“I’ve thought about it. He’s promised Mia that he won’t use real names without permission. I’m interested in his work,” she continued, scooping cookies off the tray and onto the cooling rack. “I’d like to know more about it myself. I don’t have the same feelings for what I am as you do.”

“I can’t tell you what to do.” But Ripley would make certain Mac didn’t push too hard, or in the wrong direction. “How does Zack feel about it?”

“He’s left it up to me. He trusts me, respects me. That’s every bit as wonderful as knowing he loves me. I’m not worried about Dr. Booke.”

“He’s sneakier than he looks,” Ripley muttered. “He sort of lulls you into thinking he’s like this harmless puppy dog. But he’s not.”

“What is he?”

“Smart, slick. Oh, he’s got those puppy-dog qualities in there, and the combination throws you off. One minute he’s looking around with that lost look, wondering where he put his head last time he took it off. And the next . . .”

Nell sat again. “And the next?”

“He kissed me.”

Nell’s fingertips tapped together before she laced them. “Really?”

“It was supposed to be like a joke. Guy has to walk you to the door like you’re coming back from prom night. Then he just sort of . . .” She trailed off as she tried to mime the way his arms had slid around her.

“And you know, reeled me in. Taking his time about it, and everything got blurry and hot. Then it was like being gulped down, slow.”

“Oh, my.”

“I didn’t have any bones left, so I was just, like, fused against him while he’s doing all these incredible things to my mouth.” She blew out a breath, sucked another in. “I’ve kissed a lot of men, and I’m damn good at it. But I couldn’t keep up.”

“Wow. Well.” Nell scooted her chair an inch closer. “What happened next?”

“I walked into the door.” Ripley cringed. “It was mortifying. I walked right into the door. Blap. And Dr. Romeo just politely opens it for me. It’s the first time a kiss ever made me feel like an idiot, and it’s going to be the last.”

“If you’re attracted to him—”

“He’s cute, he’s built, he’s sexy, of course I’m attracted to him.” Ripley gave a quick shake of her head.

“But that’s not the issue. He shouldn’t have been able to dissolve my brain with one kiss. The problem is I haven’t been going out in a while. It’s been more than four months since I had, you know. . . .”

“Ripley.” Nell gave a quick laugh.

“I figure this was just like, I don’t know, spontaneous combustion or something. He’s got good moves, boom. Now that I know what’s up, I can handle it.”

Feeling better, she polished off the oatmeal. “I can handle him.”

Mac browsed the bookstore, flipping pages, scanning covers. He’d already acquired and read material on Three Sisters, but there were a couple of books here he’d yet to come across. He tucked them under his arm and continued to wander.

The store had a nice eclectic selection. He found a pretty volume of Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s Sonnets from the Portuguese ; the latest in a vampire hunter series he liked; two books on local sites, flora and fauna; and a handbook for solitary witches. And two other books on the paranormal to replace those he’d misplaced. . . somewhere.

Then there was a really cool Arthurian Tarot deck.

Not that he collected them or anything.

Never one to miss an opportunity to indulge in books, he took them all. They would, he thought, entertain him in his free time and give him the opening he wanted to talk to Lulu. He carried the books to the checkout counter, offered his most innocent smile. “Terrific bookstore. You don’t expect to see this kind of selection in a small town.”

“Lots of things around here people don’t expect.” Lulu glared at him over the top of her glasses to let him know she’d yet to make up her mind about him. “Cash or charge?”

“Uh, charge.” He dug out his wallet, tilted his head to see the title of the book she’d been reading. Serial Killers: Their Hearts, Their Minds. Oh, boy. “How’s the book?”

“Too much psychobabble, not enough blood. Intellectual types don’t cut much mustard.”

“A lot of intellectual types don’t get out in the world enough. Too much classroom, not enough fieldwork.” He leaned companionably on the counter, as if she were handing him roses instead of thorns.

“Did you know one theory is Jack the Ripper had preternatural powers, and while his period inLondon was the first documented case of serial killing, he’d lived before, and killed before, inRome ,Gaul,Brittany

.”

She continued to watch him over the top of her glasses as she rang up the books. “I don’t hold with that.”

“Me, either. But it makes a good story. The Ripper—Murder Through Time. The way I read it, he was the first to use the hornless goat—human sacrifice,” he explained when Lulu’s eyes narrowed—“in ritual magic. Black magic. Very black.”

“Is that what you’re looking for around here? Blood sacrifices?”

“No, ma’am. Wicca uses no blood sacrifice. The white witch harms none.”

“Lulu. Don’t call me ma’am.” She sniffed at him. “Pretty clever, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. Sometimes it irritates people.”

“You’re barking up the wrong tree with me, pretty boy. I’m not a witch.”

“No, you just raised one. It must’ve been interesting watching Mia grow up. And Ripley.” He began to shuffle his purchases idly. “They’re about the same age, aren’t they?”

Yes, she thought. Very clever boy. “What of it?”

“You know how it is with intellectual types. We’re full of questions. I’d like to interview you, if Mia doesn’t mind.”

Caution warred with delight. “What for?”

“Call it human interest. Most people don’t understand the ordinary, the everyday pattern of an extraordinary woman. Even if they open their minds to the extraordinary they tend to think there’s no usual, no simple. No math homework, or getting grounded for coming in after curfew, or having someone’s shoulder to lean on.”