The soft cast of the moonlight made her a vision of loveliness. The ridiculous turban was gone and her silky hair spilled over her shoulders. Gone were all thoughts of his mission, the chase, and the discovery as she captivated him with her ethereal splendor.
His insides knotted up, mesmerized by her as she stood stoically, surrounded by the soft cloud of candlelight. She resembled a fairytale heroine, and he felt the coldness that had plagued his soul suddenly melt away as quickly as his senses.
Never in his life had Matt ached to hold someone, or hungered to possess another human being like he did at that moment. He tried to catch his breath and break the spell, and glanced up only to find the full moon laughing down at him.
Oh yeah, the cosmos were playing tricks on him and Matt Archer was in deep shit.
Chapter Two
Matt's eyes followed the dancing light shining off the candle as it created a visual path for the owner. Impatient for a closer look, he scanned the dirty alleyway for ideas to reach her window. His thoughts drifted to curiosity about her living space. How was it arranged? Did her possessions provide any clues about the woman?
His gaze skimmed the iron posts and metal scraps hanging off the aged building, and zeroed in on a fire escape that led up to her apartment. The stars must have aligned because this night had proved all too convenient. A strange superstition stirred within him, yet he couldn't fight his desire to see her up close.
After some maneuvering, Matt made it up to her floor and steadied himself on the platform as he peered inside. He felt guilty, a damn peeping Tom, but he coaxed himself into believing this was all for the sake of work. Holy hell! Matt almost went into cardiac arrest upon seeing her. He did a double, then a triple take, to make sure he wasn't imagining the scene playing out before him. The unexpected sexpot made his heart lurch and palms sweat from pure anticipation.
The woman stood barely clad before a mirror, staring at her own reflection as in a trance. She had shed the bulky clothing and was clad only in a transparent chemise and a thin, knee-length skirt. He watched her run her fingers through her hair, then pull it up into a French twist atop her head as she peered into the glass.
Matt couldn't pull his stare away from her. He held his breath, waiting anxiously for her next move. When he thought he couldn't stand the hesitation any longer, she touched those luscious lips and traced the shape with her fingertips, splaying lightly across them with a slow gentleness. Her hands continued onward, down her chin, lower to her throat and she closed her eyes, almost as if she imagined the caress of a lover.
Her nipples strained through the thin fabric and Matt had the urge to seize the hard pearls between his teeth. With a slow ease, the woman pushed the tiny straps off her shoulders, and the material swished to the floor at her feet. Her breasts bounced free from their restraints. The sight made him grow hard in response.
The multi-colored skirt followed the discarded chemise, pooling around her on the floor. One hand tenderly cupped a full globe while her free one caressed a path down her stomach until she reached the area just above her mound. Her hand skimmed across the lace panties, feeling the pattern sensually.
She inhaled deeply and her fingers continued the fiery path until she began her tender exploration. Archer's hand dropped to his crotch to adjust himself. In all his years he had never seen a woman more aware of her own body. This fascinated him and brought to light a fantasy that Archer would relish replaying in his head for years to come.
The torture continued when the woman slid off the underwear, now completely naked for him to enjoy. He drank in the sight of her milky flesh and shapely curves. His eyes dropped to her pussy and he knew without a doubt he was condemned to hell. He could easily eat that up all night long until she begged him to put her out of her misery.
The woman rubbed her breasts and savored the feel of discovering herself. With a free hand, she soon dipped her fingers between the dusk of hairs and reached the spot she was searching for. Matt watched in utter fascination as her hand teased her own flesh until her breathing visibly increased.
Her breath became labored, followed by soundless moans from the sensations of her self-love. He clenched his teeth as his cock swelled, his jeans cutting into his circulation. The woman squeezed her breast, her moans increasing with each stroke.
Matt's body hummed with awareness and lust as he devoured her erotic movements. He wanted to burst through the window and fuck her like she had obviously envisioned. He wanted to caress every inch of her with his tongue, to taste the sweetness of her body. How had he ever believed she was a mouse when she was clearly a vixen unleashing before his eyes?
His heart hammered against his chest as he imagined making love to her. He wanted to elicit the same reactions that her hand proved to provide for herself. He didn't believe much in potions and spells, yet she had cast a spell on him with every touch, every stroke, every flickering delight across her clit.
How could he be jealous of her fingers? Damn it, he wanted to give her those moments of orgasmic bliss! The torture built up inside him, layer by layer. His fingernails bit into his palm as he watched her take herself over the edge. He watched her head fling back in victory as she came, her body trembling until she was too weak to stand, and slid to the floor as gently as the clothes she discarded earlier.
Matt let out a heavy sigh, his breathing erratic from the sensual show that played on. His legs felt weak and he propped a hand against the wall, trying to regain a steady breath. Guilt crept in and self-loathing spread through him for witnessing such a personal act.
Although he had wanted something tangible, he never would have thought he would be gifted with such a precious demonstration. He suddenly needed to escape, to get far away from this woman who seduced him in the most peculiar way. There was something strange and powerfully enthralling about her, something wonderful. Something so bizarre that it scared the shit out of him. In his haste to get away, Archer stumbled during his downward descent. He slipped, losing his footing from the metal rungs of the ladder, and fell. Falling, falling, falling. In those few seconds when he felt helpless, his life flashed before him in perfect clarity. One minute he had nowhere and no one to hold onto, the next, his body landed in a solid bed of…trash? Fuck. He could only chuckle at the ironic analogy. Matt was no better than
the endless piles of shit he had landed on. Enlightenment coursed through him and he vowed he would have the mystery woman. He would reform her, show her how it really felt to be touched by a man of flesh and blood, not some fantasy that would leave her alone and empty.
After what he had observed tonight, Matt knew he would never be the same again. * * * * When Edith left the next afternoon, Miranda found herself in charge
of Farra's Fortunes…and utterly panicked about her ability to do it. Her new uniform gave her a bit of confidence. The white, off-theshoulder peasant blouse made her feel exotic, and the swirling multicolored skirt—combined with the headscarf of the same pattern—lent an air of authenticity. She desperately needed that right about now.
The inky, bleach smell of the shop was worse than ever, so she decided to switch out the patchouli scent for something a little more to her liking. She had just selected Arabian Night, a refreshing blend of sandalwood and rose incense, when the jangling doorbell announced her first customer.
A man of imposing height ducked under the low frame of the front door. His very presence made her freeze as if he had caught her stealing from the cookie jar.
Oh, God, I can't do this, she thought. He'll see right through me. How can I charge him for this?
Miranda relaxed and relied upon the free first reading trick Edith had taught her. She couldn't feel bad about it if no money changed hands.
The customer slipped through the hanging beads of the foyer and moved onto the shop's main floor. He wore a fitted black leather jacket and casual, indigo jeans. A bit of white t-shirt peeked over the top of his zipper. The flames of the many candles she had lit bounced off of his
light brown hair and his slightly tanned face. Who has a tan like that in October? Skin tone aside, his face also called for more than a second glance. She felt sure that the placid expression hid something deeper, a subtle intelligence that would surface only when it was needed.
Miranda watched him covertly as he wandered the store, fingering merchandise with no apparent intent. His hazel eyes flickered over the various objects, the sensual lips of his full mouth moving not an inch from their motionless, straight line. Not to mention the five o'clock shadow. Okay, maybe six or seven o'clock. In other words, he was a heartbreaker. She would be surprised to
learn that his story involved heartbreak of a different kind. His own. Miranda stealthily slipped behind the counter. She couldn't say why,
but she needed space between them. "How much for a reading?" he suddenly asked. She stopped herself from outwardly gasping and gave him a smooth
smile, remembering her Gypsy accent. "The introductory session has no cost. It is…priceless." She struck
what she hoped was a seductive pose. He acknowledged her offer, encouraging Miranda to begin the show. She took a seat at the table in the corner, lowering the lights through the sliding switch on the wall. He sat across from her and his sudden nearness caused her thoughts to scatter. Stay cool, she told herself. Miranda removed the top from the black box, displaying the crystal ball on its pedestal inside. The dim light from the lamp above shone down upon the orb, the imperfect bubbles within casting rays upon the handsome stranger's face. "I see an initial," she said. "M." He nodded. "That's my name. Matt. Everyone calls me Archer,
though." Bingo. His gaze burned into her and she closed hers to avoid his glance.
"Should I start by telling you why I'm here?" the man asked. She took a deep breath and selected an opening line from Edith's cheat-sheet beneath the table. Gain his trust. "Err… No. I can sense that you are searching for something, Archer." Miranda's eyes snapped open. "True love."
An understated change flashed over his face, then disappeared. "Yes," came his simple answer.
Buoyed by her first "hit", as Edith had called it, she continued in the same vein. "You have not yet found that special person."
The man's heartfelt sigh touched Miranda's core. "I thought I did. Then she disappeared."
"You were to be married," she guessed, wanting to know more about the love life of the man with sad eyes the color of deep, maple syrup.
"Yes…" A muscle twitched in his jaw. He must be furious, she thought. But still wounded. She truly wanted to make him feel better, even if only for a little while.
"Give me your hand." A wave of recognition passed through her as he did so. She wondered what in the hell it could have been, even as the flesh of her arms broke out into goosebumps.
Their eyes met over the sparkling sphere and Miranda saw that he had been as affected by their touch as she. His lips parted and she couldn't help imagining what it would be like to press her mouth to his, moan as his tongue slipped between her lips, pant when he began to touch her body. Maybe he would pull her onto his lap, work his hand up from her knee to her thigh, hike her Gypsy skirts around her waist.
She would beg him if she had to. Beg him to touch her breast, cup the curls of her mound, slip his long, thick fingers between the lips of her pussy and—
"Mmm, I see," she began again, running her index finger over his palm and ignoring the moisture between her legs. "You have long fingers and…" She took another glimpse of the cheat-sheet. "Large, square hands. You're obviously intelligent, Archer. You have no problem thinking clearly in a difficult situation. As for your girlfriend…" "Fiancée," he corrected. "Right." Miranda blushed. "Relationships are important to you, but your unfailing logic sometimes gets in the way of your feelings. You're very reliable and a bit of a perfectionist." She studied the long dark lashes that swept his cheek whenever he blinked. "You're a… stimulating companion." This reading was getting her more excited by the moment.
"And I can't think of why she would leave you," Miranda muttered beneath her breath. "What was that?" "Oh, just a spell for good luck in love," she covered. "Where was
I?" He smirked, heating her core yet again. "I think you left off at
stimulating ." She could tell he wanted her. The comment said so. But, why then the unrequited love story? What was he hiding? She decided to give as good as she had gotten. Might as well have some fun. "You are a stimulating companion," Miranda continued, inspiration striking her. "And yet I sense the problem with your fiancée was a sexual one. You are both under a powerful curse, a dark spirit that hovers over your shoulders. You will need a spell for…sex magick."
It was one of the more costly psychic solutions Edith had taught her. She would have earned her extrasensory salt if she could get him to buy it.He deserved it for lying to her.
"Take off your shirt," she commanded. She selected an incense stick of the aphrodisiac variety. Lighting it, Miranda returned her attentions to Archer.
Surprisingly, he complied with her command, and the effect left her breathless. A scattering of dark, crisp hair covered the expanse of his solid chest, the rippling muscles of his arms and abdomen indicating he took care of himself, but wasn't vain. His facial tan continued down his neck and torso.
Miranda gulped, but continued on. "Generally, a sex magick spell requires both of you here, but in this case, I will be her stand-in spirit." She noticed her accent had slipped a bit and strived to regain it. "If you feel desire during the spell, do not attempt to crush it. It is what will reunite you and your lost lover."
She waved the incense around his partially nude body. When its ash had fallen into the holder, Miranda dipped her finger into it and gathered her courage. "You must be surrounded by sex magick in order to bring her back." She began to lightly dust his body with the ash on her index finger, swirling it in light patterns over his skin.
His nipples tightened and she pretended not to notice, dipping her fingers dangerously close to his belt buckle. She wished her tongue could replace her fingers, minus the ash, and not stop at the line of his pants. Why did this man drive her to fantasy like no other had before? Archer adjusted his weight and Miranda thought perhaps she had lingered too long. She grabbed a candle from a nearby shelf and began waving it around his body in circles. "This is the hot breath of your lover, destined to remind both of you of the heat you once shared."
Apparently, that one seemed to have worked, for his even breathing became heavier and more erratic as her movements increased. Miranda had just circled his body for the last time when the flame came a hair too close to his ribs. Archer seized her by the arm, startling her into dropping the candle.
Hot wax sprayed across his abdomen and he gasped, his face a contorted mixture of pleasure and pain. His eyes opened and Miranda saw the fiery desire in their depths. She backed away but he followed until she lay upon the velvet tablecloth with his body covering hers.
"This is me, not crushing my desire." He blew out the candle, leaving them in near-darkness. She realized he looked just as surprised by his actions as she was, as if he wasn't in control of his own mind and body. The evidence of his words pressed into the hollow between her thighs and she jerked away, shocked by the insistent throb of his cock. Her elbow connected with the crystal ball and sent it flying. It crashed into a thousand pieces on the hardwood floors.
"Oh, shit!" Miranda covered her mouth. She realized that she sounded more like a naughty teenager whose parents were out of town than a Gypsy fortune-teller out to seduce a client out of his money, but all she could think of was what Edith would say…or do.
"Um, okay, just…just wait here a minute." She slid out from beneath him and laughed awkwardly. "I guess I'm a real ball-breaker, huh?"
Edith had told her never to go into the private meditation room behind the curtain, but desperate times called for desperate measures and she had to find a replacement sphere.
Chapter Three
Matt watched Miss Gypsy scurry away, his co
ck still throbbing from the erotic ministrations of her so-called "sex magick." The hot candle wax had stirred a deep craving within him when it splashed across his flesh. Its quick burn, followed by the feel of hardened wax, added to his kinky thoughts. He might never have done that before, but he was all too willing to try new things.
Archer wasn't one to sit idle if the little criminal was up to no good. His training had prepared him for the unexpected, and if she had figured him out, he wasn't about to be conned by a con. He rose quickly and took a few seconds to adjust himself, cursing his inability to control his arousal.
Matt followed her into the back of the store and stopped at the open doorway. What he discovered was more than he had expected to find, and enough evidence to bring down the counterfeiters in one fell swoop.
The storeroom resembled something from a bad cop show, down to the single bulb swaying back and forth overhead from a wooden rafter. A bulky basin appeared overfilled with a pungent bleach concoction that permeated the room mixed with a fresh inky smell from a recent press run.
What caught his attention in the dimly lit room were the sturdy wires tightly stretched across one corner of the room to the other. The counterfeit bills were hung side-by-side to dry. The odor would have worked out his gag reflexes if not for the open door helping to air out the space.
Fortunes Fool Page 25
