by Cate Masters
“It’s good to meet you. I’m Joss Gibson.”
He searched for something witty to say, something to ease the awkwardness. In the five years since his wife’s accident, the most he’d said to a woman was hello. They’d already covered that.
“Everything looks great.” Except for the woman in the short white dress covered with bright red hearts. Staring at him. Wait, wasn’t she the diner waitress, Sheree? What the hell was she supposed to be, a clown?
Lifting her chin, Joss smiled. “Tonight’s party is kind of a last hurrah for the old girl before we start renovations.”
“Oh.” He’d never been one for small talk, and never was the fact more painfully obvious to him than now.
Joss’s smile wavered. “You don’t approve?”
“It’s not that.” Right now, he approved of most everything about her.
Before he could explain, the tall, older woman reappeared next to Joss. Her auburn hair fought the red of her lips, pursed as her gaze cut into him with sharp assessment. She gave a tsk, and in a throaty voice, said, “Oh, my.”
Joss shot her a warning glance. “Aunt Lydia, this is Dr. Eric Hendricks.”
“Doctor.” Her aunt’s tone caressed the word like a favorite pet.
He extended his hand. “A veterinarian. Nice to meet you.”
Encasing his hand in hers, she turned it over and traced a finger across the center of his palm. “Oh, yes. Come with me.” Turning, she tugged him through the crowd.
With Frankenstein steps, he rigidly followed. Glancing back at Joss gave him no reassurance. Frowning, she might have been irritated with him or her aunt, he couldn’t tell.
They passed underneath paper bats fluttering from the hallway ceiling. Small carved pumpkins leered at him with crooked fiery smiles from atop book shelves.
Sheree turned as he passed. “Eric? Where are you going?”
Good question. It seemed futile, but he had to ask. “Where are we going?”
“The future awaits those who dare to seek it,” Lydia said over her shoulder.
Future? His life had ground to a halt five years ago.
Near a small wooden table holding cards and a candle, she dropped his hand and plopped onto the chair. “Please sit.” She waved toward the chair opposite, scooped up the cards and handed them to him.
A sigh and he sat. Might as well. Cooperating would at least hurry this along so he could disappear into the crowd again. Or out the door.
“Clear your mind and shuffle the cards.” She gestured toward the deck.
He did as she asked and set them on the table.
“Fan them out,” she said, “and then select five cards.”
Surely, she didn’t intend for him to take this seriously. He slipped five from the rest. “I don’t—”
“Shhh.” Concentrating on the cards as she laid them out, her eyes widened.
At her audible gasp, he leaned closer. “Something wrong?” He tilted his head to read their titles: The Tower. Judgment. The Fool. The Lovers. The Moon.
Lydia nodded like a statue of a coin-fed fortune-teller. “Oh.” She leaned closer. “Oh, my. Most unusual.”
He tensed. “What?” What sort of trickery was she up to?
Her voice softened. “You’ve been through an ordeal. Rest assured your loneliness will soon end. Great happiness awaits after a terrible trial.”
His gut churned. “You don’t know what you’re saying.” The accident ripped his happiness away when it took Karen. Nothing could be worse than that.
“Of course, I do. I’m never wrong.” Lydia’s gaze slid to the room’s entrance.
Joss spoke with Charlie Fulton dressed in painter’s overalls. Some costume. But then, next to her, anyone would appear silly.
Lydia rested her palms against the table. “Tonight is a fateful night.”
The ominous statement settled over him like a mist. Fate had never been kind to him before. “Why?”
She leaned forward, candlelight sparking in her brown eyes. “Your life is on the verge of great change toward a destiny you cannot avoid. Finding your true soul mate.” She spoke as if revealing a great secret.
The words pierced his heart. “No.”
“Oh, yes. The cards indicate it here.” She splayed her hands across the cards.
A parlor trick, nothing more. A reminder he didn’t need. “I have to go.”
Pushing away from the table, he strode to Joss, who poured green liquid into the punch bowl. He’d approached her with the intention of bidding her good night and getting the hell out of there. Instead, he asked, “What is that?”
After ladling some into a glass, she held it up. Wisps of smoke curled up from the drink. “Taste it and find out.”
More than the drink tempted him. “It looks dangerous.” But its citrus scent enticed him. His fingers closed around hers, and the tiniest jolt sparked through his hand, like deadened tissue reanimated.
Alarm crossed her face as she slipped her hand away. “Appearances can be deceiving.”
Did she know his costume hid a damaged man? Wincing, he sipped. His taste buds danced in delight at the refreshing fizzy liquid.
Her focus concentrated on his mouth and her smile returned. “Good, isn’t it?”
Unlike his evening. The way she watched him drink unsettled him. Awakened parts of him that, for the last five years, languished in a numbing, deep freeze. The shock of returning to life overwhelmed him. “Your aunt shouldn’t play at things she doesn’t know.” Neither should he. This woman was obviously out of his league.
Her shoulders stiffened. “My aunt does know. She’s been reading tarot and palms since I was a girl.” She turned the corner and disappeared down the hall.
Now he’d insulted her family. He had to make her understand. Following, he caught her arm. “She shouldn’t meddle. Not where people’s private lives are concerned.” Her silky softness invited his touch. He became sharply aware of every detail about her. A loose strand of hair flowing against the graceful curve of her neck. Hazel eyes ablaze with a fire he couldn’t fathom, but ignited sparks, surging along his veins like a lit fuse. Every impulse urged him to press her against the wall and taste her golden skin. Explore her curves.
Her lips parted and hovered open for blissful seconds. “I’m sorry.”
Her whisper hit him like a gale-force wind. It broke whatever spell he was under, and he stepped back. “No. I am.” For coming here. Jesus, what the hell was wrong with him, grabbing her like that?
A glance to the other room revealed her aunt staring with an odd expression. Pity? Self-satisfaction?
He couldn’t get away fast enough.
Outside, he ripped away the mask and let it fall to the ground as he climbed in his truck. A fateful night, the aunt said. The only thing tonight portended was more social disaster. A destiny he seemed doomed to relive over and over.
Chapter 2
The sting remained with Joss long after Eric fled the inn. Deep-rooted pain emanated from him when he’d first entered, and his palm against her arm sent an electric shock straight to her bones. The poor man. Grief kept him its prisoner. Joss understood how easy it was to fall into that dark trap. The way he’d held her, he sought escape. Comfort.
He awakened deep-seated sensations in her. In the few moments with him, she’d felt more alive than she had in three years.
So strange. Normally, one look allowed her to see the person inside. With Eric Hendricks, her receptivity went into overload. His soul, pent up for years, stirred to life and churned up love, fear, joy, hopelessness, yearning, jumbled and shifting faster than light. He displayed great strength in his firm stance and gentle touch. Beneath a hard veneer of sheer pain, one other trait came through clearly—purity of spirit, and integrity enough for many men.
The arrival of more guests drew Joss to the foyer again. Another matronly witch and an older man wearing a checked flannel shirt, jeans, and boots stepped insi
de, followed by a princess and a boy in a fabric turtle shell.
Joss recognized the girl as one of the riders whose horse was boarded at the inn’s stable. After greeting them and pointing them toward refreshments, she returned to Lydia. “Sorry about Dr. Hendricks.”
“Don’t apologize. It’s wonderful you have so many guests.” Lydia fingered the flowers in the vase on the table.
One woman stood in the archway to the front room, her bright-eyed glare directed at Joss. Wearing a short white shift adorned with large red hearts, the woman held a wand topped with a glittering red heart.
Confused by the woman’s malevolence, Joss approached and fought to overcome the negativity oozing from her. “Did you try some of the booscotti?”
The woman tilted up her chin. “I’m not hungry, Mrs. Gibson,” came her familiar nasal reply.
Recognition finally hit. Of course—the girl who worked at the diner in town. “Sheree?”
At her curt nod, Joss forced a smile. “I love your costume.”
Sheree’s gaze darted her length. “Likewise.”
What could be her problem? The woman wielded her wand like a weapon, ready to strike. “Please have a drink and make yourself at home.”
“Thank you.” Her narrowed eyes swept the room as if suspecting an ambush, and then she moved stiffly away.
Joss crossed the room to Lydia. “That was weird.”
Lydia whispered, “Be careful of her.”
“Sheree? I can’t imagine why.” Could she be nervous the inn would take away some of the diner’s business? Though Joss would have liked to think it was the cause of her strange behavior, Sheree’s vibes told Joss otherwise. Business had nothing to do with it. The waitress directed her bad juju at Joss personally. Had Joss unintentionally insulted Sheree? She’d barely met the woman.
Leaning close, her aunt spoke sternly, “I warned you to watch for others who seek the power of this place.”
Sheree? Her aunt must be mistaken. The woman’s terrible attitude resulted from something. Maybe an imagined slight? Joss would find a way to put Sheree at ease.
More guests entered, and Joss excused herself. She left Lydia deeply inhaling the air. Joss couldn’t deny the charged atmosphere was one of the reasons she’d bought the place. Not to tap into any lines of power for herself, but maybe to enhance the lavender field she planned. Joss needed the garden to thrive so the inn would as well.
Waving to the costumed guests arriving, she recognized Tom Larsen in his jodhpurs and riding jacket. The stable manager set her nerves on edge. He spoke too harshly to the horses, and they rebelled at his touch by tossing their heads and pinning their ears. Unfortunately, her opinion about Tom held no weight. The boarders chose their trainer based on their personal needs.
“Welcome.” Joss extended her hand. “I’m glad you could come.”
He grunted. “Where’s the bar? Drinks are free, right?”
She pointed him toward the refreshments table. “Of course.” Tonight they wouldn’t make any money to cover their expenses. The value would be in gaining recognition for the great food. Already, Annie’s werewolf cupcakes, booscotti and goblin cheese balls had practically vanished.
To her relief, the arrival of a cowboy and cowgirl nudged Tom ahead. Following, Joss welcomed a princess and prince, a jester and wench, and two clowns.
“Jocelyn.” Down the hall, Aunt Lydia waved furiously.
“What is it? Shh, Taz.” The fur on his neck stood up, and the dog growled beside her. What had gotten into him tonight? Maybe the same thing that had bothered Eric Hendricks. She sent a rueful glance toward the door the veterinarian had slammed on his way out earlier.
“The question is who,” Lydia said. “The man standing with the Queen of Hearts. Or princess, whatever she is.”
Following her aunt’s gaze, Joss froze in skin-crawling fear. “I don’t know who he is. And I don’t want to.”
He moved like a shadow, furtive and with the dizzying illusion he was underwater. Beneath his black face mask, red flashed in his eyes. When his gaze passed over her, so did a wave of nausea. Her heart flipped, and her stomach churned as if she rode a roller coaster through the dark, not knowing where the turns lay ahead.
The dog growled more fiercely. Grabbing hold of his collar, Joss gasped. “I wish that…person would just leave.” Maybe not a person at all, but something much darker.
She reached deep inside for the force of her heart. Go!
A deep rumble shook the ground. The windows rattled in their frames. Guests cried oh! and clutched at their chairs or one another.
“Not again.” Joss wished the disturbance would stop, and it faded away.
Lydia rushed toward Sheree, now standing alone. “Where did he go?”
Hot on her aunt’s heels, Joss wondered the same thing.
“I have no idea.” Sheree held a hand to her head. “I don’t feel well.”
Taz sniffed at the waitress tentatively, cringing as if she might strike him.
Arching a brow, Lydia said, “I imagine you wouldn’t. You should not dabble in darkness until you understand the risk. What did it say to you?”
“It?” Joss asked in alarm, and searched the crowd to be sure the man didn’t linger there.
Sheree held a hand to her stomach. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
“You should leave.” Lydia pointed to the door. “Now.”
“Yes. I need to go home.” Sheree headed for the foyer.
“Please Lydia, she was a guest.” Joss knew the man with her wasn’t. Her aunt had confirmed he wasn’t a town resident, nor even of this world. “What’s going on?”
Tugging her to the end of the hall, Lydia said, “You could be in danger, my dear.”
“I don’t understand.” Yet somehow, she knew it was true.
Lydia’s shoulders slumped. “I must call your grandmother. It’s time you knew.”
“Knew what?” What was her aunt going on about?
“Your family heritage.” Taking out her cell, Lydia’s nails clicked the screen.
* * * *
Driving down Yellow Breeches Road, Sheree cursed. I hate this town. Why don’t they put street lights on these back roads? Her head still spun, and so did her stomach. The gusty wind blew so many leaves against her windshield, she switched on the wipers. “I want to move someplace warm.”
A man’s deep chuckle echoed. “We can arrange it.” The voice came clear and distinct, but who the heck had spoken?
Screeching, Sheree hit the brakes and skidded to a stop. “Who’s there?” Pain pulsed through her head. Had she imagined the whole thing?
A black figure materialized outside the car, barely discernible in the darkness.
The man she’d spoken to earlier slipped inside. “Tsk. Forgot me already?”
She’d like to. Tiny pinpricks crawled across her skin, and she shuddered. She’d never seen a costume make a person appear to shift through the shadows. He probably wasted a fortune on the thing.
“Hold on there, bud. Do you think you can just invade someone’s car?” Sheesh. Talk to a guy for one minute at a party, and he assumed he could take liberties.
As if bored, he sighed. “The question is, how badly do you want your veterinarian friend?”
She should demand this guy vamoose. He seriously gave her the creeps. “What do you care?” How did he know anyway?
He hooked an elbow behind the seat. “I don’t. Except I might be able to help you. If you help me.”
Sure, there was always a catch. She could never get a break, not unless she forced one. “Help how?”
“Which? Help you or help me?” he prodded.
“Both.” Her patience waned. Tired and queasy, she wanted to go to bed. This guy frightened her, but if he could help her get Eric, she’d at least hear him out.
“The gentleman for whom I work is interested in the property we visited. If you could distract Dr. Hendricks, my em
ployer would have a better chance at gaining control.”
Would Mrs. Gibson sell so soon? Oh…she might, if the situation grew too uncomfortable. Sheree had noticed the gleam in Joss’s eyes when she looked at Eric. A gleam Sheree wanted to turn to ice. “Control? You mean buy the inn?”
With a smug smile, the man said, “Something like that.”
Get to the fine print. “So what would I need to do?”
He spoke with a casual air. “Become our ally. Report to us on the goings-on of the town. Especially the inn and its proprietress.”
No harm in spying on her, right? Somehow it sounded too easy. “What’s it have to do with me and Eric?”
When the man smiled, the air in the car grew hot. And smelled like something burning. Something awful, like rotten eggs.
“Let’s leave that to my employer and me, shall we?” he sneered, easing closer.
Sheree’s vision blurred. She fought to murmur, “I don’t know.”
Red flashed in his eyes like flames. “Of course you do. You want Eric so badly, you’ll do anything. Won’t you?”
An urge came over her, compelling her to answer. “Anything.”
“I thought so.” His voice trailed into a hiss.
Gripping the steering wheel, Sheree touched her forehead to it. “Anything.”
“Excellent. One note of caution. If anyone asks, never mention me or my employer or this agreement.”
She snapped her head up. “Who’d care? Other than Mrs. Gibson?”
“If the need for you to know arises, you will.”
Sheree didn’t even care. She just wanted this guy out of her car sooner rather than later. She imagined walking hand-in-hand with Eric, him stopping to pull her close, bending to touch his lips to hers.
A knock on the window startled her.
A state trooper stood outside.
“Great.” She opened the window, her mind racing with possible excuses.
His grimace filled with suspicion. “Everything all right, miss?”
“Yes, officer. I’m a bit dizzy. Nothing serious.” Stupid! Now he’d think she was drunk.
Straightening, he sighed. “Right. Step out of the car please.”
