Under His Spell Read Free

your life has got to be more exciting than this phone,” returned the Magic Man, his voice just as seductively tempting.
    Let him have the phone. Let him have it all, her fantasy man whispered.
    “I can’t,” Nicky breathed as her hands tightened into fists. She was at the base of the stage now, scanning it for any sign of her BlackBerry. “Just give me my phone back.”
    “I’ll make you a deal,” the Magic Man said, pitching his voice to the room at large. “If I can psychically guess your name, then you have to come up onstage and help me out.”
    Play with me. That’s what he was saying to her. Come play. How she wanted to. Hot sun, hot oil, hot man. God, it hurt just thinking about it.
    “I have to work, and you don’t need to guess anything. My name’s on my phone.”
    The Magic Man shook his head. “Your phone said N. Taylor and has a picture of your dog—”
    “Actually,” piped up her sister, “that’s my dog.”
    He paused and frowned at Nicky. “That’s not even your dog? Now, that is sad.”
    Nicky shot a glare at her sister as she climbed the steps onto the stage. “Did you set this up?”
    Tammy shook her head. “Not guilty, I swear! Though I would have if I’d thought about it.”
    Nicky made it onstage, her mind at war with itself. Half of her kept putting that hot island man in place of the magician. The other kept shoving the image away, refusing to give in to her dreams even if it made her entire body clench in panic. Only by sheer force of will was she able to speak with anything like a normal tone. “Fine, Mr. Magic Man. I’m here. Guess my name, then give me back my phone.”
    “Oooh, a challenge.” His voice was growing deeper and more mesmerizing. It perfectly fit her imagined island guy who kept whispering seductive fantasies in her mind. Then he touched her cheek. It was the barest caress, but it was definitely a caress, and her breath cut off completely. “Look into my eyes.”
    She bit her lip, making one last desperate attempt to keep it together. To keep her life together. “Please,” she whimpered, “just give me back my phone.”
    “It’s all right,” he murmured. “Everything will be fine.” Even knowing that everyone could hear what he said, Nicky felt as if his words were just for her. And they carried such power. A release. Sun. Hot oil. A man stroking her body. She nearly cried out at the lure of it all.
    “Your real name is Charlotte, but you don’t like it. You renamed yourself Nicky after Stevie Nicks because you always wanted her straight blond hair.” He pushed his fingers into her hair, rubbing sweetly against her scalp as he released it from her heavy clip.
    “You can’t know that,” she murmured, but obviously he did. And as the clip slipped off, her mind began to slip free. Inside she was a little closer to that tropical island. Just a little more, one tiny step more and soon she’d be running naked through the sand. It didn’t make sense, but his voice made it seem so real.
    “Just listen to my voice, Nicky. As long as you can hear my voice, you’re safe. Do you understand, Nicky? You’re always safe with me.”
    She felt it. At some core level, she felt that absolute peace that came with safety. With just his words and his voice, he made everything okay.
    “This isn’t possible,” she said as she valiantly reached for sanity. But did she really want to return to the chains of endless statistics, boxes of plastics and layoffs? And all the while, his voice kept flowing over her. It felt hot and soothing, like the oil she imagined him stroking onto every part of her body.
    “You weren’t a cheerleader in high school,” he said. “Volleyball team. Setter. But you really wanted to be a singer in a band.”
    “Like Stevie Nicks,” she whispered. He knew everything about her.
    She was still looking into his eyes. She couldn’t look away even if her life depended on it. Brown eyes, brown hair, her rational mind tried to label him