Serena's Magic Read Online Free PDF Page B

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    “Well, anyway, Dr. O’Neill,” Martha offered, “you talk to Serena in the morning. She’s the one knows all about the place. Oh—and incidentally, she runs a little museum you might enjoy.”
    “Serena?” He wasn’t really listening anymore; he was in a hurry to get upstairs, bathe and dress and get back to Boston to find out what Denise was up to before he wound up with his summer a nightmare.
    “Umm, Mrs. Loren—she owns the place. You just missed her—but like I said, you’ll meet her in the morning. Whatever you’re up to, I’m sure she’ll be able to help.”
    “Thank you again, Martha,” Justin said quickly, bumping his head on the low ceiling as he hurried to reach the stairway. “I’m sure I will get a lot from … Serena.”
    He didn’t have much time to appreciate the beautiful lines of the old house, or the history captured in its architecture as he reached his room, tossed down his cases, and ran his bath. He barely noticed that all the furnishings were authentic antiques; yet he did appreciate the little hospitalities, such as fresh flowers in a vase, a note of welcome in a feminine hand, and towels in the bath that smelled of sunshine rather than a laundry.
    Tomorrow, he would get into the spirit of the thing, but now …
    His anger grew as he bathed and dressed in a casual tweed dinner jacket. Denise was manipulating him—and yet, he shouldn’t really be angry with Denise. He had kept the affair going.
    But tonight, of all nights, he didn’t want to see her. He wanted to savor the magic, the magic he didn’t believe in.
    “I’m going to find that woman!” he growled aloud.
    And then he laughed at himself. More than likely, he’d never see her again, no matter how strong his determination. He had no right to behave cruelly to Denise because he had been spurned by a mystery witch.
    When he dealt with Denise, he wanted to do so honestly. He wanted her to understand his feelings, to respect them. He had always been honest. He could only give her so much, and if it wasn’t enough, then that was that.
    But when he left his room, he could have sworn he sensed a smell of roses. And he couldn’t get that incredibly erotic and yet innocent vision of his white witch out of his mind. The memory of her ivory skin sleek and glistening as she stretched to embrace the twilight lingered.
    And as he revved his car into gear again, he was once more muttering that he would find “that damned woman,” and when he did, he would certainly either throttle her, or tan her bewitching rear!
    But he didn’t believe in witchcraft—his witch was real, she was flesh and blood. And what she gave was real; he had never known a woman so sensual, so sweetly innocent yet fully passionate. And they hadn’t yet begun to really explore a half of the intimacies awaiting them.
    There was no pretense about her, he thought wryly; that was a part of her ultimate beauty.
    His lips went thin across his jaw as he thought about her swift vanishing act, but he knew he would find her.

CHAPTER TWO
    “S ERENA, JERRY WAS TALKING to you.”
    Jolted back to the present, Serena Loren was greeted by a stern frown from her escort, Marc Talbot. She met his suspiciously narrowed eyes with guilt twisting at her heart, then quickly glanced to the third party at their dinner party, Jerry Kloon, Marc’s publisher. She smiled uneasily and hastily apologized. “I’m sorry, Jerry, I’m afraid I simply blanked there for a moment. What were you saying?”
    “I asked what you thought of Marc’s idea, Serena,” the handsome older man with silver hair and beard of the same color said with a small, understanding smile. “The inn does belong to you.”
    “Oh,” Serena said uneasily, drawing her eyes from Jerry’s to stare at her water glass. She ran a manicured finger idly over the crystal rim as she stalled for a little time. Then she smiled back to Jerry. “I have great faith in Marc’s work,” she said sincerely. “I