booth in the back. She smiled at the waiter who handed her a menu.
She was trying to decide whether to have rigatoni or ravioli when she realized she was being watched.
Lowering the menu, Marisa glanced around the restaurant, felt her heart catch in her throat as she saw the dark-haired man from the carnival walking toward her.
He smiled as he reached her table. "Hello again."
"What are you doing here?"
"Seeking company on a stormy night, perhaps. I see you are alone. Would you mind if I joined you?"
Of course she'd mind. She didn't know a thing about the guy, not even his name.
The prudent thing would be to tell him to get lost. She knew that. Still, for no reason she could think of, she found herself inviting him to sit down.
Graceful as a leaf falling from a tree, he slid into the seat across from her.
"Do you come here often?" Marisa asked.
"No, this is my first time." He smiled at her. It was a totally disarming smile, revealing teeth white enough for a toothpaste commercial. "Fortuitous, don't you think?"
At a loss for words, Marisa nodded. She was glad when Tommy came to take her order.
"Hey, sweet cheeks," the waiter said with a wink, "how's it going?"
Marisa shook her head. Tommy was a hopeless flirt. He was studying accounting in college, and worked at the restaurant four nights a week. He was under the delusion that he was irresistible.
"So," Tommy purred, "what'll it be?"
"Rigatoni, I think."
"Excellent choice. Rigatoni and a glass of Chianti."
Marisa grinned. "You know me too well."
"Not as well as I'd like," Tommy replied, waggling his eyebrows at her. "And what can I get for you, sir?"
"A glass of red wine. Very dry."
"Coming right up," Tommy said.
Marisa spread her napkin over her lap. "You're not eating?"
"I dined earlier. I only stopped in for a drink."
"Oh."
"You must come here often," he remarked.
"Yeah, usually once or twice a week. Cooking isn't my favorite thing, and the food here is good, and inexpensive."
She looked up and smiled as Tommy brought their wine.
The stranger picked up his glass. "A toast?"
"What shall we drink to?"
"New friends?" he suggested.
Marisa picked up her glass. "New friends."
He watched her over the rim of his glass as she swallowed.
"I'm afraid I don't know your name, new friend."
"Forgive me. I am Grigori." He extended his hand.
"Marisa Richards."
He took her hand in his. His grip was gentle, yet firm, his skin cool.
"It is my pleasure, Marisa Richards."
His words slid over her, richer than dark chocolate, more intoxicating than the wine in her glass.
"So, Grigori, what do you do for a living?"
"Magic, mostly. And you?"
"Magic!" She cocked her head to one side, and then nodded. Yes, she could easily imagine him standing on a stage clad all in black, a silk cape billowing around him. "You're a magician?"
He shrugged. "Among other things."
"Are you performing here in town?"
"Not at the moment."
"Oh, that's too bad. I don't suppose you'd show me one of your secrets?"
"I'm afraid not."
"I didn't think you would. There's some sort of magician's oath or something, isn't there?"
"Yes," Grigori said, smiling faintly. "A very ancient oath not to reveal our secrets. You did not tell me what it is you do," he reminded her.
"I'm a legal secretary at Salazar and Salazar. The elder Mr. Salazar is my boss. A tyrant if ever there was one." She smiled. "Maybe you could make him disappear."
She had expected him to laugh, or at least smile back. Instead, he regarded her for a moment and then said, quite seriously, "If you wish."
Not certain how to reply, she changed the subject. "What do you do when you're not working?"
"I like to take long walks in the moonlight."
"Oh, a romantic."
He shrugged. "Perhaps I just prefer the night."
"Do you? Prefer the night, I mean?"
"Yes." He made a vague gesture with his hand. It was a graceful movement, airy, light. "My eyes are quite sensitive to the sun."
"Oh."
"And what do you like to do when you're not working?"
"Oh, I don't know. Read. Go to the movies." She grinned at him. "Take long walks through the park."
"In the evening?"
"In the morning, I'm afraid. I don't like walking in the park at night."
"Perhaps you would take a walk with me some evening and give me a chance to change your mind."
"Perhaps." She regarded him for a moment, trying to think of a tactful way to pose the question uppermost in her mind. In the end, she just asked it, straight out. "You're not married or anything, are you?"