look like surfer wizard dude, would you?"

"Ah, but then I would have to retaliate and turn you into a spiny red-bottomed worm, so I would have company living at the bottom of the sea." His lips coasted across her forehead and down along the curve of her cheek until they returned to her mouth.

The dizzying sensation returned while Stasi saw Trev's red hearts doing the salsa behind her closed eyelids.