Tami Hoag - Magic

“Don’t read too much into your mother’s reaction tonight,” he said quietly, slowing his long strides and turning to regard her with a serious expression. He carried a suitcase in each hand and his faded blue shirt was stained dark from her tears in spots across his chest. “You took her by surprise. She doesn’t handle surprises very well.”

Rachel thought of Terence and Addie’s reaction to him, and she smiled sadly as she reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “No, she never did.”

“She’ll probably be perfectly composed tomorrow.”

A weak smile was the best Rachel could manage. She hoped her mother was perfectly composed in the morning, but that wouldn’t help her tonight. She felt shaken to the very foundation of her soul. If she lived to be a hundred, she would never forget the wild fury in her mother’s eyes as she’d shouted at her to get out of the house. Remembering the scene now sent a shaft of pain through her so sharp, it nearly stole her breath from her lungs. She had known it would be difficult coming back, but she’d never imagined anything like the bizarre scene she’d been a part of. It didn’t even help to know it was the illness that made Addie behave irrationally. There was just too much true emotion beneath the madness to easily push the outburst aside.

“You can take my room for tonight,” Bryan said, shouldering open a door and standing back in invitation for her to precede him into the room. “It’s the only spare bed with sheets on it.”

“I can’t throw you out of your bed,” Rachel protested, going to stand over the heat register, hoping it would chase away some of the chill that was permeating her bones.

“A little while ago you were ready to throw me out of the house,” Bryan said with a charming smile, trying to tease an answering smile out of Rachel. He kept his gaze on her as he bent to set her suitcases down beside the dresser.

Rachel closed her eyes and sighed. She managed a wry twist of her lips, but that was all. There was no way she could handle this man on any level-teasing, arguing, anything. Aside from being tired enough to drop, her feelings toward him were completely tangled. He was a stranger, a man who was taking her dotty mother’s money to hunt for ghosts. He was an antagonist who seemed to disapprove of her. He was inane one minute and serious the next. He was an attractive man, arousing needs in her that had been left unattended for too long. He was a compassionate human being, offering her comfort and support. That would have been a confusing mix for a person to handle on the best of days, and this was most certainly not the best of days.

“Get some rest,” Bryan whispered.

He didn’t remember crossing the room. He didn’t remember making the decision to touch Rachel Lindquist, but his finger was crooked beneath her chin and he was tilting her face up as if he had every intention of kissing her. It took a considerable effort not to do just that. Her lips were slightly parted. Her thick lashes were lowered, laying like a pair of delicate lace fans against her pale cheeks.

Desire ached all through his body, throbbing a little harder behind the suddenly close confines of his jeans. He cursed his rogue hormones. What was the matter with him-acting like some randy stallion when this poor girl was so physically and emotionally exhausted she seemed near collapse? What was he doing feeling attracted to her anyway? For all he knew she had come there to pack Addie up and hustle her off to a rest home. The only significant facts he knew about her were that she had run off five years ago and hadn’t come back.

But she had tried to call… and she had cried on his shoulder… and she looked so small and sad…

He shook his head for the umpteenth time that night, amazed by his sudden, strange feelings. True, he had always had a soft spot in his heart for a damsel in distress, but he wasn’t interested in getting involved with one just now. No. His life was falling back into order; that was all he wanted to concentrate on now. He wasn’t interested in taking on the problems of a complicated mother-daughter relationship or the raft of troubles that would accompany Addie’s illness. He didn’t want to concentrate on Rachel Lindquist and all the pain and broken dreams he’d seen in her eyes.

She opened her eyes and stared up at him, and yet another blast of heat seared through him.

“Get some rest,” he murmured again, backing away before he lost all sense.

“Where will you sleep?”

“Don’t worry about me,” he said, forcing one of his silly, sunny smiles as he moved toward the door. He had the distinct impression he wasn’t going to sleep at all. “I’m a magical being; I can sleep anywhere. Tables, chairs, stairs. I once spent the night in the trunk of a Mercedes-Benz, but that’s a long story and I’m really not at liberty to divulge the details. Suffice it to say they put all the luxury features in other parts of the car.”

Rachel stared at him, amazed. She wanted to laugh. After all the horrid things that had happened in the past few days, she wanted to laugh at Bryan Hennessy because he was silly and funny in a way unlike anyone she had ever known. It amazed her that she still had a sense of humor. She felt a little warmer inside because of it.

“You’re a very unusual person, Mr. Hennessy,” she said with a wry smile.

He beamed. “Why, thank you.”

Rachel chuckled. “It wasn’t exactly a compliment.”

“It was to me. We Hennessys pride ourselves on being unique.”

“You’re certainly that,” she said, trying unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn.

“The bathroom is down the hall on the right,” Bryan said over his shoulder as he started out the door. “Watch out for the faucet in the sink, it sprays like a geyser every once in a while for no apparent reason. I think it may be possessed. Poltergeists often take up residence in the plumbing, you know. No doubt the result of faulty toilet training when they were toddlers. That’s my theory anyway.”

“Mr. Hennessy,” Rachel blurted out, a part of her loath to have him leave.

“Bryan,” he corrected her, turning back and bracing a forearm against the doorjamb. He felt old enough as it was these days; he didn’t need this lovely little thing calling him mister. He had to have ten years on Rachel Lindquist-at least. At the moment she didn’t look a day over fifteen, and still he wanted to kiss her. That thought left him feeling like a lecher.

“Bryan,” she said hesitantly, clasping her small white hands in front of her. “Thank you for giving me your room and… for… everything.”

She couldn’t quite bring herself to say “holding me.” She wasn’t comfortable with the idea of having turned to a stranger that way, pouring her pain out to him. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d cried in front of someone. Not even when her mother had told her she could never come home had she let the tears fall with a witness present. She hadn’t cried in front of her mother, nor had she cried when she had gone outside and gotten in the car with Terence. Her fierce pride hadn’t allowed it.

But tonight she hadn’t been able to keep the tears in check. They had fallen in torrents onto Bryan Hennessy’s solid chest. And he had held her as if it had been the most natural thing in the world.

Bryan stared at her for a moment from his position in the doorway. She stood beside the bed, looking vulnerable in her baggy purple sweater, her baby-fine hair framing her face in wisps. Her skin looked as soft and rich as cream. Her eyes were like pools of twilight. Longing ribboned through him. Without a word he left the room, closing the door behind him.

Immediately Rachel felt lonely. Lonely for a lunatic. How silly, she scolded herself. She was lonely for a con man just because he had a nice smile and a weird sense of humor. That was hardly like her normal, practical self.