Sympathetic Magic (The Witches of Cleopatra Hill Book 4) by Christine Pope Page B

the way they’d been crushed together, of how solid and strong he seemed.
    If he’d been thrown off-kilter at all by that unexpected physical nearness, Lucas didn’t show it. He only smiled and guided her toward the first gallery, a place that seemed to specialize in exquisite art glass, including some truly amazing ceiling fixtures.
    She murmured her appreciation, and Lucas said, “Yes, I’ve been drawn to these pieces, too. In fact, I have one in my dining room. Maybe you can come see it sometime.”
    Her immediate reaction was to tell him that was impossible, that no way would she be going up to Flagstaff any time soon, let alone to his house, but there was such a hopeful light in his eyes that she didn’t have the heart to refuse him point-blank. So she simply replied, “Maybe,” and then pretended to be absorbed in inspecting a triptych depicting a stylized landscape at sunset.
    Being Lucas, he didn’t push, but gave the faintest of nods before following her around the gallery until they’d made the complete circuit. From there they went to several more, where they weren’t inclined to linger, as the pieces there were too modern for their taste.
    In front of the last stop was a sort of garden of copper and bronze wind sculptures, even now moving slightly, although the night was quite calm, with little wind. Margot wandered amongst them, looking at all the different configurations, and wondering if she could justify the expense of having one installed in her yard. It would look lovely, catching the sunlight, speeding up and slowing down as the capricious winds flowed over and around Cleopatra Hill.
    “You like them?” Lucas asked.
    “Yes. I’ve seen other wind sculptures here and there as I’ve driven around, but these are so much more substantial, so beautifully made.” She pulled her shawl more closely about her; the air had only cooled further as they’d lingered in the last gallery. Maybe she should have brought a real coat.
    “Which one’s your favorite?”
    What a question, one she had no intention of answering. Knowing Lucas, he’d put in a call tomorrow, buy it, and have someone over at her house installing it before she knew quite what had happened. “I couldn’t really choose,” she hedged. “They’re all so lovely.”
    His mouth twitched, as if he’d guessed at the true reason for her reticence. “It is hard to pick one.” Then he pushed back the sleeve of his overcoat slightly so he could look at his watch. “It’s almost seven. We should probably head over to the restaurant now.”
    A situation fraught with its own perils, but at least they’d be inside, and warm. And, despite the cheese she’d nibbled two galleries earlier, she was hungry. She’d just have to do her best to keep the conversation as light and undate-like as possible.
    Once again Lucas offered her his arm, and she took, knowing that protesting wouldn’t do her any good. Anyway, the cobblestone walkways here were a little treacherous, and she was wearing heeled boots, so she might as well accept the support he was offering. Just something practical and friendly. Now if she could only keep her thoughts from dwelling on how strong he felt, or how…intoxicating…it was to have him this close to her.
    Intoxicating?
    Get a hold of yourself, she thought, keeping her chin up and what she hoped was a pleasant smile fixed on her features. You’re a grown woman, not some silly sixteen-year-old mooning over your high school’s quarterback. Not that she’d ever done such a thing; jocks had never been her type. She risked a quick glance over at Lucas and wondered if he’d played sports in school. He certainly had the build for it.
    She doubted she’d have the courage to ask.
    But then they were at the restaurant, and the maitre d’ was smiling at Lucas and guiding them to a secluded table off in a corner. Had Lucas slipped the man a twenty to get such a prime spot? Probably not…most likely it was just more of the