“Can I walk you two ladies home?” he asked as he stood to leave. “Although you may usually feel safe on these streets at night, I wouldn’t advise your going out alone right now.”
Myra rose and took both of his hands in hers. “I live upstairs, so I won’t be needing a body guard, but thank you anyway. Thank you for the advice and for so much else. Cassie told me what you two have worked out, about your exclusive story of what we really are, not what people assume we are. I feel safe in your hands, Mac.”
Could anyone feel more like a snake? He doubted it. But then, why should he? He had every intention of telling the truth. He hadn’t lied to Cassie about that. He just hadn’t bothered to mention which publication his story would appear in.
“Although Mom doesn’t need anyone to walk her home, I would very much appreciate your company. I’ve never worried about walking home from here at night before, but, under the circumstances ...” She folded her napkin neatly and stood to leave. Mac reached for her sweater and held it out for her to slip her arms through the sleeves. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay here with you tonight, Mom?” Cassie asked, a slight frown creasing her brow.
“Absolutely. If you stayed, we’d end up talking all night, and what I need more than talking is a hot bath and a good night’s sleep in my own bed. No, you go on home.”
“Okay, if you’re sure. Stop by the shop for some coffee when you get up tomorrow, okay?” Cassie leaned over and kissed her mother, turning away before Myra was able to see the tears that misted her eyes.
It wasn’t all that late, only a little after ten, but the town was as quiet as a tomb as Mac and Cassie left Myra’s home. The sound of their shoes on the sidewalk echoed eerily, bouncing back at them from the fog that was just now creeping in from the ocean.
He looked up into the dark sky above. Stars and a sliver of a new moon glimmered back at him. He wondered how long before the fog would obscure the lovely night sky and was glad they had left when they had.
Since Cassie had opted for walking earlier in the evening, Mac had left his beat-up old station wagon at the motel. Now that he thought about it, he had hardly stepped into his car since coming to Port Bellmont. The town was so small it was usually easier to walk to his destination than to try to find a parking spot when he got there.
And then there was Cassie. She was a woman who clearly preferred a nice stroll in the fresh air to the confines of an automobile. When he was with her, they just naturally walked. And he enjoyed walking with her very much.
As he filled his lungs with the pine and sea scented air, he suddenly realized he hadn’t had a cigarette in hours, hadn’t even thought of lighting up. Strange.
He glanced quickly at Cassie, savoring her healthy good looks and open, honest face. Could this delightful little witch actually be having some mystical effect on him, he wondered? Yep, it must be witchcraft, all right. He grinned at the absurdity of the notion.
Cassie liked walking with Mac. Their walking styles matched perfectly - not too fast, yet not too slow. She especially liked having him here at her side. True, she would have liked being a little closer to him, but still, this was nice.
She imagined how pleasant it would be if he were to slip his arm around her, drawing her close to his warm body.
As if he could read her mind instead of the other way around, he reached out for her, encircling her shoulders with his arm. “The fog has a way of chilling you to the bone, no matter how hot the day has been,” he commented as if needing an explanation for his actions.
Leaning as close to him as she could without appearing obvious, she let herself absorb his delicious heat, inhaling his scent deep into her lungs. Yes, this was exactly how she knew it would be with him. It felt absolutely perfect. She tipped her head into the curve of his shoulder. A perfect fit. She had known it would be.
They walked to the outskirts of town in silence. Darkness engulfed them as they left the lights of Port Bellmont behind. Cassie slipped a small flashlight out of her handbag and turned it on as they took a turn away from the ocean up towards the encroaching redwoods, heading towards her tiny cabin. It was set high on a bluff over the sea, surrounded by towering trees.
“I wish there were a full moon tonight,” she said as they paused for a moment at the edge of the clearing in the woods. “As dark as it is, I imagine this all looks pretty spooky to you. But it isn’t really. Not when you can really see it.”
The sweet, spicy scent of blooming flowers, mixed with sea and redwoods, blended into an unforgettably delectable aroma. A soft breeze sifted through tall trees, whispering a welcome. And in the darkness below, the sea sent gentle, rhythmic waves over huge boulders.
Mac had never heard sweeter music.
“I don’t need to see it to know it’s not spooky, Cassie. I can smell it and hear it, and that tells me that this place is enchanted, just as you are enchanted.”
Where had those words come from, he wondered with amazement. They were damn near poetic and far from his usual style.
She laughed softly as she allowed herself to lean closer to him. She knew she shouldn’t tempt fate like this but she couldn’t help herself. The need to feel his warmth overshadowed all her intentions to keep their relationship on a business level.
His arm tightened around her in response. He felt his heart accelerate at this hint of a new intimacy between them. Without speaking, they slowly turned toward each other. They stood there for a moment, lost in time, simply gazing into each other’s eyes.
Cassie’s handbag and flashlight dropped to the ground as she reached up to slip her arms around his neck. He was so tall, his lips so far away.
He solved her dilemma quite nicely by leaning down and capturing her lips with his. Fire enveloped him as the kiss deepened. A fire he would never have believed possible spread through him. It might have been his first kiss. Was this the kiss of an angel or the kiss of a devil? Whichever it was, it pierced his heart and poured into his soul. He never wanted it to end.
She gloried in sensations she had only dreamed of. Oh, she had been kissed before, but never like this. She loved the feel of his lips on hers, the taste of his tongue as it hungrily searched her mouth. She joined her tongue with his in the search, her body begging her to learn every detail of this man who had come to mean so much to her in such a short time.
Their panting breaths joined the music of nature as they pulled apart at last.
“Will you come in?” she whispered.
“Do you know what would happen if I did?” he asked.
Her gaze not breaking his, she nodded.
He tightened his arms about her, drawing her body to his until they nearly melded into one being. His arousal pressed against her, attesting to the fact that his body wanted what hers ached for.
But then he pulled away, allowing a cold, dark space to come between them. “Not yet, sweetheart,” he sighed with regret.
He couldn’t believe he had said those words. He couldn’t remember ever wanting a woman more, yet he knew he must leave.
Her gentle smile told him she understood - at least he hoped she did. She was too special, too perfect for him to touch until the time was right. He just prayed he’d know when that time had come.
“When the time is right,” she said on a soft breath, her lips lifting in the most appealing smile Mac had ever seen.
It didn’t surprise him in the least that she had read his thoughts. What did surprise him was that he was perfectly comfortable with the fact that she could.
“For now I think you need to get in that little house of yours and get some sleep. I don’t imagine you’ve had a lot lately.”
“No, I haven’t but I’m sure I will now. I’m so relieved about mother. Maybe her being let out on bail is a sign that everything is going to be all right after all.”
He wanted to reassure her more than anything in the world but he couldn’t bring himself to lie to her. He prayed she was right, but something told him she was wrong, dead wr
ong.
Chapter 4
One glance at his room at the Sea View Motor Inn convinced Mac that in the future he would have to either take Sarge with him wherever he went or get rid of the pesky creature. As Mac entered his room he was confronted with a very proud puppy sitting amidst what appeared to be at least three fully unwound rolls of toilet tissue, not to mention toweling and disheveled bed linen.
To the dog’s commendation, the newspaper Mac had spread on the bathroom floor appeared to have been used properly, but nothing, absolutely nothing else, was where it should have been.
As Mac entered, Sarge came running towards him with his comically rolling gait, completely tangled in a long strip of paper. His grinning face spoke eloquently of the fun he had been creating for himself.
“All right, you old reprobate, you’ve had your fun,” Mac reproached him as he reached to untangle the wriggling puppy from the mess he had created, “but for now you’d better stay out of my sight while I clean up after your little party, or I may just decide to take you back where I got you.”
His reprimand was met with a soft tongue to Mac’s hand as he reached down to gather the litter into one large heap. Mac’s progress in replacing the disheveled bedspread was impeded as Sarge planted himself firmly on Mac’s left foot. Leaning heavily against his new best friend’s leg, the dog turned adoring eyes on the scowling human’s face.
“Oh, what the hell,” Mac cursed as he reached down for the squirming mass of puppy. “You were just lonely, weren’t you, boy?”
His question was answered by a soft, moist tongue bathing whatever portion of Mac’s skin it could reach.
As he cleaned up the mess Sarge had so graciously provided, Mac gave their current living conditions some serious thought. Clearly leaving papers on the floor in the bathroom, along with a bowl of water and plenty of kibble, was not going to work for this dog. Mac would have to make other arrangements soon or take the pup back to Cassie’s shop.
It surprised him when he realized that taking Sarge back was no longer an option. When had the pug-ugly dog snuck into his heart, he wondered.
“I guess I’ve got myself a dog, all right,” he said aloud as he scratched behind the puppy’s ear. “And now, what the hell am I supposed to do with you? What landlord in his right mind would want a pain in the butt dog like you around?”
But then he remembered Mary Beth’s and Naomi’s empty bed and breakfast. Hadn’t Mary Beth said she would be delighted to have the two of them as guests?
Although he had felt sorry that the two women were having difficulties renting out their rooms because of the witch scandal, the idea of his staying in one of the fussy Victorian rooms had more than put him off the idea. But now, when he thought of the large back yard they had offered to let Sarge roam, plus the affection they had shown the pup, he found the idea more and more to his liking.
He was also not unaware that his living there would give him just that much more of an edge over the competition. Other members of the press were everywhere he went. In fact, other than the bed-and-breakfast, there probably wasn’t a spare room in town not taken over by one or more of them.
And, since the good Reverend Hicks had done a superb job of spreading his message of hate throughout the community, scaring away patrons from their door, even the bravest of the media had given the sisters’ inn a wide berth. Being a superstitious, not to mention parsimonious, lot, none of his compatriots had dared to stay at the Mariner’s Inn. In fact they had totally avoided it, except to snoop, of course.
Mac smiled to himself at the thought that he would actually be living under the same roof with two bona fide witches, although he couldn’t think of any two women less like most people’s preconceived notions of what witches were than the Bishop sisters, Naomi and Mary Beth.
Both still in their late twenties, they comfortably shared the duties of running the huge Victorian relic. Naomi, the younger of the two, was the romantic one. With her long hair twisted into a loose knot at the top of her head and her ankle-length skirts covered with a cut work apron, she gave every appearance of the perfect Victorian homemaker. It was she who had used her training in interior decorating to turn the rambling old inn into a warm, inviting retreat. And it was her wonderful talents in the kitchen that filled the house with mouthwatering scents.
Mary Beth, just one year older than her sister, had the business acumen it took to turn the modest inheritance the sisters had received from a grandmother and managed to stretch it into renovating the old house. Mac had seen a picture of the place when they had first bought it and marveled at the transformation.
Mary Beth’s short curly brown hair perfectly accented her sparkling, intelligent eyes. Never still for more than a moment, the woman exuded energy.
Yes, living, under the same roof with the Bishop sisters, however briefly, promised to be very interesting. He had never been turned on by Victorian decor, it was far too fussy for his tastes, but being so near the young witches was likely to be very enlightening, not to mention entertaining.
Mac and Sarge were comfortably ensconced in their ground floor room by tea time the next afternoon. Mary Beth had selected that particular room because of its access to the fenced-in back yard, perfect for Sarge.
“I hope you will be joining us for dinner tonight,” she said after showing Mac to his room. “Naomi has planned something special in celebration of Myra’s freedom. I guarantee you a good meal. All of the sisters of the coven will be here.”
“I’d be delighted,” Mac replied with his most charming smile. Years of practice enabled him to conceal the extent of pleasure the invitation gave him. Oh, yes, he would be only too happy to spend an evening in the company of the infamous Port Bellmont witches!
“And you mustn’t worry about being the only man in a house full of woman. Alan Boatright, the publisher of our local newspaper, will be here too. I’m sure you’ll enjoy meeting him, if you haven’t already. He’s a most charming man and it’s no secret that he’s thoroughly enraptured with Myra.”
That particular bit of local gossip came as no surprise to Mac. Hadn’t he wondered why the man was so ready to assume Myra’s innocence when nearly everyone else in town was convinced of her guilt?
“So they’re a twosome, are they? I can certainly see how a man could be attracted to a woman like Myra. She’s a fascinating woman.”
“Oh, he’s attracted all right but I don’t believe the feelings are quite as strong on Myra’s side. She’s been widowed for years and she’s very reluctant to allow herself to fall in love again. She suffered too dearly when her husband failed to return from Vietnam. No, I’m afraid the love affair is strictly one sided.”
Mac couldn’t help but feel sorry for the guy. A woman like Myra could drive a man nuts if he let her get under his skin. But then, who knew, maybe Alan would be able to break down the wall she had built around her heart.
* * *
Why couldn’t she relax and enjoy the evening like everyone else, Cassie wondered. The meal had been nothing short of perfection, she was surrounded by people she could trust - her Wiccan sisters, Mac, a man she found particularly attractive, and Alan, an old family friend who was obviously in love with her mother - and they had gathered together to celebrate something wonderful, Myra’s freedom.
But no matter how hard she tried to relax and join in the festivities, Cassie’s sense of disquiet continued to build. Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong.
Walt Whitaker’s face flashed into her mind, the scowl that had become so familiar firmly in place. Why does he hate us so much? she wondered. It was a question she had found herself asking more and more lately. It troubled her so much that she had actually tried to enter his mind to discover the answer, something she was usually loath to do. But she had found herself blocked from his thoughts.
Frustrated and a little ashamed of herself for attempting to invade his privacy, she vowed to never try it again.
And yet she still wondered.
>
”A toast!” Alan stood, champagne glass held aloft. He turned his gaze to Myra who sat on the dusty rose settee he had just left. The devotion that glowed in his eyes was so intense it was close to heartbreaking. “To Myra, the most perfect woman I’ve ever known. May she always be free.”
Cassie’s eyes misted. Alan’s love for her mother was so beautiful; what a pity it wasn’t returned in full. Still, love couldn’t be forced. It wasn’t her mother’s fault that all she felt for the man was friendship.
There was that sensation again! Cassie rubbed her arms as a chill raced over her skin. The rhythm of her heart accelerated.
What was wrong?
She let her gaze roam from one face to another, hoping to read something there that would alleviate the tension she felt building within her. Naomi wore the glow of having successfully prepared an excellent meal for her friends. Edith, Mary Beth and Shelly were chatting amiably together.
True to form, Mac sat quietly off to the side, taking in everything that was said, observing every change of expression.
The unpleasant chill eased a bit at the sight of him, being just as suddenly replaced by a flow of warmth. As she gazed at him, her eyes lingering on his lips, then sliding down to the broad expanse of his chest, she could feel a delicious heat seeping deep into her body. She gloried in the slightest change in his expression, was fascinated in what she read in his eyes.
He was so intent on absorbing every nuance of conversation, she was sure he was totally unaware that he had reached down to scratch Sarge behind one ear. Suppressing a smile at the adoring expression on the puppy’s uptilted face, she was certain that neither man nor dog had any idea of the adorable picture they made.
As if he felt her eyes on him, Mac shifted his gaze to her, trapping her thoughts for a heart-stopping instant.
She glanced away quickly, fearful he might read more in her eyes than she was prepared to reveal. Maybe that was it. Maybe the sickening fear that gnawed away at her was the fear of becoming emotionally involved with such a man. There would be danger for any woman who allowed herself to fall in love with him. Did she dare to tempt such danger? But the more honest question was, did she have a choice?
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