and that's where the pressure will be the greatest. It only needed to break Nell, and it failed. To seduce Ripley, and it failed. With you . . ."
"It needs to cause my death," Mia finished calmly. "Yes, I know. I've always known."
When she started to leave, Nell held on to her.
"Don't worry so, little sister." Mia pressed her cheek to Nell's hair. "I know how to protect myself."
"I know. I just wish you'd stay. I know how stupid that sounds, but I wish you'd stay with one of us until this is really over."
"I need my cliffs. I'll be fine, I promise." She gave Nell one last squeeze. "Blessed be."
She'd lingered longer than the others, hoping to avoid any more conversation. But when she stepped outside, she saw Sam leaning against her car.
"I walked over. How about a lift back?"
"It's a pleasant night for a short walk."
"Give me a lift, Mia." He took her wrist as she started to move past him. "I want to talk to you, for a minute anyway. Alone."
"I suppose I owe you a favor."
"Do you?"
She circled the car, slipped in behind the wheel. She waited until she'd started the car. "For cleaning up my mess on the coast road this morning," she said as she eased into a U-turn. "Ripley told me she ran into you. Thank you."
"You're welcome."
"Well, that didn't hurt too much. Now, what did you want to talk to me about?"
"I wondered about you and Mac. There's something there."
"Really?" Deliberately she took her attention away from the road long enough to bat her lashes. "Do you think I'm trying to tempt my sister's husband into a wild, illicit affair?"
"If you were, he'd already be there."
She laughed. "What a lovely compliment, even if you're wrong. He's sweetly, madly in love with his wife. But you're right about one thing, there is something between us. You've always been good at picking up atmosphere and emotion."
"What is it?"
"We're cousins."
"Cousins?"
"It happens that the granddaughter of the first sister married a MacAllister - Mac's mother's side of the family."
"Ah." Sam did his best to stretch out his legs in the little car. "So he's of the blood. That explains a number of things. I felt a connection the minute I met him, but couldn't pin him down. Just as I felt one for Nell, even when she wanted to drop me into a dark pit and leave me there to rot. I like your friends."
"Well, I'm so relieved."
"Don't snipe at me, Mia. I meant it."
Because she knew it was true, she sighed. "I'm tired. It always make me cross."
"They're worried about you. How you'll handle things."
"I know. I'm sorry about it."
"I'm not worried." He paused when she pulled up in front of the cottage. "I've never known anyone, witch or woman, more vital than you. You won't give in."
"No, I won't. But I won't say I don't appreciate the confidence, particularly after a long, difficult day. Good night, Sam."
"Come inside."
"No."
"Come inside, Mia." He slipped a hand through her hair to rub the back of her neck. "And be with me."
"I'd like to be with someone tonight," she continued, "to be comforted and soothed. To be touched and taken. So I won't."
"Why?"
"Because it wouldn't make me happy. Good night, Sam."
He could have pressed, they both knew it. But some of her glamour had slipped, and he saw fatigue breaking through to haunt her face. "Good night."
He climbed out, watched her drive away. And kept her in his mind until he knew she was safely inside the house on the cliffs.
Chapter Eight
It was all a matter of strategy. In business, Sam thought. In relationships. And sometimes in just surviving the day. He checked the progress on the rehab and was pleased that the work was proceeding on schedule.
He knew something about building and design. There had been a time, years before, when he'd considered breaking with Logan Enterprises and building his own hotel. He'd taken some extra college courses in architecture and design and had even spent a summer working as a laborer on a construction crew.
That had given him some practical knowledge, an elementary skill, and a healthy respect for manual labor.
But his plans to build his own had faded as every design he attempted or imagined turned into a mirror image of the Magick Inn.
Why replicate what already was?
Once he'd realized he wanted the hotel, the rest was a matter of patience, canniness, and careful strategy. It had been important not to let his father