The Awakening by Heather Graham Page A

it fell off at the museum, or at Morwenna’s, or even in the park.”
    â€œIf someone found it, it’s probably gone,” she said mournfully. “It was light and delicate, but eighteen-carat gold, and a really beautiful piece.”
    â€œHey, there’s hope. Don’t give up yet.” He motioned to the waitress and paid her, then caught Megan’s hand and headed out with long strides.
    She was startled to realize that she was almost glad about the bracelet. The tension between them had dropped like a hot potato. He knew what the bracelet meant to her.
    They returned first to the witch museum, but no one had found or turned in such an item. Finn pointed out that they needed to look around the park, since they had been playing with the dog. The catch might have come undone when she was playing with the Great Dane.
    But though they tracked the park over and over again, there was no sign of the bracelet.
    â€œIt’s not here. It’s just gone, Finn,” Megan said, dejected. “And I suppose it’s silly to think that I will find it now. I shouldn’t have been so careless. I mean, if I did lose it here, and someone found it, they’d keep it, surely—I mean, even if they hoped to give it back to a rightful owner, where do you turn something in when it was lost at a park?”
    â€œWe can still try Morwenna’s,” Finn said. He looked up at the sky. Nearly winter in New England. It was already growing dark. He shrugged, offering her a hopeful smile. “Well, we did this right, anyway. Searching the park before total darkness. Morwenna’s has light—a little, at least.”
    â€œUm,” she murmured.
    He frowned, seeing something on the ground, reaching down. “What is it?” she asked.
    Hunkered down, he shook his head. “Sorry, just a bottle cap. And . . . fall!” As he stood, he tossed up a pile of leaves. In muted but still beautiful colors, they fell around her, a few landing in her hair.
    She was startled at first, then laughed, reaching down to scoop up a pile of the leaves herself, tossing them out in turn. “Fall, is that what it is? Fall?”
    He grabbed more leaves and she reached down again herself, this time determined to stuff a few down his shirt.
    â€œHey! That’s the way we’re going to play?” he countered. He had a handful of leaves and a wicked gleam in his eyes.
    â€œFinn . . . now wait. You can just shake them out of your shirt . . .” There would be no mercy, she saw. With a yelp, she started running, heading for the street. He caught up with her far too quickly. She stumbled when he spun her around; they both wound up on the ground in a pile of leaves. She squirmed, trying to keep him from getting the leaves down her clothing. By then, she was protesting and laughing at the same time.
    â€œStop!” Finn said suddenly.
    â€œStop—so you can fill my shirt with the remnants of an entire oak?” she demanded.
    â€œNo! Seriously, lie still!”
    â€œBroken glass?” she asked.
    â€œNo—”
    â€œThen . . .?” She started to squirm again.
    â€œNo!”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œPoop!” he exclaimed.
    She lay still, staring at him.
    â€œGreat Dane poop, I think,” he said seriously. “A really big pile. Don’t move to your left.”
    She turned her head. He wasn’t lying. She started to laugh. “Boy, you’d have thought we’d have smelled it, huh?”
    He grinned. “Careful, careful—with your every move,” he said in his best undercover spy voice. “I’ll get you out of this.”
    He started to move. She pulled him back for a moment, suddenly dazzled by his smile, the one dimple, the feel of his warmth, and the knowledge of just how much she loved him. And just how feeling him like this, the length of his body hard against her own, could make her realize the many layers of just how much she