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He watched her go still, like a rabbit sensing a predator. Damn, that analogy was really annoying. "So. Are you?" He kept both his expression and tone totally neutral.
"Am I what? A witch?" Her voice was high and brittle, her cat's eyes wide.
"Sure. It's a simple enough question. Are you or aren't you a witch?"
While Mel drummed her fingers on the table, Joe let his gaze trail from her sultry mouth down to her sturdy, calloused hands. Odd, he usually liked the refined, perfectly manicured type, but somehow he couldn't resist the image of those strong, supple fingers splaying across his flesh.
"I guess that would depend on how you define the word witch." Her shrug almost managed to convey the nonchalance she was obviously striving for. Joe had to grant her points for trying.
"I think the more important question would be, how you define it. Tell me, Melissa. By your own definition, are you a witch?"
He watched with preternatural intensity as she inhaled deeply, gathering her courage. Then she looked up from under her thick fringe of lashes to gaze directly into his eyes.
"Yes. By my definition, and probably most others, I am definitely a witch."
Her honesty was unexpected. "You mean you're a Wiccan, right?" That would mean she practiced the ancient religion of witchcraft, without implying she had any actual powers. It seemed like the obvious explanation and had been what he'd expected to discover here in Sanctity.
"No." Once again, her answer took him by surprise. "I've never been into organized religion."
He suppressed a laugh, wishing once again that his research subject wasn't so appealing on so many levels. He needed to keepher talking. "So then, what makes you a witch?"
"Magic of course."