Your Magic or Mine? Read online

  Awards and accolades for

  THE OLDEST KIND OF MAGIC by Ann Macela:

  The Heart of Denver Romance Writers 2006 Aspen Gold Winner for Best Paranormal Romance.

  Second Place for the Romance Writers Ink More Than Magic 2006 Contest for the Paranormal Category.

  Honorable Mention in the Paranormal Category of the Write Touch 2006 Contest of Wisconsin Romance Writers.

  Third Place for Best First Book in the 2006 Beacon First Coast Romance Writers Contest.

  Second Place, Mainstream/Single Title category—Texas Gold, East Texas RWA.

  Finalist, Cover Art—Anne Bonney, Ancient City Romance Writers.

  Finalist, Paranormal category—Published Laurie Contest, Smoky Mountain Romance Writers.

  “Bravo, Ms. Macela, you have a hit on your hands and this should be an award-winning year for you! This author is a voice that can not be denied —her first published paranormal novel is distinctly defined, with refreshingly sharp nuances! … This is a phenomenal paranormal story that you must read! This comes with the highest recommendation from the reviewer. IT IS A PERFECT FIVE HEARTS—the story screams more sequels and this reviewer can not wait to get her hands on those!”

  —The Romance Studio

  “…Ann Macela has crafted an enjoyable, magical romance with an uniquely fresh premise and interesting characters.”

  —Affaire de Coeur

  FOUR AND A HALF HEARTS!

  “THE OLDEST KIND OF MAGIC, Ms. Macela’s debut novel, was an absolute delight to read. From the moment the reader starts this gem it is almost impossible to set it aside.”

  —Love Romances

  Accolades for

  DO YOU BELIEVE IN MAGIC? by Ann Macela:

  The sequel to THE OLDEST KIND OF MAGIC, DO YOU BELIEVE IN MAGIC? is a fabulous romantic fantasy with the twist that the hero knows who his soulmate is, but she rejects his belief system and his love; two direct hits to his heart. Clay is a fine lead male mage as a frustrated wannabe lover; but the story line is owned bell, book, and candle by the disbelieving Francie; who disavows magic or love exist.

  —Harriet Klausner

  I really enjoyed reading about Francie and Clay’s romance. The two characters had a lot of chemistry. I loved Clay’s sisters too; they pulled no punches with either of the confused lovers. The love scene following the reconciliation is positively pyrotechnic. Kevin the boy friend of Francie’s best friend is unpleasant in the beginning and downright evil at the end. Francie’s friends, the Gamesters and Tamara, really add a lot to the story and I definitely want to read about his sisters next.

  —Maura, Coffee Time Romance

  Francie and Clay are two strong characters. The author brings them to life with her depiction of their growing relationship. Francie doesn’t believe what Clay is telling her, and it becomes a fun-filled struggle for him to convince her. She is a great heroine —one this reader thoroughly enjoyed. She shows signs of stubbornness and vulnerability. Clay is a man who takes it for granted that his soul mate will fall into his arms. He is shocked by Francie’s reaction, and at times, his responses to her are quite humorous. This couple was great together, and the chemistry was just right. Not only does the author give us a lead couple to love, the people surrounding them are winners too, from Daria to Tamara. They all add to the richness of the story. Run, don’t walk to get your copy of DO YOU BELIEVE IN MAGIC? It is a fun and fast read —perfect for the beach or in your favorite spot for reading!

  —Susan T, Fallen Angel Reviews

  “DO YOU BELIEVE IN MAGIC? is a light romance, a good choice with which to while away an afternoon.”

  —Lisa Baca, Romance Reviews Today

  “Well written with a great plot, believable characters and snappy dialogue, Ann Macela has yet another winner on her hands. Be forewarned though, it is almost impossible to set DO YOU BELIEVE IN MAGIC? aside for anything so be sure to have a day blocked out to do nothing but enjoy yourself.

  This reviewer recommends DO YOU BELIEVE IN MAGIC? to any readers who enjoy contemporary paranormal romances. And while you are picking up DO YOU BELIEVE IN MAGIC? from your local book store be sure to pick up the first book in the series THE OLDEST KIND OF MAGIC and block out an entire weekend for yourself.”

  —Shaiha, Love Romances and More

  “The sexual tension between Clay and Francie is HOT! … The pages sizzle with heat. The story is imaginative, fresh, and appealing…. The book has a surprise ending that will leave the reader cheering.”

  —Fantasy Romance

  Accolades for

  YOUR MAGIC OR MINE by Ann Macela:

  “This is easily one of my favorite books of the year.”

  ~Dee Dailey, The Romance Studio

  DEDICATION:

  This book is for everyone who ever wished,

  “If I could only cast a spell …”

  Published 2008 by Medallion Press, Inc.

  The MEDALLION PRESS LOGO

  is a registered trademark of Medallion Press, Inc.

  If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment from this “stripped book.”

  Copyright © 2008 by Ann Macela

  Cover Illustration by James Tampa

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law.

  Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Typeset in Adobe Garamond Pro

  Printed in the United States of America

  ISBN: 9781933836324

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  First Edition

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS:

  Thanks to my critique group plus Paula who read every word of this story and made wonderful suggestions for making it better.

  Thanks to Drs. Charles Bacon, Tom Mabry, and Maureen Bonness. Dr. Bacon for his help with theoretical math concepts and Drs. Mabry and Bonness for their aid on the botany side. Any mistakes in my story are my own.

  If I’ve taken liberties with any department or person at the University of Texas, I apologize.

  I also have rearranged the building layout on Nob Hill in San Francisco and placed my HeatherRidge Hotel and Condominium on Sacramento between Mason and Jones, thereby displacing existing buildings. I hope the residents will forgive me for evicting them, even fictionally.

  Thanks especially to Helen Rosburg and Medallion Press for taking a chance on me and my practitioners.

  And, of course, to my own “Blue Mage,” who puts some true magic in my life, Paul.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-F
our

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter-Forty

  PROLOGUE

  Him:

  He ran. As fast as he could, through the tangled jungle, through the pouring rain. Chains of writhing vines reached for him as he sped by—or was the supple branch that brushed his arm a snake looking for its dinner? Booms of thunder so loud they shook the ground rolled down from the treetops. He almost stumbled on a fallen limb, but kept his balance by sheer force of will.

  He halted his headlong dash and took shelter for a moment under a giant leaf. Thick bushes, huge, vine-covered tree branches, strange spiky or large-leafed plants pressed in on all sides. Green saturated the very air. The warm humidity, the earthy smell, the confining plant growths all increased his sense of claustrophobia and alienation. He definitely did not belong here. He chose another direction and ran again.

  He had to get away, get out. But, where was he? And which direction was out? He’d been running forever, he knew that much. The jungle had no end.

  Or, was he running in a circle?

  With a final bone-deep crash of thunder, the rain stopped, and he did, too. Only dripping water and his own fast breathing broke the silence. He was alone—exactly as he preferred.

  Why then was he so forlorn?

  Her:

  She turned in a slow circle on the flat, sterile plain. Not a bit of vegetation, green or otherwise, in sight. Only brownish-gray earth and rocks. A true wasteland.

  Wait. What was that? A rainbow, like light through a prism, sparkled on the horizon. She ran straight at it.

  A tall building rose before her. A glass structure. A greenhouse! With lush, growing plants stretching up to the light. Exactly what she wanted, needed. Inside, she’d be safe, in her natural habitat.

  She circled the building. No door. No operable windows. How was she supposed to get inside?

  She beat her hands on the glass. It didn’t move. She threw rocks. They didn’t even scratch the shiny surface.

  Was there anybody around to help her? She cupped her hands around her eyes, leaned on the glass, shifted to see around this fern and that tree. No one. She revolved in a circle again, searching the dusty plain.

  She was totally alone—exactly as she did not want to be. And as, she knew in her bones, she was not supposed to be. A wave of loneliness almost brought her to her knees.

  Him:

  He started walking again. What else could he do except keep going? He stumbled upon a gravel path, followed it through the shrubbery. In a few spots, the canopy of trees left little light to see by, and only the crunch of his feet on the small stones kept him on the trail.

  The path existed, therefore someone—or something—had to have made it. Surely it led somewhere. To another person, to civilization.

  He shook his head. The isolation was getting to him. He felt … almost lonely.

  Ridiculous. He’d never been lonely in his life. Had he? No. Was he sure? Yes. Then why this niggling sense of doubt, this vague sense of needing someone?

  What was that noise? It came from around the next bend. It sounded like … no, it couldn’t be in this jungle … it sounded exactly like breaking glass.

  Her:

  She was beyond frustration. She’d tried every method she could think of, but she still couldn’t get into the stupid greenhouse. She was thirsty, too, made even more so by the sight of water running down the glass inside.

  Think. What hadn’t she tried? She moved to a place where the plants didn’t press against the windows and looked inside again. Nothing except foliage. No evidence of human or animal life. She could almost cry. With a sigh of despair, she leaned against the glass wall…

  And fell in.

  Him:

  He came around a bend in the trail into a clearing, and there she was, picking herself up off the ground. A woman. A naked woman. A naked, gorgeous woman with long, dark, curling hair.

  She glanced around curiously, but didn’t seem to be afraid or uncomfortable in these surroundings. In fact, she was smiling when she reached out to stroke a large elephant-ear leaf. When he walked forward, she turned to face him.

  It wasn’t easy, though he did manage to pull his gaze from her curves to her eyes—the greenest he’d ever seen. He was immediately ensnared, enthralled, enchanted.

  No. His mind reasserted itself. He had to get out of here. He didn’t want or need anyone. He had no time for a woman—even this one.

  His body, however, had an opposite opinion and tightened. Hardened. Heated. Swelled.

  Her:

  Oh, thank heavens, she wasn’t alone. A man was here. She had someone to talk with, to share the wonders to be found in the jungle.

  He stopped about three feet away. A cloud blotted out the sun, the darkness under the trees increased, and she couldn’t see his eyes. She cast a lightball and brought its power and light up through blue to indigo with violet streaks, her highest level.

  How unusual. His eyes were light blue with a charcoal rim around the iris. As she watched, his irises expanded until only a thin line of blue remained. She’d thought light blue eyes were cold, icy, aloof. His, however, were more than warm, and her body reacted to their heat. She tingled all over, and her center hummed.

  She glanced down at herself. She had no clothes on, but she wasn’t bothered by her nudity. It felt natural somehow. She looked into his eyes again. He was staring at her as if he’d never seen a woman before. She asked, “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m trying to get out,” he replied.

  “Why? It’s the perfect place to be.”

  “I hate it. Do you know how to get out?”

  He hated it? Her Eden? If he felt that way, better for everyone that he leave. “You only have to …” She realized that she didn’t know. She wasn’t even sure how she had gotten in.

  “I’ve been following the path,” he said.

  She told him what seemed plausible and felt right. “You’ll never get out doing that. You have to make the extra effort.”

  Him:

  Extra effort? What did she think he’d been doing, going out for a stroll? He managed to jerk his eyes away from her and look around. Oh, great. The path had disappeared.

  A distant rumble of thunder and a gust of wind caused him to shiver. The breeze brought with it a subtle menace. A dangerous evil was coming, he was certain. “We have to leave.”

  “Nonsense. We’re safe here.”

  Crazy woman. No, they weren’t. He couldn’t abandon her, however. He had to protect her, no matter what her opinion.

  He walked around the little circle of open space they were standing in. He couldn’t see even a vestige of a trail leading away. Were they trapped?

  A way out had to exist. She had come in, hadn’t she?

  He searched again. He was smart. He’d use mathematics to determine her route.

  He cast whole equations he remembered from physics and calculating trajectories. He cast computare limes to calculate the path. He cast comperire to find it.

  Nothing worked. He tried being physical instead of cerebral and pulled on leaves and vines in several likely spots. Everywhere he went, plants blocked him, seemed to be growing faster than he could pull them aside, seemed to be reaching for him.

  More thunder rolled, reverberated around them, and the feeling of menace grew stronger.

  His attempts were doing no good, and his anxiety was increasing. He stopped before her in the middle of the circle. She appeared unperturbed—to such an extent that he wanted to
grab her and shake her. Didn’t she realize the evil was approaching?

  “We really must go,” he said. “It’s dangerous here.”

  She was definitely disgusted, but she gave in. “Oh, all right. Come with me.” She took his hand and led him toward the largest tree.

  Right in front of them, the leaves parted to reveal the path.

  “Thank God.” He was so relieved to see it he pulled her to him in a hug.

  Only when their bodies touched did he discover that he was naked, too.

  Her:

  He had pulled her into his arms, and she realized they were both naked. Why had she not noticed that before? No matter. How wonderful to feel her skin against his, her soft breasts against his hard chest. She put her arms around him. A hug had never felt this exciting, this right, this blissful.

  He ran his hand down her back, pulled her closer, lowered his mouth to hers …

  Buuuuzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

  As her alarm clock sounded, Gloriana came awake with a jolt, clutching her pillow and almost shaking with arousal. She was practically panting, and her heart beat like she’d run a marathon.

  “Wow, what a dream,” she muttered as she hit the button on her clock and flopped over on her back. Maybe she could fall back asleep and recapture the dream. She shut her eyes and concentrated on its last moments.