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ninety degrees and, with the full sun beating down, felt more like a hundred, especially after the chill of an Oregon autumn. I argued that I was fine, but he insisted. He was stalling. I scarcely believed it, but after twenty minutes of sitting on the café patio, pretending to drink our iced coffees, I knew it was true.
    Lucas talked about the city, the good, the bad, and the ugly of Miami, but his words were rushed, almost frantic in their desperation to fill time. When he took a sip of his drink, more reflex than intention, his cheeks paled and, for a moment, he looked as if he might be sick.
    "We don't have to do this," I said.
    "We do. I need to make the introduction. There are procedures to be followed, forms to be completed. It must be official. You aren't safe if it isn't." He lifted his gaze from the table. "There's another reason I've brought you here. Something else that's worrying me."
    He paused.
    "I like honesty," I said.
    "I know. I'm just afraid that if I pile on one more disadvantage to being with me, you're going to run screaming back to Portland and change the locks."
    "Can't," I said. "You put my return ticket in your bag."
    A soft laugh. "A subconsciously significant act, I'm sure. By the time today is over, you may very well want it back." He sipped his coffee. "My father is, as we expected, less than overjoyed by our relationship. I haven't mentioned this because I felt there was no reason to confirm your suspicions."
    "It was a given, not a suspicion. I'd be suspicious if he was overjoyed at the thought of his son dating a witch. How loudly is he complaining?"
    "My father never voices his objections in anything above a whisper, but it is an insidious, constant whisper. At this point, he is merely raising 'concerns.' My concern, though, is that with his trip to Portland he appears to already be assessing your influence over me. If he decides that your influence will negatively affect his relationship with me, or my likelihood of becoming heir . . ."
    "You're afraid I'll be in danger if your father thinks I'm coming between you two?"
    Lucas paused.
    "Honesty, remember?" I said.
    He looked me square in the eye. "Yes, I'm concerned. The trick, then, is not to allow him to think that will happen. It would be even better if I could convince him that my happiness with you will be beneficial to him. That the strength of our relationship might bolster, rather than tear down, the other relationships in my life."
    I nodded, as if I understood, but I didn't. Nothing in my own life had prepared me to understand a parental relationship where a simple visit home had to be planned with the strategic cunning of a military engagement.
    "I hope this doesn't mean you're planning to accept this case," I said.
    "No. My intention is simply not to refuse as vehemently as I normally do, or he'll blame you, however illogical the reasoning. I will hear him out, and I will endeavor to be more receptive to his paternal attentions than is my wont."
    "Uh-huh."
    Lucas smiled. "In other words, I'll make nice." He pushed his half-filled glass to the middle of the table. "We have a few blocks to walk. I know it's hot. We could call a cab—"
    "Walking is good," I said. "Though I can just imagine what the humidity has done to my hair. I'm going to meet your family looking like a poodle with a live wire shoved up its butt."
    "You look beautiful."
    He said it with such sincerity, I'm sure I blushed. I grabbed his hand and tugged him to his feet.
    "Let's get this over with. We meet the family. We fill out the forms. We find a hotel, buy a bottle of champagne, and see if I can't get that spell working for you."
    " You'll get it working?"
    "No offense, Cortez, but your Hebrew sucks. You're probably mispronouncing half the words."
    "Either that or my spell-casting simply lacks your expert proficiency."
    "Never said it. Well, not today. Today, I'm being nice to you."
    He laughed, brushed his lips across my forehead, and followed me out of the