Seaspun Magic Read online

  It hadn't seemed like such a bad idea at the time. But as Arianne went up the stairs beside her guest, it struck her as absolutely awful! She should have insisted Jill reserve one of the beachside motels in town for him.

  She had always vetoed the idea of a bed-and-breakfast business in her own home, although Jill kept trying to persuade her of its practicality. Privacy, however, meant everything to Arianne, and she had good reason for that attitude. Having perfect strangers invade her home was definitely not practical in her case. She took a sidelong assessing look at him through the downsweep of her long black lashes and had the strangest feeling that her life was suddenly going to change immeasurably.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Rae's protests at being left alone in his playpen for longer than he liked met them immediately upon opening the front door. Howling in frustration, he couldn't have sounded noisier or more difficult. Wincing, Arianne took a quick look at her guest's face. Would he decide a nice quiet hotel in town was more to his liking? Desperately she hoped he would.

  But putting a couple of fingers to his lips, Leo Donev wolf-whistled louder than Rae was screaming. Miraculously silence settled on the house. Utter silence. Not even a whimper came from the direction of the kitchen. Staring with round astonished eyes at the stranger in her front hall, Arianne didn't know exactly what to say.

  "Thank you," she finally murmured faintly.

  He merely smiled.

  "Come along and I'll introduce you." At last she was making sense. Arianne sighed in faint relief. From the kitchen, Rae still wasn't making a peep. "Leave your shoes on. I don't have many carpets and the floor gets cold...."

  Bright black eyes as round as his mother's greeted them. Toys were strewn about, not one in the playpen. Fresh from his evening bath and already in pajamas, smelling sweetly clean, like baby powder, Rae presented an angelic picture. There wasn't a tear on his rosy face. It was hard to believe the tantrum of a minute ago had erupted from such a dimpled cherub.

  His mother, however, wasn't taken in, and neither was her guest, it seemed. They both laughed, and then the child laughed, thinking himself a great success.

  Bending down to rest one knee on the floor, Leo Donev didn't crowd the playpen or pat the boy or muss his hair. He just put himself at eye level and introduced himself. In reply to Arianne's prompting, taking his cue from the absence of fuss, Rae calmly enunciated his name.

  "This kid is obviously not going to get lost." The bed-and-breakfast guest picked up a teddy bear and a green felt crocodile near him on the floor. He offered the bear to Rae, who took it after a thoughtful pause, keeping sharp eyes on the green crocodile that Leo was inspecting. Seeing that guest and baby had weathered the initial meeting, Arianne blew the curls off her brow.

  "I've just made a fresh pot of coffee."

  "I'd love a cup. Did Jill leave her register with you?"

  "She left in such a hurry and I never thought to ask...." Arianne shrugged, feeling even more unprepared when she thought of the unmade guest bedroom upstairs...and the bathroom, decorated with her lingerie. Not more than an hour ago she'd done some hand washing of delicate items, which were now drying above the old-fashioned steam radiator. Damn. She would have to get up there before he did. Now she knew even more clearly why she hated the very idea of a bed and breakfast.

  What in the world was she to do next, she wondered. Ask for money? Or did one ask for payment at the end of the stay? Should she quote him the rates? Why on earth hadn't she asked Jill what normal procedure was? Arianne kicked herself mentally and stared glumly at the stranger in her kitchen. Still down on one knee, he looked very much at home and relaxed, while she felt anything but.

  He was used to children obviously. Rae had accepted him quite nonchalantly. Arianne wondered whether he was married and had children of his own. That was another thing she had forgotten to ask Jill.

  Leaning against the old white porcelain sink, she studied Leo Donev for a moment more while he was engrossed in a discussion concerning the crocodile. Rae was talking away, motor mouth that he was, barely half his disclosures understandable. Yet the "invalid" seemed to be listening, all interest. He certainly didn't look ill to her!

  The fine leather jacket, in the bright light of the kitchen, was neither gray nor black nor brown, but some indistinguishable color that was very elegant; the leather looked quite expensive, Arianne thought. He wore the jacket well, over close-fitting jeans and a thickly ribbed plain white cotton sweater. Arianne's ex mother-in-law, Mrs. Sutherland, had taught her to appreciate good quality clothing. The clincher to his simple outfit was a pair of yellow Wellingtons. He couldn't have been better dressed to suit a northwest country autumn; he fitted right in with the local "in" crowd.

  He had to have a good eye to dress with such 6Ian, Arianne considered, taking a quick look around her kitchen. The large room was sparsely furnished, clean and orderly. Yet it was cheery, with the dishes shining in the antique sideboard and the rocking chair placed by the window. A large, secondhand wooden table was scrubbed and scarred from years of use. The six mismatched wooden chairs around it appeared inviting—to her, anyway. She wondered what Leo Donev thought of it all.

  She had recently put new curtains up in the kitchen, a terrible extravagance, but the old lace sheers and delicate paisley flounces fitted the room's ambience perfectly and added a soft touch. She was glad now that she had spent so much more than planned on them. She glanced back at the fair head bent toward her child's dark curls.

  Leo Donev's hair was the color of liquid honey, thick and fine and straight, shaped to suit him. Cut long, it brushed his collar. She caught his profile, the strong jaw and broad curve of his cheekbone. Flesh close to the bone, it was a lean profile that gave him a predatory look. Arianne wondered what had possessed her to agree to Jill's plan. Somehow, chitchatting with the baby, he managed to look dangerous.

  And she now had to share her bathroom with this stranger, for the house boasted only one facility. Arianne had to admit she hated everything about the arrangement so far...everything except for the fact that he was utterly fascinating. She wasn't nearly so bored as she'd been just moments ago.

  While she was studying him so single-mindedly he turned and saw her puzzled, rueful, exasperated stare and, staring right back for a second, smiled suddenly.

  Her black eyes widened on him, and then her gaze fell to her slippers. How could she justify the fact that he'd owe her sixty-five dollars a day, every day of his stay? Sixty-five dollars! He had to pay that much to share a bathroom with her. It made no sense. Why didn't he stay in town and enjoy his very own tub! Sixty-five dollars seemed so astronomical, and it came with the possibility of a baby squawling all night.

  Turning the crocodile over to its rightful owner, Leo Donev rose to his feet, and her kitchen seemed to shrink in size. Not that he was particularly tall—he was average in height—but his shoulders were broad and he was well built. Then, too, his presence was the kind that commanded attention and filled space.. .solid, like the rest of him.

  Arianne felt absurdly like backing away, even though he hadn't moved; she probably would have but for the sink in her way.

  A whimsical smile edged his lips as he regarded her unhappy demeanor. "I won't get in your way... and I pay by the week." Reaching into an inside pocket, he drew an envelope out of his jacket and handed it to her.

  Flushing slightly in embarrassment, Arianne took the envelope, while he asked her to count the cash inside right then. She did. He was staying a week, she surmised from the bills enclosed. Well, that wasn't too terribly long, and if she and Jill split the profit they would both make a lovely extra bit for Christmas and—

  "I'll have some of that coffee now, if I may."

  "Oh, yes, I'm sorry—" Arianne didn't know why everything she said came out sounding so clumsy. He must think I'm dreadfully scatterbrained, she thought. If only he had called before his arrival. If only she'd been ready.... But for some reason she hadn't believed Jill's guest would show
up before her return from Seattle. The possibility hadn't occurred to her until those headlights shone through the trees.

  Placing a mug on a glass tray, adding sugar and cream and a plate of chocolate-chip cookies made by her cookie-mogul cousin, Mikey, Arianne collected her thoughts on the matter of what needed to be done to make her guest comfortable. Her guest, meanwhile, had started rambling around the kitchen. It was exactly the sort of thing she didn't want him doing. Since she hadn't expected company, she hadn't tidied up after herself and there was no knowing what might be left out in plain sight.

  "Oh, this is beautiful!"

  Arianne turned a little pale when she saw he'd found precisely what she had prayed he wouldn't. On the little shelf beside the rocking chair stood her crystal ball, where she'd left it earlier. She had been polishing it. Held up in one of his hands, it gleamed brilliantly, catching all the kitchen lights and sending them dancing everywhere.

  "It's alive!" he exclaimed with a low laugh as he glanced her way. Then his smile vanished. Carefully he replaced the magnificent crystal ball on its small carved ebony stand. "I've never seen one that big..." he began. The heavy, perfect crystal was about as round as a cantaloupe. "I shouldn't have touched it. I'm sorry," he finished, and his eyes, a curious, light gray-green returned to her face and rested there.

  "Oh," Arianne swallowed quickly, trying to cover her dismay, "it...it's nothing, just a bauble. Please don't worry about it."

  Reassured he hadn't done something unforgivable, he was drawn back to the crystal shimmer. "Where did you get it?"

  "Oh, um..." She groaned to herself, wondering what to say to best allay his interest. The truth, Arianne supposed… "My mother owns a little magic shop. She ordered it for me from a catalog."

  "'A catalog'? A magician's catalog..." he mused, and another smile slid over the curved line of his mouth. "That I'd like to see."

  "I doubt you'd be interested in a collection of newts' eyes and rabbit hats."

  "'Rabbit hats'?"

  "Yes, you know, the top hat with the bunny inside that keeps popping out." She sounded properly bored, she hoped.

  "'Newts' eyes'?"

  Arianne sighed, her aggravation complete. She snapped, "Rock candy, actually!"

  "Could I get one of those crystal balls if I wanted one?"

  "Mm-hm. You could get a quarter pound of swamp frogs, too, if you cared to," she added sarcastically, then suggested, hoping the offer would keep his mouth shut, "Would you like a cookie?"

  He eyed them skeptically. "Gee, I don't know."

  "For heaven's sake, those are chocolate chips, not.. .not—" Arianne gulped down a spate of temper. If only he had called before coming!

  "Not liver lips?" he finished for her, grinning. He laughed easily, she noticed, unlike her, and right then his green eyes were laughing at her, tempting her to smile back, challenging her to relax and enjoy their conversation.

  She supposed she was probably taking things too seriously. It was just that she wasn't used to company any more, or to total strangers traipsing through her house. Easing slightly, she took a deep breath and tried to smile in what she hoped was a welcoming way. If only she weren't so self-conscious, or at least, so conscious of him.

  "Come along," she ordered, picking up the tray and moving to the kitchen door. "I'll settle you in the living room with your coffee—" she saw the regretful look he gave the kitchen table with its inviting chairs, and briefly felt most inhospitable "—while I make sure everything's ready for you upstairs." He hesitated, but then fell into step behind her.

  She felt as though he were looming over her. Gritting her teeth, she straightened her shoulders and carried on down the hall. A line had to be drawn somewhere, and as he was in her home as a customer, it was best to keep things businesslike. Leaving him in the kitchen with Rae while she went upstairs just didn't seem right. He'd be sure to poke around, or fool with the crystal ball, and even though she sensed he was safe enough, there was something about him that made her doubtful.

  Without a word he followed her back down the hall and into the living room at the front of the house. She placed the tray on a small table by a matching armchair and hassock, cozily arranged beside the fire, and turned to see him standing there behind her, watching her steadily, as if she were an animal in the zoo. A stiff shiver of irritation tickled up her spine. Why should he be looking at her like that? The situation was too awkward for words. She slid past him, cracking a faint, perfunctory smile before disappearing. He calmly watched her all the while.

  No doubt he thought her somewhat peculiar, living in this great big old house in the trees all by herself with only her baby and a huge gypsy crystal. Damn. The rabbit was out of the hat now, and all she could do was trust he wouldn't be in the local pub first thing tonight, blabbing about his landlady's absolutely gigantic crystal ball.

  No one in town knew her or anything about her except Jill, who had seen her do things such as picking up the telephone before it rang. But having sworn not to tell a soul, Jill kept the secret to herself. Could he also be trusted? But what could he tell, she reminded herself; she hadn't done anything. Still, if he'd seen the tarot cards on the table— But wasn't it normal to have such paraphernalia around, seeing as her mother owned a magic shop? That her mother was a medium need not come up in conversation.

  Arianne was up the stairs two at a time. There were five bedrooms on the second floor, plus the spacious old bathroom, tiled in white and royal blue. Which bedroom would she give Leo Donev?

  She ended up choosing the one opposite the staircase, not so much because it was farthest from hers, but since it was almost as big and had a sea view. It also boasted the best bed and the most comfortable mattress. Whisking back and forth, she brought in a couple more chairs and another small chest so that his room wouldn't look quite so bare. Continuing the raid on the other bedrooms, she exchanged the braided rug for a bright rag model and collected extra pillows and cushions and a reading lamp for the table.

  At last his room was transformed into a habitable place, crisp sheets turned back against the bedspread, pillows plumped against the headboard, soap and royal-blue towels laid out on the oak washstand. Some dried flowers borrowed from her bedroom stood jauntily on the windowsill, defying the cold bluster outside. Looking out to sea for a second, Arianne could just make out the curl of whitecaps foaming in the moonlight.

  Satisfied she'd done her best, she left to return downstairs, but at the stairs remembered her lingerie in the bathroom and bolted to retrieve it. With one arm full of lace and fluff and the other cradling a yellow rubber ducky and a little straw basket of cosmetics, she almost collided with her guest. He had just gained the top of the stairs, a suitcase in either hand.

  Brought up short, she accidentally squeezed the duck, and it squealed sharply.

  "You should have left it in the tub for me," he suggested. He was smiling again, sort of lopsidedly, rather lazily.

  "Rae sleeps with it."

  "In that case..." He shrugged one elegant shoulder.

  "Your—your room is this way." Pointing to the right, Arianne realized she was pointing with a handful of panties, and hastily dropped her hand, absolutely hating Jill at that moment.

  She turned away toward her bedroom. She could feel him looking after her before he swiveled to go the other way to find his room.

  Her next immediate problem was what to do with him while she had her dinner. Should she offer him some, and if so, how much should she charge? Or did Jill's bed and breakfast include dinner, too? "Unprepared" was an understatement!

  Should her guest demand his rightful dinner, Arianne started hunting through her fridge in search of supper fare. She kept one eye on Rae, who was toddling about, and racked her brains for an exciting menu that could be concocted from a particularly unexciting bunch of leftovers. She was still down on her heels staring dejectedly at the contents, when her guest appeared in the kitchen doorway.

  "I'm going out for a while."

 
"Oh, all right."

  He waited politely for a second, then added a little dryly, "Do you think I could have a key?"

  She was glad when the front door closed behind him. Looking out, she saw him heading down the hill toward the fort below. Through the briars there was a path that plunged to the beach. Once down on the sand one could go either way, left into the fort, or right, the long way around to town.

  Why had he come, she wondered. To stroll on the beach after dark? What was he supposed to be recuperating from? Not a physical disorder, obviously, but a mental one, perhaps? Was he stress-worn from a dizzy executive position? Were his spirits down? She couldn't quite accommodate either alternative.

  That easy grin of his certainly did not indicate harassment. And his clear pale eyes were unclouded. A healthier human she hadn't seen in a long time. Maybe he was just taking a rest. She could empathize with someone wanting to be left in peace for a few days, un-harried by phone calls and doorbells. There was a time when those shrill rings had interrupted her life continually; they had torn her marriage apart—

  After he left she suddenly didn't feel like dinner, and instead sat staring into space. Rae began to doze against her shoulder. The house felt uncannily still and the wind unusually mournful.

  She put the baby to bed, reading to him awhile, even though he didn't understand much of what she said. She'd heard reading to babies accustomed them to the sound of words and the rhythm of language. This was supposed to help them learn their ABC's. The tip made sense to her and reading seemed to soothe Rae to sleep, so she read him a fairy tale or a poem every night. Tonight's narration was a poem, "The Pirate Don Dirk of Dowdee." With the waves crashing in the distance and the wind soughing through the pines, the poem made suitable reading material. Rae was sound asleep before the third verse was done.

  Arianne wandered through the house, collecting anything that might give Leo Donev the wrong idea. Nothing more should stoke the flicker the crystal ball had sparked. But the cards and the crystal could be hidden—out of sight, out of mind—whereas there was nothing she could do about her secret. It was rather like having freckles. No amount of vanishing cream made either trial go away. Not that she had ever had freckles, but Jill had informed her how she felt about them, and Jill's diagnosis matched her feelings toward her sixth sense exactly.