He chuckled, pressing his lips to the center of her back. “I’m more subtle than that. Young Jerry and Karen will put a down payment on a nice house in the suburbs, astonish their friends with their good fortune. They’ll both agree that they’ve used up all of their luck on this one shot, and rarely gamble again. They’ll have three children. And they’ll have a spot of fairly serious marital trouble in their sixth year, but they’ll work it out.”

“Well.” Mel wondered if she’d ever get used to it. “In that case.”

“In that case,” he murmured, running his lips down her spine. “Why don’t you put it out of your mind and concentrate on me?”

Smiling to herself, she set the brandy on the chest at the foot of the bed. “Maybe I could.” She flipped, then twisted, getting a solid grip before shoving him back on the bed. With her hands clamped on his, she leaned down until they were nose-to-nose. “Gotcha.”

He grinned, then nipped her lower lip. “Yes, you do.”

“And I might just keep you a while.” She kissed the tip of his nose, then his cheek, his chin, his lips. “The brandy tastes better on you than it does in the glass.”

“Try again, just to be sure.”

With humor bright in her eyes, she lowered her mouth to his and sampled long and deep. “Mmm-hmm. A definite improvement. I do like your taste, Donovan.” She linked her fingers with his, pleased that he made no move to break the contact when she slid down to nibble at his throat.

She teased him, toying with his desire and her own as she savored his flesh. Warm here, cooler there, the rich beat of a pulse beneath her lips. She enjoyed the shape of his body, the width of his shoulders, the hard, smooth chest, the quick quiver of his flat belly under her touch.

She liked the way her hand looked gliding over him, her skin shades lighter than his, the ring glowing with its meld of colors against the silver. Rubbing her cheek over him, she felt not just passion, but a deep, drugging emotion that welled up like wine and clouded her senses.

Her throat stung with it, her eyes burned, and her heart all but melted out of her chest.

With a sigh, she brought her lips back to his.

It was she who was the witch tonight, he thought, wallowing in her. She who had the power and the gift. She had taken his heart, his soul, his needs, his future, and had them cupped delicately in her hands.

He murmured his love for her, again and again, but the language of his blood was Gaelic, and she didn’t understand.