by Tawny Weber
“Well, this will be an interesting couple of weeks,” the woman finally said, tracing her finger over the lines on Rose’s hand. “You and Samson are working in the apartment we rent upstairs, my dear. It has a lovely reputation.”
Uh huh.
Rose slowly withdrew her hand, curling her fingers into her palm to try and relieve the tingling.
“What kind of reputation?”
“Oh, you’ll see,” Natalia said with a delighted laugh. “Come, my dear. Let’s get started.”
Taking Rose’s hand again—was this woman always so touchy feely?—Natalia pulled her around the counter and through the double doors leading to the kitchen.
“I can’t leave the cafe unattended. But you go ahead and go back to greet your future.”
“Future?” Rose frowned.
“Friend, I mean. Greet your friend.” With that, another knowing smile and an encouraging pat on the shoulder, Natalia stepped out.
Leaving Rose standing just inside the doorway, welcomed by the sound of laughter and the scent of heaven. The quaint kitchen was like something out of a fairy tale. The sort she’d loved to read as a child. Stories filled with good witches and fairy princesses and happy ever after. That was before her mother had deemed anything with magic to be off limits.
But her mother’s superstitions aside, Rose was an adult now. And she loved this kitchen. There was something about it that gave her a tingle in her belly.
A feeling of... Something.
Something she didn’t recognize.
As she stepped further into the room, she saw Sam.
This time the tingle she got was a little lower than her belly.
Her breath caught in her throat. He was even better looking in person than his photos, or even the few FaceTime video chats they’d had.
His hair was gilded bronze, tousled and sexily shaggy over a rugged face softened by full lips and dark eyes framed by lashes lush enough to make Rose sigh in both admiration and envy.
She couldn’t tell his height because he was seated, but his shoulders were broad beneath his blue chambray shirt. A silver ring glinted off his pinky when he gestured, and when he threw back his head and laughed, she felt herself melt a little inside.
It took her a few seconds to tear her gaze away from him to look at the two women he was with. Stunning, was all she could think. Though there was at least forty years between them, they were obviously related. Rose noted the sharp cheekbones, the exotic eyes and the vivid looks and realized they and Natalia were family. Mother, daughter and grandmother, perhaps?
As if drawn by her thoughts, the younger woman slanted a look her way and smiled.
“Welcome,” she said, dozens of bracelets jangling as she gestured Rose into the room. “You must be Rose. Join us.”
His eyes locked on her face Sam got to his feet.
“Rose,” he greeted, his smile warming as he strode across the room. Nerves hit her again, clenching so tight she could barely breathe.
Before she could decide whether to offer her hand for a casual-but-businesslike shake or to take both of his hands to squeeze in a friendly-but-circumspect hello, he wrapped his arms around her waist and swung her in a wide circle.
So much for casual and circumspect.
Laughter gurgled and joy filled her, swirling like a waltz to a lusting tempo through her system.
With the same enthusiasm, he introduced her to the other women. Anja, Natalia’s gorgeous gypsy of a daughter, and Odette, Anja’s grandmother.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Anja said with a friendly smile. “Is this your first time visiting Karma Café?”
“It is, but I promise now that I know it’s here, it won’t be my last.”
Sam let his friends put Rose at ease.
That gave him more time to enjoy the sight of her. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t known what she looked like. He’d been aware that she had long blonde hair, but he hadn’t realized it was like golden silk, waving over her shoulders in soft curls. He’d seen for himself that her eyes were blue, but he noticed that in person they glowed like sapphires beneath lush lashes and arched brows a few shades darker than her hair. Along with full lips and delicately curved cheeks, it all added up to a tempting combination of sweet and sexy.
As slender as a wisp in a sweater a shade lighter than her eyes and black pants tucked into black patent knee-high boots studded with black rivets.
She was gorgeous.
He’d been prepared for that.
It was the lustful kick in the gut that took him by surprise. Not wise, he told himself. At least, not now.
Better to focus on the task at hand. He’d help with her storyline, he’d convince her to come back to Coeur d’Alene and help her grandparents. Once there, once she’d reunited with her family, he could focus on getting personal.
Very, very personal.
“You have the look of your grandmother,” Odette said, her lightly accented words interrupting Sam’s thoughts.
Rose and Anja had stopped their discussion mid-sentence, both turning to look at the older woman. Anja’s expression was calm as ever, but Rose looked like the sweet little old woman had come around the counter and kicked her in the knee.
Sam winced, wishing Odette had kept her mouth shut. He already knew he had his work cut out for him convincing Rose to open her heart and her life to her grandparents. He’d figured on building up to the topic, circling it until he’d found just the right approach.
So much for that plan.
“You know my family?” Rose asked, her tone reflecting the surprised caution on her face. Her gaze cut to his, then away, but not before he’d see the worry in her eyes.
She knew he lived in Northern Idaho, but had never mentioned her family in the same area. He hadn’t given it a lot of thought before, but now Sam wondered why just talking about them should cause that level of concern. He obviously had a lot more work cut out for him than he’d anticipated.
“I know your grandparents, Leah and Stephen,” Odette said, her eyes never leaving Rose’s face. “I’ve met your aunt and two uncles, some of your cousins. And, of course, your mother.”
It was like watching a person fold into themselves. Rose simply closed up. She didn’t move, but Sam could feel her emotions shutting down, her defenses coming up. He figured that was pretty telling. Not just of her feelings about her family, but of the challenge he had ahead of him.
“Odette,” he quietly chided, halting her words. To back it up, he sent thoughts of warning, of a teetering cliff-edge. The older woman blinked, then frowned, giving him an impatient look that assured him she’d heard and didn’t particularly like the message.
“Very well,” she huffed, turning back to the counter where she’d been preparing tarts. “My words aren’t necessary at this time, but perhaps a treat would be to your preference?”
She gestured to the trays stacked, four deep, on the racks.
“Apple pie? Cinnamon cake? Chocolate cupcakes or a strawberry parfait? They’re all quite delicious and will help you with the task at hand.”
“We’ll wait,” Sam insisted.
He’d heard enough about Karma Café’s helpful treats to be willing to risk it just yet. Chocolates that inspired lust and turnovers that engendered truth were all well and good, but he’d rather get the ball rolling on his own. If he saw a need for a boost in the form of a tasty treat later, he’d know where to go.
“Why don’t I show you upstairs,” Anja said, her expression apologetic even as her eyes searched Sam’s face. “The two of you can get started without interruption.”
Rose’s gaze shifted from person to person, a mix of confusion and suspicion covering her delicate features. She didn’t object, though.
Actually, Sam noted, she didn’t say a word. She simply waited. He wondered if she could feel the pull and tug of conflicting energies, the demand and expectation hovering in the air.
“Rose? I hope you’re happy with the apartment. I figure it
’ll be nice to have a neutral space to focus on making the story work. From what Odette says, it should be a great creativity inspiration,” he said, glancing at the older woman who’d arranged this little scenario.
“The energy is vibrationally aligned to possibilities,” Odette said in the same commonplace tone he figured she’d use to say the tarts were made with butter. “And doesn’t all creativity stem from possibilities?”
Hmm. Good point. Instead of answering, though, Sam glanced at Rose. She looked as if she couldn’t decide between nodding or frowning, so had gone for both.
Time to go, he decided, gesturing Rose toward a narrow staircase at the back of the kitchen.
With a quiet thank you to Odette, accompanied by another searching look, Rose finally joined him and Anja at the stairs. Her silence as they climbed to the second story wasn’t encouraging.
Thankfully, the minute Anja pushed open the door to Sam’s temporary workspace, all worry fled. Actually, so did the power of thought. There was something about neon leopard print combined with glittering fuchsia fur that shut down the brain.
All Sam could do was stare.
And wonder what the hell neon green walls were vibrationally aligned to.
And more importantly, why.
Chapter Three
Well, this definitely wasn’t starting out the way she’d planned.
Instead of a boringly anonymous hotel or even her office, she’d spend the next two weeks working in a stranger’s apartment over a café that challenged her on levels she didn’t quite understand.
Instead of greeting an old friend, the man who’d help her with the biggest challenge of her career, she’d been tossed into a sea of lust.
And now, rather than an easy nice-to-meet you introduction to Sam’s friends, she’d been kicked in the gut with a cacophony of emotions that she couldn’t understand. Oh, she could identify them. Fear, longing, hope, confusion. But she didn’t understand the actual cause, and she definitely didn’t understand what to do about them.
Wait, she supposed.
Just wait until they made sense.
But even as she thought that, Rose bumped into Sam.
“Sorry,” she gasped. “I didn’t realize you’d stopped.”
He took her hand as if to keep her from falling back down the stairs and laughed.
That laugh filled her with something. Something so powerful and energizing and confusing that she could only blink.
Then he pulled her up a step so that she was on the landing next to him. He squeezed her hand, and the feel of his fingers wrapped tight around hers sent tingles through her. The sort of tingles that made her think naked thoughts. Naked, hot bodies tangled together thoughts.
“Welcome to your new home away from home,” Anja said, gesturing to the open door on the right of the landing.
And giving Rose a clear view of why Sam had stopped.
Shock had a way of doing that to a person.
It was a good sized apartment. Living room, a dining nook separated from a cozy kitchen by a jut of countertop. The view outside the window was as good as one could ask in San Francisco, with the Golden Gate framed by sheer curtains. The problem was, even sheer, day-glow orange curtains were guaranteed to make you blink twice.
As if in a trance, Rose stepped around Sam, past Anja’s welcoming arm and into the living area. Eye-watering or not, it was a welcoming space. Welcoming, and something else.
Wondering how many ways she could feel off balance, Rose tried to breathe calmly, even though the air felt as if it were filled with a shimmer of glitter. If she squinted, she could almost make out the color of the shimmers.
Crazy, she realized, shaking her head to dismiss the idea. Her mother had always called her over imaginative, bemoaning her fascination with silly things like magic and fairy tales and energy work. By the time Rose was ten, she’d learned to put away all of that nonsense and to focus her imagination on something useful.
So why was this room bringing that all back again?
It had to be that old lady’s comment about her grandparents, she realized. Her shoulders relaxed, the tension shifting as she made the connection. And now that she knew, she could ignore the silly ideas of energy and magic in the air and focus on reality.
With that in mind and her chin high, she turned to give Anja a warm smile.
“It’s a lovely room.”
“If you say so,” the brunette laughed. “I’ve always thought of it as a bit of kaleidoscope myself.”
“And where better to create a game of fun and adventure than a kaleidoscope.” When Rose glanced at Sam, her lips twitched a little at his stunned expression. Maybe he wasn’t quite ready for working in a kaleidoscope?
Before she could ask, he seemed to shake it off and turned to thank Anja. While he made arrangements with her for meals and talked about getting together to catch up and visit later, Rose wandered the room.
It was unique, to say the least. Like something you’d have seen in a teenager’s room in the seventies, but with an extra kick of woo woo. Images of tarot cards woven into a tapestry on the wall, candles and crystals everywhere, incense burners and hanging glass in the shape of moons all added to the woo.
But they still didn’t explain the feeling in the air. Rose took a second to breathe it in. She’d never felt anything like it, yet it was a familiar memory.
Before she could reach back and find it, though, Anja called out her goodbyes. Manners awoke, Rose hurried back to the door to do her social duties.
Then, suddenly, it was just her and Sam.
Alone.
In this funky apartment.
She stared at Sam, noting the look in his dark eyes, the way his smile stretched those tempting lips. He had the most amazing cheekbones. On a sigh, her gaze drifted to his shoulders, down those biceps and over his chest. Even more amazing than his cheekbones was his body.
She wanted that body.
Rose cringed, wondering what had got into her. She never looked at men like this. She never thought about—much less obsessed over—sex ever before in her life.
Maybe it was reaction to the room? She’d never been around this much faux fur and velour before, either. Could it be some weird sort of allergic reaction?
“Have a seat,” Sam suggested. “Tell me what’s going on in your life, how you’ve been, all that sort of thing.”
Right.
Her life.
Well, her life was a mess.
Since Rose would rather not talk about that, she offered a shrug as she wandered between the fuchsia couch and a vivid blue armchair.
“I’d rather hear about yours,” she demurred. “Or maybe we could talk about this project first, then visit later? That way it’s sort of mulling around in your head from the get go.”
“Sure.” All agreeable smiles and gorgeous looks, Sam dropped into a ladder-back chair next to the drop-leaf table and gestured for her to go ahead. “Go ahead, fill me in.”
Oh, where to start.
As the details of the project filled her head, Rose realized that she might have pinpointed the key reasons for her oddly overactive libido.
“There are two things you should probably know before we get started,” Rose said slowly, trying to find the right words to explain them, and coming up clueless for both.
“Okay,” Sam said agreeably, gesturing to the furry couch. Whether for her to take a seat, or to have a laugh, she wasn’t sure. But Rose went with the seat. “Go ahead and fill me in, then we’ll go from there.”
Rose opened her mouth to explain Millicent’s latest demand, but couldn’t quite find the nerve to put that out in actual words. Instead, she pressed her lips together and went with the less embarrassing confession.
“I’ve been having a sort of, well, it’s kind of a...” she took a deep breath and dug deep for her guts. “I’ve been dealing with a sort of a block.”
“Which is why you need me, right?”
Well, that was one reason.
> “I’m hoping that with your help with certain story elements and the dialogue, I’ll break through this block,” she admitted. “That the images, the visuals will awaken.”
At his look, she shrugged. “That’s how it feels. Like everything in me is asleep. My creativity, the ability to visualize the colors and graphics and all of the elements that used to come so easily to me.”
“Have you tried breaking through those blocks?” At her questioning stare, he continued, “Meditation, stream of conscious writing, a walk in the park, more caffeine, less caffeine, hot sex, vision boards, playing other people’s games.”
He shrugged.
“Just a few ideas.”
Despite the appeal of exploring the hot sex, she shook her head. “I haven’t tried anything except, you know, trying to push through and work anyway.”
“That works sometimes,” he agreed with an easy nod. “But I find for myself, sometimes I need alternatives to break that block.”
“You get writer’s block?” Rose couldn’t say why that shocked her, but it did. He was so successful, so confident. So strong.
“I think anyone who works in a creative field gets it from time to time. Probably other fields, too. But thankfully enough people’ve had it in our field that we have a lot of options to find a way through.”
Oh.
Rose blinked against the crazy rush of tears, not sure why his words hit her so hard.
“It used to be easier,” she admitted. “I used to create the games that were in my head, so it was always pretty simple to see where I was going and what I needed to do.”
“What changed?”
“Millicent has a very specific vision for the future of Black Magic Games. She’s very, um, passionate about the elements she wants in each game, in every release. And each one has to meet her stringent standards.”
“No wonder you’re blocked,” he grumbled, looking irritated. “You’re trying to create someone else’s story instead of your own. How are you supposed to fit your imagination into her specifications?”
