Kristin Hardy - Under His Spell

Or maybe because of that moment at Gabe’s party, that strange little snap of connection that had whipped through his system before he’d been prepared for it.

“You still here?”

It was Lainie, frowning at him, laptop slung over her shoulder. She wasn’t wearing the little skirt and crop top this time but a long summer dress made of some intriguingly fragile-looking fabric that shimmered over the slip beneath and flowed around her calves like water.

It should have looked demure, with its faintly old-fashioned looking pattern of pale blossoms, but all it did was make him itch to unfasten the row of buttons that ran down the front, beginning with the hem and rising to where the fabric dipped down around the slender column of her throat. She wore a necklace with a single bead like a flat pearl, pierced from side to side with a string-thin leather thong so that it sat atop the hollow where her collarbones came together.

“Earth to J.J.”

He’d been staring, he realized.

“I have to go. You shouldn’t have waited.”

And she clearly hadn’t wanted him to, though that didn’t bother him. Not when he saw the faint pulse begin to beat in her throat. “Salem could be a tough town. I owe it to your parents not to let you walk around alone. Although—” he eyed the black bulk of her laptop case “—that thing probably counts as a lethal weapon.”

“Try to remember that,” she advised him.

He reached out and curved his fingers around the black webbing of the strap. Her eyes widened. “Maybe you’d better just give it to me to carry,” he said.

She tugged it back from him. “I thought you had a bad shoulder.”

“It’s the other one, and it’s getting better all the time,” he told her. She finally gave up, and he slung the bag over his shoulder, trying not to look smug. “So, where to?”

She didn’t bother answering, just headed toward the iron gates that led to the street, and the trapezoidal town common beyond.

She could needle him, she could pretend all she liked that she didn’t want him around. He knew better.

He was used to women with quick hungers, women who knew what they wanted. And what they wanted was him. He’d had more memorable times than he could count and none of them were anything as hot as that moment in the gift shop when he’d stood just a little too close to Lainie and seen the flare of desire in her eyes.

He wasn’t sure what to think about it, what to do about it except that he knew there was no way he was just going to walk away.

Not until he figured it out.

She didn’t know what he thought he was up to, but the last thing she needed before an important meeting was a distraction. Especially a distraction like J. J. Cooper. Out of habit, Lainie walked between the stone pillars that led into the common itself. Even if it was only a few dozen yards, she liked wending her way along the graceful oaks and the grass-edged paths instead of the narrow concrete sidewalk that threaded along the street. On drowsy, Indian summer mornings like this one, it was quiet and tranquil.

Usually.

She blew out a breath.

“Careful,” J.J. said. “Hyperventilating isn’t good for you.”

Lainie glanced to the heavens for patience and headed toward the side of the common by the hotel.

The warm breeze slipped over her skin as they walked a few steps in silence. “Nice common,” J.J. said. “Do you spend a lot of time here?”

“Sometimes.”

“I can see why you would. It must be something in the fall. There are some beautiful places in the world, but there’s nothing quite like New England.”

Lainie stopped to stare at him. “I thought you had an appointment.”

“I’ve got time.” He just smiled and began ambling again with that loose, careless stride. He didn’t move with the controlled grace of an athlete, and yet something in the way he held himself suggested that he could do just about anything he wanted to with that body of his.

Like she needed to think of that.

Lainie made an impatient noise and caught up with him. “What’s the appointment?”

“Dry-land training. Rehab.”

She snorted. “I don’t think you can be rehabilitated. I think you’re stuck with yourself just as you are. And so are we, sadly.”

It didn’t do a thing to wipe away that confident grin. “You know, you talk tough, but deep down inside, I think you’ve got a soft spot for me.” For an instant, there was something almost velvety in his voice.

“So young to have terminal delusions,” she said.

“In fact, I think deep down inside, you can’t resist me.”

“It’ll be an enormous effort, but I think I can just about see my way to it. In fact, I think I’ll manage pretty well.” She threaded her way between the stone pillars on the side of the common and started across the street to the Seven Gables Inn.

“I don’t know if I buy that.”

There it was again, that velvet note. He flicked a glance at her and their gazes tangled for a moment. Awareness of him dragged at her like some kind of a gravitational field. His smile this time was slow, almost dangerous.

A horn tapped and Lainie realized that she’d come to a stop in the middle of the street. “Well, you stand right here until you’re sure.” She shook her head and strode across the pavement as he followed. “Anyway, you told me why you’re going to Boston. That doesn’t explain why you’re here harassing me.”

“Because it’s so much fun?”

“There’s something deeply twisted about you,” she muttered.

He laughed in genuine amusement. “So I’ve been told.”

“Why are you here? A town like Salem can’t hold anything for a guy like you.”

“Maybe I came here to sightsee.”

Lainie snorted. “Next thing you’ll be telling me is that you came here to get your fortune told by the Salem witch.”

“No. I came here because I wanted to see you,” he said simply.

It stopped her in her tracks. In the middle of the sidewalk that ran in front of the plate glass windows of the hotel, cars whizzing past in the street, she turned to stare into those blue-gray eyes. And for the first time since she’d been twelve, found herself at a loss for words with him. She moistened her lips. “Why?”

He reached out for her hand. Heat vaulted up her arm, making her dizzy. “I don’t know,” he said, staring at her palm as though the answer might be there. “I thought maybe I’d figure it out when I got here.”

And suddenly she was very afraid of hearing what that answer was. “I have to go,” she said faintly, telling herself to pull her hand away. But instead she just stood there, staring stupidly at him.

“I know.” He placed something in her fingers and closed them over it, then raised her hand to his lips.

Heat bloomed through her, making her dizzy. She wouldn’t let him throw her off balance, wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of playing Casanova and making her look the fool.

“Is that one of those moves you’ve learned in Europe?” Lainie asked unsteadily.

“We haven’t even scratched the surface of what I’ve learned in Europe yet,” J.J. said. “I’ll see you around, Lainie.”

And he turned and walked away.

She opened her hand and found one of the serenity stones they sold in the gift shop.

Carved into its surface was the word beginnings .

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