Read Online Your Magic or Mine? by Ann Macela - Free Book Online

back to reality. Fat chance for all that.
    From what he could tell, he did not have an attractive effect on her. She barely glanced at him, didn’t smile, and looked as unhappy as he felt over their situation. Her lack of response was probably all to the good—it made it easier to resist her, to control himself. She—any woman—was the last thing he needed.
    Here they were, however, trapped on an odyssey with Ed Hearst. He should look on the bright side. Maybe the controversy would run out of steam once Prick and the Horners had a couple of chances to fight for the spotlight. Then he could come home and get back to work on what counted.
    Yeah, right. The arguments would probably go on forever. He’d be entangled the entire summer.
    He gave Samson another pat before rising. To make sure Morgan wouldn’t distract him or his dog again, he washed his hands at the kitchen sink and was drying them when the phone rang.
    “Hello, Marcus,” his mother said when he flipped open his cell phone and answered.
    “Hello, Judith, how are you and Stefan?” he asked. As the words came out of his mouth, he suddenly remembered Gloriana Morgan calling her parents “Mother” and “Daddy” when they’d been talking outside the ballroom—names he had never used with his own parents. At their specific request, they had been “Judith” and “Stefan” as long as he could remember.
    “Stefan and I are fine, thank you. He’s off at a physics department meeting. I have an appointment with a possible new assistant professor here in economics in a little while, but have some free time. Are you busy?”
    “No, I’m free at the moment,” he said. He could picture her at her precisely organized desk in her office at the university in Massachusetts where both his parents were on the faculty. She’d be sitting upright—”No slouching, Marcus, it’s so common,” was her mantra—and look more like a business executive than a professor in her crisp suit with her hair neatly coiffed and her fingernails polished a muted pink. He looked down at himself and could almost hear her telling him to put on a tie and look more professional.
    “I read the articles in
W 2
about your formula and the reception it received down there in Austin. At the Boston HeatherRidge last Saturday, that’s all they were talking about.”
    “Oh, really? What are they saying?” Good, some reports from the outlying regions instead of Ed’s correspondents. Although not totally unbiased, his mother was an astute observer.
    “Practitioners who are more, shall I say, ‘mathematically or numerically inclined’ are trying your equation in their casting. They say they need more precise instructions and calibrations, but believe it shows promise. Those who are not ‘talented’ in that manner don’t want to try it or associate with those who favor it. I must admit, some of the former have been rather impolite, even indelicate, in their statements about the latter. A few of those against it have responded in kind, I’m afraid.”
    “Have the discussions gotten out of hand?” he asked, remembering how quickly the arguments had escalated at the so-called debate.
    “No, everyone has been exquisitely civil in public. Of course, rumors are flying privately about who is no longer speaking with whom because of their discussions.”
    “Has anyone spoken one way or the other directly to you or Stefan?”
    “Only those who favor the equation. They’ve praised you for the excellent work, as is certainly your due.”
    “Thank you, Judith.” He knew her statement was the highest accolade she’d give him. He’d never discussed the equation or its development in depth with either of them, although he knew they’d read his articles. Stefan had said only, “Good job,” his most effusive praise. Marcus could count on his fingers the times his father had said those words to him.
    “But that’s not the reason I called,” she said. “Not the primary reason. I’m