Mr. O'Grady's Magic Box (18 page)

Ian could never refuse the kid with his
award-winning imitation of a pathetic abandoned pup. He rolled his
eyes and nodded toward the inn. "Go, before I change my mind."

Reece jumped down, sprinting toward the
front entrance.

"Don't take too long," he shouted after
him.

Reece didn't slow down or look back, but it
didn't stop him from shouting his words. "See you in ten. If you
stop scowling, I might bring you a roll."

Scowling? "I'm not scowling." He took off
one of his gloves and rubbed his face, smoothing his features as if
this would help. It didn't. He shoved the glove back on and took a
deep breath before he grabbed a bag of dirt from the bed and tried
to ignore the ache that had settled just behind his heart.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Aubrey admitted the truth graciously, but it
didn't stop the anxious feeling and the pounding of her heart. She
didn't know if she believed Mr. O'Grady's magic box brought him to
her. All she knew was that she loved him, and if last night was any
indication of how he felt, he loved her too.

"Are you still there?"

Loretta's voice from her phone speaker
snapped her back to the present. "I'm here, sorry."

"I have to tell you I was surprised you put
the article together so fast. You've outdone yourself." Disbelief
crept into her chuckle. "I thought perhaps you were too distracted
by Ian and his fabulous kisses, but I see he's the muse you needed
to really shine."

Aubrey's lips curved. "I'm glad you liked
it."

"Oh, I do." Aubrey heard the
rap
tap-tap
sound and could imagine Loretta tapping her pencil
against the desk as her thoughts formed for the onslaught of
questions.

"You mentioned Nelson showed up." Loretta
paused, waiting for her to say something about it. When she didn't,
she spoke again. "Must have been interesting with Ian there, too.
Not to mention crowded," she murmured under her breath, but Aubrey
heard her.

She knew Loretta's questioning was because
she cared about her and didn't take offense. "Nelson's on his way
home."

"Really? So that means—"

She didn't let Loretta finish. "I got a hold
of Clarity Shaw. She should be calling you in the next few
days."

"Clarity Shaw? Why—oh my God, you dog,
you're staying in California, aren't you?"

"I need a few days off, is what I'm saying,
and we need another reporter for the magazine anyway. We've put it
off too long as it is." She held the phone away from her ear when
Loretta squealed in delight.

"Honey, you take a few weeks if you have to.
It's not every day a soul mate walks into a girl's life. Or should
I say walks back in."

Aubrey chuckled. "Thanks, Loretta. I'll keep
you posted."

"Oh, you better. Go get him, girl!"

Aubrey's grin widened as she said good-bye
and rang off. She walked through the inn's lobby and outside to the
patio area in the back where Mr. O'Grady assured her Ian would
be.

She scanned the open area, her gaze landing
on Ian who had yet to see her. She watched him for a moment,
admiring how his muscles moved beneath the dark fabric of his
T-shirt, and how his hair lifted with the whisper of the breeze
ruffling through it. Her breath caught on a surge of yearning so
intense it felt like pain. She knew in that split second, if there
had been any doubts left, they'd flittered away with the wind.
She'd made the right decision. Ian told her he wanted her, had
always wanted her. Well, the truth was she wanted him as well.

He must have sensed her staring at him. He
put down the rosebush he was about to plant and turned around, his
gaze locking with hers.

Her feet took the steps separating them. She
read the surprise on his face as he stared at her in disbelief.
"Hello, Ian."

He didn't appear to know what to say. Then
she realized he knew she'd checked out of the inn early this
morning.

"I... I thought you left," he said
confirming her thoughts.

"Only to drop Nelson off at the
airport."

"Oh." He removed his gloves and stuffed them
in his back pocket. "Why did you come back, Aubrey?" The dark
center of his eyes dilated until she thought she would melt within
their depths. She was sure he knew, or at least suspected, why she
was here, but he wanted her to say it. She couldn't blame him.

"Remember I told you I'd placed my wish in
the magic box?"

He nodded. "If I recall correctly, you told
me you wished for Nelson."

"Well…not exactly. I didn't place his name
in the box. I wished for my soul mate." Her gaze held his and she
knew when her words sunk in. "It doesn't mean I believe in all that
faery nonsense, but I can't ignore what I feel for you."

He nodded accepting her words without
judgment. "We were young when we fell in love the first time," he
reminded her.

"I know. How about we see what happens now
that we're adults?"

He gave her a long searching look before he
nodded. "I thought you'd never ask." His lips curved. As always,
his grin, both boyish and roguish, warmed her heart. "Come here."
Before she could move, he took matters into his own hands. He
pulled her to him, lifted her, and swung her around, before he let
her body slide down his. He was about to kiss her, but she placed
the palm of her hand on his chest, to halt his advances.

"I'm curious. You believe in the magic box.
Why is it you never made a wish yourself?"

"I did."

Her eyebrows rose. "You never told me."

He stared at her in surprise then lifted one
shoulder in a shrug, intent on telling her now. "I wished for my
soul mate before I went off to Ireland. I did find her, but I was
foolish enough to let her go."

She knew what his words meant, but she
couldn't believe it. "You did
not
."

He gave her a sheepish grin. "I'm afraid I
did. I didn't believe my wish had been granted until I met you.
Then it all made sense."

She lifted one brow. "What exactly?"

"The day I made the wish, my parents
surprised me with a ticket to Ireland, a birthday gift. They said
I'd find magic there and they were right, I did."

She let the significance of his words sink
in.
I want you. I've always wanted you,
Ian had told her.
"The faeries should have warned you that once you found your soul
mate, you shouldn't let her go."

He chuckled as his hand brushed a wayward
strand of hair behind her ear. "Believe me, I've learned my lesson
and won't be lettin' her go a second time." His imitation of an
Irish brogue made her smile. Then his eyes turned a shade darker
and his mouth curved as he covered her lips.

Bells tinkled, the sound whispering like an
old melody. Aubrey pulled her lips free from Ian's, meeting his
gaze. "Did you hear that?"

Ian grinned and kissed the tip of her nose.
"Not to fear, lass. 'Tis only fitting, the faeries give two soul
mates their blessing of approval."

Aubrey sighed as Ian reclaimed her lips in a
soft sweet kiss laden with unspoken promises. She had a hunch the
true magic was yet to come.

# # #

About the Author:

Karen Michelle Nutt resides in California
with her husband, three fascinating children, and houseful of
demanding pets. Jack, her Chihuahua/Yorkshire terrier is her
writing buddy and sits long hours with her at the computer.

Her book,
Lost in the Mist of Time
,
was nominated for New Books Review Spotlight Best Fantasy Book of
the Year Award 2006.
A Twist of Fate
was a nominee for Best
Time Travel P.E.A.R.L. Award for 2008. Creighton Manor won
Honorable Mention P.E.A.R.L. Award 2009.

Her new passion is creating book covers for
Western Trail Blazer and Rebecca J. Vickery Publishing. In her
spare time, she reviews books for PNR-Paranormal Romance
Reviews.

Whether your reading fancy is paranormal,
historical or time travel, all her stories capture the rich array
of emotions that accompany the most fabulous human
phenomena—falling in love.

Visit the author at:
http://www.kmnbooks.com

Stop by her blog for Monday interviews,
chats, and contests at:

http://kmnbooks.blogspot.com

A Sneak Peek at the Second Story in the
Unbelievable Finds Series

The Curse of Tempest Gate
by Karen
Michelle Nutt

Clarity Shaw, a reporter for
Unbelievable
Finds
, seeks answers concerning the curse of Tempest Gate
Cemetery. Warnings from the Bed and Breakfast's receptionist and an
old man only make her more curious. Determined to get her story,
Clarity ventures into the old cemetery.

Even though she is tied to the legends
surrounding Tempest Gate through her ancestry, Clarity does not
believe in the paranormal. She intends to collect the local
versions of the stories, take some photos, and be on her way.

A beautiful sculpture in the cemetery, a
stone angel warrior, draws her attention and her admiration. Could
this be the Archangel Michael? Then she finds out more than she
bargains for when she sits in the devil's chair on the eve of
Halloween. Two entities need her for their own personal reasons,
but only one will demand her heart.

Excerpt:

She chewed on her lower lip, debating if she
should give the chair a try. "The stories surrounding the chair
were meant to scare people," she reminded herself, trying to forget
Hester Higgins ominous warnings about the entity of Samael feeding
off a person's deeds. "Sordid deeds." Her worse offense was taking
extra cream home from the nearby coffee shop to use later at home.
She couldn't imagine Samael getting high off of that. Besides, the
legend of the chair was probably invented to scare away
vandals.

With a shrug of her shoulders, she plopped
down in the chair, facing the Archangel Michael, who appeared to be
eyeing her with disdain. "Don't look at me that way. I had to sit
here. I work for a magazine—and I'm talking to a statue." She shook
her head. It must have been the knock to her head. It made her
loopy. She lifted her camera, facing the lens toward her. At arm's
length, she snapped a self-portrait of herself sitting in the
chair. She looked at the picture on her screen, thinking it looked
okay, but something in the corner of the photo caught her
attention.

The clouds shifted overhead and the photo
became shadowed. She had to magnify the picture, bringing the image
closer to the screen. Her heart beat faster in her chest. A shadow
in the shape of a man stood behind her off to the left of where she
sat. She whipped around in her seat, half expecting to see the
figure looming over her, but there was nothing there.

Her body relaxed and she sat back in the
seat, studying the image once again. She might have dismissed the
figure as a trick of the light if there hadn't been two glowering
red eyes staring back at her. "Now that's creepy."

The shadows deepened overhead. With a frown,
she glanced up at the storm clouds moving in fast from the other
direction to join the ones hovering overhead. She had to go now.
Her windbreaker wouldn't repel a downpour and she'd end up
drenched. She flew to her feet, but something whipped around her
waist like a vice and yanked her back into the chair. She let out a
gasp of surprise as she glanced down at the ivy wrapping around
her, binding her as securely as ropes would. She struggled against
the plant determined to keep her prisoner, but her fingers were
useless against the vine's strength.

You're sitting in the devil's chair. The
annoying voice in her head reminded her in a tone of
how-stupid-can-you-get.

A scream crawled up her throat in a roar of
denial. "Demons are not real! They are not real," she yelled
again.

"Oh, but they are," a deep voice momentarily
broke through her tirade.

Her limbs froze and her heart threatened to
stop. The Archangel Michael stepped down from his base, his wings
spread wide in a ruffle of feathers that sliced through the air. He
no longer was a frozen stone effigy, but flesh and blood. His hair
was seven shades of gold and his eyes as blue as the sky. Her mouth
dropped open, but no words left her lips.

"I believe you asked for my service." He
bowed before her with a generous display of courtesy.

She let the scream come loose, bellowing
like a banshee set free to find its prey.

Please read these other exciting stories by
Karen Michelle Nutt: