Read Your Magic Touch for Free Online

matter physics and biological specialist . Of course, he’d heard rumors that some of his PhD students had been referring to him as Dr. Hunk Haliday—but sadly, he suspected that was merely a rumor designed by his female students to suck up—and it almost worked. Just like now.
    He lowered his book on quantum particulate and gazed into the irate blue eyes of Frannie Fielding. He wondered what he’d done to incur her wrath,  considering he was the one bearing the brunt of injustice. If anyone had bones to pick, it was him.
    She looked hopping mad, not a bad thing given that every time she shifted, her close-fitting cotton shirt shifted as well, giving him a nice view of her hills and valleys. Not bad at all.
    But it was distracting as hell. “You have a problem?”
    “Ha. That’s an understatement. Actually, I think you’ve got a problem. A big one.”
    If she didn’t stop wiggling, his problem might grow very large. For a tabloid reporter, she was awfully—cute. Her reddish-blond hair was mussed, as though she’d just gotten up after a tumble in bed. She couldn’t be more than five foot three or four, yet her body was evenly proportioned, giving her the appearance of height.
    What he noticed most about her, though, were her eyes. They were a nice shade of blue, his favorite color, ringed with a darker shade, making them stand out from her face. Right now her eyebrows were drawn into a furious scowl, but that didn’t make her any less—cute.
    Sinclair couldn’t recall actually using the word before, even in his own thoughts, except when referring to small mammals, like kittens, puppies or lab rats. Quite obviously, something about Frannie must remind him of vermin. “Can you be more specific?”
    She sighed, pulling back a strand of hair that had fallen, partially covering one of her eyes. “My room. Of course.”
    “I’m sure Mrs. Drundyl can fix whatever it is you find unsettling. You’re in the Princess Room?”
    The noise Frannie made sounded a lot like the snort of an angry bull. “I might have known that’s what you call it.”
    She didn’t like the name of her room? “Would you like me to rename it?”
    “What?”
    “You have a complaint about the name of your room?” He was beginning to wonder if her wits were as skewed as those of the ghost hunters. Quite a group they made. Maybe all Spy employees had to pass insanity tests prior to being hired.
    “Noo.” She shook her head as if to clear it. “I have a problem with the throne room you assigned to me. You did it on purpose, didn’t you?”
    “Ah.” He didn’t quite know how to answer her. He’d purposely assigned her to a nice room, but for some reason she was upset about it. This had to be one of those situations where a guy is damned if he does and damned if he doesn’t. He cleared his throat. “Can you be more specific about the problem?”
    “Sure. The room has enough gold in it to pay down the National Debt, plus, between the crystal and the acres of white fabric and carpet, I can only imagine the bill you’re going to give me for damages if the tiniest thing happens to anything. You knew I couldn’t work in that museum. You did it on purpose, didn’t you? To either scare me into submission or keep me from doing my job.”
    Scare her with a nice room? It was an odd concept. “So, you’re saying the room is too—”
    She cut him off. “Fancy. Elegant. Deliberately intimidating. Sin Boy.”
    “I’m not certain we have the sort of room you seem to require.” Sinclair stood and calmly laid his book on a nearby table. “You want cheap and tawdry? There’s a hotel not far—”
    Again she cut him off. “Give me an effing break. All I want is a bedroom I can work in. A normal one.”
    “If that’s the case, I’ll be happy to switch with you. You can have my bedroom.”
    She considered his offer for a moment. “I could get work done in it?”
    “I often do.”
    She looked at him warily. His gaze was drawn to the way