"Coven, club… A group with the same interests."
"I don't belong to a coven. I prefer working alone."
Interested, he leaned forward. "Why?"
"There are groups who are quite sincere, and those who are not. Still others dabble in things best left locked."
"Black magic."
"Whatever name you give it."
"And you're a white witch."
"You're fond of labels." With a restless move, she picked up her wine again. Unlike Nash, she didn't mind discussing the essence of her craft—but once she agreed to, she expected to have her thoughts received respectfully. "We're all born with certain powers, Nash. Yours is to tell entertaining stories. And to attract women." Her lips curved as she sipped. "I'm sure you respect, and employ, your powers. I do exactly the same."
"What are yours?"
She took her time, setting her goblet down, lifted her eyes to his. The look she leveled at him made him feel like a fool for having asked. The power was there—the kind that could make a man crawl. His mouth went so dry that the wine he was drinking could have been sand.
"What would you like, a performance?" The faintest hint of impatience had seeped into her tone.
He managed to draw a breath and shake himself out of what he would almost have thought was a trance—if he believed in trances. "I'd love one." Maybe it was twitching the devil's tail, but he couldn't resist. The color that temper brought to her cheeks made her skin glow like a freshly picked peach. "What did you have in mind?"
She felt the quick, unwelcome tug of desire. It was distinctly annoying. "Lightning bolts from the fingertips? Should I whistle up the wind or draw down the moon?"
"Dealer's choice."
The nerve of the man, she thought as she rose, the power humming hot in her blood. It would serve him right if she—
"Morgana."
She whirled, anger sizzling. With an effort, she tossed her hair back and relaxed. "Ana."
Nash couldn't have said why he felt as though he'd just avoided a calamity of major proportions. But he knew that, for an instant, his whole being had been so wrapped up in Morgana that he wouldn't have felt an earthquake. She'd pulled him right in, and now he was left, a little dazed, a little dull-witted, staring at the slim blond woman in the doorway.
She was lovely, and, though a head shorter than Morgana, she exuded an odd kind of soothing strength. Her eyes were a soft, calm gray, and they were focused on Morgana. In her arms she carried a box that was overflowing with flowering herbs.
"You didn't have the sign up," Anastasia said, "so I came in the front."
"Let me take that." Messages passed between the two women. Nash didn't have to hear them to know it. "Ana, this is Nash Kirkland. Nash, my cousin, Anastasia."
"I'm sorry to interrupt." Her voice, low and warm, was as soothing as her eyes.
"You're not," Morgana said as Nash got to his feet. "Nash and I were just finished."
"Just beginning," he told her. "But we can pick it up later. Nice to meet you," he said to Anastasia. Then he smiled at Morgana and tucked her hair behind her ear. "Till next time."
"Nash." Morgana set the box down and took out a small pot of blooms. "A gift." She offered it, and her sweetest smile. "Sweet peas," she explained. "To symbolize departure."
He couldn't resist. Leaning over the box, he touched his lips to hers. "For the hell of it." He sauntered out. In spite of herself, Morgana chuckled.
Anastasia settled into a chair with a contented sigh. "Want to tell me about it?"
"Nothing to tell. He's a charming annoyance. A writer with very typical views on witches."
"Oh. That Nash Kirkland." To please herself, Anastasia picked up Morgana's half-full goblet and sipped. "The one who wrote that gory movie you and Sebastian dragged me to."
"It was really quite intelligent and sly."
"Hmm." Anastasia drank again. "And gory. Then again, you've always enjoyed that kind of thing."
"Watching evil is an entertaining way to reaffirm good." She frowned. "Unfortunately, Nash Kirkland does very superior work."
"That may be. I'd rather watch the Marx brothers." Automatically she walked over to check the herbs in Morgana's window. "I couldn't help but notice the tension. You looked as if you were about to turn him into a toad when I walked in."
The thought gave Morgana a moment of sterling pleasure. "I was tempted. Something about that smugness set me off."
"You're too easily set off. You did say you were going to work on control, didn't you, love?"