Lure of Song and Magic Read Free Page A

ground, rolling into a human shield. Deep beneath the screaming banshee she became at times like this, her soul howled at the injustice of being exposed after she’d finally found peace.

Chapter 2
    Just as Oz was wondering if Pippa’s high-pitched keening was meant to prove she was insane, the fractious female shoved off the ground with an oddly muffled cry and almost took his nose off with her fist.
    Had she been a man, he would have punched her lights out. Or if she’d been the usual hysterical actress, he would have left her screaming and walked away.
    But there was desperation in her every blow, and damn, but she wasn’t any flailing ninny, he realized as he dodged her knuckles and knees. She knew how to hurt . In a moment, she’d calm down enough to take out his throat.
    Seeing no other choice, Oz ducked under her blows, grabbed her skinny waist, and used his greater weight to leverage her over his shoulder, where she silently beat the crap out of his back and did her best to unman him—again—with her toes. Fortunately for him, she was wearing sandals.
    He was going with his gut on this one. He had no reason to believe this harpy knew how to find Donal, but she was too damned fragile to be left alone, and there was a story here. He was in the business because he was a sucker for a good story. He needed to know more.
    Limping from a blow to his thigh, he crossed the courtyard and tried the mission-style timber front door. When it opened, he carried her inside. She continued beating him black-and-blue, choking on cries of fury. Plopping her down on a bed didn’t seem safe or expedient. What he wanted was just where he’d hoped. He carried her through the airy, high-beamed front room and out the sliding glass doors.
    The small teardrop-shaped swimming pool sparkled with crystal blue waters. Oz dumped his hysterical burden into the deep end. He didn’t know if the water was heated or not. He hoped not. She needed to cool off.
    He stood there long enough to make certain she didn’t drown. When she popped to the surface doing the dog paddle and glared at him, he left her there. After that exercise in emotional exertion, he needed a drink.
    The cabinets in her kitchen didn’t contain anything more alcoholic than vanilla extract. He detested the juice drinks stacked in the pantry. Rummaging, he concluded she liked fruit. A blender sat on the counter. One of those smoothie things shouldn’t be difficult.
    He knew to take peel off a banana. He wasn’t as certain about the lemon and orange, so he threw them into the container whole. Orange peel was supposed to be good for something. He whacked the leaves off a basket of strawberries, added the berries, and turned the whole mess on.
    It still wasn’t looking right when… What in hell was he supposed to call her? Pippa ? Ridiculous name fitting a children’s book author, but it didn’t suit the dripping cyclone stalking through the house, presumably toward her room.
    Oz checked the freezer and found mango ice cream. Perfect. He flung a few scoops into the pulpy gunk in the blender and buzzed the machine.
    After running a shower, she returned to the kitchen wearing a straight, sleeveless yellow sack that fell to her heels. Oz could see every lithe, graceful move she made and gauged her bra size wasn’t much larger than her skinny hips. He liked a little meat on his women, but he had to admit there was something primitively sexy in her lithe stride.
    Her short red hair remained plastered to her shapely skull, and all trace of the clown makeup had disappeared.
    â€œYou look like a pencil in that piece of shit.”
    Her scrubbed face registered no reaction to the insult. Tantrum over, he guessed. Without cosmetics, her skin glowed with the translucence of fine porcelain.
    â€œI made you a smoothie, and I promise I added no rat poison.” He sipped his own to prove it was safe and almost