Mistress of Magic by Heather Graham Page B

made an honest man of me, Patricia.”
    “Oh, yes!” She exclaimed, blinking. “And your name was what …?”
    Again, the audience filled with laughter. It was probably one of the best shows they had ever done. It was killing her.
    “Martin. Martin Van der Crime. Ah, excuse me, sir, she does have to marry me, sir.”
    “I do?”
    “She does?”
    “Yep. You can’t have her, sir!”
    “I can’t?” Wes said. Another smile flickered across his features. “Why not?”
    “’Cause I’m in this show, sir, and you’re not!” Bob told him.
    She liked the way Wes laughed then. Good-naturedly. Willing to be part of the fun. Willing to believe in the magic.
    Just as he had been that morning. With Dierdre Dinosaur.
    “Well, heck, if you put it that way …” Wes murmured regretfully.
    She jumped off his lap. She didn’t want to fall for this much fantasy herself. She knew the other side to the man. There was a hard core to him as rigid as steel. He was interested in her. Ah, yes. He was interested.
    Because he had come for the truth. And he seemed to see her as a way to get to that truth.
    They were still in the middle of a show. Bob was staring at her, waiting.
    He had cast a cue line right into her lap.
    “Martin, oh, yes, Martin! I’ll be delighted if you’ll make an honest woman out of me. Marriage! Why, yes, marriage! It sounds just wonderful.”
    “And you’ll pledge your heart to me forever?” Bob said dramatically, his hands atop each other and playfully palpitating over his heart.
    “Why, sure, honey!” she said. Bob slipped an arm around her and they started through the audience toward the stage.
    But she was a showman herself. She couldn’t help flicking the boa over her shoulder. It flounced over Wesley’s shoulder and trailed across his face. Once again, the audience howled.
    She and Bob leaped on the stage with Alise and Stevie and they all joined in for the final number about the triumph of good over evil. There was wonderful applause, and the foursome hurried off the stage.
    “Oh, that was great, great!” Alise laughed as soon as they had reached the wings. “Gosh, Reggie, it would be wonderful if you would work with us every day. That was one of the best shows we’ve ever done.”
    “It was great,” Bob agreed, pulling off his fake mustache. “The audiences here are usually fun, but it’s rare to find a total stranger that you can play off of so easily! That guy was wonderful—”
    “Thanks,” a husky voice interrupted. “But I’m not a total stranger.”
    Reggie stiffened immediately. There he was again. Wesley Blake. Lounging negligently against the wall of the short hallway leading to the dressing rooms. His hands were in his pockets. He seemed so casual, so easy.
    All but those eyes of his …
    “Oh, so he’s a friend of yours!” Bob said, grinning. He offered a hand to Wes. “Hi! Any friend of Reggie’s is welcome. And to you, especially—thanks!”
    Reggie forced a smile to her lips. “He’s not exactly a friend of mine,” she murmured. “This is Wesley Blake. Major stockholder in our corporation.”
    “And don’t you forget it!” he said lightly. Reggie introduced the three performers. Wes shook Bob’s hand, Stevie’s, then Alise’s. She had a puppy-dog look about her brown eyes that made Reggie long to slap some sense into her.
    “You’re wonderful!” Alise said. “I mean—you were wonderful. The audience was just eating it all up.”
    He smiled at her. “But all to no avail.”
    “What?” Alise said. She still had his hand.
    His grin deepened. “Bob was right.”
    “How so?”
    “Well, he was the one in the show. He walked away with the girl.”
    “Oh!” Alise laughed.
    “But I do have a dinner date with her, right?” he said, looking at Reggie.
    “Do you?” Reggie murmured.
    “Don’t I?” He looked at Alise. “I was supposed to have a dinner date with her last night. Somehow, she eluded me.”
    “That’s terrible!” Alise told