The Lost Enchantress Read Online Free PDF Page A

registration desk,” she called over her shoulder. “Every bid counts.”
    Eve considered passing on the paddle since she’d never bid in the past and had no intention of breaking with tradition tonight. Not because nearly everything was out of her price range, though that was definitely a consideration; she just wasn’t an impulse buyer. Or an impulse anything for that matter.
    She could be the poster child for the Better Safe than Sorry Society. She might be willing to follow her hunches and take leaps of faith when she was putting a story together at work, but when it came to her personal life she thought things through carefully, considering the potential consequences from every angle before making a move. She balanced her checkbook and changed the oil in her car right on schedule and saved for a rainy day.
    Still, it couldn’t hurt to pick up a paddle, she decided, turning in the direction of the registration area. It might even add to the excitement to have it right there at the ready on the miniscule chance she decided to throw caution to the wind and bid on something wildly extravagant. The Cruise to Nowhere always sounded so tempting at this time of year. Of course, it was most likely a cruise for two, which meant she would have to come up with someone to bring along; “nowhere” wasn’t a place you cruised to with your grandmother or sister or fifteen-year-old niece.
    “Cruise to Nowhere” conjured visions of long, hot afternoons and moonlit nights, all running together in a romantic, soft-focus-y way. And at the moment she didn’t have much going on in the romance department. Actually, she had nothing. Zip. Zero. Nada. Fortunately, she was too busy most of the time to notice.
    She quickly filled out a registration form and exchanged it for a wooden-handled paddle.
    “Here you go, Ms. Lockhart,” said the smiling young woman behind the desk. “Number 811 . . . I hope it’s lucky for you.”
    “Thanks,” Eve replied, thinking luck would come into play only if she actually bid on something, and the only way 811 was likely to see any action was if the ballroom got hot and she used it to fan herself.
    She gave that a try as she turned away, expecting to feel a small breeze on her face; instead, something closer to a gale force wind rushed over her. And only her apparently, because when she opened her eyes and looked to see how those around her had fared, everyone was still chatting and moving about as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
    Everyone except the man standing face-to-face with her.
    A man she’d never seen before. Even windswept and slightly dizzy, Eve was certain of that. There are some men a woman just remembers, and he was one of them.
    He’d been approaching the registration desk from the opposite direction when he stopped in his tracks about two feet away her. Maybe less.
    Eve wondered whether he’d stopped to avoid plowing into her or because he too had felt the sudden rush of energy. The intense way he was looking at her made her suspect he’d felt it, or that he at least suspected something out of the ordinary.
    She was still gripping the edge of the table with one hand, only vaguely aware of commands bubbling up from some distant, autopilot corner of her consciousness. Smile politely, murmur an apology, move, damn it, move. She did none of those things. It was as if all the neuron pathways connecting her brain to the rest of her had disengaged.
    He didn’t apologize or move away either. And Eve sensed that he had no interest in polite smiles. Something about him . . . no, she thought, everything about him sent the silent message that he did not want to be bothered.
    She stood there, staring into his eyes far longer and more directly than manners dictated. And he stared back, his expression caught between wonder and irritation. An odd combination, she thought, but the thought drifted away as the sounds of conversation and laughter and clinking glasses softened into a