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further their lead singer signaled them to start.  The band kicked off the night with a cover rendition of the great Bob Marley’s “Stir It Up.”   Their lead singer Damien lifted his voice above the claps and whistles of the crowd, his honey smooth voice richly rolling with heavy accent.
    Marek tried to focus on his drums and tune out the blond women in the crowd.  Instead of diving into his music as he normally did, Marek felt a constant sense of awareness of her.  And instead of sliding into his groove, he felt awkward and disjointed.  Every fiber of his being was tuned into her and every subtle movement she made.
    Loath to ignore the potent feelings coursing through him, Marek decided to follow where they lead. He knew some strong magic carried between them, alive and pulsing.  Having grown up on the island, Marek didn’t believe in coincidence.  Only magic and fate.
    It was definitely fate—and a heavy dose of magic stardust--that brought the woman into his bar tonight and he planned on giving fate a great big thank you kiss and helping hand the first chance he had.
    The blond’s eyes remained firmly locked on him and Marek felt the charge of that intensity to his bones.  Wanting to play with it, play with her, Marek shot her a wicked grin and gave her a quick once-over.  Thoroughly satisfied by her sweet blush and shyly returned smile, Marek winked at her and sang the chorus into the microphone along with Landon.
    Man he felt good tonight.  Charged, alive, ready for action.  It was the kind of night where one could blow off some steam and forget for a time who they were and the heavy burden of responsibility. The kind of night that made life worth living.
    Marek loved his life, his music and playing in the band.  He’d grown up with most of the band members and had been friends with them for many years.  The only exception was Landon, who’d moved to the island about three years ago. 
    Now his best friend, Landon had thrown in his support months ago during Marek’s personal upheaval and helped out without question wherever needed.  He understood it wasn’t everyday that a father Marek never knew died and left him a thriving business.  Not to mention, a load of unanswered questions. 
    Other than his mother, Landon had been the only person he’d been able to confide in and vent to during his time of need.  Landon might look a little different, a little wild, but he possessed a sharp, keen mind and an enormous heart.
    The band played on through their first set, a mixture of songs by local legends and well-known ones alike.  Marek felt his balance slowly return sometime during the evening, even as the awareness of her never subsided.  He felt every look she sent him like a physical caress.  As the night wore on Marek embraced the rush and waited impatiently for a chance to speak with her.
    His chance finally came at the end of the set.  The band wrapped the night up with a slow ballad that jammed the dance floor with old couples and new lovers.  As they crooned into the microphones about good, good lovin’, Marek felt anticipation tingle along his skin.
    Magic floated on the air tonight and Marek intended to take full advantage of it.  The moon outside hung full and round in the night sky and stars twinkled like glitter.  Marek sensed the magic—and the power of the island—and knew tonight it was for lovers, new and old.
    With that knowledge in mind, and the rush of heat in his blood, Marek stepped down off the stage and walked purposefully toward the blond.  He watched as her big blue eyes grew even wider in her soft round face and her hands gripped her drink for dear life.  So tuned in was Marek to her every movement he almost felt the rapid rise and fall of her chest and her speeding pulse.
    Riding on the wave of some intangible force, eyes locked to hers, Marek reached her side.  Forcing her to tip her head back to maintain eye contact as he neared, Marek slowly leaned