“Good call.” Mireio’s gaze was pinned to Dane. “Maybe? Oh, how could you have not? Look at him!”
Eryss had. And knew exactly what wild and delicious scenarios involving naked flesh and moans and sighs were running through her friend’s imagination. “He’s a scientist.”
“Ooh. A nerd. I love a sexy nerd.” Mireio toyed with her springy red curls. “Don’t find them wandering around Anoka very often. So when will you have sex? Because if you let that one slip out of your hands without tapping—”
“I’ll give it my best shot. The man’s kisses do not lend themselves to patience.”
“Did you tell him you’re a witch?”
“Mireio, he’s a scientist.”
“I got that. Oh, you don’t think he’d believe you?”
“It’s not that I need him to believe anything about me. Since when do we just toss it out there that we’re witches?”
“True. But can you imagine the conversations you’d have trying to convince him you can control the earth and its elements with nothing more than your little finger?”
“I blew his mind with the conservatory. I liked seeing his surprise. But here’s the kicker—he’s a scientist who debunks paranormal phenomena.”
Sudden worry fluttered Mireio’s lashes. “What do you mean?”
“Like he proves vampires don’t exist and thinks witches are crazy old ladies.”
“Oh.” Mireio shuddered. “Not cool. But he saw your conservatory. Who could actually believe something like that can exist without magic?”
“He’s convinced I have heat coils running under the soil.”
Mireio accepted that with a nod and a shrug. “Could happen.”
“Doesn’t matter. I don’t want to get into it with him until I’m sure.”
“Sure you want to have sex with him?” she asked eagerly.
“That. But also, sure that he’s...the one.”
“The one?”
“The one my soul pines for. I had a weird moment of recognition last night with him, Mireio. What if the anacampserote called him here? What if he is the man I fall in love with every time I’m reincarnated?”
“But he doesn’t even believe in witches. I don’t see that working too swell in the romance department.”
“Right. But this man from my former lives might not have always been in my life for very long. He could have been a one-night stand or brief affair on many occasions. How often do we really reveal ourselves to our lovers?”
“If they are quickies, never. Too risky for witches. But if you think he’s your soul mate, don’t you think you’ll have to tell him sooner or later?”
“I would love to have him know me as I know him. But that’s the kicker. I don’t know him. It was just a moment of knowing last night. So I could be wrong.”
“But you want to be right.”
“Goddess, yes. He’s so sexy.” They both turned to watch Dane push snow off the sidewalk outside.
Had she made a mistake by not encouraging him to have his way with her last night? “What am I going to do? He’s only in town for a week.”
“You can make him love you, then spill the beans about being a witch. Or you can tell him now and challenge his beliefs.”
“Sounds like a game. I don’t play games.”
“Oh yeah? What about the one where you think he’s your lost love and you want to keep him close to you without saying anything?”
“That’s not fair.”
“All is fair in love. War just sucks.”
They both laughed, and Eryss couldn’t find an argument against Mireio’s suggestion to challenge his beliefs. She’d invite Dane to dinner. Tonight she’d prepare a feast to seduce. And she would pay attention to every sign she saw or felt toward him. If her soul really did recognize him, she wanted to be sure. And do what she could to help him recognize hers.
* * *
She had prepared a meal to seduce, Dane thought as he rolled the rhubarb wine across his tongue and inhaled the savory scent of tomatoes, garlic and pine nuts from the plate before him. But he didn’t need to be seduced by food. The dress Eryss wore was more than amply urging his desires to the surface. She had on a soft, pink velvet dress that stopped at her thighs and was fringed with delicate lace about her décolletage, which kept drawing his eyes right there. And when she laughed her breasts jiggled, and then he couldn’t remember what he was doing.
Oh, right, eating. With a fork. That he’d almost dropped onto the plate.
Making the save, Dane cleared his throat and offered, “I liked shoveling this morning.”
“I noticed. You shoveled the whole block. The pet store next door appreciated that.”
He shrugged. “I think I could handle Minnesota once in a while.”
Eryss lifted a questioning brow.
“Mostly. Probably. In the summer, for sure.”
“Does surfer guy miss the waves? Do you surf this time of year?”
“Oh, yeah. Some of the best swells roll in during January. Put me in a heavy wet suit and I’m good to go.”
“But even with a wet suit, the water must be cold.”
“In the fifties. So you see?” He pounded his chest with a fist. “I’m hardy.”
“Then I challenge you to do the polar plunge. I think that’s happening sometime next week over in Saint Paul.”
“Is that what it sounds like?”
She nodded. “Jumping into the lake through a hole cut in the ice. But don’t worry, there are towels and hot beverages waiting to warm you up after.”
“I think I’ll stick with fifty degrees and epic surf.”
Eryss’s giggle lifted her breasts in a jiggly don’t-look-away come-on. The water glass Dane held tilted, and cool liquid splashed his wrist.
“Whoa!” She grabbed the glass and pressed a towel to the spill on the table. “Got it.”
“Sorry.” He reclaimed the glass and set it carefully before his plate. Even a child could manage such a skill as lifting a glass to drink. Of course, children’s distractions were far different from a grown man’s. He smirked at Eryss’s darting look. So he confessed. “You distract me. Your cooking distracts me. The warmth from the hearth fire is distracting in a good way. And everything about you and this house is distracting. I’m normally much more pulled together.”
She stroked a finger along his wrist. “And here I thought I was the only one having a hard time concentrating on the pasta. You know you have a few silver hairs in your beard stubble and above your ears that are devastating to a woman’s better judgment.”
Dane rubbed his stubble, which was trying to become a beard. He wasn’t that old, but indeed, he did have a few silver strands. Had he inherited them from a father he’d never known? The only photo his mother had ever saved of Edison had been taken from the side, and was blurry. He had dark hair in it, but it was hard to tell if gray had yet invaded. “They say a few gray hairs give a man a distinguished air.”
“I’d call it downright sexy. But I assumed you were about my age.”
“Which is?” He managed to fork in a bite of pesto without spilling. Points for the distracted scientist.
“I