by Rachel Cade
FOREIGN EXCHANGE
MYSTICAL SIGNS: LEO
BY
RACHEL CADE
www.VenusPress.com
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
FOREIGN EXCHANGE
Copyright © 2006 by Rachel Cade
ISBN: 1-59836-368-9
Cover Art © 2006 by Ravencrest Images
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form without permission, except as provided by the U.S. Copyright Law. Printed and bound in the United States of America.
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Dedication:
For all the ladies that enjoyed this the first time around
Chapter One
Lorna walked about Macy’s after she’d parted ways with her best friend Tianna. She looked at all the displays, and even had a little bag containing the too expensive Gucci perfume she had splurged on. Well, she had saved up and splurged on. As tall, willowy women whizzed by on cell phones, their heels clicked against the tiled floor, Lorna stared at one beauty display after another. She wandered the store looking at various garments that caught her eye. But soon she tired of the ladies section, especially since none of the clothes she looked at came in her size. Why couldn’t she be a size six for a couple of days or even just a few hours?
Dark colored walls led her to the men’s section, which was decorated to look like a man’s study. She still had a little time to kill before she wanted to head home so she decided to nose around. She loved fashion, and had applied at NY’s FIT in hopes of becoming a fashion designer. Being a waitress sucked, and she knew it wasn’t something she was going to do forever.
Her specialty was woman’s clothing, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t interested in men’s fashion. She loved the way a good tailored suit was cut, and liked to run her hands along the fabric.
She made her way to the tie display. Christian Lacriox, Salvatore Ferragamo, and Givenchy, among others, were on display. Lorna caressed each, loving the way the silk felt on the edge of her fingers. Her whole body twitched at the thought that someday her clothes would be out on display alongside these legendary designers.
“Are you looking for something?”
Lorna jumped at the sound of the male voice because this section of the store had appeared empty. She looked up to see a shrewd, dark hair man look down his nose at her. Lorna immediately felt embarrassed and wanted to get away from him, yet at the same time she was upset. Just because you sell thousand dollar clothes doesn’t mean you can look down at me, she thought frowning, you probably can’t afford any of this stuff either. Instead, all she said was a polite “No, I’m fine” and moved away from him in a way that was far less subtle.
Fortunately, at that moment he was called away by someone who probably was going to buy something and he was forced to leave her alone.
Lorna was on the other side of the display, marveling at an intricately embroidered tie when she sniffed. The spicy scent of soft cologne was in the air that made her toes crinkle in her sneakers. Her nose made her head turn to the right. There stood a tall man clad in a long wool jacket that went past his calves. Below the coat she could see the bottom of well-pressed slacks and shiny shoes she immediately knew were worth more than she made in a week. She felt a tingle run down her spine because she loved nothing more than a well-dressed man. It was a rare species where she came from; most of the guys she knew only wore suits to funerals, and even then sloppily. None of them knew a thing about a tailor made to fit jacket and slacks. Not that she did either but she knew she liked how they looked.
Aside from his obvious expensive taste in clothes, the thing that immediately stood out was his pale blond hair. It was so shiny and hung down his back in a flowing wave like something from a Pantene commercial. It went well past the middle of his back, and Lorna had to step back to resist the urge to go over to him and stroke it like it was a horse’s mane. He walked though the men’s section observing and pausing at things he liked. Lorna was ashamed to admit it but she was following him. She had never done anything like this in her life yet she felt compelled to. He hadn’t turned around, and she was grateful. Lorna knew it was only a matter of time until he left and he would just be another memory in her mind, but she didn’t want to let go just yet.
She wished he would turn around so she could at least get a side profile of him. It was possible he had a face that looked like hamburger or one only a mother could love. He was ten feet away, and she was pretending to look at a display of coats. As she ran her hand over the fabric she kept glancing up to see if he would turn around.
Her cell phone rang. She cursed silently, almost knocking the heavy coat she was pretending to look at on the ground. There was a clattering noise as she dropped her bag on the hard floor while she rummaged through her pocket for her phone. She whirled around hoping she hadn’t drawn his attention.
Lorna walked away with guilty steps as she whispered “Hello” into the phone.
“Why are you whispering?” Tianna asked on the other line.
Lorna realized she was also hunched over the phone. She straightened, feeling more than stupid and cleared her throat. “No reason. What’s up? Didn’t we just part ways?”
She could almost see Tianna rolling her eyes. “Trust me, you are not all that,” she teased. “I was calling because I forgot to get that bra I was after.”
“Well, come back and get it tomorrow.”
“I can’t, it’s on sale and this is the last day.”
“Don’t you have enough bras and panties?”
“No.”
“You buy them every time we go out.”
“Please,” Tianna whined. “I will pay you back tomorrow.”
“God, Tianna.” Lorna sighed. “All right, I’ll get it.”
Lorna was in the lingerie section trying to pick out her best friends’ size. The salesgirl came over with a smile and asked if she could help. Lorna smiled back and said no, embarrassed to be in the section full of teddies and thongs. She would never get into the type of stuff the forever-skinnier Tianna wore. They had been friends for over fifteen years, and though Tianna had the grace to never throw it in her face, Lorna always envied her slimmer frame. Even now, if she were with her, she would probably be holding some gorgeous size six pajamas in front of her saying, “You think I should get this?”
Lorna felt self-conscious now as she stood there with her puffy red coat and her slightly ill-fitting black jeans, which flared out and almost over her Nike sneakers. She bought the bra and headed out of the store, pausing when she made her way back over to the now empty men’s section. She sighed as she tucked away her little memory. The well-dressed man was gone, probably back to his ultra rich fantastic life, and that was it. She walked through the store and smiled at the lady she’d bought the perfume from and said goodnight.
On her way she found herself stopping at the perfume counter looking at the kissing couple on an advertisement from the latest Ralph Lauren fragrance. Not able to resist smelling the new scent, she began looking for the tester spray wondering how she’d missed this when she first walked in. Then she remembered. She and Tianna had c
ome in from the other side of the building. Finding the tester, she sprayed the scent against her wrist and raised it up to her nose, inhaling the smooth spicy fragrance. She closed her eyes briefly and when she opened them she gasped, stepping back. Across from her bending over the display was the man. He looked up even though her intake of breath was barely audible, and she was frozen mid spot by his blue-green gaze.
Okay, okay, she thought as her feet started to move that was the moment, now let’s go!
Quickly, she moved to head out of the store before he rolled his eyes at her or snickered in disgust. She saw his face turn to her as she moved, and she made sure not to turn her face in his direction. Her heart was pumping so fast she wondered if she was having an anxiety attack.
She pushed open the glass door and heard it slam behind her as she moved out on to the street.
Oh my God, he looked at me, she kept saying over and over in her head. He looked right at me, not over me or through me but right at me.
So what, another part of her said, so he looked, what’s a look?
The excitement trailed off as she realized what it was.
“Nothing,” Lorna said quietly as her pace slowed down.
She continued up another block as the sun began to disappear behind the large imposing buildings that made up Manhattan.
“Excuse me,” a male voice behind her said.
She kept walking as she usually did, assuming they were talking to someone else.
“Excuse me,” the voice said again.
She looked to her left and there he was, slowing down his slow run now that he had caught up to her. She stopped and tried to keep her eyes from going wide.
Had she dropped something? Was he Macy’s security and thought she’d stolen something? That would be pretty embarrassing. Her hands itched and felt cold, and she had to resist the urge to turn and try to get away.
“I called you back there but you kept walking.” He thumbed back toward the department store.
Lorna tried not to fidget, but she did anyway as people walked by on either side of them, as New Yorker’s typically did, as if other people didn’t exist.
Oh my God, she thought warily, fine and British? This couldn’t be happening.
She hadn’t really gotten a good a look at his features beyond his eyes at the store before she’d rushed out, but it wasn’t necessary to know that he was fine as hell. His features were long and angular, and his skin wasn’t tanned yet it wasn’t extremely pale like he didn’t get any sun. His eyebrows were just as light as his hair, which was pulled behind his ears away from his face, and they rested over deep-set eyes that couldn’t decide if they wanted to be green or blue.
Lorna thought if it were humanly possible she would just wither up and cocoon into her coat like a turtle shell. What did he want? She held her hands up in defense as her mind started working again. “If you’re selling something, I’m not buying.”
He grinned, showing even white teeth. “I’m afraid I’m not selling anything.”
Lorna squinted at him. “I mean it. I’m fine with my cell phone package.”
He looked down at her as if he didn’t understand what she was saying, and she turned to leave.
“Um, no, wait a second.” He caught up to her again.
She stopped and turned to him. “What is it then?” she snapped, praying he wasn’t playing some sick game for his own twisted amusement.
“I should introduce myself,” he extended his hand. “I’m Simon Dalton.”
Reluctantly, she reached out and took his hand; hers bare and his encased in brown butter soft leather gloves. Even through them she could feel his body heat permeating them, making them feel warm against her skin. She snatched her trembling fingers away and waited to storm off at the start of his sales pitch. He knew he was good-looking, and she knew she probably looked desperate. After all, how many devastatingly gorgeous white guys with flaxen hair ran up a block to chase you down when you are a full-figured black girl with a round face devoid of makeup and your hair pulled back into a ponytail.
“And you are?” He quirked a brow, and that zany part of her that would consider running naked down the street just for the sheer joy of it, almost professed her love. You know that scandalous side of you that could get you loved and hated in equal doses if you dared listen to it.
“Lorna,” she said at the same time as a car horn in the street blew loudly.
“Pardon me?”
“Lorna!” she said again, embarrassed a few people stopped to look at her before continuing the trek to their unknown destination.
Simon licked his full mouth. It didn’t appear to have been done with sexual intent, and yet Lorna’s gaze zeroed in on the movement before looking away. Her erogenous zones began to heat up despite the freezing weather around them.
“Lorna, that’s a lovely name.” Only a British man with a formal accent could say something like that and it not sound gay. In fact, it made her want to crowd into him and bury her nose into his shirt, letting his scent engulf her.
“Thanks,” she said awkwardly as she started to fidget on each foot. He was going through a lot to make a sale.
“Would you like to have dinner with me tonight, Lorna?”
“What?” She couldn’t help but step back, her eyes wide as her shout lifted above the traffic.
He seemed surprised at her outburst, and she watched as his lips pursed slightly and his eyes widened.
An older black woman had been passing by just as he asked, apparently heard Simon’s request and turned to look back. She looked at a shocked Lorna who was eyeing her, as Simon remained oblivious. To Lorna’s utter embarrassment, the woman nodded approvingly and mouthed, “Say yes.”
If this were a movie, Lorna would have laughed. But it wasn’t. This was real—it was happening to her right now, live and in living color.
“I--I can’t do that,” she said, still staring at the woman’s retreating back before she looked up at him. Shaking her head, she turned and walked briskly away.
So many voices were screaming in her head, she thought she must be crazy. Swallowing, she picked up her pace. If this were some kind of Candid Camera/ Punk thing, she’d show them. They weren’t going to embarrass her. If Ashton Kutcher or Johnny Knoxville, or any of those MTV losers popped out from somewhere with an overweight cameraman they were getting a very hard, efficient kick to the groin and a lawsuit. Turning a corner, she hurried down a side street to catch her bus.
“Are you turning me down, Lorna?”
Her mouth opened but nothing came out, it just opened and closed. She tugged on her coat continuing to walk.
“I’m not turning you down because there wasn’t an offer.” Her whole body tingled as the wind blew against her face. Her cheeks would be stinging anyway with just the mere thought of this man behind her.
“No offer?” he questioned, still walking behind her. “So, I didn’t just ask you out to dinner then?”
“No!” she yelled stupidly, gripping her bag. “You didn’t.”
They looked rather silly. Lorna was walking so fast it looked like a march, with her chin held high. Simon walked in long strides with his hands deep in the pockets of his coat as his hair whipped about wildly behind him.
“Perhaps I should ask again, or according to you, for the first time. Would you like to have dinner with me tonight, Lorna?”
She stopped. Cursing loudly in a way she usually only did when driving. Her abruptness caused him to bump into her from behind, and even though the plush coat prevented her from feeling anything, just the idea that he was that close to her made her whole body flame up.
“Listen,” she said angrily, “I don’t know what all this is about but it’s not funny.”
“Good,” he began, as the cold autumn wind flushed his cheeks, “especially considering I wasn’t trying to amuse you.”
Lorna held her hands up not looking him in the eye. The gesture meant for him to stop. “I am going home.” She turned and
continued down the alleyway. When she didn’t hear him follow she felt her anxiety slip a bit, in its place was relief and regret. Then mostly regret. What if he had been serious? How many times would they cross paths again?
Never, this is New York, you moron. Ninety-five percent of the people you see each day you don’t even remember unless they were exceptionally rude or badly dressed. The rest you wouldn’t even recognized if you saw again. Why didn’t you just talk to the guy? Grab a cup of coffee?
I don’t drink coffee.
Oh, who gives a shit! Did you see how fine he was?
“Yeah,” she answered her own pestering thoughts with a whining voice meant to express her mourning that once again total, almost paralyzing fear prevented her from following an experience through.
He was so fine that you’d drink coffee girl. You’d drink all afternoon into the night.
She made her way to the alley and continued to scold herself mentally.
Come on, he wasn’t serious. Look at me and look at him. It was some kind of joke. It had to be, there was no way—
Lorna gasped loudly as her arm was yanked and she was pulled sideways into a damp alley. It all happened so quick, she didn’t have time to react as she found herself pinned to the wall. Simon was in front of her, he had both hands on the front of her coat and he’d balled the fabric into his fists. His hair had blown around and it fanned across his coat. Wide-eyed she stared at him. He was at least a foot taller than she was, and from the way his shoulders spanned across his coat, he wasn’t thin. She’d have a hell of a time trying to get away from him.
“What are y—?” Her shrill voiced question was cut off by his mouth, which covered hers after a blur of blond hair shot in front of her.
The bags she’d been holding dropped to the ground. At first she tried to pull away, moaning ‘no’ into his mouth. She didn’t know what he wanted from her. Why was he doing this? He released his grip on her coat and took her hands into his. She squirmed against him trying to free herself, shocked at how helpless she was as his lips pressed against hers. He pushed back, and she hit the wall, losing what little leverage she had. She opened her mouth to cry out, and he used the opportunity to slip his tongue inside. Taking her breath and her sanity as his long, velvety tongue snaked its way into her mouth.
