by Eden Bradley
Winter Soulstice
By Eden Bradley © 2006
www.cobblestone-press.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Winter Soulstice
Copyright© 2006 Eden Bradley
ISBN: 978-1-60088-078-0
Cover Artist: Dan Skinner
Editor: Brandi Loyd
Excerpt from Office Relations by Lia Sebastian
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
Cobblestone Press, LLC
www.cobblestone-press.com
Dedication
To my Divas, for their tireless support. To authors Eva Gale, Crystal Jordan, and Jax Cassidy, for their beta read of this story, and for their invaluable observations and great humor. And to my critique partner, author Gemma Halliday, for critiquing everything I send her, and for always liking it!
Chapter One
Destiny ran for cover under the closest awning as the sky opened up and rain splashed down around her. Her clothes were wet through already, her hair dripping. She wiped a damp, auburn curl from her face, thinking that the gray sky matched her mood. It was her first Christmas without family, and she was feeling as gloomy on the inside as the weather was outside. She watched as other holiday shoppers ducked into shops and cafes all along the street in the hip North Hollywood theater district. They were as unprepared for this sudden storm as she was. Even in December, rain was rare in Los Angeles, especially when it had been balmy and clear only minutes earlier.
Since her car was parked a good six blocks away and she still had hopes of salvaging her brand new pair of suede boots, she was stuck here in front of...what? She turned around to read a neon sign stating Psychic Readings.
Why couldn’t she have been stranded in front of a Starbucks? She could use a nice, hot latte about now. The cold was starting to creep through to her skin already.
But when she peered into the windows of the storefronts on either side of where she stood, she saw that one housed a law office and the other was vacant; it wasn’t as though she had another easy option. As the rain came down harder, she began to shiver in her damp clothes. Going inside didn’t seem like such a bad idea, if only to escape the rain until it had a chance to clear up.
The whole psychic thing was completely counter to her usual logical self, but several of her friends had consulted psychics. It might be interesting. And it was certainly better than standing out in the rain.
The bright blue, wooden door had a square pane of glass set into it, and she leaned closer to peer inside. It was too dark; she couldn’t see a thing. But as she pulled away she caught her reflection. Or was it? The face in the glass was hers, yet not hers.
Nana?
Yes, she was the spitting image of her grandmother, or how her grandmother must have looked at this age: the wild red curls, the pointed chin, the mouth that had always seemed too full to her. Perhaps this was a message from Nana telling her to go in? Of course, she didn’t believe in such things, but with her darling Nana so recently passed, she would allow herself a moment of sentimental foolishness.
With a sigh of resignation she pulled on the door’s handle and slipped inside.
It took a few moments for her eyes to adjust to the dim light. She found herself in a small foyer with a hard wood floor and a curtained doorway to her left. The place smelled of amber and sandalwood. It was silent.
“Hello?”
No answer. She tried once more. “Is anybody here?”
She had just decided that maybe this was a bad idea after all when she heard a crisp rustling to her left and the curtain was pulled aside.
She didn’t know exactly what she’d expected, but the woman holding the curtain didn’t fit any idea she might have had of a fortune-teller. She’d imagined a dark-haired gypsy in flowing skirts and dangling gold jewelry. But instead a short woman with plump, rosy cheeks stood in the doorway, her silvery hair a soft cloud around her face. She wore loose linen pants with a green silk tunic. A simple crescent moon studded with amethyst swung from a long silver chain around her neck as she moved into the foyer. Pale blue eyes hid behind small, wire-framed glasses. She looked like somebody’s grandmother. Like Destiny’s grandmother.
Why was she thinking so much about Nana today? It had been a year already since she’d passed. Yes, a year this month. What was the date? December twenty-first. A year ago today.
“Ah, you’re here,” the older woman said. “Welcome. I’m Madame Anna. Right this way.”
She turned and disappeared through the curtain. Destiny had few options but to follow. Madame Anna led her into a small room that looked exactly as a fortune-teller’s lair should. The walls were painted a dark shade of red that was barely discernable in the dim light cast by a Tiffany-style lamp and flickering candles. The psychic led her to a round, red cloth-draped table in the center of the room where a cone of incense burned on a small plate. She sat in one chair and gestured Destiny into the other.
“What would you like, my dear? A palm reading? Tarot cards? Tea leaves?”
“You’re the psychic. You tell me,” Destiny quipped, then was immediately flooded with remorse at her rude behavior.
The grandmotherly psychic didn’t even flinch. “Give me your palm, then.”
Madame Anna reached out, but Destiny hesitated. She didn’t even know why. This was all just for fun, wasn’t it? What was there to be afraid of? She was being uncharacteristically silly.
“Come on. I won’t bite.” The woman smiled again, her small blue eyes twinkling.
The tiny hairs at the back of Destiny’s neck prickled as she laid her hand, palm up, on the table. Madame Anna held it, traced her fingers over the lines, and closed her eyes. The silence almost seemed to resonate through the room. Destiny took the opportunity to glance around and noticed, for the first time, a large gray cat curled up on a footstool in one corner, half-hidden by a potted palm tree. The cat’s eyes glowed golden in the reflected light of the candles. Destiny had the uncomfortable feeling that the animal was watching her. The woman squeezed her hand, and a shiver raced up her spine.
“Ah!” Madame Anna proclaimed.
“What?” Destiny had to force herself not to pull her hand back.
“You have come to me on a most portentous day.”
“Have I?” she asked, certain the woman said the same thing to all her customers.
“Do you know what today is? It’s the Winter Solstice. A time for new beginnings.”
That sounded vague. But what else could she have expected?
A few strokes of fingertips across her palm. “You’re naturally analytical, organized. A place for everything, and everything in its place. It serves you well in work, but perhaps not as well in your personal life.”
“Well...” She thought about the arguments she’d always seemed to get into with her ex-boyfriends. Most of them had told her she needed to loosen up. Maybe she did like everything in its place, but who wanted to live surrounded by chaos? Anyway, it seemed the sort of thing you could say to almost anyone, a generic remark. Analyzing was a basic part of her job as a psychologist, but this woman had no way of knowing that.
“You also have a great love for designer shoes.”
Destiny gave a small snorting laugh. “You can tell that from looking at my hand?”
Madame Anna glanced up. “You’re boots are Prada. I spotted them when you came in.”
Th
e twinkle in her eye made Destiny relax a bit. She smiled.
“Look here.” Madame Anna brushed her finger over a spot on Destiny’s palm. She could have sworn heat from the woman’s fingertips burrowed into her hand and spread up her arm. “This is your love line. And this is your fate line. They converge right here.”
“And that means...?”
“It means you are going to meet your soul mate.”
“There’s no such thing as soul mates.”
“Ah, but this isn’t news to you, is it?”
The woman’s eyes met hers, and Destiny had a flash of her Nana’s sweet, lined face, of her telling her the same thing only days before she died. She’d said she felt fine leaving this earth, because she knew her granddaughter was going to be happy. Destiny blinked back the tears that stung her eyes. Of course, Nana had been lucky enough to have one of those marriages. Her husband had been the great love of her life, and her passing had been bittersweet because all she’d really wanted was to be with her husband who had passed five years before her.
But Destiny never for a moment thought she’d find that kind of love. Her Nana had been lucky. Pure luck, plain and simple. All this talk of soul mates was nothing more than a fantasy. She was the kind of person who lived her life very much grounded in reality. Why had she even come in here? This was ridiculous.
Madame Anna’s gaze locked on hers. Her voice was gentle. “She told you, didn’t she? If you can’t believe me, believe her.”
The woman’s words seemed to come to her from very far away, carried on a whiff of lilacs.
Nana.
Destiny yanked her hand back.
Fumbling for her wallet, she pulled out a few twenties and tossed them on the table. “I think I’m done here. Thank you all the same.” Why did she feel so jangled? She had to get out of there. The smoke from the incense, or whatever it was, was making her eyes water.
The older woman stood, holding the crumpled bills out to her. “I can’t take your money. You haven’t had a full reading. There’s more to tell.”
“I—I don’t think I want to know any more. All of this soul-mate stuff...I don’t believe it. And even if I did, how would I know? A person can talk themselves into believing anybody they’re attracted to is their soul mate. It’s a combination of transference and a sort of delusional denial.”
Madame Anna took her hand and held it in her warm grasp, tucking the bills into Destiny’s palm. “Attraction and the merging of two destined souls are entirely different things. It always starts with attraction, doesn’t it? But this goes far beyond that. You’ll know. It will be unmistakable. And it will be soon.”
“This is silly.” But why was every hair on her body standing on end? Why couldn’t she get that last conversation with her Nana out of her mind? It was only because she was facing her first Christmas without her grandmother; that was all. A classic case of separation anxiety. That must also explain why she could still smell the lilacs, her grandmother’s favorite scent. Her mind was playing tricks on her. “I have to go.”
“Yes.” The woman smiled, her blue eyes lighting up. “Yes you do, Miss Walker.”
Destiny had already walked through the blue door and onto the street before she realized she’d never told the woman her name.
Outside the rain pelted the sidewalk with a drumming force. So much for waiting the storm out. She would have to make a run for her car if she were ever going to get home. Her new boots would be ruined. Still, she hesitated. The damp air had her shivering from her earlier soaking. And her conversation with the mysterious Madame Anna had her trembling. How had the woman known her name?
Creepy.
But standing there thinking about it wouldn’t get her home. She took a deep breath, ducked her head, and dashed into the downpour. And collided with a brick wall.
She landed hard on the wet sidewalk, a quick, dull pain thudding through her left hip and the heel of her hand. When she looked up, she saw a man with broad shoulders, dark hair, and wire-rimmed glasses. She would have called him clean cut—he had that type of square, defined features—but his dark, too-long hair looked as though he’d run his hands through it. When he tore his glasses off his face to reveal a pair of startling blue eyes, she had a quick flash of Superman.
Lord, his eyes were blue, the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. Mesmerizing. Several moments passed before she realized he was apologizing as he offered his hand to help her up.
She blinked as he grabbed her by the elbows and pulled her to her feet and back beneath the awning. My god, he was gorgeous. A strong jaw, square chin, and those remarkable eyes...
She swayed, and he slid an arm around her waist to steady her. His touch hummed like the soft echo of an electric current running through her.
“Are you okay?”
She heard a faint hint of an accent there. Irish, maybe? Nice.
“Yes, I’m fine,” she managed to say while pushing her curls out of her face. Had the fall shaken her up, or was it him?
“God, I’m sorry. I was trying to get out of this rain and you ran out right in front of me...not that I’m saying it’s your fault.”
“No, of course not.”
“You’re sure you’re all right, then?”
“I think so. Yes.”
The truth was she was feeling a bit light headed. The whole world seemed to look a little fuzzy. Everything except the stranger’s handsome face.
“You do seem a bit shaken up.” He paused, looked around. “The least I can do is buy you a coffee. There’s a café across the street. Unless you’d rather just get home?”
“No. I don’t want to go home.” She shook her head a bit, tried again. “I mean, I’d love some coffee.”
Actually, she’d love to go home with him, but she wasn’t about to say so. And she could certainly use something to distract her from her dreary mood. He was doing a pretty good job of that already.
He took her arm, an old-fashioned gesture she loved. She felt steadier with her arm in his.
“Shall we make a run for it?”
They took off through the rain. By the time they got to the other side of the street she was wet through her light, cotton wrap sweater and even her jeans. But he reached over, took her hand, and his large grasp was warm and familiar somehow, even as desire stabbed through her like a sweet-edged knife.
He opened the door to the café for her and let her pass through before him. Nice manners. Her Nana would have loved that. She’d always told Destiny to hold out for a gentleman.
The café was done in a cozy fifties diner style, with red vinyl booths, black and white tiled floors, and plenty of chrome accents. It was blissfully warm inside. An aproned waitress led them to a booth and immediately brought them coffee.
Her polite stranger stirred some cream into his cup. “I just realized I don’t even know your name.”
“It’s Destiny. Destiny Walker.”
“I like that, your name.”
“Thank you.” Her cheeks heated and her pulse sped up, making her feel like a schoolgirl with her first crush. She concentrated for a moment on straightening her silverware so that it lined up evenly on her white paper napkin.
“I’m Reece Kellan.” He reached across the table and pulled her hand into his, gave it a small shake. Again she felt that oddly familiar rush of warmth along with the sting of pleasure. And something else... What was it? She could swear she saw herself mirrored in his eyes. Must be a trick of the light, the rain. “It’s very nice to meet you, Destiny Walker.”
When he smiled she felt it in the pit of her stomach before it spread lower. She’d been so distracted by his blue eyes earlier she’d failed to notice his lush mouth. A man shouldn’t have lips that full, that kissable.
“So...” She curled her hands around her cup to warm them, and maybe to keep herself from reaching out to run her fingers over that plush lower lip. “Where are you from?”
“I live a few blocks from here.”
“No, I meant yo
ur accent...”
“Do I have an accent?”
He smiled again, a flash of strong white teeth and a dimple creasing one cheek. Destiny felt that smile like a bolt of electricity shooting through her and lighting her up inside. His too-blue eyes sparkled with amusement.
“Well, you’re not from around here, and I doubt that brogue is from Texas. So I’m assuming it’s either Irish or Scottish.”
“A little bit of both, actually. I was raised in Ireland, then went to university in Edinburgh. But I’ve been here for nine years. I was pretty certain I sounded like a native Californian by now.”
“Almost.” She grinned at him. She couldn’t help it. His smile was warm, and his friendly banter put her at ease. And the deliciously sexy accent coming out of that mouth made her think about touching him, kissing him....
Pull yourself together Destiny. He’s just another guy.
But it didn’t feel like it, with every nerve in her body on full alert. Sitting there making small talk with him, she suddenly realized she didn’t want to talk anymore. She had other things in mind.
When had she become so impulsive?
He pulled his glasses out of a pocket somewhere and grabbed a menu. “Are you hungry?” he asked her, sliding the glasses onto his face. She had another image of Superman as Clark Kent and wondered if his shoulders were really as broad as they looked beneath his loose black sweater. She shivered.
“Um, maybe. What looks good?”
Reece raised his gaze to hers and held there for a long moment that felt as intimate as a kiss. Then a corner of his mouth quirked up. He shook his head a little, then glanced back at the menu. “How about cherry pie?”
Had she imagined the look he’d given her? A look that danced with something of the heat that roared through her own system, distracting her so she could barely keep track of what they were talking about. What was wrong with her? “Pie?”
He peered up without raising his head, so that the blue of his eyes pierced through dark, heavy lashes. “It’s very American, you know.”
