Stephanie James - Night Of The Magician(1).pdf - Stephanie James - SilverWitch

STEPHANIE JAMES

readily admits that the chief influence on her writing is her “lifelong addiction to romantic daydreaming.“

She has spent the past nine years living and working with her engineer husband in a wide variety of places,

including the Caribbean, the Southeast and the Pacific Northwest. Ms. James currently resides in

California. Stephanie James is a pseudonym for Jayne Krentz, who also writes as Jayne Castle.

SILHOUETTE BOOKS, a Division of Simon & Schuster, Inc. 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, N.Y. 10.020

Distributed by Pocket Books

Silhouette Books, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, N.Y. 10.020

ISBN: 0-671-45.993-7

First Silhouette Books printing July, 1984

10.987.654.321

All of the characters in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

SILHOUETTE, SILHOUETTE DESIRE and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

America’s Publisher of Contemporary Romance

Printed in the U.S.A.

“Historically it has not been considered wise to insult a magician,“ Lucian Hawk warned in a dark velvet drawl.

“Are you threatening to saw me in half?“ Ariana Warfield demanded with great interest “Or make me disappear into

thin air?“ She smiled up at him, smoky blue eyes wide and guileless behind the lenses of her oversized designer

glasses.

It was her brother Drake who rushed to smooth over the incipient hostilities which had flared up a few minutes

earlier when he had introduced Ariana to the magician. He did so with his usual forthright acknowledgment of what he

considered his sister’s failings. “Pay no attention to her, Lucian. She’s always like this around men of, er, lower

financial status.“ He grinned cheerfully. “She doesn’t generally associate with men who earn less than she does, you

see!“

“I see.“ Lucian nodded at the revelation, not appearing to be overly surprised. He studied the woman in front of

him with a critical, speculative glance, topaz eyes examining her from behind the lenses of his own glasses. Lucian

Hawk’s frames were not as aggressively stylish as Ariana’s. He hadn’t opted for the chic aviator look or even the

academic style. His glasses were businesslike and very traditional. Strong black lines framed the strange honey-gold of

his eyes and matched in color the intense velvet black of his hair.

Ariana, to her horror, was aware of a rush of embarrassed warmth as she endured the gleaming topaz of his glance.

Had she insulted the man? In self-defense she turned on her brother, who was two years younger than her own thirty

years of age, and therefore fair game as a scapegoat.

“I was not being insulting, Drake. I merely commented upon the rather hand-to-mouth existence which must be the

fate of the usual magician!“

“Asking a man why he doesn’t settle down and get a decent, regular job is often considered something of an

insult,“ Drake shot back dryly.

“Especially when the man is my age,“ Lucian pointed out “I’m nearly forty, you know. It should be obvious that I’

m probably not going to amount to anything more than I already am.“ There was a taunting challenge in his gaze now,

and Ariana was vividly aware of it.

“Be reasonable, Ariana,“ Drake went on, his Warfield blue eyes laughing at his sister. “You didn’t come to my

party tonight to meet a prospective husband. You came to hire a magician.“

“Voila!“ Lucian murmured, sipping from his glass of whiskey and soda. “You see before you one magician for hire.

Maybe.“

“Maybe!“ Ariana swung her narrowed gaze back to meet his. “What do you mean, ‘maybe’? Are you interested in

the job or not?“

“I’m interested in talking about it,“ Lucian temporized. “Why don’t we let Drake get back to his other guests while

we find a quiet spot and discuss the matter?“ He took Ariana’s arm and nodded at his host. “It’s all right, Drake. I’ll

send for you if the insults start flying too thick and fast for me to stop them on my own.“

“Now just a minute,“ Ariana began waspishly.

But her good-looking younger brother was already trading an easy man-to-man look with Lucian. “Okay, I’ll see

you both later. Try the den at the back of the apartment, it should be relatively quiet there. Be nice to him, Ari,“ he

advised his sister. “You need him for what you’ve got in mind. And he’s right, you know. It’s not generally considered

smart to insult magicians!“

Before Ariana could give her brother her views on the subject, he was making his way back into the throng of

colorful people that filled his oversized living room. Drake’s parties were always full of odd, eccentric, interesting and

occasionally fascinating people. He collected them without regard to social or financial status. The only requirement

for being invited to one of Drake Warfield’s parties was being interesting. Drake was an inventor, and he claimed that

he needed these parties to inspire his thinking processes.

He’d tried telling that to the IRS one year, Ariana recalled as Lucian led her firmly through the crowd. But the IRS

hadn’t agreed to his proposal for writing off the monthly parties as a business expense. As usual, it was Ariana who

had been called upon to straighten out the resulting financial misunderstanding.

The masculine hand on her arm was beginning to become annoying, she decided as Lucian guided her toward the

doorway. It was a large hand with a supple strength in the fingers, and her arm felt quite powerless in its grip.

“I think I can manage to make it all the way back to the den on my own,“ she said dryly, attempting unsuccessfully

to release herself. “Would you mind letting go of my arm? You’re leaving imprints in the skin!“

Lucian arched one black brow as he glanced down at his captive. “Sorry. Didn’t want to take a chance on losing

you in this crowd.“

“I’m not likely to disappear in the short distance between the living room and the den!“

“A good magician could make you disappear in about two seconds,“ he pointed out. “But as long as I’ve got a

grip on you, you’re safe.“

“Thanks!“ she muttered caustically. “Are there any other magicians here tonight of which I must be wary?“

“One never knows,“ Lucian said smoothly.

He whisked her through the doorway, out of the white-on-white living room which had been decorated for Drake

by Aunt Philomena. Aunt Philomena redecorated both Drake’s and Ariana’s living rooms twice a year, not because

they liked having their apartments redecorated so frequently but because Philomena loved to do it and Ariana and

Drake loved her. It had been Philomena Warfield who had taken them in upon the death of their parents.

For the past six months Ariana’s living room had been done in shades of French vanilla and papaya. One of the

first clues to the fact that something unusual and disturbing had occurred in Aunt Philomena’s life was Ariana’s

realization two weeks earlier that there had been no discussion of how to redecorate her apartment for the coming six

months. But it was the new rash of checks being written on her aunt’s money market account which had really alerted

Ariana.

If there was one thing Ariana understood, it was money.

Surreptitiously she studied the man who was leading her down the carpeted hall. A magician. Did she really have

to get herself involved with this sort of man in order to carry out her plan?

Lucian Hawk stood an inch or two under six feet, she estimated. And he looked the age he had hinted at a few

minutes earlier. He was definitely nearly forty.

But it was a hard, tough, streetwise forty, not the slightly paunchy, fading, comfortable forty that seemed -to visit

softer men. Ariana had a hunch that there had never been much that was soft about Lucian Hawk or his life.

His midnight dark hair was cut relatively short in a casual, controlled style, and there was a lacing of silver in it The

depths of his topaz eyes held a cool, savvy intelligence. Whatever handsomeness the harshly carved face had once

held had been transcended over the years by an almost fierce strength reflected in the aggressive line of nose and jaw.

At least he hadn’t dressed with the kind of outlandish showmanship one might expect in a magician, Ariana

decided thankfully. So many of Drake’s eccentric friends advertised their highly individual lifestyles with their clothes.

Lucian was wearing a pair of dark-toned cotton twill trousers that rode low on a lean waist, and a buttery-soft suede

pullover shirt with an open collar. There was something very right about the suede on him, Ariana thought absently. It

went with the quality of rough, virile aggression that she sensed lay close to the surface of the man. A pair of casual

leather handsewns on his feet and a rather worn belt completed his outfit “Ah, here we are.“ Lucian threw open a door

at the end of the hall. “It looks like whoever did Drake’s living room didn’t get her hands on his den!“ He glanced

appreciatively around at the warm, richly comfortable room with its leather and heavy wood furnishings. Then he shot

a speculative glance at Ariana.

“Don’t look at me,“ she told him wryly as he released her arm. “I don’t do Drake’s decorating. I have no artistic

talent Aunt Philomena’s the one with that particular ability.“ She sank down into one of the oversized leather chairs.

“Actually, she did do this room, but she did it to Drake’s specifications, and when it was finished he made her promise

never to touch it again. This is where he does most of his serious thinking.“

“I can see why a professional inventor might need a room for that.“ Lucian smiled slightly as he took the opposite

chair. There was something annoyingly casual about the way he settled so easily into his host’s chair, as if it didn’t

bother him at all to make use of someone else’s possessions. He looked quite at home on the expensive leather, his

legs stretched out in front of him, his arms resting comfortably along the padded sides. There was a lithe, indolent

grace about him that irritated Ariana. Where did Drake find his friends, for heaven’s sake?

“My brother works hard, Mr. Hawk, even if his hours are a bit irregular,“ she told Lucian repressively.

He inclined his dark head with an unexpected, almost courtly gesture. “Implying, of course, that I don’t work

particularly hard?“ The topaz eyes gleamed.

Ariana closed her eyes briefly, striving for patience. “I’m sure a professional magician must do something that

resembles work occasionally.“

“You mean when I’m not sponging off my more financially successful friends like your brother?“

“I didn’t mean to imply that you were sponging off Drake!“ she shot back coolly. “I know you aren’t, as a matter of

fact, at least not in any large way. If you were, believe me, I’d be the first to know about it!“

He watched her speculatively. “You keep close tabs on your brother’s finances, Ariana?“ he finally inquired very

gently.

“It’s none of your concern, Mr. Hawk, but yes, I do keep an eye on his financial situation.“

“Money, I take it, is a primary interest of yours,“ he drawled.

She shrugged. It was the truth and she saw no point in denying it. “Perhaps we should get on with our business,

Mr. Hawk.“

“Call me Lucian.“

“Fine. Lucian.“ Ariana nodded crisply and sat forward a little, her fingers laced together in front of her, elbows

resting on the arms of the chair. “Has Drake explained any of this to you?“

“He merely mentioned that you’re worried about your aunt. And he told me a bit about you,“ he added

thoughtfully, as if he were trying to recall whatever it was Drake had mentioned about her and how accurate the

comments had been.

Ariana didn’t waste much time wondering what Lucian Hawk’s assessment of her was. She had an honest,

straightforward impression of herself and knew how she must appear to the magician. Along with her brother she’d

inherited the rich cinnamon brown hair of their mother. She wore it shoulder length in a blunt cut, the sides pulled back

behind her ears and held, tonight, with two small clips of gold. The look was controlled and chic, and it served to

emphasize the wide, aware, faintly wary expression of her smoky blue eyes. The stylish eyeglasses enhanced those

eyes, but they also provided a subtle barrier of defense. From behind the lightly tinted lenses Ariana could view the

world from some indefinable point of safety.

Ariana had no illusions about her looks. She knew the slightly upturned nose and the gentle line of her

cheekbones and jaw needed a lot more purity of shape to be considered beautiful. And the too-vulnerable mouth was

another source of dissatisfaction. Ariana did what she could to hide the hints of softness in her appearance by

dressing with a sophisticated polish.

Stephanie James - Night Of The Magician(1).pdf

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