Must Be Magic (3 page)

Chapter Three

Kerry was all too aware when the
Leprechaun entered the greenhouse. She continued to trowel dirt, moving plants
to bigger pots. She couldn’t stand the thought of throwing out any plant and
tried to keep them all until they sold. Or died. She really wasn’t very good at
running a nursery, something she’d always dreamed of doing. But her dreams had
entailed actually working all day with the plants, not spending most of her
time taking care of the business end.

Kerry had decided long ago what
she really needed was a job as a gardener. Unfortunately, she didn’t discover
this until after she’d borrowed the money to open Cockleshells &
Silverbells Nursery…well, the whimsical name had sounded good at the time.

She watched the Leprechaun out of
the corner of her eye as he surveyed the rows of plants. Too bad he wasn’t a
real Leprechaun because she’d caught him twice. Inadvertently, but still she’d
had her hands on him both times. He would have to give her his pot of gold, and
she’d never have to worry about money again.

When he
started moving the plants around, she stood and called out to him.

“Hey,
is there something I can do for you?”

“The
plants aren’t happy. Coriander and dill should be together, but mint should
never be near the parsley.”

He
sounded like he knew what he was talking about. And if re-organizing her plants
kept him away from her, then all the better. Why he didn’t just go across the
street and enter the contest, she didn’t know.

After a
while, when she’d almost finished, she looked up. He’d moved nearly every plant
in the herb section and had started on the flowers. But, she had to admit, the
new arrangement looked—and even felt—more harmonious as she walked between the
rows of herbs to stand beside him.

“You really do have a wonderful
way with plants,” Kerry said, not in the least jealous. Well, maybe a little.
She had a green thumb and plants prospered under her care. But she didn’t have
any kind of sixth sense that let her just
know
which plants should be
where.

“Where I come from, knowing about
flowers and plants is natural,” he said with a shrug.

“Where do you come from? You
sound like you might be from England, but your accent’s not quite like anything
I’ve ever heard before.” Then Kerry laughed. “Not that I hear very many English
accents around here. Mostly what I hear is on TV or in the movies, and I
imagine most of them are faked.”

“England,”
he said as he stepped around her to move another pot of marigolds.

Kerry
had the feeling he was just repeating the word, not really confirming that it
was where he was from. When he didn’t say anything else, she didn’t pursue it.
It wasn’t any of her business anyway.

“My
name’s Kerry O’Neill. I own Cockleshells & Silverbells, and I wish I could
afford to hire you. Although if I could hire anybody, it’d be a bookkeeper, so
that I could spend all my time with the plants.”

He
straightened another pot and looked at her. His eyes were the lightest and
loveliest shade of green she’d ever seen. Even the color of spring shoots was
too dark. Misty green…like morning fog drifting across a forested mountain in
summer…

Kerry
shook her head. When did she become poetic again? There had been a period in
her life when she could take the time to stop and smell the roses she loved to
tend, and then describe the experience in poetry or prose, but she hadn’t been
able to do that in too long. Now, all her energy was spent in keeping her head
above water.

“Kerry
is a beautiful name. I’m Myghal,” he said.

Strange
name for a strange man.

“Thank you. Myghal is an unusual
name.”

“Not where I’m from.”

“England?”

“England.”

“Right.” Kerry had the feeling he
wasn’t being entirely truthful with her, but he wasn’t exactly lying either. He
was…a puzzlement. “I’m sorry, but all I can offer for all your help is to share
my lunch.”

“You have a smudge.” He raised
his hand to her face, his fingers splayed across her cheek and jaw as his thumb
wiped a spot at the point of her chin. Then the tip of his thumb slowly swiped
across her bottom lip.

She had the sudden urge to share
more than her lunch, like her bed. Desire, hot and sweet, swept through her at
his touch. She just wanted to close her eyes and let him kiss her like he
seemed to want to do. Maybe if she lost herself in a kiss and sex with a
stranger, she wouldn’t have to worry about the nursery or how to make the loan
payment or anything else for a while. It would be nice not to have to think
about anything except physical pleasure.

It would be over too soon,
though, and the money problems would still exist. She sighed and backed up a
step, tilting her head away from his hand. He took the hint and his arm dropped
to his side.

“Let’s get cleaned up and then we
can eat.” A quaver in her voice revealed how much he affected her.

She led
the way to the sink, washed up, and left him to do the same. She hurried to her
desk, set in a corner of the greenhouse behind a row of potted pampas grass.
There was a smaller building in front, but she had felt suffocated and closed
in when she tried to work there. One day she had simply dragged her desk and
chair out into the greenhouse. Afterwards, much of her anxiety about doing
paperwork had disappeared.

Not
all, but quite a bit. Being closed inside a tiny office with no window had just
about sent her over the edge.

She pulled her lunch out of the
mini-fridge and opened the first plastic bowl. Four boiled eggs. She hadn’t had
time to make a sandwich that morning. She lifted the lid on the other bowl to
reveal pale green grapes. She split the bunch and dropped one in each bowl,
then put two of the eggs in the other bowl. Two eggs and half a bunch of grapes
would hold her until supper.

Myghal joined her as she opened a
desk drawer. She kept salt and pepper shakers on hand, so she wouldn’t have to
remember to bring them from home if she needed them for her lunch. She motioned
for Myghal to take a seat, then pushed aside papers and a handful of pens
looking for the containers. She found the black pepper shaker easily enough,
but the white saltshaker was nowhere to be found.

“I know it’s got to be here
somewhere,” she muttered, rifling through the papers again. The drawer wasn’t
that big and it wasn’t that cluttered. She should be able to find a
four-inch-tall shaker.

“What
are you searching for?”

She set
the black shaker down with a solid thud. “All I have is pepper. I can’t find
the—”

She’d
pulled the drawer out too far and it fell with a clatter, scattering pens and
papers in all directions. Myghal helped her to gather them up. She still hadn’t
found the saltshaker. Where could she have put it? She’d never moved it from
her desk before.

As
Kerry reached in the refrigerator for something to drink, she thought she must
be losing her mind. Her first set of plans for the Leprechaun contest had
disappeared, too. She’d manage to recreate half of them when she saw the sign
across the street at Sir Plantsalot announcing a Leprechaun costume contest.
She’d thrown them away in disgust, wondering if someone from Sir Plantsalot had
pretended to be a customer and stolen her papers. Now, it seemed she might have
mislaid them herself and the contest was an unhappy coincidence.

Chapter Four

Kerry
brought out two bottles of water, her last, and made a mental note to add it to
her grocery list.

“I
usually have iced tea, but I was running late this morning and left it sitting
on the kitchen counter. We’ll have to drink water.”

She pushed one bowl and a bottle
of water toward him.

He plucked a couple of the grapes
and popped them in his mouth. She had the urge to tell him he should eat the
eggs first, but who was she to tell anyone how to eat their lunch? Even if it
was her lunch.

“What was the sign you were
putting up when I—when I arrived?” he asked as he ate a few more grapes.

Kerry chewed a bite of egg and
swallowed, washing it down with water. “Posting the latest sale, trying to get
rid of the shamrocks and Irish roses. I ordered more than I should have in
anticipation of the Leprechaun costume contest bringing in crowds of people. It
did, but not for me. Sir Plantsalot has had a booming business all week long.
I’ve seen people over there that used to be my best customers. But that
happened as soon as Sir Plantsalot moved in.”

Myghal had started eating an egg.
“Why do you think your customers abandoned you?”

“The
ambiance. You can’t compete with a castle. And they have a wider variety of
stock at lower prices because they can buy in bulk. Even if I could afford to
carry everything they do, I don’t have the space. Their place is twice the size
of mine.” Kerry shook her head and sighed. “I was doing very well before they
moved in six months ago. I was the only nursery in this part of the city and
had built a nice clientele for only having been in business one year. But the
first weekend they opened, my sales where half what they had been the week
before. They’ve gone down ever since. I had to let go the one full-time
employee and the two part-timers, and I had to give up my dream of hiring
someone to keep the books so I could concentrate on working with the plants.
Some weeks I don’t break even. I guess you noticed that you’ve been here a few
hours and not one customer has shown up. They’re all over there, voting on the
best Leprechaun costume.”

Kerry
stopped. She was surprised at how bitter she sounded. She shouldn’t be going on
and on about her problems.

“I’m
sorry things aren’t going well for you, Kerry,” Myghal said. He sounded as if
he were truly sorry and not just being polite.

“Thanks. I wish it could have
worked out, too. The sign I put up slashed everything by fifty percent. I guess
I need to change it to seventy-five percent now. I’m losing money, but I’d
rather see the plants be sold than left to wither and die. Tomorrow, I’ll give
away a shamrock and an Irish rose with every purchase. If there are any
purchases, that is.”

It was time to change the
subject. Talking about how her nursery had failed was depressing. “Lunch isn’t
much, but it’s the only way I can thank you for what you did with the plants.
How do you know which plants go where?”

“They tell me,” he said with a
mischievous smile. He bit into an egg, foregoing the pepper, and washed it down
with a gulp of water.

She stopped chewing and pressed
her lips together. She loved plants more than most people, and she often talked
to them, but she had never even imagined that they talked back. She should have
known better than to allow him to hang around. He was a stranger with a strange
name and strange clothes, even for St. Paddy’s Day. Maybe he’d got a head start
on consuming green beer this morning.

He laughed, the corners of his
eyes crinkling and his perfect white teeth shining. “I’m sorry, but the look on
your face. I don’t mean they talk to me, but they do communicate in their own
way. It’s hard to explain, but I can feel where they want to be.”

“Of course, that’s what you
meant,” Kerry said and ducked her head to pop in the last of the egg. “I wish I
had that kind of affinity with plants. They flourish under my care, but I don’t
hear what they have to say.”

“Then
you’re not listening,” he said. “All plants have an area of energy around them
that changes when they’re happy or sick or dying.”

“An aura?”

“Yes, like an aura. You have to
listen to the energy, feel its changes. Only then can you know what the plant
wants.” Myghal rose, came around the desk, and stood behind her. He leaned
over, his head close to hers and took her hand. Holding her palm about two
inches from the nearest pampas grass plant, he whispered. “Close your eyes and
listen, Kerry O’Neill.”

Kerry grinned, but did as he
said. She heard nothing except his deep, even breathing. She felt nothing
except his arm along hers, his fingers entwined with hers. His breath brushed
her cheek each time he exhaled. She couldn’t concentrate with him so close. He
was too much of a distraction and a temptation.

“Do you feel it?” He whispered
again, a sexy, husky murmur of words that made her feel things, all right, but
not what he had in mind. Or did he?

She opened her eyes and shook her
head, turning to look at him. This close, she could see the tiny flecks of gold
clearly enough to count them. His fingers stayed snugly with hers as he brought
her hand back away from the pampas grass and rested it on the desk.

“If you
practice, you’ll understand what they have to tell you.”

She
nodded, unable to speak. She wanted him to kiss her, wanted to kiss him, but
she couldn’t bring herself to make the first move. She didn’t have time for a
man in her life as much as she wanted one and needed one…no, wanted
this
one—Myghal.

She
wanted Myghal badly. So badly that her nipples burned and her skin prickled
where he touched. She had been slightly aroused since bumping into him the
first time. The sexual feelings had heated to a slow simmer when he’d cleaned
the smudge from her chin. Now, it bubbled through her, causing her to dampen
her panties and her clit to pulse with an intense ache she hadn’t experienced
in a long time, if ever, and never this quickly. If she didn’t do something,
she would regret it for the rest of her life.