He pushed the door open and walked in, considering the glow of light coming from his bedroom. For a moment he imagined Mira in there, warm light spilling over her bare skin as she lay across his bed waiting for him. It made him take a step forward and then rooted him in place. If it was Mira in there, he wasn't sure he'd be able to walk away.

Who was he kidding? There'd be no way he'd deny her.

A mixture of desire and trepidation kept him standing in the living room. It seemed Mira had put a spell on him from day one. Fully immersed in it, he was doomed.

"Jack?" queried a husky feminine voice from the bedroom.

Disappointment and relief flared within him at the same time. Ingrid. Not Mira.

He dropped his bag on the floor near the couch and walked down the short hallway to the bedroom.

He and Ingrid had an on-again, off-again affair. They were both in it for the sex. No strings. No commitments. As two fire witches, the sex was great, but their magick made them a bad match in most other ways. They ended up at each other's throats anywhere besides the bedroom. Fire witches, as a general rule, didn't work or play well with other fire witches unless it was between the sheets.

She lay on the bed with her long, silky blonde hair spread out against the black comforter and a sultry expression on her face. Ingrid looked like a pinned-up librarian a lot of the time, but once she took her hair down and relaxed, she was a knockout. Now she wore only a pink lace demi bra and matching silk panties. Candles on the small round table in the corner of the room, his dresser, and the night table beside the bed cast a golden glow through the room. Soft music played on his stereo system.

He leaned against the doorway and took in the pretty sight of her laying there in just her silk bra and panties. She'd already secured the long pieces of hemp rope to the eyebolts in the wall over his mattress. Ingrid knew how he liked to fuck her best, and she liked to be fucked that way.

Before he'd met Mira he would've had those little pieces of silk nothing ripped off Ingrid in an instant. Now, his lust and emotion centered in another direction, she was just an obstacle between himself a good night's sleep. Still, he had to do this right. Ingrid didn't deserve to have her ego crushed.

"Ingrid, you're a nice sight for a man to come home to," he greeted her truthfully, "but, honey, I've been up since 4 A.M.”

She rolled off the bed and sauntered toward him. "I'll give you sweet dreams, Jack," she purred in a low contralto as she came to a stop in front of him.

"I'm sure you would.”