Flashfire by Deborah Cooke Page A

breath moments later when Lorenzo took the third question from the audience, certain he would end the show the same way.
    But there was no dragon.
    Just as JP had said, Lorenzo took his final bow, then disappeared into a pillar of starlight. The flames in the wall sconces leapt high; then the house lights came up.
    The audience was on its feet, clapping wildly.
    The show was over.
    The encore, in fact, encouraged her that her skepticism was right. She didn’t understand how the pillar of starlight trick worked either. Just because she was ignorant about illusions didn’t make Lorenzo a dragon shape shifter.
    She needed more information about magic tricks—or about one in particular—but she already knew that illusionists were proprietary about their secrets.
    One thing was for sure. Watching Lorenzo made her want him all over again. There might not be flames, and she might not have quite such a vehement desire, but the man had a potent effect on her.
    One that messed with her usual clear thinking.
    Cassie ducked out of the theater and cut through the lobby of the hotel, snagging a cab and heading directly back to her hotel. Lorenzo didn’t know where she was staying. He’d never find her again in this crazy town. She had time to regroup and make a plan.
    All roads led to Lorenzo, whether she wanted more sex or more info about illusions. Cassie wanted to confront Lorenzo on her own terms, with a plan.
    Because the trick was going to be getting any information out of him while keeping her panties on.

    Cassie was crossing the lobby of her hotel when someone tapped her on the shoulder.
    To her surprise it was JP.
    And he looked to be in a state.
    “I am so relieved to have found you,” JP said, his agitation clear. He was far less smooth than he had been earlier.
    There was no sign of Stacy. Had she found someone more fun? “Why? What’s wrong?”
    JP passed a hand over his brow. “Stacy became ill in the restaurant.” Cassie was immediately concerned. “I think it was the shrimp. She went back to your room.”
    Cassie turned to stride toward the elevators. JP matched her pace. His concern was palpable. “I’ve tried to call her, but she’s not answering the phone.”
    “Don’t worry,” Cassie said, hoping to reassure him. “I’m on my way upstairs myself. I’ll check on her.”
    His grip tightened on her elbow. “And you’ll let me know that she’s okay? I feel horrible. I recommended that she try the shrimp.” He shoved a hand through his hair, which made him look disheveled and very cute.
    There was no mistaking his distress, though, and Cassie found herself liking him more than earlier. “It’s not your fault,” she said.
    “I had them last night and they were marvelous, but now I feel responsible.” JP forced a thin smile. “I am sorry to trouble you, but I could not bear for her to be sick because of my suggestion.”
    Cassie hit the button for the elevator.
    “Why don’t I let you know.” Cassie rummaged in her pocket for a scrap of paper. She only had the brochure for Lorenzo’s show that Stacy had given her earlier. “Just give me your cell phone number. . . .”
    “I haven’t got a cell phone,” JP said, then corrected himself. “Actually, I have one, but it doesn’t work in America.” His smile was rueful. “A miscalculation on my part.”
    “But you said you tried to call her.”
    “From the house phone.”
    Of course. “Okay.” Cassie went for a backup plan. “Why don’t I meet you down here in ten minutes or so? I’ll check on her, then come back and tell you what’s going on.” She smiled for him. “She’s probably just fallen asleep. If she’s not feeling well, that would be the best, anyway.”
    “I hope so!” The prospect seemed to encourage him. JP surveyed the lobby. “How about there, in the bar, where we met earlier?”
    “No problem.” Cassie tugged out her room key. “I’ll see you in a few minutes. Don’t worry,” she added to reassure