The Spellbinder Read Free Page A

let me make you comfortable. I regard it as my duty, and I always do my duty.”
    “Do you?” Annoyance as unreasonable as it was strong suddenly jabbed through him. His tone became caustic. “I bet you’re damn good at those duties too.”
    Her smile faded, and he felt as if he’d slapped a child. “Sometimes. I try very hard.” She motioned to the red plastic and chrome chair beside the Formica table. “If you will sit down, I will get you the mushrooms.”
    “Sacha …”
    She glanced over her shoulder. “Yes?”
    “I’m sorry.” The words came haltingly. “That was uncalled for. Sometimes I can be a complete bastard.”
    She smiled. “Then we must work to correct that condition. Right?” She took a large bottle of mushrooms from the refrigerator, snatched up a cutting board from a hook on the wall and a paring knife from the drawer beneath the sink. She carried them to him and set the objects on the table. “If you do this job very well, I will consider itsuitable penance.” She met his gaze steadily. “And you are not a bastard, Brody. I think you could be very difficult, but that is a different thing entirely.” She turned away, strode to the cabinet, and got down a mixing bowl. “Now, I must obviously feed you quickly. Probably hunger makes you bad-tempered.”
    He wasn’t so sure. When he had thought of Sacha in bed with one of her nymphet-loving clients, he had experienced a surge of rage that had caught him off-guard. He found the image lingering distastefully even now. “Probably.” He opened the jar of mushrooms. “I see by your T-shirt that you were at Walt Disney World. When did you go?”
    “A few weeks ago.” She was breaking eggs into the mixing bowl with economical efficiency. “I had a wonderful time. It’s truly a magic place. Have you ever been there?”
    He shook his head. “We played Orlando last month, but I didn’t bother to go.”
    “You should have. I know you don’t like crowds but—”
    “How do you know that?” he asked idly.
    She paused in the motion of breaking an egg. “I must have read it somewhere.” She cracked the shell. “I know people recognize you wherever you go, and that must bother you, but you can’t hide away when there are so many wonderful things to see.”
    It had been a long time since he had experienced the eagerness he saw in her face. He suddenlyfelt terribly old and cynical. “I’ll see it next time.” His gaze went to the front of her shirt. “You like Donald Duck?”
    She nodded decisively. “Oh, yes. He’s my favorite cartoon character, but I had trouble finding a shirt with his picture. Everything was Mickey Mouse. The salesgirl at the shop told me he was more popular.” She scowled. “Bah! Who would like a meek, bland character like Mickey over Donald Duck?”
    Bah?
He didn’t think he’d ever heard the expression outside of vintage movies, yet he found the word entirely natural and even charming coming from Sacha’s lips. “Since Donald is irascible, crafty, vengeful, and underhanded, I could imagine a few misguided souls who might prefer Mickey.”
    “But he can also be affectionate and rather sweet, and it’s no wonder he behaves badly when he’s persecuted by those dreadful chipmunks. I feel quite sorry for him. He can’t help it if he’s difficult.”
    He chuckled. “You seem to make it a habit of forgiving difficult types. Not that I put myself in the same elite class as Donald.”
    She wrinkled her nose as she glanced at him over her shoulder. “It isn’t kind of you to laugh at me. I’m entirely sincere. I can’t help it if I’ve always found difficult people more worthwhile in the long run.”
    “Are you flattering me, Sacha?”
    “Bah! I do not flatter. If I can’t be honest, I do not speak at all.” She paused. “Well, that’s notexactly true. But if I lie, there’s always a good reason.”
    The smile of amusement lingered on his lips. “I see.”
    “Are those mushrooms ready? You’re