Magic & Mayhem

by Susan Conley

  Janice’s hands flew to her mouth. Adrian here! But how and why? A flash of white began to move across her line of vision and spinning, Janice spotted Bibi edging her way to the door, a notorious crimson flush staining her cheeks.

  “Don’t you dare move another step!” she commanded. Quickly, she returned her attention to Sarah and lightened her tone. “Sarah, sweetie, you know how when guests come to our house we’re good hosts? How we offer them something to drink?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Well, I need you to be a good hostess right now and offer the magician some of your lemonade.”

  She didn’t wait for Janice to finish the sentence. She exploded into a clumsy pirouette and bolted from the room, hollering for Peter as she ran. Sighing heavily, Janice gathered her strength and spun to confront Bibi. Her words were heated.

  “You sent for him? After I expressly forbid you to?”

  Bibi gave a mock shrug.

  “I didn’t send for him,” she hedged, “I promised you I wouldn’t.”

  “Well, then, why is he here? He wouldn’t come without a reason.” That there was a reason was clear by Bibi’s awkward rocking. “You called him?” Janice asked in disbelief.

  “No. I didn’t call him.”

  Janice’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.

  “Just what did you do, Bibi?”

  This time her sister had the good sense to cringe and Janice was glad she did because otherwise she was sure she would have launched her entire set of paintbrushes at her.

  “I sent him an invitation to the baby shower,” Bibi murmured softly.

  Janice let out an astonished screech, surprising herself as much as startling Bibi, who shied away quickly.

  “You told him about the baby! After I said you were not to?!”

  “He has a right to know he’s going to be a father.”

  “I was going to tell him,” Janice snapped, “but in my own way.”

  “When? When the kid’s going off to college?”

  “That’s a rotten thing to say and you know it! I had every intention of telling Adrian about the baby.”

  “Is this a private fight or can anyone join?”

  “Adrian!”

  The words were stuttered in panic as Janice swung about. His tall figure lounged against the doorframe and Janice found herself magnetized by the sight of him. Lord, he was gorgeous.

  Thin, but still gorgeous. With the lift of his eyebrow, he scanned her stricken features. Immediately, Janice felt a rush of color to her cheeks.

  “Well, at least saying my name no longer makes you sick,” he said quietly. “I would hate to think I made a pregnant woman nauseous.” Janice flushed again, stung by his sarcasm. What a memory he had. He was throwing her last words to him up in her face. “You look good, Janice. Very good.” Janice felt herself coloring up even more furiously. He wasn’t going to make this reunion easy. His gaze darted quickly left and Janice saw him study her sister intently. “You must be Bibi. I gather I have you to thank for the invitation?” She didn’t reply or nod, speechless by the turn of events. If the whole situation weren’t so preposterous, Janice thought she would laugh. She regretted the thought in the next instant as Adrian signaled to Bibi politely. “I’m sure there’s something you want to do downstairs.” Janice heard the emphasis on “downstairs” and knew the words weren’t a request.

  A flash of relief crossed Bibi’s face at the edict and, seizing the opportunity, she bustled forward. As she reached the doorway, Adrian stepped aside, giving way to her stoutness. His lips curled up derisively as she sped out onto the landing.

  Her departure left a void of silence behind that neither seemed to know how to fill. Flustered, Janice tried to think of something appropriate to say besides the obvious Hello. In the next second, Adrian had saved her the trouble and worry.

  “Aren’t you going to ask me how I am?”

  Though his caustic reminder shook her up, Janice managed to look him directly in the eye.

  “How are you, Adrian? You look thin.”

  “I’ve been sick,” was his instant answer and Janice immediately regretted the question. He made it sound as if his illness was her fault. Was that true? Janice began to twist her fingers nervously. The gesture made her even more self-conscious.

  “Are you getting better?” she managed to ask, then wondered how she could be firing off such inane questions when her only urge was to fling herself into his arms and beg his forgiveness. He made no comment, just stared.

  Biting her lower lip to keep it from quivering, Janice wondered how she had ever thought she would forget him so easily. Even for all his thinness, he was devastatingly handsome. The sight of him was slowly draining the air from her lungs and causing her heart to flutter nervously in her breast. And now he was lifting an eyebrow curiously at her. Was that nervousness she sensed? His next words confirmed it.

  “My health depends on you, Janice.” She didn’t like the sound of that. “Rather, it depends on whether I can convince you in the next minute to let me kiss you.”

  Janice’s mouth dropped open in surprise. God, he wasn’t going to start this foolishness all over again about kissing, was he? She couldn’t bear it if he did. She had to distract his mind. But how? Out of the corner of her eye, she spied the standing easel and spun toward it. She knew instantly she had guessed right. He sprang from the doorframe and followed close on her heels.

  Halting before the painting, Janice could only hope that the beauty of the portrait and its subjects would catch his fancy. It did. He came to a halt beside her, his gaze riveted to the figures depicted.

  “Do you like it?” she asked hesitantly. She stole a peek at him, realizing his answer meant the difference between pain and pleasure.

  “Very much,” he replied, no trace of sarcasm lacing his voice. Janice breathed a sigh of relief. “Are you planning on selling it?” The question was so unexpected, it overwhelmed Janice. Was he thinking of buying it?

  “No, it’s a present for Jasper. He’s coming to visit next month with the twins.”

  At her pronouncement, Adrian’s head snapped around and studied her face, as if memorizing it. For one thrilling moment, Janice felt her heart stop. He was going to kiss her and she was going to let him. He knew it and she knew it. Disturbed by the smoldering desire rising in his eyes, Janice found herself spinning around. Dear God, she couldn’t kiss Adrian. If she did it would be all over. She’d end up married to him.

  The feel of warm arms encircling her waist from behind startled her, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she looked down at the long slim fingers lightly resting on the top of her stomach. A warm breath tickled her ear as he muttered hoarsely.

  “Don’t send me away, Janice. I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I can’t work. I can’t even concentrate. Your image haunts me more than it ever did when I was a boy. Please tell me you didn’t mind what happened between us. Tell me you’ll love this baby because I’m its father.” He paused to catch his breath and Janice took a moment to interrupt.

  “Adrian … ”

  He cut her off immediately.

  “No, don’t say it. Don’t say it can’t work out. It can. I know it can. If it’s Sarah, I’ll win her over. I’m not so hard to take, am I? No, don’t answer that … ” He must’ve realized he might get an answer he didn’t want to hear because he released Janice’s waist and spun her around so fast she had to clutch onto his shoulders to keep from falling. Again, their gazes met and held. This time Janice saw him grin sheepishly. “At least, let me kiss you. I know if you let me kiss you, I can prove to you how crazy I am about you. I have great lips.”

  Janice’s lips twitched with a will of their own at his arrogant bragging. He was being boyishly charming, and a charming Adrian was a deadly Adrian. She shook her head.

  “Every time y
ou kiss me, Adrian, some part of my anatomy seems to swell up.”

  He caught the sly reference at once, and chuckling, hauled her into his arms. His lips swooped down and devoured hers swiftly. It was a long, drugging kiss and the assault sent a shockwave clear to the tips of Janice’s toes. Her knees suddenly gave way, turning to jelly, and she found herself collapsing into his chest. He absorbed her weight easily with his own and all lucid thought fled from her brain as his tongue swept the roof of her mouth. And then, just as if it seemed the kiss would never end, he let go her mouth. Janice managed a breathless choke. He raised her chin upward and then his fingers found their way to her mouth. Suggestively, he outlined the curve of her moist lower lip.

  “Told you I could prove it,” he whispered arrogantly.

  Before she could object, his mouth covered hers again hungrily. Swept away, Janice’s arms automatically wound around his neck. He was right, damn him. He did have great lips.

  A sudden screech split the air.

  “Aunt Bibi! Come look! Mama’s kissing the magician!”

  Adrian twisted free of Janice’s lips and turned toward the door. A flash of blue jean streaked from the room at a breakneck pace.

  “She’s a lively chatterbox.”

  Janice dropped her forehead onto Adrian’s chest, sighing pleasurably.

  “She’s a notorious tattletale. We’ll have no secrets.” She lifted her chin and nuzzled into his throat. His knuckles found the side of her cheekbone and caressed it affectionately. Her sigh resembled a delighted purr and Adrian chuckled again, taking hold of her chin. With a ragged breath, he planted a kiss on each side of her lips and then along her cheekbones.

  “I have dreamed this moment a thousand times in my head. How I would kiss you … make love to you … ” His lips found her earlobe. “Say you forgive me, Janice. I’d give everything I own to go back and relive that night. Change things. Keep Muriel alive. You’ve got to believe me.”

  Janice pulled away, meeting his tortured gaze. Did he still think she blamed him for Muriel’s death? Standing on tiptoe, she brushed her lips lightly across his.

  “None of that matters now, Adrian. Honestly.”

  He tugged on her waist, drawing her back into his embrace.

  “You smell heavenly. Come kiss me.”

  She responded to his words, melding her body into his. A secret smile softened her lips.

  “Je suis ici, mon ami.”

  He gave her a lop-sided grin and dipped his head.

  “Vous parle Français trés bien, mademoiselle.”

  Inhaling sharply, Janice pulled back again. A curious glint entered her eyes.

  “A gift from the baron,” he replied, quickly.

  Grabbing the back of his head, she pulled his face toward her.

  “C’mere. Let me show you a little something the baron taught me.”

  Adrian grinned boyishly.

  “I’ve a better idea. Let me show you a little something the baron showed Lisette.”

  A minute later, Janice knew what it was to be thoroughly kissed.

  About the Author

  Rachel James is a lifelong reader of romance and has been writing romance since the age of thirteen. She spent many decades in theater and film (both off-stage and on) and holds an Associate Arts Degree in Music. Besides being a prolific writer, she is a Spiritual Guidance Counselor who coaches clients via the Metaphysical Arts. She currently resides in South Florida.

  More from This Author

  The Sacred Circle by Rachel James

  The Amulet

  Chardy Walker Lieb

  Avon, Massachusetts

  This edition published by

  Crimson Romance

  an imprint of F+W Media, Inc.

  10151 Carver Road, Suite 200

  Blue Ash, Ohio 45242

  www.crimsonromance.com

  Copyright © 2013 by Charlotte Susan Walker Lieb

  ISBN 10: 1-4405-6826-X

  ISBN 13: 978-1-4405-6826-8

  eISBN 10: 1-4405-6827-8

  eISBN 13: 978-1-4405-6827-5

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.

  Cover art © 123rf.com; istockphoto.com/ghekko

  I would like to dedicate this book to Martha Ferris, Nancy Hall, and Judy Harvey — the best writers’ group any author could ever have. Not only are they the most talented writers I have read, but their continued support, boundless encouragement, and unconditional friendship mean the world to me. They are, and always will be, my inspiration! I also have to thank a few of my non-writer friends who have been there with me every step of the way — Nancee Brown, Rita Pond, and Cathy Rhoades. Your continued support makes every single word I write mean more to me. Thank you all.

  Contents

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  About the Author

  A Sneak Peek from Crimson Romance

  Chapter One

  Jack Hawthorne dangled the necklace between his thumb and middle finger and held it up to his office window for a better look. “What the hell am I supposed to do with this, Max?”

  Twenty-three stories above downtown Boston, the sky was blue and clear. Typical for October. He eyed the interesting gem in the daylight then turned to face Maxine Spencer, his one and only secretary for the past ten years of his law practice.

  “My e-calendar slated it for today, so I pulled it from the vault.’ Maxine slapped both hands on her hips and shrugged. “I log every task, and my schedules don’t lie.”

  “I wasn’t questioning your — ”

  “It says to locate the client named in file number 1692 today and bequeath this necklace.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.” Jack grinned out of respect. The woman was fifty-ish, or so he guessed, and had never been married. Tall and thin, she wore tailored suits; sensible heels; and galoshes, when it rained. Maxine prided herself on taking care of business, specifically Jack’s law firm, in the most straightforward, efficient manner possible. “Who’s the recipient?”

  “My records indicate a Miss Abigail Corey.”

  “Abigail,” he repeated. As Jack spoke the suspended stone seemed to respond, twirling counterclockwise between his fingers. He dropped the chain. “Son of a — ”

  “Beg pardon?” />
  Jack scooped the necklace off the floor. “Did you see that?” he asked, but the blank look on Maxine’s face answered before she did.

  “Well, I saw you drop the bequest, if that’s what you’re asking.” She shook her head. “You’d better put it away, or you’ll break it before we ever find the owner.”

  He slipped the amulet back into the small pine box and met her stern expression. “Okay, let’s do it, Max.” He leaned back in his chair and shrugged. “Locate this Corey woman.”

  Before Maxine could close the door behind her, a striking, dark-haired beauty sidestepped her with the grace of an NBA point guard. “Excuse me, Nadine,” the woman breezed.

  “Maxine,” the secretary corrected in her no nonsense, drill sergeant tone. Standing her ground, she added, “Mr. Hawthorne is busy, you’ll — ”

  “It’s okay, Max,” Jack assured her, considering Bridget had practically done a pick and roll to slip into his office. A feat that no doubt would have been impossible had she not caught Maxine in a revolving door of sorts.

  When Max slammed his office door — hard, Jack gestured to the seat opposite his. As Bridget sat, her crimson cape parted, exposing a black knit dress with a neckline cut just low enough. “Why the hell do you do that?” Jack’s lip twitched which should have told her to tread lightly — had she known the first thing about him.

  Bridget crossed her legs and arched one dark brow. “Why do I do what?”

  Another slight twitch.

  “The woman is your secretary, Darling, not your wife.” She offered an unapologetic grin.

  “And neither are you, Darling.” Jack didn’t smile. As beautiful as Bridget was, and she was damned beautiful, something about her, besides her obvious edge, had really started to rub him the wrong way. He met her pale blue gaze. His voice was low and even — another warning sign Bridget should have recognized, if she knew him at all. “Don’t ever speak to her like that again. Got it?”

  She arched one brow. “Loud and clear, but — ”