Cara nodded. “In the living room, and he’s not leaving until he sees you.”
Jessa cursed softly under her breath.
“Just give him five minutes. Please. I beg you. Nothing can happen to either of you here.” Cara held her breath as Jessa silently paced.
“Okay. Five minutes,” she finally conceded.
Cara let out a silent sigh of relief. “Stay here. I’ll bring him down so you guys can have some privacy.”
Then Jessa did the oddest thing on Cara’s way out—she closed the curtains.
Cara shook her head and headed back to the living room. Brett stopped pacing and gave her a hopeful look as she approached.
Giving him an encouraging smile, she reached out to him. “Come on, I’ll take you back to see her.”
Life reentered his eyes as he took her hand.
BRETT
“Jessa?” Brett said softly, closing the door behind him. Her shoulders twitched at the sound of his voice. She stood by the closed curtains with her back to him, and then slowly turned to face him.
His breath caught in his throat at the sight of her in the dim room.
“Hi,” she said with a small smile. “I’m sorry I had to leave last night.”
Wanting to be as close to her as possible, he crossed the room until they were only inches apart. Suddenly aware he might be too close, he took a step back and folded his arms in front of him. “Uh, listen. Cara told me you live right outside of San Francisco. I’m traveling for another week or so, but would you consider getting together when I’m back?” He looked away, trying to hide his desperation to see her again.
When she didn’t answer, he shifted his gaze back to her.
Rooted in place, she silently stared at him with a look of pain and longing. He couldn’t fathom why she didn’t just say yes. Her mouth opened to say something and then shut without a word.
“You’re killing me here, Jessa. Please just tell me what I did wrong.” He couldn’t keep the anguish from his voice. His eyes searched her face. He didn’t understand how anyone could affect him the way she did. He didn’t even know her, and yet he felt like his whole existence depended on seeing her again. It made no sense whatsoever. But then again, what had made any sense this week? Nada, nichts, nothing.
She took a deep breath and reached out to touch his arm. A surge of hope and electricity coursed through his veins, her touch burning his skin. He stood frozen, afraid if he moved she would run again. Instead, she slowly drew him into her arms and rested her head under his neck. His arms instinctively closed around her and he almost whimpered with happiness.
“Jessa, please say you’ll see me again,” he whispered, feeling like an awkward teenager laying his soul out bare and steeling himself for rejection.
He heard her swallow. “Yes,” she whispered—her answer barely audible.
His eyes closed in relief and he held her closer, aching to kiss her.
“Are you sure I didn’t do anything wrong?” he asked.
She leaned her head back to look at him. “No. You haven’t done anything wrong, Brett.” His name rolled off her tongue, caressing his ears. Unable to stop himself, his hand traveled down the length of her curls, letting their softness caress his palm.
“When do you leave for the airport?” he asked.
“Right after brunch. I have a car meeting me there,” she said, pointing to her packed suitcase in the corner. His heart dropped. He didn’t want to let her go.
He nodded. If he didn’t need to leave for France on Wednesday, he’d follow her back. But Cara was right—he didn’t want to seem so desperate. Ironic, he could walk outside and get mauled by a thousand women who would jump at the chance to date him. Yet, here he was, standing in front of the one he wanted, and he had to beg.
“So, do you want to give me your number?” he asked.
“Sure,” she said, releasing him to get her purse. Her withdrawal left him bereft.
She pulled a business card from inside and walked back to hand it to him. He read it:
SERENITY SPA | JESSAMINE DRAKE | LEAD PRACTITIONER | 415-555-3422
“I’ll call you as soon as I get back, okay?” he said, placing the card in the pocket of his jeans.
She nodded and smiled shyly at him, her hazel eyes bright. Hardly able to draw in his next breath or to take his eyes from her, he slowly pulled her into his arms and kissed her, his lips meeting the velvet softness of hers. Holding her close, he melted into her, his tongue gently parting her lips as he deepened the kiss.
With a surge of energy, she kissed him back with a passion that left him light-headed. Jessa’s hands around his waist seared his flesh, igniting a sudden need inside of him to feel her naked skin on his. He gently pushed away from her, not wanting her to feel his groin springing to life. The last thing he needed her to think was that he only wanted her for sex.
“I should go,” he said, unable to speak above a whisper.
“I know. Thanks for coming here,” she said, trailing her fingers down his cheek and setting him on fire all over again.
He gave her a dimpled smile and tried to control the pounding of his heart. “Have a good time at brunch, and travel safe. I’ll see you soon.”
She smiled sweetly. “Bye.”
He backed out of the room and closed the door behind him. He passed Paco in the hallway and gave him a wave on the way back to see Cara.
His spirits soared, still tasting their kiss on his lips, already looking forward to returning home in ten days. He touched his pocket, feeling her card through the thick denim. Mission accomplished. He’d be seeing Jessa again.
Cara sat patiently waiting on the couch. Her eyes lit up when she saw him. He beamed, giving her a silent thumbs-up on his way over to see her.
A smile spread across her face.
He sat down next to her on the couch. “It’s all good.”
“Good,” she said. “Paco went to see Irene. When they’re done, he’ll take you back to the loft.”
Brett yawned, stretching his arms up and over his head. “Fantastic. I’m beat. I plan to sleep for the rest of the afternoon.” He could rest now that things were finally settled with Jessa. His heart was afloat with thoughts of their kiss, and his mind was already at work planning their first date.
Chapter 40
IRENE
New York City. Fifth Avenue Penthouse. Sunday, May 26, 12:15 PM ET
“WHO IS IT?” Irene asked at the gentle knock on her door.
“It’s me, Pelirroja.” Paco’s muffled reply came through the door.
Her heart did a little flip, the sound of his voice warming her. “One sec,” she said before flying into a tizzy to remove the towel swathed around her head and to run a brush through her hair. Still in a robe, she kicked off her slippers in an effort to look less geeky before answering the door.
His large frame filled the doorway, making no move to enter. “I need to take Brett back to Simon’s, but I’ll be back later to pick you up downstairs,” he said, averting his eyes. Beneath the silky quality of his voice, she heard an underlying sadness. Something in his energy had changed; he’d made an emotional retreat and thrown up a wall. She almost gasped out loud from the sudden pain that assaulted her chest. Had something happened since he parked the car?
“Is everything all right? You don’t seem like yourself all of a sudden.”
His eyes flashed coldly. “How would you know what I’m like? We’ve just met,” he snapped.
Stunned by his sharp words, she felt tears spring to her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said softly, barely able to speak. “I can take a cab later.”
She turned and ran to the bathroom, closing the door behind her and sinking down onto the floor. Her lungs burned for oxygen and her heart shattered painfully. Unable to stop them, tears cascaded down her cheeks as she muffled her sobs with the sleeve of her robe. How could he have been so wonderful to her and then so incredibly callous? It made no sense. They had shared a wonderful night, and waki
ng up in his bed had been nothing short of a dream. Despite her hangover, he’d given her a couple of minutes of happiness in her lonely, dateless existence. And it hurt to think he might have regretted it.
What was she thinking? Men like him never looked at her. Maybe he’d come to his senses and decided she wasn’t pretty enough for him. Maybe they both drank too much last night. It wouldn’t have been the first time she’d met someone, thought they connected, and then never heard from them again.
Grabbing a tissue, she blew her nose. Someone softly knocked on the door. “What?” she growled, expecting it to be Paco.
“Eye, it’s me, Cara.”
Her shoulder slumped in a mix of disappointment and relief. “Come in.”
Cara’s eyes filled with concern. “What happened? Paco raced out of here like his pants were on fire. Did you guys have a fight?”
Irene took another tissue and dabbed at her eyes. “No, it was the strangest thing. I asked him if he was all right, and he just snapped. I knew it was too good to be true. Men like him don’t date women like me,” she said, crying again.
Cara joined her on the bathroom floor and squeezed her into a hug. “Stop talking crap. Women like you? You mean smart, funny, pretty women?”
Irene squeezed her back, filled with love for her friend. “No, I was thinking more about the kind of woman who swears like a sailor in your native tongue, drinks enough to pass out in your bed, and leaves you with a monster case of blue balls.”
Cara giggled. “Will you please stop? I don’t know Paco well, but what I do know is that he’s typically a gentleman.”
Guilt overcame Irene as she thought about how she was about to betray Cara in an effort to save her. Maybe this was her punishment… losing the only man who ever looked at her like she was special.
The doorbell chimed, echoing through the penthouse.
Cara popped up and headed in the direction of the door. “Crap, that’s either Sienna or my parents. My money’s on Mom and Dad.”
Irene let out a deep breath. “I’ll be out in five minutes.”
Cara looked back and smiled. “Your hair smells fantastic.”
“Thanks,” she said with a small smile. Paco had even managed to take her joy out of using Cara’s honeysuckle shampoo.
That was that. She would take a cab. No need to for an uncomfortable ride later.
It was nice knowing you, Paquito.
Besides, she had a plan to execute and a friend to save.
PACO
As Brett snored softly in the backseat, Paco gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles were white and silently cursed, using language far stronger than Irene had used the night before. If he could beat himself for his own stupidity, he’d do it. Today’s date had been poking at him for a week, sitting right outside his threshold of recall.
When he’d taken the key out of the ignition after he’d parked, it had clicked. Today was his wedding anniversary. Remembering Isabella’s birthday or the day she died had never been a problem for him. But remembering their anniversary had always been a challenge, even when she was alive.
Realization and guilt had torn through him. He felt like he’d dishonored her memory by taking an interest in Irene. That had never happened before, because he’d never been interested in another woman since Isabella had died. He usually followed Angel’s philosophy when it came to women. Scratch your itch and move on; never the same woman twice.
But Irene was different. She moved him the way Isabella had when they’d first met. That instant connection they’d had. He’d felt at ease, instantly at home, and protective of her. Not to mention her kiss. Ay Dios mío. Her kiss ignited passion that he’d buried deep in his soul, making him want to weep from longing.
He cringed at the sharp words he used with her. He’d be lucky if she ever wanted to speak to him again, much less forgive him. The tears in her eyes sliced his heart in half. He was a brute for making her cry. Although… he’d spoken the truth. She really didn’t know him. She didn’t know about Isabella or his pain. Even more importantly, she didn’t know he wasn’t fully human. But that wasn’t her fault.
Paco released a heavy sigh. Maybe Angel was right, maybe this was the time to let go and come back to the living. If he let her leave tonight without seeing her, he’d spend eternity kicking his own ass when what he really wanted to do was to make tender love to her for a solid week.
Pelirroja, what have you done to me?
Chapter 41
CARA
New York City. Fifth Avenue Penthouse. Sunday, May 26, 12:45 PM ET
CARA RAN DOWN THE HALLWAY to answer the door. On her way past the living room, her cell phone chimed from the coffee table. She darted over and plucked it out of her backpack before continuing on to the front door.
Through the peep hole she spotted a head of jet black hair and let Sienna in. Prada handbag dangling from her arm, she strolled across the threshold wearing sunglasses. “Are Richard and Corrine here yet?” she asked, referring to Cara’s parents.
Holding up her phone, Cara leaned in and gave Sienna a quick peck on the cheek. “Mom just sent a text. They’re stuck in traffic and will meet us at Sarabeth’s.”
“Where are the girls?” Sienna asked, looking around.
“They’ll be out in a minute.” Cara suppressed a grin at the telltale rasp in Sienna’s voice and the sunglasses. “Hard night?”
Taking off her shades and giving Cara a devilish smile, she said, “Hard is one way of putting it, and it more than made up for the five hours of sleep that I traded.” Sienna’s hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail. With her skinny jeans and high-heeled sandals, she looked her usual picture of chic… The dark circles under her eyes were the only visible evidence of her late night.
“Dare I ask?”
“You may dare, but I’m not talking, other than to say I was right,” Sienna said, self-satisfied.
Cara tilted her head, amused. “Oh? About what?”
“He’s got the goods,” Sienna replied with a wink and headed in the direction of the living room, her heels clacking across the marble tile.
Cara followed behind her, shaking her head. Been there, seen them, she thought. Michael’s unintentional live picture show was one discussion she didn’t look forward to having with him later.
“You had a good time?”
Sienna’s face softened and she lowered herself onto the sofa. “Yeah. Really good.”
Cara sat down next to her and touched her arm. “I’m so glad, Senny. I think you guys will be good together.”
Blushing, Sienna averted her eyes and pulled Cara into a hug. “Thanks for being such a good friend.”
Cara squeezed her. “I just want you to be happy. You deserve it, and so does Michael.”
Jessa emerged into the living room, hauling her suitcase behind her. Her face lit up when she saw them. “Hi, Sienna. Cara, should I put this next to the door?”
Jessa had an ethereal glow about her that had been missing earlier. No longer stressed or consumed with worry, Jessa reflected a smooth serenity in her features.
Brett’s visit had been a good idea after all, Cara thought.
Cara popped up to help her. “Catch up with Sienna. I’ll get that.” Taking the suitcase from Jessa, she headed back to the foyer. The wheels echoed across the marble as she rolled it to a stop next to front door. Her cell phone chimed again from the living room, where she’d left it.
“Can someone get that?” Cara yelled, and headed back to the living room.
“Got it,” Sienna replied. A moment later she yelled back, “The driver is downstairs.”
Cara had arranged for a limo large enough for everyone. Since they no longer needed to wait for her parents, they could go whenever Irene was ready. Cara was already looking forward to her next cup of coffee.
On cue, Irene came down the hall. “What gives? You both disappeared last night.”
Cara could feel Irene’s sadness behind her brave face. Only Cara knew
the reason for the slight redness hidden behind her glasses. Now, if she could get Irene and Paco back on track, she’d be three for three.
Suspicion grew stronger in Cara’s mind as she reflected on the sudden epidemic of insta-love popping up among her friends. True, the density of choice Grade-A males surrounding her lately was exponentially larger than normal. Add a great concert, after-party, and some alcohol and you have a fine recipe. No doubt. But come on. Irene, Jessa, and Sienna all hooking up in one weekend? Constantina’s words echoes in Cara’s head, “The Twelve are magnetically drawn together and surrounded by powerful emotions. Sometimes those feelings and emotions will manifest when you physically meet one of the others…”
Could it be possible… ? Cara wondered.
Sienna shook Cara’s arm, knocking her out of her reverie. “What are you thinking about? You’ve got this deep, serious look on your face.”
“Uh… nothing,” Cara said, faking a smile.
Jessa glanced at Irene suspiciously. “Um, I don’t recall you sleeping here last night. Anything you care to share?”
Irene paled.
Cara jumped to her rescue. “Hey Ladies, let’s continue the inquisition in the car.”
“Can I meet you guys downstairs in five minutes? I have a call I need to make before we go,” Irene asked, pointing toward the guest room.
“No problem. Take the elevator down to the garage when you’re done,” Cara replied, maneuvering everyone out the door to give Irene a way to sidestep Jessa’s comment.
Ugh, Cara thought. The only downside to all this romance is the heartbreak that sometimes follows.
Chapter 42
ACHANELECH
France. Château du Feu. Sunday, May 26, 7:00 PM GMT +1
“EM!” ACHANELECH SCREAMED over the pounding din of hammers—and who knows what other tools—at work above his head. Plaster dust rained down onto his laptop in a sudden stream. “For the love of Lucifer,” he mumbled through gritted teeth. “Emanelech!”
He blew the dust off the keyboard and slammed his fist on the desk, tempted to hit more than the polished wood. “Em-an-el-eck!”
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