Serena didn't drink often, so perhaps the champagne went to her head. At least, that was her defense later.

It had all started innocently enough with the bet. Kane had been ridiculously simple to manage while they were dancing, drunkenly talking about how he'd written the draft of the announcement awarding the grant. It had been easy-once she'd gotten the address of his apartment out of him-to send for the paper and have it appear in Kane's pocket.

That trick was so elementary, she'd been able to do it before she hit her teens.

Having brought the announcement to Kane, she'd had only to put her hand over his breast pocket to know what it said. And once she'd poured Kane back into his chair, it had seemed only humane to put him to sleep so he wouldn't spend the rest of the evening offending people and pickling his liver.

She should have stopped there. Actually, what she should have done was skip the champagne, because it always made her reckless. But she had to toast Seth's good fortune and share Jane's happiness, and one thing led to another…

It was nothing major, she assured herself at various points throughout the evening. Just simple little things that hardly mattered. Besides that, a lot of these people were her friends, and friends helped each other.

So when one friend, while dancing with her, complained of having lost a treasured heirloom ring the day before, she sort of found it for him and placed it in his pocket-and hoped he'd check the pockets before he took the tuxedo to be cleaned. And when another friend talked to her about a very important business meeting she dreaded attending on Monday, Serena gave her a small gift of confidence.

Several other friends received modest gifts, as well, ranging from a boost of willpower to help a smoker kick the habit to the deft manipulation of a virus to keep another friend from becoming ill in the coming week.

Healing was by no means Serena's strong suit. In fact, it had only recently been introduced into her potpourri of skills, and she had mastered just the rudiments. So the practice couldn't hurt, she thought.

By eleven-thirty that evening Serena had consumed three glasses of champagne and had bestowed a number of "gifts." She was standing alone near the bar, and was just about to send another little present winging across the room when a hand closed gently but firmly around her upraised wrist.

"No, Serena."

The hand, large and long-fingered, was a powerful hand, a beautiful hand, and quite distinct. She would have known it anywhere.

She lifted her gaze to the man's face, making her eyes wide and guileless. "No?"

"No." His voice was deep, calm, resonant. A voice that made people sit up straighter and listen to whatever he had to say. "I believe you've done quite enough for one night."

"I didn't do anything major, Richard," she protested.

Richard Merlin shook his head slightly, his lean, broodingly handsome face holding a touch of wryness. "No, of course not. You never do. They're playing a waltz, Serena. Dance with me."

Her wrist still held captive, Serena followed him out onto the dance floor, a bit amused that he hadn't waited for her response. But then, why would he? He hadn't asked-he'd commanded. As usual. Given their relationship, it wasn't surprising, but Serena bore the seemingly high-handed attitude only because she knew very well Richard intended no domination of her personality when he commanded.

Both skilled and graceful, they danced well together and made a striking couple. It was rare they appeared as a couple at any social function; both usually brought dates to this kind of event. In fact, their public relationship as uncle and niece was so solid, few had ever questioned it-and those few were merely vaguely skeptical without being truly suspicious.

"I really didn't do anything significant," Serena insisted as they danced.

"Serena, how many times must I tell you that everything is significant? Every action, no matter how minor, could have unimaginable consequences." The statement held the sound of a litany, often repeated, patient and unwavering.

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, right, I know. Because the powerless people might notice, and they'd probably see us as a threat to them. And then it'd be the Salem witch hunts all over again, except that they'd use psychologists and scientists to try to dissect and denounce us instead of priests with dunking stools, thumbscrews, and the rack."

He looked down at her for several beats, then said, "How much have you had to drink?"

"More than usual," she admitted cheerfully. "Seth wanted to celebrate, and he kept filling my champagne glass. I could hardly say no."

Merlin nodded. "Now I understand why you were dancing with Jeremy Kane earlier-to find out about the grant. I gather it will be awarded to Seth?"

"Yes, isn't it great?"

"He deserves it. But did you have to pick a man like Kane from whom to get the information, Serena?"

"There was nobody else here who's on the committee," she explained ingenuously.

Merlin's mouth twitched slightly, but his expression remained forbidding. "It's never wise to tempt the fates, and ensnaring a newspaper reporter, even a drunk, is asking for trouble. How did you do it?"

She answered readily. "He said he'd typed up the rough draft of an announcement about the grant and left it at his apartment, so I just sent for it to come to his pocket."

"And did you also send it back where it came from?"

Serena shook her head guiltily. "No, I… I forgot. I was so excited about Seth winning…" She turned her head to search the room. "But I left him at his table, so-"

"He's gone." Merlin sighed. "Guests who pass out at these functions are usually discreetly removed and sent home in a cab; Kane was carried out an hour ago."

"Oh." She cleared her throat. "Well, still, it won't matter. He was so drunk, he'll never be sure he didn't stick the announcement in his pocket himself."

"I hope you're right," Merlin murmured.

A bit unsettled by his frown, Serena said, "Richard, Kane's a long way from the reporter he used to be. He hasn't broken a story in fifteen years; I doubt he'd recognize one if it stood in front of him waving its arms. There's no way he'll get suspicious of me, I promise you."

"I hope you're right," Merlin repeated.

The music changed smoothly just then, from a waltz to a much slower and more intimate beat. It enticed the dancers to move closer and speak in murmurs. The lights in the huge room, already fairly low, dimmed even more.

Merlin automatically shifted his hold on Serena, drawing her a bit closer as their steps slowed. No observer was likely to have mistaken them for lovers even then, but their nearness made Serena struggle inwardly not to tense in his arms. She tried to avoid situations such as this one, maintaining their necessary charade in public by treating Richard exactly as a niece would treat the uncle who had virtually raised her, with affection and the gentle mockery that came with it.

She was usually successful.

Now she spoke quickly to keep her mind off the sensation of his hand at the small of her back, and his body too close to hers.

"I'm surprised Kane's the one you're worried about, actually. I did a few other things tonight, you know."

"Yes, I know," Merlin replied dryly. "Remind me to keep you away from champagne from now on. I'll remind myself to keep a closer eye on you."

It was Serena's turn to frown. "I don't like the sound of that at all. I'm not a child anymore, Richard."

He didn't meet her eyes, but gazed past her, and when he spoke, there was an odd note in his voice she couldn't define. "Yes, I know that, as well. But you still lack control. Self-control, perhaps."

She felt ridiculously sulky. "I just wanted to help my friends. What's wrong with that?"