Time Spell Read Online Free

of adrenaline surging through my body, and answered as sweetly as possible, “Hey, Jack, I’m out with Cooper. Can I give you a call back later?”
    Jack Coleman is my unrelenting, but oh-so-attractive editor. I’ve flirted with the idea of an “us” for the past two years, but he never made a move or even hinted that he wanted to ask me out. Yes, I realized it could be completely disastrous to date the one person I completely surrendered to creatively and professionally, but I don’t think I even have a chance.
    The last time I asked him to meet me for coffee to talk about new storylines, he all but barked out a no and asked me to talk to his assistant about scheduling an office meeting instead.
    I’ve taken his hints to heart and have decided to follow the path of the professional high road and leave our contact to a business-only relationship. Even so, it doesn’t stop a girl from some serious daydreaming.
    I couldn’t conjure up a more perfect image of Mr. Tall Dark and Ruggedly Handsome for my books. Jack easily stood over six feet tall, had a square jawline, with the slightest dimple in his chin, dark brown eyes, and sun-tinted brown hair that sometimes was a little too overdue for a haircut. He wore his five o’clock shadow well and looked edible in every button-up shirt he wore to the office. My mind tripped over a quick flash of him buried in pages of my manuscript. He sometimes gave me this look when he read something of mine that clicked and registered a deeper meaning for him. He understood my writing and me.
    I wasn’t expecting the reaction I got on the other end of the call. His response was jolted me out of my tiny daydreaming session.
    “Ivy, this is urgent. Can you meet me in fifteen minutes, sooner if you can? It can’t wait.” I heard an exhale muffled into the receiver of his phone.
    “Sure, sure. I’ll be there in fifteen.” I hoped that was quick enough for him. He seemed serious.
    I frowned at Cooper, knowing it would be awhile before we’d get to reschedule our walk. Cooper’s nose was still on the trail and was not ready to be dissuaded from his pursuit of that cat.
    “I don’t want to meet at the office. Can you come to my place? It’s on the corner of Market and Corinth Avenue. It’s a brick ranch—one story, 1207 Cor—”
    I interrupted, “Oh yeah, I know where it is.” Great. I smacked my forehead, cringing at how I had let that slip. Now he knows I’ve done extracurricular research on more than Las Vegas diamond thieves.
    “Um.” An awkward silence followed. “Ivy, just get over here and I’ll explain or I’m hoping you will.” He hung up and I looked down at the dark screen in my hand.
    This entire call was weird. He always wanted to meet in the office and usually scheduled our meetings with extensive advanced planning. For a moment, I let the idea skip through my mind that maybe this wasn’t a meeting about publishing dates or pressure from the board for new material; maybe it was more personal. Although as quickly as it skipped in, I pushed the idea right back out. This was Jack, and he barely smiled at me—of course the call was business-related.
    I looked at my running shoes and legs, and decided it wasn’t a bad idea to change out of my yoga pants. I could spare five minutes for a wardrobe switch and make it to his house on time.
    I corralled Cooper in the house and made a dash for my closet. For the most part, I revel in how normal I can be and blend into the world like a regular girl, but there are times when magic is necessary for a quick fashion crisis. This was most definitely one of those times.
    In college, I always had to do things the slow human way so my roommates wouldn’t notice my skills. The discovery that I was a witch would only lead to questions or fear. I didn’t want either. I enjoyed my current solitude in the little bungalow on Southern Avenue, and the freedom it gave me to spell away whenever the occasion arose such as this one,