She rarely got angry, but when she did, her temper could boil over into rage, and Lord help whoever was in her path. She didn’t trust herself to be logical or reasonable until the anger had run itself out; the best course of action was to get away from Nate and reclaim her precious solitude till she felt in control again. “How did you know that?” Nate asked, sounding more bewildered than defensive. “How did you know I was planning to write a story about you?” She narrowed her blue eyes and held up her hands in a classic spell-casting pose, like the Wicked Witch of the West. “My boogie-woogie witchy powers, how else? Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to catch a cab home. I have to feed my black cat and brew up some eye-of-newt tea!” She grabbed her purse and headed for the door. Nate was right behind her. “Wait, you can’t go!” “Why not?” She jerked the door open and stepped onto the landing. “You’re going to leave me alone with a cursed cat statue in my trunk?”
