Love Spell Read Online Free Page A

her mental picture of him.
    I’d almost forgotten about him. The lie was comforting. She thoroughly despised Clint Christopherson. She could have forgiven him if he’d merely been a dolt like Daryl. The way Clint had pulled out her heart with a surgeon’s care, so much that she was blinded to its absence, was another thing altogether. It wasn’t until her breakup with her first serious boyfriend—and she didn’t shed one tear over it—did she realize just how much Clint affected her. Granted, that made it easier to be dumped by boyfriends two and three, back in college. Maybe she should be grateful? No. Clint was scum. He deserved a long, slow death after a life of celibacy. At least she had finally woken up to the fact that she could be her own woman.
    Still, she took a long, last look at that markered face before gently closing the yearbook and filing it back in its box. After a moment’s thought, however, she fished it back out, and set it on her desk; it would be fun to look through it tonight while on the phone with Jen.
    This has nothing to do with Clint , she told herself.
    What had happened to him, anyway? A moment of hesitation, and then she turned to her computer. No sin in a little curious searching, now, was there? Ten minutes was all she needed to find out that he was still single and still in the Bay Area. Would he even remember her? Would she want him to remember her? No, no. He was a liar; he didn’t deserve her. He’d missed his chance back when she was young and stupid. His loss. She was a big girl now. A big girl with big girl responsibilities.
    She closed the web browser and looked out her window at the street below. Of all those people down there, surely someone needed her services. A case would come her way sooner or later, she was sure. It had to. Otherwise, Mom and Dad would, once again, be right. Lindsay could afford no more Mrs. Ashworths: Lindsay would take whatever case she could get.
     

THREE
     
    Clint emerged from Contra Costa grateful to still have all his internal organs. Fate had assigned him to an overly curious resident who had quickly diagnosed Clint as “damaged goods but in good health,” and then proceeded to express unearthly interest in Clint’s interior anatomy. He resorted to creative answers and, in the end, simply demanding to leave without further testing.
    For his troubles, he was given a sling for his left arm, and a prescription to “take it easy for a few days.” Visits like that always made him wonder why art couldn’t be more like medicine. He would love to be able to stare at a painting with a client, ask a few generic questions, and then state the obvious for a nice chunk of cash. Alas, life didn’t play that tune. At least his upcoming job interview presented a chance to break out of his post-collegiate rut.
    His injuries addressed, the morning seemed a little brighter. The sunlight mingled with a hinted scent of the bay, and a stronger hint of Molly’s perfume as she walked close beside him on the trip back to the car, content to let the silence linger. He was grateful she wasn’t one of those “gotta talk all the time” kind of girls. He’d dated too many of those, in his time; he’d never forget that wonderful two hours he spent dumping his crazy ex, Michelle, over text messaging. He’d never have escaped her if they’d been face to face instead.
    Back at the car, Molly looked at him expectantly. He pursed his lips and thought for a moment. “Well, I’ve got neither shirt nor shoes, so that rules out visiting any fast food joints this morning. Unless we do drive-thru.”
    She raised an eyebrow.
    “A guy’s gotta eat, right? Breakfast is the most important meal, and all that. Of course, my wallet’s still back at my place, so even if I were fully dressed… Run me back to my place quick, please? So I can pick that stuff up?”
    She frowned. “Jane won’t leave your apartment unmonitored. Going back there is asking for trouble.”
    Clint