Author's Note: Terribly, terribly sorry about missing Monday. My grandparents are celebrating their 50th anniversary soon and preparations took up some of my time. As an apology, a bonus chapter uploaded!

Chapter 4

To his pleased surprise, Harry found himself relaxing during the date. Nick seemed intelligent, funny, and a blind man could tell he was drop-dead gorgeous. Even when Harry found himself floundering with the menu or realizing with a sinking feeling in his stomach that there were no prices listed on the side, Nick kept a running commentary that served to put him at ease. He even stepped in when the waiter arrived and ordered for both of them in flawless French. At least, it sounded flawless. Not that Harry had anything to compare it to, except Thomas's attempts to pepper his fake accent with pigeon French here and there, taken mostly from repeated viewings of the seduction techniques utilized by the infamous Pepe Le Pew.

"So you didn't pick anything up from your ex, I see," Nick gently teased.

Harry fumbled his glass of water. "Oh, Toe-moss? No, guess not. We weren't very alike, I'm afraid."

Nick shrugged. "Sometimes opposites work, sometimes they don't. Depends on the people."

"Yeah, I guess so. What about you? What do you do for a living? I didn't really catch any details from your aunt," he added apologetically.

"She's not my real aunt," Nick corrected. "I just call her that because she was around so much growing up. I'm actually a writer."

"Really?" Harry didn't have to feign interest. "That's cool."

Nick laughed, his face twisting into a mock grimace. "Technical writer, actually, but it sounds better when I just say writer." He winked. "Then people assume I'm a novelist and must be interesting."

"I doubt you ever have to fake being interesting," Harry said without thinking, mentally kicking himself when he realized what he had said. He hid his blush by taking another large gulp of water.

Nick seemed pleased by the compliment. He leaned forward across the table. "So what do you do for a living, Harry?"

And the evening had been going so well, too. Mentally bracing himself for the reaction he knew was looming, Harry mumbled, "I'm a wizard", though it came out more of "umazard".

"I beg your pardon?"

"I'm a wizard," Harry repeated slowly. A flash of movement caught his eye and he frowned, thinking he saw a familiar face sitting two tables away. The person held their menu high, obscuring their face from view.

"A wizard?" Nick, to his credit, didn't have the tone people usually had when they heard what Harry did for a living, the one that said extra-long-sleeved jackets might have a place in Harry's future. "Like a stage magician?"

Deciding discretion was the better part of valor for a first date, and still frowning as he tried to place the short blonde hair peeking above the menu, Harry nodded absently. "My dad was a stage magician."

"That must have been interesting growing up," Nick said. He glanced curiously behind him. "Are you looking for something?"

Harry turned his attention back to Nick. "Sorry. I thought I saw someone I knew."

Just then the menu shifted and Karrin Murphy looked straight at Harry before ducking behind her menu again.

"Murphy?" he said aloud in surprise. Shaking his head, he spared a quick glance at Nick. "Would you excuse me?"

Without waiting for Nick to reply, Harry stood up and stalked over to the table where Murphy sat still pretending to be intent on the menu.

"Murphy? What are you doing here?" he asked.

Murphy gave up, placing the menu on the table and looking up with surprise. "Oh, hi, Harry," she said brightly. "Just eating out."

"At La Pierre's?" Harry said skeptically, glancing around. Chicago's best, with four Michelin stars, La Pierre's was not somewhere one went to 'eat out' unless one had the last name Rockefeller. He grudgingly had to admit that Thomas was right about that, at least; Nick must have been filthy rich in order to get them both reservations here. Not that he planned on letting Thomas off the hook for involving him in this mess, no matter how nice the night had been so far.

Murphy nodded. "You know how it is, just got to treat yourself once in a while."

"Yeah," Harry nodded, unconvinced. If Murphy didn't want to tell him what was going on, there would be no getting anything out of her until she was good and ready. Besides, he did know what it felt like to go somewhere nice once in a while. Of course, nice for him usually meant Long John Silver's instead of Burger King, but maybe Murphy had higher standards than him. "I suppose."

"So, I see you're here with a date," Murphy said suddenly. "How's that going?"

"It's going fin—" Harry began to say.

Murphy interrupted him. "Because I can always call you if you need an excuse to leave, you know. Just say you're needed at work by the Chicago PD." She already had her cell phone out.

"I don't own a cell phone," Harry reminded her.

She paused. "Oh. Well, we can tell him that I got a call then, and I need your help on whatever it is."

"Murph, I appreciate the thought, but I really don't need rescuing. I'm enjoying myself."

"Really?" Murphy cast a suspicious glare at Nick, who gave a small wave in return. As someone who was intimately familiar with Murphy's glares, Harry found himself impressed at Nick's bravery. "Where are you planning on going after dinner?"

Harry put his hands on his hips and tilted his head, feeling the tiniest bit of exasperation creeping into his voice. "We're going to a movie. What is this about?"

"Nothing, Harry," she reassured him. "Just happened to run into you, that's all. Enjoy your dinner."

"Right." He turned to head back towards the table where Nick was waiting patiently when Murphy's voice made him pause.

"Oh, are you going to the Royale Theatre? It's the closest."

Harry turned again. "I guess," Harry shrugged. "Probably. Why?"

"No reason. Nice running into you like this, Harry."

"Yeah. We'll have to do it again sometime."

Completely nonplussed, but somewhat amused by Murphy's out of character behavior, Harry pulled out his chair and sat across from Nick.

"Sorry about that. She's someone I work with."

"Ah, magician's assistant?" Nick said.

Hiding his sudden laughter at the vision of Murphy in a sequined bathing suit, Harry nodded. "Something like that."

They spent the rest of dinner engaging in light small-talk, discussing jobs, politics, and the upcoming baseball season. Nick picked up the check and helped Harry into his sports jacket as they left. On the way to his Mercedes Benz, Nick hooked his arm around Harry's waist. Fighting the initial urge to jump away, grab the nearest female and shout, "I'm straight!" to the world, Harry gradually relaxed into the loose embrace.

Murphy, standing outside the restaurant with her cell phone out, let out a snarl. "You were right," she said disgustedly to the person on the other end of the line. "He definitely has designs on Harry."

She listened as the person said something, and then snorted with disbelief. "This is Harry. You really think he has any clue?"

More chatter, including a deep, exasperated sigh.

"Right. I'll call Molly and let her know."