Magic Read Online Free

Addie.
    “Where is my mother?” she asked firmly, effectively breaking the strange spell between them.
    “Upstairs. Asleep, if she’s lucky,” Bryan said, shouldering his way past her, “though I’d be surprised if there’s a dog in this county you didn’t wake up with that shrieking.”
    “Shrieking!” Rachel said indignantly. She pressed her lips into a thin line and planted her hands on her slim hips as she watched him fiddling with the array of equipment clustered in the foyer. Anger surged through her as other feelings subsided. “Of course I was shrieking. I step into my mother’s house and am virtually attacked by mechanical contraptions.
    “What is all this junk?” she asked impatiently, gesturing sharply at the stuff. “What’s it doing here? What are you doing here? Who do you think you are anyway?”
    “Most of the time I think I’m Bryan Hennessy,” Bryan said dryly. He righted a light meter that had tipped over and tapped it gently with a finger, relieved to see it was still functioning. “I got hit in the head with a shot put once, and for about three hours afterward I thought I was Prince Charles, but that was fifteen years ago. I’ve pretty much gotten over it, except for a strange yen to play polo every now and again. And I was once mistaken for Pat Reilly, the actor.” He shot her a Cheshire-cat smile that made Rachel’s heart flip. “Personally, I don’t think we look all that much alike, but the lady tearing my shirt off didn’t agree.”
    Warmth bloomed under the surface of Rachel’s skin as her imagination conjured up an unusually vivid picture of this man with his shirt half off. Her image of his chest was smooth and solid with well-defined muscles, a sprinkling of tawny curls, and a tiny brown mole just above his left nipple. She could almost feel the heat of his skin against her palms, and her nostrils flared as she caught the faintest hint of his male scent. It was an altogether weird experience, one that had her fighting to get a good deep breath into her lungs.
    Oblivious to Rachel’s predicament, Bryan had turned back to his machinery. He checked each item thoroughly. At the moment he couldn’t afford to have a piece needing repair. His finances weren’t in the healthiest of states. In fact, he was more or less broke.
    “This ‘junk,’ ” he said, “is highly sensitive electronic surveillance equipment essential to my work. I’m a psychic investigator specializing in locating and defining paranormal phenomenon.”
    It came as a complete surprise to Rachel that a man who looked as rumpled and ratty as Bryan did was capable of speaking in more than monosyllables. She tucked her chin back and frowned as she tried to translate his explanation into garden-variety English. “Is there a generic term for what you do?”
    He flashed her a smile that revealed even white teeth worthy of a toothpaste commercial. This time his eyes twinkled with amusement, the corners crinkling attractively behind his spectacles. “I’m a ghostbuster.”
    Rachel blinked at him, certain she had heard him wrong. “You’re a what?”
    “You know, a ghostbuster. When people hear things that go bump in the night, I’m the guy they hire to find out what those things are. Is it Aunt Edna coming back to get them for all those jokes they made about her pot roast, or is it just bad plumbing?” His broad shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Is that disgusting ooze in the basement crud from hell, or do they just need a new septic tank?”
    “People actually pay you money to do that?” Rachel questioned in disbelief. The idea went completely against her innate sense of practicality. “You actually take money from people to do that?”
    “A crime against humanity, isn’t it?” Bryan said sardonically. He was used to dealing with skeptics. When one made his living investigating things a great many people refused to acknowledge, one learned to handle criticism in a hurry. But he made no effort to