She saw the man toss her in the air, toss her high. In the candlelit room her stomach leaped and dropped giddily. And here was love and trust and innocence. His eyes beaming up at her with pride and humor and excitement. Strong hands around her. A whiff of after-shave. A giggly laugh tickling her throat as she was caught close.

She watched the images shift. Saw her parents kiss. Oh, the sweetness of it. Then the boy who had been her father gave them a jaunty salute, tossed his duffel bag over his shoulder and walked toward the ship.

The ball in her hand was only pretty glass with inner fractures glinting rainbows back at her.

"My father." Mel might have dropped the globe if Sebastian's hands hadn't held firm. "It was my father. He… he was in the Navy. He wanted to see the world. He left that day from Norfolk. I was only two, I don't remember. My mother said we went down to see him off, and that he'd been excited."

Her voice broke, and she gave herself a minute. "A few months later there was a storm in the Mediterranean, and he was lost at sea. He was only twenty-two. Just a boy, really. She has pictures, but you can't tell from pictures." Mel stared into the globe again, then slowly looked up at Sebastian. "I have his eyes. I never realized I have his eyes."

She closed them a moment, waiting until her system leveled a bit. "I did see it, didn't I?"

"Yes." He lifted a hand to her hair. "I didn't show you to make you sad, Mary Ellen."

"It didn't. It made me sorry." On a sigh, she opened her eyes again. "Sorry I can't remember him. Sorry that my mother remembers too much and that I never understood that before. And it made me happy to have seen him, and them together—all of us together—even once." She slipped her hands away, leaving the ball in his. "Thank you."

"It was a small thing, after what you brought me tonight."

"What I brought?" she asked as he rose to replace the ball.

"Yourself."

"Oh, well…" Clearing her throat, she got to her feet. "I don't know if I'd put it like that."

"How would you put it?"

She looked back at him and felt that new helpless fluttering in her stomach. "I don't know, exactly. We're both adults."

"Yes." He started toward her, and she surprised herself by edging back.

"Unattached."

"So it seems."

"Responsible."

"Admirably." He danced his fingers over her hair. "I've wanted to see you in candlelight, Mary Ellen."

"Don't start that." She brushed his hand away.

"What?"

"Don't call me Mary Ellen, and don't start that violin-and-candlelight business."

His eyes stayed on hers as he trailed a finger down her throat. "You object to romance?"

"Not object, exactly." Her emotions were too close to the surface, much too close, after what she had seen in the globe. She needed to make certain they had their ground rules. "I just don't need it. I don't know what to do with it. And I think we'll deal better if we know where we stand."

"Where do we stand?" he asked, slipping his hands around her waist.

"Like I said, we're responsible, unattached adults. And we're attracted to each other."

He touched his lips to her temple. "So far I find nothing to argue about."

"And as long as we handle this relationship sensibly—"

"Oh, we may run into trouble there."

"I don't see why."

He skimmed his hands up her rib cage until his thumbs circled her ni**les. "I don't feel particularly sensible."

Her knees buckled. Her head fell back. "It's just a matter of… establishing priorities.''

"I have my priorities." He teased her lips apart with his tongue. "Top of the list is making love with you until we're both a puddle of useless flesh."

"Good." She went willingly when he pulled her to the floor. "Good start."

She really worked better with lists. By the following evening, Mel was huddled at her desk, doing her best to put one together. It was the first free hour she'd had since speeding away from Sebastian's house at 10:00 a.m., already frazzled and behind schedule.

She was never behind schedule. Of course, she'd never had an affair with a witch before. It was obviously a month for firsts.

If she hadn't had an appointment, paperwork and a court appearance waiting, she might not have left his house at all. He'd certainly done everything in his power to discourage her, she remembered, tapping her pencil against her smiling lips.

The man definitely had a lot of power.

But work was work, she reminded herself. She had a business to run.

The best news of the day was that the New Hampshire State Police had picked up James T. Parkland. And there was a certain sergeant, grateful for her tip and annoyed with the federal takeover, who was being very cooperative.

He'd faxed Mel a copy of Parkland's statement on the sly.

It was a start.

She had the name of the high roller who'd held Parkland's IOU, and she intended to put it to good use. With any luck, she'd be spending a few days in Lake Tahoe.

She needed to bring Devereaux around. He'd want to use his own agents on any kind of a sting, and she had to come up with several solid reasons why she and Sebastian would make better bait.

Her assistance and cooperation in the Merrick case would work in her favor, but Mel didn't think it would swing the deal. Her record was good, she didn't do flashy work—and she sensed that Devereaux would disapprove of a hotdogging PI. Her partnership with Sebastian was in her favor, as well. And the fact that she was perfectly willing to let the feds take the lion's share of credit for the collar would add a little weight to her side of the scales.

"Open for business?" Sebastian asked as he pushed open the door.

She struggled to ignore the quick, giddy fluttering in her stomach, and she smiled. "Actually, I'm closing for the day in five minutes."

"Then my timing's good. What's this?" Taking her hand, he pulled her to her feet to examine the trim peach-colored suit she wore.

"Court appearance late this afternoon." She moved her shoulders restlessly as he toyed with the pearls at her throat. "Divorce case. Kind of nasty. So you want to go in looking as much like a lady as possible."