Magic at Midnight Read Online Free PDF

to someone else tonight, to Falon, he’d—he’d—no way in hell he was letting that happen, he decided.
    Determination rushing through him, he spun on his heel. Genevieve still sat at the bar, her shoulders hunched, her face lowered toward her empty glass as Falon spoke to her. Her hair tumbled over her shoulders, shielding her delectable cleavage.
    “Genevieve,” he called before he could stop himself.
    The music skidded to a halt, the band members too interested in what was happening to play. In fact, everyone present went silent and locked eyes on him. Everyone except Genevieve, that is. She continued to stare into her glass, her gaze faraway, lost.
    “Genevieve, you beautiful thing, I need your attention.”
    Finally her chin snapped up and she faced him, shock filling her luscious hazel eyes. “Did you say beautiful? Are you talking to me?”
    “Is your name Genevieve?”
    “Well, yes.”
    Oh, how she enticed him. She was all innocence, yet she possessed a wild, sex-kitten allure. It was a lethal, contradictory combination that always intrigued him. “Why don’t you have a seat at one of the tables, and I’ll join you in a minute.”
    “Thanks a lot, Hunter,” Falon said, but there was a glimmer of amusement in his tone. Scamming bastard.
    Genevieve’s nose crinkled and her brow furrowed, the planes of her face darkening with suspicion. “Why?”
    “Because.”
    “That’s not an answer. What do you want to talk about?”
    He flicked a pointed glance to their avid audience. “It’s private.”
    “I don’t understand.” Then her lips—her lush, kiss me, lick me all over, do-me-all-night lips—pressed together. Comprehension dawned in her eyes. She smiled slowly, seductively, yet somehow she appeared even more sad.
    Now he was the one confused. What had made her happy and sad all at once? What did she comprehend?
    “I would love to ‘talk’ with you,” she said.
    He gulped. She made it sound like they’d be going at it like wild animals on the tabletop. Maybe they would. If only she didn’t tempt him on every level. Why did the Fates have to be so cruel? He desired this woman desperately, but he couldn’t have her as anything more than a friend.
    She eased to her feet, and he choked back a laugh when she flipped the rose-colored pixies off. His laugh died a sudden death when he saw that her dress barely fell below the curve of her bottom. His fingers itched to touch.
    None of the tables were empty. Everyone watched her curiously as she crossed her arms over her chest. “You have five seconds to give me a table or I’ll conjure your spouses into the bar. They’ll find out what you’ve been doing and—”
    Before the last word emerged, everyone at the tables jolted to their feet—everyone except Barnabas Vlad, the art gallery owner. He didn’t have a spouse. Chairs skidded, drinks sloshed over rims. “Here, take mine,” rose in disharmony. Satisfied, Genevieve skipped to the table hidden in the corner, partially covered in a shadowy haven. “I’ll take yours, John Foster. Thank you.”
    The town pervert was too busy staring at her cleavage to respond.
    “Move out of her damn way!” Hunter shouted.
    John nearly jumped out of his skin as he leaped away from Genevieve.
    “And play some music. Now .” Hunter scowled at the band leader. “That’s what I pay you for, isn’t it?”
    A few seconds later, soft, romantic music drifted from the speakers. His scowl deepened. Resisting Genevieve was hard enough; throw in a romantic atmosphere… heaven help him.
    The three fairies were frowning, he noticed, and Falon was leaning his hip against the bar. “You’re putting on quite a show tonight,” his friend said.
    “I’m glad you find it entertaining.” He paused, looked away. “I’m taking a break.”
    “That’s nice.”
    “You’re still in charge.”
    “That’s nice, too.”
    “Yeah, well, you’re an asshole and if you don’t wipe that smirk off your face, you’re