Sweet Nothings: A Karma Café Novella

by Tawny Weber

  “I’m guessing you’re a Sagittarius, but what’s your exact birthday?”

  Brow furrowed, Jacob tried to remember when he’d told her he was born in December. Since offering up his astrological sign was something he did, like, never, he had no clue how she’d figured it out.

  “Um, December seventh,” he said slowly, wondering what her sage nod meant.

  She looked across the room again and gave a small hum.

  “Interesting. Fire and water can generate a lot of steam. Still, a Sagittarius-Scorpio combination is a tough.”

  “Beg pardon?”

  She flashed him an oh-nothing smile and offered, “Could I bring you anything else?”

  Still stuck on fire, water and steam, it took his brain a few seconds to process that question.

  “Could I get a sandwich? That roast beef I had yesterday was great.”

  With a nod, Natalia said she’d be right back.

  While he waited, Jacob did what he did best. He strategized. His ability to pull together random pieces of information and manipulate them into a cohesive plan of attack was one of the reasons he was the youngest law partner at White, Hunt and Carlisle.

  He knew he wouldn’t get anywhere if he approached the table. He’d hired people who’d tried. They all said the same thing—she was impossible to get to, always surrounded by her flank of female bodyguards. If she was hiding, using a different name, she had a reason. He’d tried calling Cottage Caretakers. Even the sorriest stalker could hear the nerves on the other end of the line when he’d asked for Bianca White—who, according to the woman on the phone—didn’t exist so don’t ever call again.

  Chalk up a big fat fail on the direct approach. He was going to have to be sneaky. Thankfully, he’d spent the week eavesdropping. Here, around their job sites, at the deli next to their building. But it hadn’t been until this morning that he’d heard the news that he’d been waiting for. Now he just had to put it to good use.

  Ten minutes and a delicious roast beef Panini later, and he was ready. When Natalia came back, he offered an exaggerated sigh of satisfaction.

  “That was great. Now I’d love dessert. And maybe a little advice. I’m looking for a different place to stay while I’m in town. Maybe there’s a Bed and Breakfast you can recommend? I hate hotels, but I need a place for a week or two.”

  Natalia’s expression turned crafty. She cleared his empty plate, handed him a dessert menu and suggested, “You should try the chocolate cake. It’s delicious today. Very rich.”

  There was some significance in her words, but it floated right over Jacob’s head. Instead, he waved away the menu. “Sure. Cake sounds good.”

  When she returned with a slice big enough to put a diabetic into a coma, instead of leaving she settled into the chair opposite him.

  “I have a room upstairs that we rent from time to time. It’s cozy. Comfortable. It comes with breakfast and lunch. It’s in need of a few repairs, though, so there might be a worker or two needing in while you were there.”

  Yes. Jacob kept his courtroom face on, not letting the triumph he was feeling show.

  “Sounds good to me.”

  “I don’t rent to strangers, though.” Natalia’s cheerful friendliness faded. Her eyes seemed to glow as she looked at him. So deep into his eyes that he was pretty sure she could see everything from his childhood fears to his penchant for blue boxers. “You’ll have to let me cast your chart.”

  “My... Huh?”

  “Your astrological chart.”

  “You have a room, but won’t rent it to me unless I let you do my astrological chart?” he repeated slowly, sure he misunderstood. Who rented a room in the midst of repairs, based on bullshit like that?

  “Exactly.” She glanced at the clock, then gestured to the gorgeous younger replica of herself who was working behind the counter. “Anja, cover for me. Our newest tenant needs a reading.”

  First stalking, now an astrological reading?

  Jacob sighed.

  The things he was willing to do to win, it boggled the mind.

  Chapter Two

  Natalia eyed the handsome young man as he wandered through the vacant upstairs apartment. He was handsome, no doubt about that. Despite his casual appearance and desperate need for a haircut, he had the look of someone used to money, but not used to being a snob.

  His enjoyment of food spoke to a sensual nature, and his vocabulary and diction indicated an extensive education. Financial well-being, a good nature, sensual awareness and intelligence. All vital.

  What he did with them, she had yet to find out.

  She could ask, of course.

  But she’d prefer to find out for herself.

  “This is great. Love the view.” Hands in his pockets, he nodded out the window toward the Golden Gate. “You must be fighting off the tenants.”

  “We only began renting it last month.” When money issues had mandated some creative thinking, Natalia had decided the apartment she’d previously used to offer clients astrological and palm readings could serve a new purpose. Two new purposes, actually. First off, it could be rented occasionally for additional income. Second, and more important, it be could used to lure in potential sons-in-law.

  Like the one standing in front of her.

  “Look around, see if you’ll be comfortable while I prepare for the reading,” she suggested.

  Settling into her favorite ladder-back chair with its velvet tasseled cushion, Natalia sighed. A son-in-law, a wealthy suitable one, would take the financial pressure off the café. A son-in-law, a handsome one, would make her sweet Anja’s life much more interesting. And, again more importantly, a son-in-law would offer the necessary means to provide Natalia a grandbaby. Her heart demanded one, as did the Karmanski tradition.

  Every Karmanski woman for the last century had produced a female child by the time she was twenty-five. In keeping that thread of feminine power unbroken, that child was blessed with a gift. A gift of sight, or power, of sensitivity or healing.

  Anja was twenty-four.

  Time was running scarce. Tension knotted tight at the base of Natalia’s neck as she imagined that sacred tradition breaking. It would mean the end of the power her family had nurtured for over a century.

  She wouldn’t allow it.

  “This is a great apartment. I’m surprised it’s vacant,” her unknowing candidate for son-on-law said, rescuing her from her visions of doom, gloom and a magic-less life. He came over, all affable ease, and sat across from her to peer at the simple blank chart on the table between them.

  “Well, we’re café proprietors, not landlords,” Natalia said with an expressive shrug. “My daughter lives in the apartment across the hall, and we’ve always used this space as more of an office. But times being what they are...”

  She shrugged again, splaying her hands as if to say what’s a body to do?

  “It does need a few upgrades to make it rentable, though. Which is why I’d let you have it at a wonderful discount.”

  “You’ll have workers in and out?” he asked, his eyes taking on a sudden intensity. “Not that I mind, I just want to confirm the situation.”

  “Only in the mornings. We’re just sprucing up a little. New paint, renovate the kitchenette, that sort of thing.” Natalia slid the blank chart and a pen toward Jacob, tapping her fingernail on the spot to fill in his exact birth information. “Our contractors are all women, very capable and quite handy. Cottage Caretakers, the company is called. Bianca will probably be in a few times this week.”

  Eyes intense, Jacob gave the small living area a quick scan, then nodded before jotting down his birthdate, place and time.

  Natalia frowned as she noted the information. She didn’t need to consult her ephemeris to know he wasn’t a perfect fit for Anja. Her only child had a strong, intense chart filled with fiery passions and idealistic extremes.

  But Jacob’s chart was all over the place. He was sensual, but not overtly sexual. Artistic, yet pragmatic. A
ltruistic, yet self-focused. His planets were a lesson in contradictions.

  “What is it that you do?” she asked, her shoulders drooping a little as she automatically filled in the planets and aspects, even though she wasn’t as hopeful as she’d been five minutes ago.

  “I’m a partner in a law firm, specializing in estate law.”

  She noted his hesitation, but was distracted by his words. A lawyer? Natalia pursed her lips. Estate law made sense, given his chart. She’d have preferred a trial lawyer, someone who could hold his own in an argument. After all, her girl did like to argue. Still... Partnership meant wealth. Prospects. She looked at his chart again, noting the stubborn streak in his fifth house of pleasure. A man who knew what he wanted and would insist on getting it. Maybe that’d work. Maybe it’d be enough.

  Anja hadn’t yet married for love, so now it was time for Natalia to step in and ensure that she did, at least, marry for security.

  “Well, it’s just a week,” Natalia decided with a frown. She’d know in a day or two if Jacob could be molded into a match—if not a perfect one, at least a good one—for her daughter. “You’ll get a nice, comfy place to stay with wonderful breakfast and lunch thrown in. As for the rest, we’ll see what happens.”

  With a wide smile, she ignored his questioning look, instead slipping a key out of her pocket and sliding it across the table.

  “Here you go. If you need anything, just wander across the hall. Anja will be happy to help you.”

  #

  Her tool belt swinging in a jaunty dance against her denim-clad hips and her hands full with her toolbox, pry bar and other various tools of the trade, Bianca paused at the top of the stairs.

  She took a deep breath, setting the toolbox on the floor so she could tug at her shirt, a practical tee in her most flattering shade of red. She ran her hands over the butt of her best fitting jeans and gave her work boots a disdainful sigh.

  Cottage Caretakers safety rules were clear. She was on the job, she wore safety gear. Too bad they didn’t make steel-toed stilettos.

  Besides, she wasn’t the sexy dressing type. The one time she’d tried, from her push-up bra to her sequin mini-dress, she’d felt like it was Halloween, with her date acting as if she was a trick instead of a treat. And not the good kind of trick, either.

  This time she was dressed as herself. But instead of its usual ponytail, her hair was loose, waving around her face like a black cloud. It looked good, but she knew it would be a total irritant within a half-hour on the job. Especially if it got stuck in her glossy red lipstick or lash-lengthening mascara.

  Nerves spun through her system.

  If her friends knew what she was up to, all seven of them would charge in wielding power tools.

  Which was why she hadn’t said a word when Anja had called to warn her that cutie from the café was now a tenant in the apartment she’d be working in.

  She wasn’t stupid.

  So why was she hesitating?

  She was cozied up in timid-ville, gazing wistfully over the brave fence, wishing she qualified for residency. Only once had she ever snuck over the fence, using up all her brave-mojo escaping a miserable home situation at sixteen. And instead of starting a precedent to bravery, starting a new life had pretty well cemented her desire to hunker down where life was safe and challenge-free.

  But now she felt like she was standing on the edge of a cliff. She could stay in the safe zone, go through that door and quietly do her job. Or she could take a leap over the scary edge, walk through that door with the intention of seducing the sexiest guy she’d ever seen slurp soup.

  The safe zone was comfy, but the scary edge held the prospect of great sex. And all she was doing now was peeking over the edge. That didn’t mean she had to dive over the side. If it turned out that the guy wasn’t as nice as he was cute, hey, no harm no foul. Stepping back in the safe zone in those circumstances wasn’t a retreat. It was being a smart woman.

  “You’re smart, Bianca, not chicken,” she muttered to herself as she lifted the bag again and stepped up to the door. “Smart women go for what they want instead of running from it.”

  She’d spent eight years surrounded by smart women. Seven of them, all ballsy, all strong. Wasn’t it about time she started acting more like them, instead of hiding behind them?

  She lifted her hand to knock, then when there was no reply, followed Natalia’s instructions and used her key to let herself in.

  With her friendliest, greet the client smile plastered on her face, she entered the apartment.

  The radio was playing, but the room was empty.

  “Hello?” she called.

  Nothing.

  No sexy hottie coming out of the bedroom. No gorgeous guy ready to parlay her attempted flirting into a full-blown affair.

  Nothing.

  She frowned at the small boom box on the counter, then the bank of lush greenery, a ficus and fern, two pathos and a palm in the window caught her eye. She remembered Anja arguing with her mother about always leaving music on for the plants at night. Anja, whose apartment was across the hall, must have won the debate over what time of day the plants needed to rock out.

  Bianca sighed, her heart settling back to its normal rhythm. The nervous excitement drained, leaving her a little flat.

  No biggie. She’d proven to herself that she could do it. She’d walked through that door with the intention to seduce a hot guy. She, who’d never so much as flirted first.

  Dropping to the floor and scooting under the wooden frame that would, before the end of the day, hold a miniature kitchen sink, she grinned.

  She should be proud.

  She eyed the pipe she was there to install and hummed a sad little sound.

  With a twist of her wrist, Bianca shut off the water to the apartment in preparation for installing the sink. She started measuring and fitting pipe, writing the numbers on her hand. Six, nine... her breath caught as she imagined putting those numbers to better use with the apartment’s current resident.

  Was he the kind of guy who liked a little sixty-nine action?

  Was she?

  Was he able to multi-task? Enjoy his pleasure while putting his tongue to good use at the same time? And just how good was his tongue, she wondered. Was he a slow and methodical lover? Or was he the kind to plunge, hot and fast, with a wild sort of rhythm that would shut her mind down and send her body careening out of control?

  Sexy scenes from every romance novel she’d ever devoured flashed through her mind.

  Her breath a little shaky, she wished she’d worn short sleeves instead of long. Maybe she should twist the valve again and send a little cold water over her head.

  The image of that quickly morphed into hot, gorgeous and sexy from the café, with other things gushing.

  She groaned.

  “Ahem.”

  Bianca froze. Her body went from turned on to tense in a heartbeat.

  Well, hell.

  Guess hottie was here after all.

  This is what you wanted, she reminded herself.

  Go for it. Jump off the cliff.

  Or at least have the nerve to peek over the edge.

  Plastering the flirtatiously sexy look on her face that she’d practiced for hours the previous night, she slid out of the cabinet frame and angled herself into a sitting position.

  Her eyes rounded.

  Her mouth dropped.

  Her body froze.

  All except for her heart, which tripped over itself.

  It was the guy from the restaurant, all right.

  He was still as sexy.

  Still adorably cute, with that shaggy hair falling over his forehead and those vividly piercing eyes.

  His shoulders were even broader than she remembered. His torso angling to a slender waist. His bare chest covered with a light dusting of dark brown hair that followed the same angle.

  All the way down to the towel knotted at that waist.

  Her breath echoed that knot, tangling i
n her throat as desire twisted deep in her belly.

  The towel, which was the only thing covering that very gorgeous, very sexy body.

  Chapter Three

  One minute he’d been trying to wake up under the pounding water, too tired after tossing and turning all night to even belt out a tune. The next, he’d been blinking soap from his eyes and wondering what the hell had happened to his water.

  With the last few drops of his shower sliding over his chest and a flimsy towel covering his goods, Jacob stared at the woman in his rented living room. She had a wrench in one hand, a long pipe in the other. Was she the cause of his water shortage?

  His brain, never happy before a major hit of strong caffeine in the morning, struggled to process it all.

  His body was processing just fine, though.

  Eyes bluer than the sky at sunset looked out from the most beautiful face he’d ever seen up close. Black hair waved down to her snug red shirt that cupped lush breasts and highlighted her slender waist. His gaze dropped to the jeans that hugged slender hips before sweeping down legs that looked way too long for a woman so petite.

  Incredible.

  Pure, stunning sexiness.

  Damn.

  His brain finally engaged, just enough to warn him that his towel was going to be embarrassing in a few seconds.

  “Hi.” Bianca’s smile was a little shaky at the edges. Humor or nerves, he couldn’t be sure. But there was no question about the interest in her eyes as they roamed his body.

  “Hi.”

  “Guess I interrupted your shower, huh?”

  “What gave it away?” he asked, pushing one hand through his wet hair. The move shifted his towel. He grabbed fast, tightening the ends of the fabric before he put on a morning floorshow. Bianca’s eyes widened, then her brow furrowed as if she regretted his fast reflexes.

  “I’ll turn the, um, the water back on,” she said, her eyes still focused to his towel as if she were hoping he hadn’t tied the knot very well.

  Jacob didn’t move.

  He couldn’t.

  He was too busy wondering what her skin felt like. Was it as soft as it looked? Was it like silk? He wanted to skim his fingers over the pale pink of her cheek, slide them down the slender length of her throat then graze, as light as a whisper, his hand all the way down the delicious length of her body. He wondered if those huge, expressive blue eyes would darken with desire. Or would they widen with excitement. What would it take to make them blur with passion?