Under His Spell. Kristin Hardy

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      It was better this way, he thought, studying the long legs and smooth, golden skin left exposed by her stretchy white top and little blue skirt. If they’d dated, it wouldn’t have lasted, and it all fell too close to home. When things went south, he’d not only lose a girlfriend, he’d maybe lose two people who were the next best thing to family. This way it just kept being fun.

      Except when he had to watch her being monopolized by some guy. Not that it was jealousy or anything.

      “…let’s ask J.J.,” a loud voice said beside him.

      J.J. tuned back into the conversation. “Ask me what?”

      “Whether Eastern European women are more beautiful than Swedish women.” The speaker was another old school friend named Dennis, currently glowering at Tom.

      “Everybody knows that Swedish women are the babes of Europe,” Tom argued. “Except Dennis, here.”

      “Didn’t you look at your last swimsuit issue? It’s the ones coming from Russia and Eastern Europe who are the beauties. Anyway, J.J., what do you think? You’re probably hooked up with one of each right now, right?”

      J.J. grinned. “Ah, gentlemen, I’m flattered by your faith in me but I’ve given up my evil, worthless ways. No more gorgeous blondes with mile-long legs and big, uh,” he glanced at a nearby mother with kids, “personalities. I’m dating only schoolteachers and librarians, now.”

      The remark earned him snorts and jeers.

      “Give us a break, Cooper. Who’s the babe of the month? C’mon, fill us in,” Tom demanded.

      J.J. grinned and finished his beer. “Not on your life. I’m going after another drink,” he announced, and ambled across the room toward the bar—and Lainie.

      She never glanced in his direction as he walked over. “The bar’s to your left,” she said pleasantly as he came to a stop beside her.

      The guy with her looked at J.J., goggle-eyed. “Hey, J.J. Cooper, wow, I saw you in the Olympics. Remember me, Bart Ziffer? You dated my sister.”

      “Now there’s a surprise,” Lainie said under her breath.

      “I’ll have to tell her I saw you. She lives in Worcester, now. Got three kids. Hey, I bet they’d like an autograph. Can I get one?”

      Lainie gave J.J. a derisive look. “Sure, Speed, give him an autograph. It might be worth a buck or two on eBay if you ever do anything impressive.”

      J.J. picked up a cocktail napkin. “Got a pen?”

      Bart gave a blank look and patted his pockets. “I don’t think so. Lainie?”

      She held up her empty hands. There was something to be said for a woman who didn’t bother with a purse, J.J. thought. It showed a certain independence of spirit. He grinned at Ziffer. “Catch up with me when you’ve got a pen and I’m all over it,” he said, “but right now I need to talk to Lainie for a minute.” He caught her arm, ignoring her suitor’s crestfallen look, and began leading her away.

      “That happened to be someone I’ve known since junior high.” She pulled loose from him.

      “You’ve known me since way before junior high.”

      “I know, and I never have figured out what I did to deserve it. So what, exactly, did you need to talk with me about?”

      “Something important,” he told her, trying to figure out just why he’d been compelled to get her to himself.

      She crossed her arms. “Oh, really?”

      “They did a nice job with the lodge, huh?”

      She raised an eyebrow. “I’m waiting.”

      “So, uh, what are you doing with yourself these days? Still working at the witch museum?”

      “Yeah. So?” She tapped her fingers, but he noticed she was in no hurry to go back.

      “Just wondering. Still living in Salem?”

      “It’s as good as anywhere else.”

      “What ever happened to New York and Europe and all that? Or do you just like small towns?”

      Her chin came up at that. “Salem’s not a small town,” she retorted, ignoring his snort. “And I’ll move on when I’m ready.”

      “I guess that means you never did take that trip to Vienna and Prague you were talking about.”

      “I will at some point. Not that it’s any of your business.”

      “Look, Gabe and Hadley are starting to open their gifts,”J.J. said hastily, stepping back to lean against a nearby wall.

      With a glower, Lainie subsided to lean next to him.

      J.J. watched Hadley exclaim over a set of dish towels. “Now there’s an exciting gift.”

      “It is if you’ve got dishes to dry,” she said.

      “I suppose orange and yellow stripes will be easy to find in the dark.”

      Lainie shook her head as Hadley tore open another package. “Okay, a magenta and gold lava lamp. Now that one’s worse.”

      “Not necessarily. I think it’s got style.”

      She looked at him as though he’d sprouted another head.

      “Style? You want look at those two people out there and tell me that’s their definition of style?”

      J.J. glanced over at Gabe and Hadley and pursed his lips. “Maybe.”

      “Oh, wait, don’t tell me. That was your gift.”

      “Nope, but it’s not a bad choice.”

      She just snorted.

      “Well, what did you get them, anyway? Since you’ve got such great taste,” he added.

      She opened her mouth and stopped. “None of your business.”

      “It’s not a state secret. Yours is in the on-deck circle anyway, unless I miss my guess. Come on, Lainie, spill it.” When she only stared at him mutinously, he tilted his head. “Okay, then I’ll guess. I’m thinking you didn’t get them anything they registered for. ‘That’s for people with no imagination,’” he mimicked, doing his best imitation of her.

      Lainie looked at him, startled.

      “Nope, I’m thinking you didn’t even go to a store for house stuff. I’m guessing you either went for the Trump factor and got them a statue of Venus or something at an art gallery or got something off-the-wall like a set of wrenches or an extension cord. Am I right?”

      She set her mouth and glared.

      “Let’s СКАЧАТЬ