As handsome as Alec was, Mackenzie found him unsettling. He seemed perfectly content to sit in silence for long periods of time, but there was something in his eyes that made her think he noticed and analyzed everything that happened around him.
He was just as silent now as he'd been all afternoon. After a few futile attempts at conversation that mostly resulted in monosyllabic replies, Mackenzie mentally shrugged and concentrated on the sandwich he'd brought for her.
She'd almost finished eating when Alec's eyes focused on the door behind her. She stiffened, but heard Jackson's familiar voice say, "Well, at least Nick didn't kill you, Alec." He slid into the booth next to Mackenzie. "Did she threaten him with dismemberment?"
His smile made her stomach do flip-flops. "A couple of times, if I counted right."
"Good." Jackson snatched a pickle spear from her plate. "He deserves it. Alec is a certified chauvinist. A total pig." His gaze drifted over to the bar, where Nick spoke animatedly with two tourists who were thumbing through a handful of brochures for ghost tours. He chuckled and thumped the table, drawing Alec's attention to the sight. "Hey. What do you want to bet she's doing it again?"
Alec glanced at Nick and snorted. "If only the people who went on Henry's ghost tours realized that they were seeing something more impressive than ghosts."
Nick came over with two beers, one of which she placed in front of Jackson. "What?"
He arched an eyebrow at her. "You were sending people on Henry's tour again."
"And why not?" Nick asked indignantly. "So he uses some magic, fakes a couple of ghosts. Big deal. It's not his fault the real haunts are so damn few and far between." She dropped the other pilsner glass in front of Alec with a thud and poked him expectantly, so he heaved a long-suffering sigh and slid over. Nick sat and held up two fingers. "People who come to New Orleans looking for supernatural crap want two things: vampires and ghosts."
Mackenzie looked from Nick to Jackson and back again. "So? If this place is crawling with shapeshifters and witches and psychics, why's it so hard to find ghosts and vampires?"
Jackson sipped his beer. "Vampires are easy. They don't exist. Ghosts are… Well, let's just say they're a matter of some debate."
"No vampires?" She raised her eyebrows and laughed. "And this guy uses magic to fake ghosts so people will go on his tours?" The sheer absurdity of it made her suddenly certain that they were telling the truth. No crazy person worth a damn would dream up a delusional supernatural version of New Orleans and leave out the vampires.
Jackson grinned at her shocked amusement. "Did you spend your morning ordering straitjackets in bulk?"
"I thought about it. Nick wouldn't let me, though."
"Too confining." Nick cast a knowing look at Jackson. "Did you call Mahalia?"
"I did. Had to leave a voicemail, though. She's probably out playing shuffleboard or something."
"God help you if she ever finds out you say stuff like that about her. That woman will end you."
Their easy banter was surprisingly relaxing, and Mackenzie found herself leaning back against the padded booth as she glanced over at Jackson again. "Didn't you say Mahalia was the one who taught you that…" She waved a hand. "That invisible thing?"
"She taught me damn near everything I know, actually." He shifted his beer glass from one hand to the other. "Then she retired to Florida and left me high and dry."
Nick rolled her eyes and elbowed Alec. "Should we order a violin to accompany his whining?" Jackson moved and she yelped, reaching under the table to rub her leg. "That hurt."
"Serves you right." He turned back to Mackenzie. "Mahalia decided to retire, in more ways than one. She sold her bar to this reprobate here, and dropped out of the magic scene completely."
"There's a scene?" she asked, wondering why she was surprised. "Are there meetings or clubs or something?"
"It's not that organized, really, but people tend to be aware of each other. It pays to know who can do what, and whether they'd ever want to do it to you."
The teasing look in his eyes made more than her face warm. She reached for her soda and tried to seem casual. "I bet it does, at that."
Nick elbowed Alec again. "Make them stop."
"Nothing stops Casanova," Alec replied darkly, nudging Nick out of the booth so he could stand. "I've got to go get Kat. Have fun with the young and the restless, here."
Any self-consciousness Mackenzie might have felt seemed insignificant when compared to her sharp interest in Jackson. She didn't take her eyes off him as she smiled slowly. "I think that might have been a hint of some sort."
"Oh God." Nick groaned. "Jackson, it's officially slowed down enough now for me to feel comfortable telling you to get her out of here."
Mackenzie opened her mouth to agree but snapped it shut again. Jesus, what is wrong with me? Jackson was plenty attractive, but she was acting like a teenager in the throes of her first hormonal crush. She wasn't the type of woman to get stupid over pretty eyes and a handsome face.
Until now. The thought was disturbing enough for her to make an effort to lock down the restless desire before turning to look at Nick. "Hey, I was just kidding around. I'm here to work."
Nick shook her head. "Go. Have fun. Perry and I can handle it, or I'll call Allison to help." She headed behind the bar without waiting for another protest.
Jackson muttered under his breath, "Hey, look. My evil plan worked."
She tried to give him a quelling look, but she had the feeling it ended up more flirtatious than anything else. "I'm a responsible person. I don't skip out on work to flirt with cute guys."
"Nick'll get over it." He eyed the abandoned tour brochures on the bar. "Want to go on Henry's tour? I think he has one that leaves right around dusk."
There were a hundred things she needed to do that were more important. Maybe a thousand. She tried to concentrate on those things, but the restlessness rose in her again. The idea of spending the evening trapped in a bar—or inside any building, for that matter—was unbearable.
The restlessness wasn't the only thing she couldn't suppress. She found herself shifting closer, letting her leg brush against Jackson's. "Does he really use magic?"
"Sure does." The corner of Jackson's mouth quirked up in a smile. "Nothing too flashy. Just a little ooga booga here and there to keep the customers happy."
"Sounds fun." She leaned closer and lowered her voice. "Will you tell me when he's doing it?"
His brows drew together, but he only nodded. "Sure. Want to head out? We'll have to hoof it over to Bourbon for the tour."
Stop it, damn it. Stop with the flirting. The stress was obviously getting to her, and she needed a release. Maybe walking would burn off some of her extra energy. "Let's go."
***
Jackson took another bite of his frozen lemonade. "So, what did you think?"
Mackenzie laughed and poked at her lemonade with a plastic spoon. "Henry seems fun. He's a great performer."
"Yeah, he's pretty good." He put a hand on her shoulder to guide her past a group of college kids. She seemed fairly relaxed at the moment, something for which he was grateful. All evening, she'd been wavering between tranquil and intense, almost uneasy, and it was starting to worry him. "Anything else you want to see, or do you want to go back to my place and watch some television?"
"Hmm." She seemed to consider it as she dropped her gaze to her cup again, and her shoulder tensed slightly under his hand. Her next step was too close, and she bumped into him. "Sorry. I think television would be good. I'm tired."
"You all right?" he asked, concerned. "You seem a little off."
"I'm not sure. I've been feeling…antsy. Maybe I'm not used to this much sleep."
His frown deepened, and he threw the rest of his melting lemonade in a nearby garbage can. "Come on. We won't wait for the streetcar. We'll take a cab." He laid a hand on her elbow and stepped to the curb, raising an arm to signal a taxi.
It was impossible not to hear the way her breathing hitched as his fingers brushed her skin. She shivered and dropped her cup in the can after his. "A taxi might be a good idea."
When a yellow cab slowed to a stop beside them, Jackson opened the door for Mackenzie. "Hop in, and we'll get you home as fast as we can."
She was fidgeting when he slid in next to her, one leg bouncing restlessly as she drummed her fingers on her knee. "Maybe I had too much caffeine." The light tone sounded false, and he could feel her vibrating with barely leashed energy next to him.
"Maybe." He found himself wishing Mahalia would call him back. He had the vague, uncomfortable sense that whatever was going on with Mackenzie wasn't as mundane as a coffee overdose. He gave the cabbie his address and scooted farther from her, moving his leg away from hers. "It won't be long."
"Okay." She let her head fall back as she closed her eyes. After several deep breaths, her body began to relax. "God, I don't know. Maybe it's just stress. There's been so much going on…"
"Don't sweat it. Stress can do some crazy things."
"I suppose." She kept her eyes closed, but her hand snuck across the seat until it found his. "Thank you," she whispered.
"You're welcome, Kenzie."
They reached his apartment quickly, and Jackson paid the driver while Mackenzie stood by the cab, still looking like she was going to jump out of her skin.
"Come on." He led her down the sidewalk. "You probably got overheated. We'll get you a big glass of water and—" His words cut off as he touched his door, his hand flattening against the wood with a slap.