Read Serena's Magic for Free Online

think he’ll do just fine.”
    Kloon smiled down at his own plate, admiring the evasive poise of the uniquely arresting woman with whom he conversed. Her sense of loyalty would not allow her to dispute Marc, but Kloon was well aware that she didn’t support Marc’s theories, despite the fact that her replies were as smooth as the elegant column of her throat and the clean lines of her lovely face.
    “That’s not quite what I asked,” Jerry Kloon said, carefully dabbing his distinguished handlebar mustache with the corner of his napkin. “Do you believe that the Golden Hawk houses ghosts, spooks, poltergeists, or other entities of the night?”
    She wished she would have worn her hair down so that she might hide behind it. She wished she would have been paying attention to the previous conversation. She wished she would have been on time, so that Marc wasn’t half prepared to strangle her already.
    She wished desperately she could explain to herself what had happened earlier so that she didn’t now feel so incredibly bewildered when it was so terribly important she speak intelligently.
    “I think that Marc will be able to create a marvelous book!” she said with enthusiasm. “There are fantastic stories that go with the history of the inn! The wife of an eighteenth century sea captain is claimed to prowl the widow’s walk—and they did find the bones of a young girl sealed into one of the hidden stairways! It’s said that she was accused of witchcraft during the 1692 trials, and that her husband, a ferociously jealous man, swore to protect her, but believed her guilty not of witchcraft, but adultery, and therefore sealed her to her fate! The legends that surround the place are really marvelous!” Serena finished speaking, and quickly picked up her wineglass to take a long sip. Her heart was thudding painfully as she prayed Jerry Kloon would allow the subject to drop. Marc, she knew, was desperate to do the book. And at the moment, she was so guilt-ridden that there was nothing she wanted to see more than Marc happy and secure.
    Kloon didn’t intend to let the matter rest. He lifted a brow high in skepticism. “But I take it you don’t believe in haunts yourself, Serena, nor ghosts of any kind.”
    Serena flushed uneasily. “I don’t see where my beliefs are relevant, Mr. Kloon,” she murmured. “What is important is how competently a writer can deal with the legends.”
    Kloon shrugged his brows noncommittally, and Marc, his brown eyes now anxious, jumped into the pause. “Don’t let Serena fool you with her blasé appearance, sir. I believe she’s afraid of her own perception—she has ESP, you know.”
    “Oh, is that true?” Kloon cast a piercing stare Serena’s way.
    Serena wanted to kick Marc. “I don’t believe I actually have ESP, sir, no more so than the average person, at any rate. I have a brother ten months younger than I am. We were very close growing up, and we can sometimes sense things about each other. Most close siblings have that ability.”
    “You never know,” Kloon said. He tapped his fingers upon the snow-white linen tablecloth, apparently deep in thought. “Well,” he said, glancing from one anxious face to the other, “would you care for dessert or a liqueur? Or perhaps you would like to stroll with me back to my hotel? They have a lovely little lounge that specializes in South Seas concoctions—piña-coladas they serve in ceramic coconuts, something marvelous with dry ice that puffs and sizzles and the like.”
    Serena opened her mouth to decline. It was growing very late, and as well as the Golden Hawk itself, she had another business to run, one that required her presence bright and early.
    “I’d like to try one of those smoking things,” Marc said eagerly, casting a warning eye Serena’s way. “And we have to walk back to the hotel anyway. My car is in the garage.”
    Kloon signaled for the check; Serena tried to appear enthusiastic rather than tired as they