The Spellbinder Read Free

Her skin was truly magnificent, Brody thought, rose petals on velvet. Her ebony hair shone clean and healthy in the lamplight, falling to her shoulders and curving under in a simple page boy to frame high cheekbones, slightly pouty lips, and light blue eyes faintly uptilted at the corners. There was something vaguely familiar about those eyes, he thought absently. “I’m afraid you’re just not my type.”
    She smiled and he inhaled sharply. Not attractive. Beautiful. Her face was suddenly illuminated from within by a warmth and vitality that was near incandescent. “Then of course, I won’t do atall,” she said cheerfully. “I’m sorry. There must have been a mix-up. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything.” She strode briskly toward the telephone on the desk in the far corner of the sitting room. “I’ll call Marceline’s right away and arrange for a replacement.” She paused with her hand on the receiver and glanced back over her shoulder. “At this time of night it may take an hour or so, but I will take good care of you until she gets here. Have you eaten yet?”
    “No, but—”
    “Then I will cook you a fine meal.” She made a shooing motion with one hand as she picked up the receiver with the other. “Go to your bedroom and rest. I know you must be tired after your performance tonight. I’ll call you when the food is ready.”
    Brody felt his lips twitching with amusement. “Do you always supply chef service to your customers?”
    “But you are not my customer.” Sacha smiled sunnily. “You are a hungry man who has been badly treated by my employer. The least I can do is to see that you are fed and pampered
un peu.
”
    “You’re French?”
    She shook her head. “Hungarian mother, American father, but I grew up in Paris.” She made another shooing motion. “You go rest. All will be well, I promise you.”
    Brody found himself meekly obeying her command. As the bedroom door closed behind him he took off his tan Windbreaker and tossed it on the bed. It was odd, but the tension and boredomgripping him had eased since he had entered the suite. The little Sacha had surprised and amused him, but he had definitely not been bored.
    He sat down on the king-size bed and looked around in discontent. Why the devil had he let the woman banish him to the bedroom? He wasn’t tired. The energy was coursing through him as it usually did after a performance.
    “Brody?” The door opened and Sacha’s gleaming, dark head poked around it. “I’m sorry, but I will need you in the kitchen. Those idiots in the hotel have stocked the refrigerator with only milk, eggs, cheese, and bacon.” Her face lit with a gamine grin. “But all is not lost. I found”—she paused dramaticaly— “
mushrooms.
We will have a magnificent quiche, if you will only dice the mushrooms while I brown the bacon.”
    He rose swiftly to his feet, feeling as if he had been reprieved. “I think I can manage that.” He followed her to the small, gleaming kitchen, noticing she was taller than he had first thought. It must have been her slenderness that had created the illusion of lack of height. She had discarded her denim jacket, and he smothered a smile as he saw the pink T-shirt she wore had D ISNEY W ORLD printed on the back and a huge Donald Duck on the front. Lolita, indeed.
    Then his amusement vanished as his gaze lingered on her small breasts, outlined with such loving detail by the T-shirt that it was evident she was wearing no bra. He had a sudden impulse to lift the shirt and cup her breasts in his hands.That creamy rose tinting her cheeks was very alluring, and the texture fantastic. Would her nipples be as velvety as—
    “There will be a replacement here as soon as possible,” Sacha said. “Marceline’s manager apologizes profusely and hopes you will accept any small service I can do for you until she can make reparation.” She shot him a mischievous glance. “So you see, since she’s paying me, you must