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Chapter One
    “What would you say if I told you I could make your deepest fantasies come true?” DaniceCarter snorted over the rim of her martini glass. “Been there, done that, and I wasn’t impressed.” The man sitting next to her at the bar frowned. “I was being serious.”
    “So was I.” Danice finished off her second Cosmo and figured it was about time to call it a night. The co-worker who had been planning to meet her here for dinner had just called and said she couldn’t make it, and Danice wasn’t in the mood to eat alone.
    “You don’t believe me.” The blond sitting next to her didn’t look drunk, but judging by the amount of Bushmills he had consumed in the hour since he’d arrived, he had to be. He certainly had the persistence of the truly sotted . “You don’t understand that I can do exactly what I say. You don’t understand that I can give you your deepest desires.”
    “And you don’t understand that you are just not my type, sweetie.” She scooped her cell phone off the bar and stood.Time to head home to her empty apartment for some real peace and quiet. “Sorry.”
    “Wait. You can’t leave. You don’t understand what I’m telling you.” He grabbed her arm. If she weren’t feeling mellow and a little sorry for the guy, he’d have taken it away minus a few fingers. Instead, she just stared pointedly at his ridiculously pale hand against her café-au- lait complexion and raised her eyebrows. “Excuse me?”
    “I have powers. I can sense your fantasies and make them come true.”
    “Right.Sure you can. Now, why don’t you let go of my arm before I have to tell the bartender to call the cops, okay?” She tugged on her arm, but he held firm.
    “Just wait. I’ll prove it.”
    She started to roll her eyes, but when they met his, they froze in place. He had green eyes the color of old-fashioned glass bottles, with an intensity that sent a shudder through her for no reason she could fathom. He really wasn’t her type. She’d noticed him when he walked into the bar behind her and had a silent giggle over him, because he looked like he’d just come away from a Tolkien convention. About six-feet tall, he looked skinny as a rail, with the sort of gangly height that should have made him awkward, but he carried it with unexpected grace. Still, he wore his pale blond hair nearly brushing his thighs, with the sides pulled back into two braids, exposing the surprisingly realistic prosthetics he wore to make his ears look pointy. Anyone who spent that much time pretending to be a fictional character was not the man Danice was looking for.
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    When she tried to look away, she found she couldn’t. Those green eyes held hers, like they exerted some weird force. They seemed to look deeper inside her than anyone had a right to do, and she didn’t like the sensation. No one should be able to have this hold over her, unless they used magic.
    She looked away and dismissed the idea with a nervous laugh, but she couldn’t help feeling like he’d been the one to break the spell, not her. After her good friends Reggie and Missy had succumbed to another side of the supernatural and ended up in love with men who shouldn’t have existed, Danice didn’t like the possibility that magic, too, might be a little too real for comfort.
    “Look, it’s a flattering offer, kid, but I just don’t think it would work between us. I’ve never even read The Silmarillion .” She flashed him a grin and tugged hard, freeing her arm from his grasp. “Thanks for the offer.”
    She turned and walked quickly toward the door, ignoring the uneasy feeling creeping between her shoulder blades. Maybe she shouldn’t have had that second drink, after all.
    “Oh, you will be thanking me for a bit more than an offer, fair Danice .” His voice was mocking and soft and much too close for comfort. “And you’ll be doing it before the