Emmaline Adams stepped slowly onto the darkened stage, accepting an outstretched hand from the man in black.

The magician Vincent mirrored the night itself in a cloak of dark sable, his long, silken hair and expressive eyes mirroring this hue.

She heard a few derisive snorts arise from the crowd before them; those probably owing to the fact that, unlike Vincent’s usual assistant, Emmaline was not slender or conventionally pretty.

What does it matter? she snorted, turning to greet the jeering crowd with a spirited one-finger salute. He’s going to make me disappear in like, two minutes.

Vincent’s usual assistant, his girlfriend Julie, had deserted him the week before; leaving the magician without an aide for a major, cross country theatrical tour.

Leave it to trusty manager Emmaline to offer herself up as a replacement, she took a deep breath as Vincent claimed her hand in his warm, strong grasp, pulling her in for an impromptu embrace.

For an instant she savored the feel of his hot muscled body pressed deliciously against hers. Then she allowed him to sweep her up in his arms and lift her into the red velvet box that distinguished his disappearing act.

With the wave of his sturdy arms, and the aid of a conspicuous trap door at the bottom of the box, the trick was complete.

And so, Emmaline felt, was her career in magic.

“I just can’t do it, Vincent.” After the show, she met his entry backstage with a deep, unyielding frown. “Not if they’re going to react that way every night.” She shrugged. “I’m just not Julie.”

Pinning her with a gentle, penetrating gaze, he took her hand in his.

“If anyone treats you that way again, he will be escorted from the theater.” He raised his other hand to cup her plump chin. “Though I must agree, you’re not Julie. You’re a kind, loyal, brilliant woman.”

Emmaline smiled. “Thank you, Vincent, and I’m pleased to be your manager. Even so, I just can’t be your assistant.”

Vincent would hear none of it. “Four years ago, Emmaline, you helped to create the most successful show of my career.” Vincent gestured broadly. “I want you to be a part of it.”

Emmaline shook her head. “The answer is no.” Her tone firm.

Vincent regarded her a moment, then raised her hand to his lips for a long, lingering kiss.

“How to say this without offending you,” he said and shook his head. “Emmaline, others have brought it to my attention that you may have an,” he pursed his full lips, “interest in me.”

“They have?” Emmaline gritted her teeth. “Vincent, do you have that trap door handy? I’d quite like the floor to open up and swallow me whole. Right. About. Now.”

Sighing, Vincent laid a gentle grasp on Emmaline’s shoulders and drew her closer to him. “Emmaline, I want to make you an offer.” His voice softened as his crisp, fresh breath fell against her cheek. “For every evening you remain with the show during our yearlong tour, I hereby offer to act out one of the fantasies you entertain about me.”

Emmaline’s eyes widened as she considered these words. “You’re offering to become my lover?”

Vincent nodded. “Not only your lover, but the lover of your dreams,” he beamed softly. “Just as I design and orchestrate my tricks, you can design our evening encounters. I’ll do and be whatever you desire, Emmaline.”

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