A Witch In Time Read Online Free PDF Page A

in the laundry room and a soft kitty bed in the office window that overlooked a group of bird feeders he had installed in the yard, and by installing resident food and water dishes in the kitchen. Already Minnie thought of Marcus’s place as her own.
    I turned back to the living room. Still as bemused as ever, I sat down next to Marcus on the sofa. Immediately he drew my legs up over his and placed a steadying hand on my knees to hold me in place.
    “Who do you think it is?” I asked him.
    “Not a clue,” he said. I didn’t like the way his gaze slid away from mine. Why did I have a feeling that wasn’t entirely the truth?
    “Well, have you said anything to anyone?” I persisted. “About all this?”
    “Uncle Lou and Aunt Molly know.”
    “I don’t mean them. I meant, have you filed a report?”
    His eyebrows rose. “With the police? Uh, no.”
    “Why not?”
    The look he gave me made me realize with a start how pointless the question was, considering my ex-boyfriend Tom’s role with the S.M.P.D.
    “Oh. Oh, yeah.” And yet the situation frustrated me. Worst of all, I knew it was entirely my fault. Not intentionally . . . but did that make a difference when someone’s heart was hurting? “There has to be some route available to you. What if this turns out to be serious?”
    “Hey . . . Hey.” Turning, he tipped my chin up to look at him, and my heart turned over. “It’s no big deal, Maggie. I’ve got it covered.”
    “But—”
    He pressed a kiss to my lips to quiet my protests. “No worries, okay?”
    It was easy for him to say. He wasn’t the one who was responsible for his inability to go to the police if he needed to. I was.
    “So . . . what’s in the bag?” he asked, purposely deflecting my concern toward another topic altogether. I understood immediately what he was doing, but since there was no easy solution to the stalker problem, I quickly decided we might as well try to forget about it. For now.
    “Oh, just a few goodies for tonight.”
    My airy reply made his eyebrows lift in interest. A slow smile began at the corners of his mouth. “You know, this sounds promising.”
    “Maybe.” I kept things light and teasing, though inside me the element that had perked up was far more fiery in nature.
    “Hm. So are you going to show me what you’ve got? Or are you going to make me wait?” The blue of his eyes blazed a little hotter. “I’m not sure I’m going to be good at that.”
    I smirked. I couldn’t help myself.
    “Waiting,” he supplied quickly as clarification. “I’m not great at waiting .”
    I giggled this time. I couldn’t help that, either.
    “I assure you,” he leaned in closer, pinning me with his gaze, “I am very good at the rest of it.”
    Gulp. Oh. Oh my. “Glad to hear it,” I whispered as the threads of our personal energies began to hum and buzz between us, searching for ways to thread together, to interlock.
    “Is this a personal assessment?” I asked him. “Or one that has received acknowledgments from . . . others?”
    “Rave reviews,” he promised as he smoothed his palm back and forth over the curve of my hip. “Maybe you’d like to add your perspective into the mix.”
    “Hmm. Maaaay be. Tonight, you mean?”
    “The thought had crossed my mind.”
    “Hmm,” I repeated, tilting my head to consult a phantom To Do list in the sky. “I think I might be free . . .”
    “Glad to hear it.” He closed the distance in one fell swoop, capturing my mouth and my attention in one pulse-starting instant.
    This was a common occurrence for us, these past few weeks, and that was something I had to admit I was quite thrilled about. I hated to compare him to Tom—that seemed unfair, somehow, mostly to Tom—but sometimes I couldn’t help it. With Tom, there had always been promises of intimacy, hints of a depth of emotion, but despite a serious attraction both on his part and on mine, nothing ever seemed to ... happen. Honestly, more had happened with