by Cara Bristol
“Welcome to Inner Journey!” Mandy tried to sound cheerful as she greeted the woman. “I’m here to help if you have any questions, but feel free to browse.”
“Do you carry tarot cards?”
“I do. They’re right here.” She led her to the shelf. “Have you read tarot before?”
“No, but I’ve been interested in learning.”
The Rocky theme she’d assigned to Shadow began to play. Her heart fluttered. “You can find several how-to guides in the book section,” she said, inching toward the phone.
The woman set down the deck and squinted over her bifocals at the books. “Which ones?”
“Right here.” She forced her grimace into a smile and pulled out a couple of books. Had Shadow called to chat? Or did he have important news? He’d mentioned he’d intended to go to Seattle to inspect his spaceship. Had something happened?
She glanced at the counter. “If you’ll excu—”
“I’m Verna, by the way. I own Timeless Treasures Antiques.” She stuck out her hand.
It was hard to be rude to a woman with an aura as blue and bright as hers. Biting back her impatience, Mandy shook her hand. “Nice to meet you.”
The music stopped.
So much for that. She stifled a sigh. “I’ve been in Timeless Treasures. You have nice stuff. I bought the coatrack there.”
“I recognized it.” Verna grinned. “The store used to have a set of antique tarot cards. They were so pretty. I considered keeping them, but then a customer bought them. Darn customer!”
Darn customers, indeed. Hopefully Shadow had left a message. And it wasn’t like she couldn’t call him back. But still. Dammit. She wished she’d grabbed the call.
“Anyhoo, don’t let me keep you. I’ll browse for a bit,” Verna said.
Too little, too late! She forced a smile. With Verna finally occupied on her own, Mandy checked voice mail. To her frustration, he hadn’t left a message. Did that mean he didn’t have anything important to say, or was it too important to leave a message? She didn’t need to be psychic to predict if she called him back, sure as god made green apples, Verna would interrupt.
Mandy busied about tidying shelves and displays while Verna took her sweet time thumbing through tarot books and trying to decide between two decks of cards.
“The one in your left hand is my best seller. I personally think the cards in your right are prettier,” she nudged her along.
“Sold!” Verna put the cards from her left hand back on the shelf. She paid for the deck and a book and left. After she got a couple of lengths down the street, Mandy locked the door and flipped the sign to CLOSED. It was half an hour early, but latecomers would have to deal with it. She grabbed her phone and pulled the blinds over the alcove so nobody could see her.
No sooner had she settled on the love seat than the front door rattled as a customer tried to get in. Couldn’t they read? She ignored them and called Shadow.
“Sorry I missed your call,” she said in a hushed tone when he answered. “What’s up?”
“I needed to hear your voice,” he replied.
Her body suffused with warmth, but her heart ached. “It’s good to hear your voice, too.” She closed her eyes and rubbed her lids. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.
“You haven’t uh, learned anything, I guess?” he asked.
“No, I’m sorry. I’m not giving up.” Please don’t let my ambivalence be the reason I can’t help him. She wished they could be a couple, but she lov-cared enough for him that she would hand him over to another woman to save his life. “How did the trip to Seattle go?”
“Mysk confirmed the ship will be ready to launch in a week. The navigation programming will be beneficial to me, save me a lot of time.”
“That’s great news.” Which would be worse—to see him ride off into the sunset with another woman or to watch him blast off into the stars? Both would bite.
“Yes,” he replied glumly. “I wish I didn’t have to leave.”
“I wish that, too.” She hadn’t known him long, but, when he flew away, he’d leave a hole in her life.
“I’d like to see you tonight.”
Her heart thudded with longing, but seeing him was a bad idea. Spending more time in his company would make the parting that much more painful. But yearning beat out common sense and self-preservation. “I’d like that.”
“Where are you?” he asked.
“At the store.”
The front door shook again. Who would have thought a boutique specialty shop in a dot-sized town would get so much foot traffic? She’d never expected she would hide from a customer, but she hunched closer to the wall. “Why don’t you come by? We can do something together,” she whispered.
“All right. Why don’t you let me in?”
“Of course.”
“I mean now. I’m outside.”
Chapter Eleven
Mandy leaped out of the alcove. Shadow stood on the sidewalk, phone pressed to his ear. A black knit cap hid his hair, except for the widow’s peak. A gray scarf was tucked into the front of a charcoal jacket.
She unlocked the door and flung it open to a blast of icy air. “How long were you out here? You should have said something sooner!”
“I just got here. I hid the hover scooter around the corner. As I walked over, I got your call.” He tugged off the knit cap and shoved it in his pocket.
“Let me take your coat, your scarf. Would you like some tea?”
“Tea would be great.” He smiled and handed her his things, which she hung on the coatrack.
“Why don’t we go upstairs? We’ll be more comfortable.”
He followed her up, and every cell of her being vibrated with awareness of his presence. Off the foyer, the bedroom door gaped wide open, revealing the unmade bed. Hurriedly, she shut the door on the mess and peeked into the bathroom on the opposite side of the foyer. It looked okay.
“I didn’t realize you lived over the shop.” Shadow glanced around, his curiosity drawing her attention to unopened mail on the kitchen counter, her morning mug and cereal bowl on the coffee table, and a pair of boots and dirty socks on the floor. Boxes she had yet to unpack were stacked against the wall. She cringed. She’d forgotten how she’d left the place. They should have stayed in the shop.
“Uh, yeah.” She rubbed her hands together. “The apartment came with the shop rental. That’s what made it such a great deal. Two for one.”
“Convenient.”
“I’m not usually this messy,” she lied.
“I like your place,” he said.
Well, this would teach her to pick up after herself. Thank goodness the counter separating the kitchenette from the living room hid the sink of dirty dishes. Why hadn’t she loaded them in the dishwasher?
“Have a seat.” She snatched her bathrobe draped over the sofa and the socks and boots, cracked the bedroom door, and tossed them in. Facing him again, she smoothed her hands down her slacks. “I’ll, uh, put the kettle on. Do you want the same tea you’ve been drinking, or would you like to try a new one?”
“Surprise me.” He settled onto her couch and stretched his arm across the back, appearing so comfortable, so much like he belonged there, her heart clenched. This was what she longed for—him. In her life. In her home, in her bed. She wanted them to watch TV, eat dinner together, hold hands, laugh and talk about their day, make mad passionate love, complain about who snored the loudest, and argue about who hogged the covers. She craved the good, the bad, and the ordinary.
Abuzz with longing and the stirrings of desire, she fled to the kitchen. She filled the whistling kettle and set it on the stove to heat then rooted in the pantry for her tea canisters. She didn’t keep the same blend in the apartment that she’d prepared for him, but she could find something nice. Soothing. Calming for her nerves.
Something like wine! The rental agent had gifted her with a bottle of pinot grigio, leaving it in the apartment with a thank-you card. She snagged the bottle from t
he fridge. “I’ll have wine,” she said. “Would you like a glass? Instead of tea or in addition?”
“I’ll have whatever you’re having.”
“Wine it is!”
She yanked open the utensil drawer but couldn’t find the good corkscrew, the easy one. She peeked over the counter and squinted at the boxes. MORE KITCHEN STUFF she’d scrawled across a carton. It had to be in there, but a corkscrew in the hand was worth two in the box. She’d use the one she had.
The cork proved to be stubborn. Gripping the bottle between her knees, she twisted and pulled.
“Can I help?” Shadow said from behind her as the cork popped free. The motion threw her backward. He caught her and the bottle before it hit the floor.
For a man who could vaporize, he felt rock solid, her senses recording sturdy thighs, taut abs, and a broad, muscular chest. His scent, a mix of masculine musk and soap, filled her nostrils. Her stomach fluttered, and if nerves had buzzed before, they danced the cha-cha now. Her nipples beaded, and her panties dampened.
Her breath caught as he tightened his arms, and she’d have sworn he dipped his head as if sniffing her hair, but then he released her.
Her heart banged against her rib cage. “Good save,” she quipped. “My, uh, other corkscrew is still packed away. I’ll uh, get a couple of glasses.” She opened and closed cabinets, searching for stemware. “They’re here somewhere.” Moving into a new place was kind of like living in someone else’s house until you remembered where you’d stowed everything.
“Uh, excuse me. I need to…go over here.” She squeezed by him to check the other side of the galley-style kitchenette, which had narrowed with him in it. She found the glasses in an upper cabinet, out of the way because she rarely drank alcohol. On tiptoe, she stretched.
“Let me.” He stepped close, his body brushing hers. Her stomach clenched, and her core ached as more moisture pooled. Their eyes locked. The longing and desire in his dark gaze undid her. A half moan escaped her lips, and then he pulled her into his arms, his head descended, and he kissed her.
Their lips parted, and their tongues met and tangled with need too long denied. No hesitation, no half measures. She wound her arms around his neck and surrendered to the inevitable, melting against him.
As she’d guessed, he was the perfect height for kissing. Perfect period. And dammit, at least for now, he was hers. Damn the consequences. Damn the heartbreak. Her entire world centered on him, this kiss, this bittersweet joy. She was no fool—well, she was—she knew where this would lead, but she didn’t care. Her spiraling need was too powerful to resist.
His hand tangled in her hair, holding her head, while he roamed the other over her shoulders, down her spine to her ass, cupped her cheek, and pulled her snugly against him. His arousal, thick and hard, elicited another spate of wetness between her legs.
She kissed him fiercely, trying to absorb him into her being. Their tongues mated in a dance of desire and desperation.
The kettle let out a piercing whistle, causing them both to jerk.
He thrust her away. She rocked on her heels in a spinning world as the kettle screeched. Stumbling to the stove, she silenced the teapot. She’d forgotten all about it.
Anguished eyes met hers. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that,” he said.
“I wanted you to.”
His gaze grew more tortured, and he shook his head. “You and me…will lead to an ending, not a beginning. I will meet…another, or I must leave…or I’ll…”
Die, she silently finished his sentence. Honesty was vastly overrated. She lifted her chin. “We can have a beginning. Just because it will end doesn’t mean we can’t begin.”
“I have nothing to offer you.”
“Except yourself. Except tonight.” She crept closer. “Let’s not waste the time we do have.”
“Can that be enough?”
“It’s everything.” Tentatively, she touched him, palming his chest. His heart thumped. “Kiss me,” she ordered.
With a groan, he obeyed. There was no victory in his capitulation—she understood the stakes, but oh, the sensation. The slide of his lips, the caress of his tongue, his exotic, tantalizing scent and taste. She could drown in the pleasure of his touch, the realization he desired her, too.
From the first meeting, they had sparked, and now a fire blazed. It wasn’t fair that two people who shared a rare and special attraction should be forced to repudiate it, but she shoved away the bitterness before it tainted the joy of being in his arms as she’d dreamed.
After tugging his shirt out of his pants, she fanned her hands across his bare skin, kneading taut muscle. How could someone so solid dematerialize? She wouldn’t have believed it if she hadn’t witnessed it herself. No, stop—she shut down the heartbreaking train of thought before it derailed her.
He slid his hands under her top, caressing her breasts through her bra. Her nipples tightened into hard, aching beads. She brushed his mouth with her lips. “I need you. Will you stay with me tonight?” She held her breath as she waited for his reply. Don’t deny us this. Please don’t.
Dark eyes grew serious, but he nodded. “Yes,” he said hoarsely.
It felt as if her entire body broke out into a smile. If nothing else, she would have this night. She flung her arms around his neck. They shuffled into the other room in a slow dance of French kisses and roving hands. Articles of clothing whirled away; her top landed on a lampshade, and his boots tumbled off in the foyer. They fell against the bedroom door, pushed it open, and stumbled inside.
The streetlamp beamed in through parted curtains to spotlight the rumpled bed. The items she’d tossed into the room lay scattered on the floor, but she kicked a path to the mattress. Their gazes caressed one another as they finished disrobing. In his eyes now, she saw only desire and naked need. Gone was the torment, the pain, enabling her to jettison the vestiges of her reluctance, causing her to wonder if perhaps this moment was a reprieve granted by the universe.
An island of joy in a sea of sorrow.
He reached out and stroked her temple. “You are so beautiful,” he said, and the awe on his face made her feel so, despite the effects of age and gravity. She no longer had the body of a twentysomething, or even a thirtysomething. Medium breasts needed the lift of a good bra, muscle tone had softened, and extra pounds had crept up with the decades.
But he was gorgeous. Hard-bodied with an all-over tan indicating his bronzed skin tone was normal and not from sunlamps or sunlight. Broad shoulders narrowed in that sexy V to slim hips and washboard abs. A good-sized erection thrust out from between his legs, and she felt self-consciously relieved to note his human appearance extended to his cock.
She lifted her gaze, he stepped in close, and their lips met. Heat flashed, and she was in his arms, breast to chest, his hard-on pressing into her abdomen, and then they were falling, hitting the mattress, twining limbs with mouths still fused.
She dragged her hands over his body, kneading and stroking his shoulders, bulging biceps, chest, and abdomen before tentatively touching his cock. His heated gasp of encouragement emboldened her, and she grasped his hard length more firmly.
He didn’t lie back and revel, but explored her, too, cupping her breasts and thumbing the peaks, squeezing her ass, stroking her thighs. He slipped a hand between her legs to her core, drenched with desire.
She moaned with pleasure as he found her clit.
What began with desperate, frenzied kisses in the kitchen evolved into a languid, prolonged seduction of body and senses, as if they both realized the way to stretch the limited time was to savor every caress, every kiss, every moment. There would be an ending, a reckoning, but not tonight. Not tonight.
When they joined, they moved together with the same deliberation and slowness, with long, smooth thrusts, until, consumed by rising ecstasy, they could no longer hold back the frenzy of movement. Mandy clung to Shadow’s neck as she shattered, starbursts of rapture condensing and exploding. He shudder
ed, his cock convulsing, his growl against her neck intensifying her orgasm.
They curled together in a tangle of limbs, her face resting against his damp shoulder. He stroked her snarled hair, pressing soft kisses to her head. His heart thumped against her breast, and hers responded with a similar beat.
Problems hadn’t vanished. All she’d done was figuratively—and literally—shut the door. When they emerged, they’d be faced with them again. But she called upon years of mindfulness to stay in the moment, to notice covers balled up at their feet, the steamy warmth of his hard body, and how her breathing synced with the rise and fall of his chest.
She lifted her hand to trace his collarbone and realized she wasn’t wearing the chronometer and vaguely recalled removing the heavy timepiece before they’d tumbled into bed.
Shadow shifted and sought her gaze. “I don’t regret this. Perhaps I should, but I don’t.”
“I don’t regret it, either.”
A smile of relief and happiness spread across his face, and she realized she’d brought him joy. It might be transitory, but with her, he’d found surcease from his troubles. He’d warned he had nothing to offer but, both did have something to give—to be the other’s island in the sea.
His cock twitched as it hardened again. Her body responded to the invitation, her stomach fluttering, her slightly sore pussy letting down new moisture.
She grinned. “Second verse, same as the first?”
Chapter Twelve
Shadow awakened to morning’s gray light. Beside him, Mandy lay gently snoring. Careful not to jostle her, he rolled to face her.
Dark lashes curved into restful crescents on her smooth cheeks. Her lips, swollen and reddened from a night of kissing, quivered with each little puffing snort.
Sated and elated, despairing and desperate, his emotions were as tangled as her hair, which formed a dark halo against the white pillow. He’d told her he hadn’t regretted their coming together—and he didn’t. He would do it all over again, but awareness of what he couldn’t have had been heightened.
