Mystical Love

by Rachel James

  “Tell me about the other guests, Lloyd. What made you decide to bring us all together?”

  He shrugged and Janice thought he didn’t intend to give her an answer, but as they climbed, he seemed to think better of his silence.

  “Actually, I wanted to do it several years ago but couldn’t work out the scheduling.”

  “Just as well. I couldn’t have come.”

  “Neither could Adrian or Muriel. He was knee deep in ugly divorce headlines and her television series was in the top ten … here we are.” He broke off, taking the last two steps at a leap. As before, Janice found herself in a newly decorated floor of the chateau, this one more contemporary in design. Beneath the overhang of the double arcing staircase, two doors beckoned.

  “Your suites are here to the left, Jan. Adrian’s there on the right, and Ginger is in the middle.”

  “Ginger?”

  “Adrian’s assistant. Although, between us, I think she’s more his girlfriend than assistant. Pretty thing.”

  Janice gave another wicked smile. She ignored the distinctive click that sounded in her head. A torrid love affair going on right beneath their very noses! Just like olden times, wives, husbands, mistresses … light questing kisses, rough aggressive kisses … bodies surrendering to overheated senses … her thoughts derailed to find Lloyd staring at her with a questioning glance. She came back to reality immediately.

  “Sorry, I spaced out, didn’t I?”

  “It’s okay,” he nodded “This place is a psychic’s dream. Stimulates the senses and the libido.”

  Janice had the grace to blush.

  “I suddenly felt a strong sense of yin and yang.”

  “We’ve all felt it at one time, Jan.”

  “And you said there were no ghosts here, Lloyd?”

  “There aren’t. Just strands of time to tap into and relive. But only in our heads. So don’t go having any foolish, romantic notions and start searching for secret passageways.”

  “I’ll be discretion itself, I promise. Where are the Grisombs staying?”

  Lloyd swung around, gesturing to a pair of twin stairways down the corridor.

  “The West wing is a half floor up. My suite of rooms is there as well.”

  “And above that?” Janice craned her head, able to view the decorative ceiling at last. It appeared to end within another two floors.

  “More sitting rooms, a bona-fide chapel, an indoor palatial roof garden. This way, Jan.” She felt a tug on her arm and followed.

  Janice gave a squeal of delight at the sight of the bright yellow room. Lloyd had remembered her favorite color after all these years. She surprised him with an enthusiastic hug as he set down her suitcase.

  “Thank you for remembering I’m partial to yellow, Lloyd. And the crackling fire is heavenly.” She slipped her coat from her shoulders, reveling in the warmth emanating from the burning wood.

  Lloyd gave a hoarse laugh, clearly amused by her sudden, contented sigh.

  “Well, I see you’ve done all the exploring you’re going to do for the moment. Dinner will be served at six thirty, cocktails at six. We’ll be using the dining room at the left of the first floor staircase.”

  Janice dropped into the plush settee in front of the fireplace. That was an hour away — plenty of time for a nap. Her head dropped to the sofa arm with a will of its own and she stared into the glowing embers.

  “Watch the time, Jan. Can’t have you missing dinner.”

  “You won’t. I’m ravenous.” Her eyelids drifted downward. Ummm, the room was marshmallow toasty. She was totally exhausted as well as sensually disturbed. Lloyd’s chuckle reverberated around her head.

  “I mean it, Jan, don’t be late.”

  She gave a leisurely wave and heard the door close softly a moment later. The click became the second-to-last thing she remembered as she nestled deeper into the cushions. The last thing she remembered was a fan of air along her right cheekbone. Contented, she gave a sigh and drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter 6

  FRIDAY — 6:00 PM

  Tuning out the lively conversation around him, Adrian leaned back and let his gaze scour the room’s speckled wallpaper. Why in the name of Holy Vegas had he allowed himself to be lured to this blasted seminar? He loathed reunions. He’d rather try to win a dog-sled race with a team of Chihuahuas than be part of a new-age seminar. He despised no-win scenarios even more, detested those who got caught up in them. And yet here he was — caught in one of his own making. For more than twenty minutes, he had been spouting all the polite words to his companions and hating himself for doing it. To make matters even more intolerable, he was cold. Why didn’t Marks turn up the heat?

  Switching his focus to the blazing candelabra ensconced in the furthest corner of the room, Adrian realized it was more than the chateau’s coldness he detested. It was the vastness. It made him feel inferior. Threw up in his face how little in life he had accomplished in his thirty-five years. Sitting here made him ask vast questions of himself that he didn’t give a rat’s ass about the answer.

  He let his eyes sweep the frescoed ceiling and gilt furniture. Marks had become a wealthy giant over the years. Everything in the room spoke of money and class. His taste was excellent, hundred proof. Returning his gaze to the whiskey glass in his hand, Adrian gave a tight smile. Marks’ whiskey was hundred-proof, too, and extremely enjoyable. He tossed the last shot down, savoring the burning fire as it scorched his throat and lungs. And then dropping the glass to the table, he tugged his pullover down. He was underdressed for dinner but at least he was warm.

  Slowly, he turned his attention to the sideboard table filled with steaming dishes of hot food. Would they ever get around to eating? He was starved. The gurgles in the pit of his stomach had been churning for at least fifteen minutes. He took a quick peek at his watch. How much longer would their host keep them waiting? He glanced a second time and caught himself. Jesus, he was on edge! He was becoming a god-damned shit-ass clock watcher!

  Angered by his own foul mood, he took a deep breath. His jaded sarcasm was working double time, his obscenities worse than usual. Why did he feel compelled to know the time? He didn’t care a rat’s ass for time. Why should anyone? Time was merely a manmade word that catalogued man’s physical realm within limited parameters. Physical parameters that stung and hurt and fed on the soul like hungry piranha.

  Not liking the slant of his dark thoughts, Adrian turned to find something more pleasant in the room. Ginger seated beside him was a pleasing eyeful in her red wool gabardine pantsuit. The material hugged her ample curves in all the right places.

  He liked her blond hair piled on top of her head in lacy ringlets. He wondered if she had done it to please him. He banished the thought immediately as absurd. Ginger had no need to stroke his ego. He had been the one to pursue their relationship, not her.

  Catching a whiff of her special brand of peach perfume, Adrian knew he had gotten the best part of their bargain. She was gregarious by nature; he tended to dark mood shifts. Her honest, open friendliness combated and, most times, quelled his jaded sarcasm. She was truly Beauty to his Beast.

  Ginger was overly animated now as she and the spry woman across the table argued over favorite smoky cafes along Bourbon Street. Twirling his glass, he listened to their cheerful banter. He had never seen his assistant so relaxed or talkative. Did being around him and his increasingly sour moods dampen her natural, lively exuberance? He frowned thoughtfully. When they returned to Vegas, he would have a talk with her. Clear the air. Perhaps, finally offer a commitment. It was time to let the past go, cut the umbilical cord of dreams that chained and kept him from moving forward into the future.

  At the thought of the future, Adrian found his gaze slipping to the couple across the table. Muriel and Jasper Grisomb were perfect together. As content with each oth
er as field mice in a harvest bin. She was small and plump; he was big and compact. He liked their obvious respect for each other and he especially liked the way they shared secret threads of communication. The lift of her hand to his to gain attention, his return smile holding an emotional resonance that lingered long after she had found something new to draw his attention to. It had taken a lifetime of growing together to build those kinds of threads. He felt a slight ache above his ribcage and knew that he was envious of their happiness.

  He set his glass down abruptly, ice clinking. He should never drink when he was feeling melancholy. It unleashed too many unpleasant memories. He felt a sharp jab in his side and slanted his gaze to his right. Ginger sat looking at him, a suggestion of annoyance hovering around the edges of her mouth.

  “For heaven’s sake, Adrian, where are you? Muriel has asked you a question.”

  Adrian’s mercurial black eyes narrowed, and tilting his head back, he peered at the older woman who sat with a sweet smile, patiently awaiting a reply.

  “Sorry, Muriel, what were you asking?”

  “I wondered how long you had known Lloyd.”

  Adrian’s lips twisted into a cynical smile.

  “We met once — in the psychiatric ward of an Army hospital.”

  “You were the patient, of course.”

  Adrian’s mouth twisted into a sneer.

  “Of course.”

  “My God, Adrian, you never told me that.”

  The shock in Ginger’s voice was semi-accusatory, and Adrian suppressed a sigh. Where were the secret threads of communication when he needed them? Her shock had siphoned the blood from her face.

  “It was a long time ago, love,” he teased. “I barely remember it.” Her slender fingers twisted together and Adrian knew she was dying to hear the whole sordid story. He returned his gaze to Muriel. “And you, Muriel? What’s your history with Marks?”

  “Like you, Lloyd and I were friends for a short period of time. I interned at Duke University with him in the mid-eighties. As part of his Dream Laboratory Team.”

  “And you, Jasper?”

  The man who had been sitting quietly came to life. He removed his pipe stem from between his teeth and gave a conspiratorial wink.

  “Never met the man until today. Like him, though.”

  He returned his pipe to his mouth and the room fell suddenly quiet. Adrian realized they had now exhausted all the topics of conversation polite strangers could indulge in. He cupped the empty whiskey glass in his hand and gave it a twirl. Probing fingers touched the warmth of his outstretched hand and stilled the glass.

  “I’ve often wondered, Muriel, why Adrian is so reluctant to discuss his second sight with me. He admits to it but he won’t let me inside to understand it. Are all psychics so reticent about their gift? I would like to understand, for Adrian’s sake. It makes him so black some days.”

  “Get your hand off my behind, Ginger.”

  “See, that’s what I mean. All I have to do is mention the gift and his sharp fangs appear.”

  “Make your point, love. No need for Muriel to wait as long as an elephant’s pregnancy for the point.”

  Adrian saw Muriel’s lips twitch in amusement.

  “Are you really as jaded as you sound, Adrian? You’ll be the first psychic I’ve met who is.”

  Adrian shrugged, not about to confirm or deny her statement. She didn’t seem to mind, though as he saw her swing her attention once more to Ginger.

  “I myself am not so jaded about psychic gifts, my dear. I’ve had nothing but good luck attached to mine. But then, I am a trance channeler. I can pick and choose and turn the channel off when I want to. However, others, like Jasper and perhaps Adrian, are not so fortunate.” Adrian saw her transfer her clear gaze to him. “They suffer unwanted visions — visions that intrude and sap their energy. Visions that have haunted them since childhood in many cases.”

  Adrian didn’t even pretend to hide his discomfort. She was picking up some strand of time associated with him, he knew. Could sense it in his head. Her probing could be costly. Already, she had Ginger staring at him as if he was dirt-under-the-fingernails poor and it was her job to haul him up from the gutter. He shut his mind down from Muriel’s probing and stifled Ginger’s curiosity with a curt command.

  “Don’t ask about my childhood, O’Toole. Save your questions for our host … by the way, where the hell is our host?”

  His question produced a scornful laugh from Jasper, who swiveled in his chair. His pipe stabbed the air.

  “Meeting Miss Kelly. She was late in arriving.”

  “I hate modern women who enjoy being fashionably late.” Adrian leaned over and refilled his whisky glass. His gaze met Muriel’s smile across the table. She was probing his mind again, trying to make him feel less surly.

  “You’re really too unkind, Adrian. Janice’s flight was delayed. You can’t blame her for that. It’s the weather.”

  A door slam echoed in the outside corridor and Adrian gave a heartfelt sigh.

  “Well, it’s about time.”

  Fingers clasped his wrist and Ginger’s voice was low and throaty in his ear.

  “Behave please, Adrian. Stow that viperous tongue of yours. For me?”

  Adrian suppressed another sigh, raised his glass, and saluted her wryly. Hearing approaching footsteps, he turned and saluted the doorway with a smug taunt.

  “To late arrivals … may they … ”

  The words froze on his lips at the sight of the red-headed woman crossing the threshold with Lloyd. For a fraction of a second, he heard a pop in his head and his pulse did a rapid nosedive. In its wake, an icy chill swept into the pit of his stomach and crawled upward to constrict his lungs. Holy Christ! It was her!

  The glass in his hand began to tremble as his black eyes met her green ones across the crystal. A light, friendly smile greeted him. And then in the next instant, the glass in his hand exploded and the smile vanished. Shards of glass sprayed the air and Adrian shot to his feet with a painful yelp. His dinner companions bolted from their chairs as well.

  “Sweet Jesus!” The curse was out before Adrian could stop it — and hurled directly at the woman before him. For a brief instant, the group stood paralyzed before Ginger took control, snatching up a napkin and grabbing his bleeding thumb, which caused another muttered curse to fly from his lips. “For Christ’s sake, woman, there’s glass in there. Why don’t you just rip my thumb off while you’re at it?”

  She mopped at his thumb with her napkin.

  “I ought to. What the hell happened?”

  “The glass shattered; what the hell do you think happened?”

  “But you weren’t even clutching the glass tight. It shattered by itself.”

  “Give me a break, O’Toole. Magicians have been known to break things every now and then.”

  Adrian cupped his thumb with his free hand in an attempt to stem the heavy throbbing that was now part of the digit. Beside him, Lloyd picked up the remnants of the shattered glass and held it up to the light. Adrian saw his unspoken confusion and bit down on a rising curse. No, he’d not say it. Instead, he stared at the woman across the table from him. He let his gaze rake every inch of her as she stood anxiously watching Ginger’s busy fingers. Adrian didn’t leave his eyes on her face long. No, he didn’t need to study her face. It was ingrained in his memory. Had been since he was ten years old, and she had come to taunt him in youthful dreams. It was the body he now looked at, his mind dislocating itself from the pain in his thumb. Holy Vegas! She was beautiful. With a body more rounded than ever he created for her in any of his wet dreams.

  A sharp stinging pain assailed him and he snarled under the abuse.

  “Jesus, Ginger!”

  “Sorry, Adrian, I can see the sliver. If you just hold your hand stil
l a little longer … ”

  Her voice tapered off and Adrian smothered a second growl. He transferred his gaze to the group, and while he gave a tight-lipped smile for their benefit, inside he cursed the flesh that felt as if it were a raging ball of fire. Ginger’s finger tweaked the sliver at last and he inhaled with a sharp jerk as she muttered “got it.” Feeling the pain dwindling, Adrian signaled to his companions.

  “Sit down, everybody. No use continuing to steal Miss Kelly’s limelight. She obviously needs to be the center of attention.”

  Adrian knew from her quick intake that his viperous remark had stunned Janice. So much for making good first impressions, he thought. But what the hell? It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except to stop the aching in his hand. And of course, the one closer to his rib cage.

  “Adrian’s right.” Jasper echoed. “The scare seems to be over.” He sat himself quickly and Adrian saw him motion to the others, who dropped back to their places with less speed. Adrian didn’t miss the bewildered glance Janice tossed his way as she settled into a vacant chair. Holy Christ! He wanted nothing more than to offend her — to goad her into despising him. That way he could end his personal torture. Lloyd’s voice cut through the sudden silence and Adrian watched his attention return to the glass he still held in his hand.

  “Can’t imagine how the glass came to break. These crystal glasses are hundreds of years old.” His gaze lifted to Adrian’s face. “Are you sure you’re alright, Adrian?”

  “I will be if I can get Florence Nightingale here to wrap my thumb with a clean bandage.”

  Ginger came to life beside him, snatching up a clean napkin and twirling the fabric into a make-shift bandage. She then tied it around Adrian’s thumb, giving him a tremulous smile when she finished.