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and slapped him on the back. “Come on. Time to play, my friend.”
    He nodded, then turned back to Maggie. “Are you going to hang around for the next set?”
     
    She nodded, even as her lucid mind reminded her that she’d wanted to go back to the hotel minutes earlier. Somehow, her brain and body didn’t seem connected.
    He smiled again. He did have a great smile.
    “Good. I’ll talk to you after.”
    Again she nodded automatically.
    As soon as he headed back to the stage, Jo and Erika were at her side.
    “What did he say to you?” Jo asked.
    Maggie blinked, surprised they had even noticed the brief exchange. “He asked if we were staying for the next set.”
    “Hell, yeah, we are,” Erika stated, glancing over her shoulder at him. Maggie did too. He was positioning himself in front of the microphone, long finger curling around the stand. He was looking at her.
    Them. He must be looking at them. Probably realizing the cuties were her friends.
    Then he smiled, and his eyes were definitely on her. Heat burned over her cheeks.
    “Why does he want me to stay?” she pondered aloud.
    Jo made a noise very close to disgust. “Because you are lovely and he wants to talk to you.”
    Maggie cocked a dubious eyebrow. She knew she was smart and she knew she was passably pretty. She also knew she could be fun—even if it was hard to tell now, when she was overwhelmed by the general weirdness of this night. But she also knew she was not the type to attract a musician in a rock band.
    They went for…she watched as the drummer was dragged away from a gaggle of busty, beautiful women by one of the other band members.
    They were attracted to women like that.
    Especially a musician who looked like the one who’d talked to her. He really was gorgeous. That could be the wine and warm beer talking, but she didn’t think so.
    “He must say that to everyone,” she decided. He was probably just a friendly guy.
    “He didn’t say it to me,” Erika said.
    “Or me,” Jo added.
    Maggie frowned. “What do I do?”
    “You stay.” Jo nodded at her as if the suggestion was a done deal.
    And Maggie supposed it was. After all, she was too curious a person not to see why he wanted her to stay. Yeah, right, and that was the only reason.

Chapter 4
    “W hat is he doing?” Erika asked, frowning at the stage.
    Maggie didn’t respond. She just watched as the musician, who she’d waited for like a groupie, fiddled with some of the sound equipment, oblivious to her, still seated at the bar. They’d finished playing nearly fifteen minutes ago, and he hadn’t approached her.
    “I think maybe we should go. I feel stupid just waiting here,” Maggie said, keeping her voice even, trying to hide her humiliation.
    What had she been thinking? That he’d really intended to talk to her again? After all, this was New Orleans. He’d probably had twenty conversations tonight just like the one they’d shared.
    She glanced around the dim, run-down barroom, looked at the thinning crowd. She was the only one who’d waited. Even the tipsy group of wild women who’d worked all night to get the band’s attention, especially his attention, had left after the band stopped playing.
    Maggie glanced at her friends. Both Jo and Erika looked pained and annoyed for her. Although she knew they meant well, their sympathetic expressions didn’t help. They just made her feel more pathetic.
    Maggie rose from her barstool, turning to check if she’d left anything behind, only to realize that all she had was her purse—and that was in her hand.
    She pulled in a deep breath, attempting to calm herself. She’d managed to stay composed through the band’s long set. There was no point to falling apart now.
    In fact, she decided, this was for the best. What did she really expect to happen anyway? That Erika’s prediction had come true, and whatever happened with the musician and the music was Marie Laveau’s doing? That a voodoo priestess had somehow led her