He leaned back. “By a blond messenger?”
Sam resisted the urge to consult the book again and decided to go for it. “Maybe. Yes! The third card will reveal the result.” She turned it over quickly, then couldn’t utter a sound.
It was The Lovers.
Sam supposed it was a statistical probability that sooner or later, a card would be right.
“Me and the male messenger.” Sloane winced. “I’m thinking that’s a long shot.” He bent closer, his eyes gleaming. “I’m definitely heterosexual.”
Sam felt like her body was on fire. She knew his orientation, without a doubt. “Well, it could be someone else who is blond,” she said quickly. “It definitely is a card about physical union.”
“I don’t work in that kind of a place, though,” he said, his tone teasing again. “I mean, I’d frown on that kind of intimacy at the shop, even if I wasn’t the only one working there.”
“It could be a close associate,” Sam said, knowing she sounded desperate. She realized that Sloane was looking at her hair, which was indeed blond, and felt her cheeks heat.
Sloane chuckled. “You really do stink at this, don’t you?” he said, his tone so affectionate that she couldn’t take offense. “What made you think you could pretend to be a tarot card reader?” He shook his head, not seeming to expect an answer.
Sam impulsively chose to give him one.
Even though it was only part of the truth.
“I’m not pretending.”
“At the very least, you’re learning.”
Sam blushed. “I needed something to do, something that was new and different. A fresh start.” She paused. “And I thought it would be easy.” She winced at the admission but Sloane smiled. He was clearly pleased that she was confiding in him, so Sam told him a bit more. “How hard could it be to memorize seventy-eight picture cards? I’ve done more than that, a lot of times.”
The periodic table, for example.
“There are lots of other things you could have done.”
But nothing so opposite to everything she’d done with her life to date. Sam didn’t want to admit that. Yet. “You need credentials to be an architect or a chef or a lawyer.”
“But not a dog walker.”
“I don’t do well with small creatures.”
“It doesn’t look like you’re playing to your strengths with tarot cards.”
“But I’ve always wanted to be able to do this. Call it a dream. My sister reads tarot cards, and she makes it look simple.”
“Aha!” Sloane smiled. “Sibling rivalry. You thought you could easily do something she does easily.”
“Pretty much.” Sam grimaced at the truth in that. “But it isn’t working.”
“Are you that similar?”
She laughed despite herself. “No.”
“Maybe she listens to her intuition more than you do.”
“She’s a lot more impulsive than I am.”
Sloane gave her a look. “Is your sister lucky in love?”
“No.” Sam shook her head at the very notion. “She has the very worst luck with men. It’s so sad.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s always wanted to have kids, a husband, a home, all the traditional bells and whistles, but no luck.” Just saying that aloud was depressing. Sam feared that this retreat Jac was on somehow involved another loser of a man who would leave her broken-hearted, far from home and out of cash. Had Nathaniel’s death left Jac afraid to reach for her own dreams, lest they be torn away? Sam sighed, only realizing after she did that Sloane hadn’t missed a bit of her reaction.
“So far,” he said. “She can’t be that old.”
“Tick tock,” Sam said. “Women can’t have kids forever.”
He frowned at the cards, and she realized that she might have inadvertently revealed that she’d had all those things—if only for a while. “Is that what’s making you think we can only have sex? You were being impulsive like your sister, but she’s unlucky in love?”
Sam regarded him with disapproval, trying to look more annoyed than she was. It was far too easy to confide in Sloane, that was for sure. If she didn’t watch out, he’d know everything about her—and still be a mystery to her. “What happened to the occasional question?”
Sloane was unapologetic. “You’re right.” He snapped his fingers. “I forgot.” His mischievous smile, though, proved that he hadn’t.
“I need to figure out how to get you to answer my questions so readily,” she said under her breath and his grin was bright enough to steal her breath away.
“Let’s try this the other way around, then.” Sloane scooped up the three cards and handed them back to her. “Go ahead. Shuffle.”
“What? I’m doing the readings.” Sam felt agitated, not just because she’d been outed, but because he seemed to find it endearing that she couldn’t give him a reading.
She wasn’t cute.
“Not this time. Let me do yours.”
“Well, I doubt you’ll be any better at this than me…”
He interrupted her smoothly. “So, what’s the harm?” He widened his eyes slightly. “Afraid the cards will reveal the real truth of who you are?” He held up the cards. “Go on, take a chance.” Again, his manner was teasing, but Sam caught the challenge in his tone.
She picked up the cards and shuffled vigorously, wanting to get this over with. It was irrational to suggest that pieces of cardboard could give away any of her secrets.
Much less to be worried about it.
“No, no, no,” Sloane said, his voice low and melodic. “You have to get into the spirit of it. This isn’t a mission to be completed, or something to strike off your job list. It’s an exercise in opening your mind to possibilities.”
“Is it?”
“Sure. Think about your situation and your question. Close your eyes and pour your energy into the cards.”
“You have done this before,” Sam accused, but he gave her an intent look. Pour her energy into the cards. That was just the kind of flakey thing she’d expect Jac to say. Well, they were in California and Sloane had lived here for a while. And really, she should learn how to say those sorts of things. If nothing else, she could take some performance tips from Sloane.
She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, shuffling more slowly. She tried to believe. She tried—incredibly—to channel some of Jac’s ease with matters illogical and intuitive and had a strange feeling that she was making a bit of progress.
“Give them to me when you feel that they are ready,” Sloane advised, his voice spellbinding.
Sam had to remember to speak just the way he did for her clients.
Then her eyes flew open as she realized what he’d said.
“When they’re ready?” she echoed, unable to keep the skepticism from her voice. “Like eggs in the frying pan?”
Sloane’s quick smile made her heart skip a beat. “You’re supposed to believe in this,” he murmured, his eyes twinkling. “Close your eyes and shuffle. Stop when your intuition tells you the cards are in the right order, when they’re ready.”
“There should be an indicator light.”
“There is. It’s in your mind.”
Sam decided to believe. She breathed slowly, thought about pouring her energy into the cards and tried to focus on them to the exclusion of everything else. That was a challenge with Sloane’s knee pressing against hers, but she gave it her best shot.
If only to win his approval.
Sam shuffled slowly, feeling the weight of the cards in her hand, hearing the way they brushed against each other. She felt the wind and smelled Sloane’s skin, and shuffled. Suddenly, she had the distinct feeling that she should stop shuffling. It was a lot like the impulse that had sent her to his pool originally and she chose to trust it.
“There.” She handed the cards to him, again feeling the warmth of his skin brush against her own.
“Good job.” Sloane smiled at her, as if she’d climb
ed Mount Everest, and she couldn’t take a breath.
“How do you know?”
“I can feel your energy in the cards,” he murmured, and Sam didn’t know what to say to that. Could he?
“Past,” Sloane said softly, and she leaned forward as he turned over a card. “The Magician.” He nodded approval. “A card governing those who create, who investigate, who are energetic, devoted to their lifework and effective. These are people with demanding careers who solve issues of import to more than themselves. This is what you left behind when you came to your current situation.”
Sam blinked. He really did know this stuff. She was sure that must be exactly what the book said.
But wait. The Magician was about her past.
It was a bit spooky to have the first card be so right.
Sloane smiled with satisfaction. “I knew you’d run away from something, and it wasn’t a busy practice reading tarot cards.”
“But…”
He waved his hand. “You don’t have to tell me. I like following the breadcrumbs and trying to figure it out.”
Sam smiled. “I like solving riddles, too.”
Sloane’s answering smile was warm enough to set her on fire. “And you are one serious riddle, Samantha Wilcox.” She couldn’t take a breath when he looked at her like that. There seemed to be an electrical charge between them as their gazes locked and held. His voice dropped. “I could Google you, but that would be cheating.”
Sam’s heart stopped cold then lunged for her throat.
Sloane wagged a finger at her, obviously having noted her reaction. Then he cleared his throat and tapped his finger on the card. “Must have been an important job. The problem with that kind of job, though, is that there’s always a lot of pressure that goes with it. It’s tough to balance the challenge and the responsibility with your own needs.” He seemed to see right into her heart. “People with demanding careers have to make choices and strike balances. They have to give things up, and hope they choose right for the greater good.”
She swallowed, not knowing what to say. “I didn’t realize you’d know about those kinds of jobs.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” Sloane said.
That was for sure.
“‘It is said the wand would wake the sleeping and send the awake to sleep. If applied to the dying, their death was gentle; if applied to the dead, they returned to life,’” she quoted.
“You found William Godwin.” He was clearly pleased that she’d looked up the citation.
“You invited me to.” Sam watched him. She couldn’t ask him if he was a necromancer. That was crazy. “Why do you really have that tattoo?”
“I told you already.” It was interesting that even though Sloane’s posture hadn’t changed, she had a definite sense that he’d just shut a door against her and thrown away the key. He turned over another card. “Your present. The Knight of Cups.”
“I know this one!” Sam said, triumphant. “It’s the dark-haired stranger sweeping into the questioner’s life. See? It’s the suit of cups, which means true love.” She sat back, proud of herself, not troubling to hide that her gaze lingered on his dark hair.
Could the cards be right about her present, too?
“Maybe he’s just a lover who arrives with a bottle of wine,” he teased, but Sam understood the warning. “Remember: it is just the card for the present, not the future.”
Sam exhaled but didn’t break his gaze. “Maybe great sex is good enough for the moment.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” Sloane turned over the next card. “And your future. Justice.” He leaned back and considered her, his gaze warm. That slow smile was turning her to jelly and making it hard to concentrate on the cards. “A card about weighing all the variables and making decisions.”
“A card about admitting the whole truth,” Sam added, remembering that bit. She braced her elbows on the table and leaned toward Sloane, impulsively taking the advice of the cards. “So, maybe sex isn’t enough.”
“Future,” he reminded her.
“Or it won’t be.” Sam found that surprisingly likely.
Maybe she should tell Sloane so.
“Here’s the thing,” she confessed on impulse. “I thought that having sex with you once would be enough.” It wasn’t that hard to admit, not once she decided to do it. Everyone always said that she couldn’t talk about her feelings, but maybe Sam could learn something new.
“We did it more than once,” Sloane noted, his gaze simmering.
“And still it wasn’t enough.”
“Imagine that.”
“I do.”
His smile was quick. Sloane leaned forward, echoing her posture and dropping his voice low. “Here’s another thing,” he said softly. “I’ve been wandering around this market today, working up my nerve to seduce you the way you deserve.”
Sam shook her head, her heart racing. “I don’t believe it. You don’t need to work up your nerve for anything.”
Certainly not seduction.
“You might have changed your mind since the other night. It might have been a dream, or wishful thinking. I was exhausted.”
“But not any more.”
“Not any more.” Sloane glanced down at his bag. “And, now I have this bottle of local wine, a loaf of fresh bread, some cheese and fruit, and if you’ve changed your mind, I’ll have no one to share it with.”
“Good thing I haven’t,” Sam said, fighting her smile.
Sloane nodded agreement. “It certainly is.” He leaned back in his chair, his thigh against hers under the table.
Sam took a breath, feeling very bold, then leaned across the table to whisper. “The thing is that I have a small problem.”
“Really?” Sloane pressed his leg against hers a little more firmly.
It took everything in Sam to not jump into his lap. Instead, she chose to tell him just what she was thinking. “I like sex in the afternoon, and it’s a perfect day, in my opinion, for sex in the afternoon.”
Sloane’s gaze brightened. “That’s a problem?”
Sam tapped the card. “I’m not sure when my Knight of Cups will turn up.”
“Bearing wine or not?”
“Exactly.”
Sloane pushed the card across the table in a deliberate gesture, watching its progress. “The card is supposed to represent your present,” he noted, apparently not at all shocked that she’d been so blunt. He glanced at his watch. “And it’s 2:15.” He laid his hand flat over the card and closed his eyes. Sam fought her laughter as he pretended to channel a message from the card, and his eyes flew open in time to catch her expression. He leaned close and whispered. “The cards say he might turn up anytime.”
Sam laughed aloud, feeling playful and happy. There was a lot to be said for flirting with Sloane.
There was more to be said for spending the afternoon having sex with him.
She pretended to be serious then. “I should get home, so I can welcome a dark-haired lover to my door.”
“Make sure he’s the one bearing wine,” Sloane added with a shake of his finger.
“I will.”
“What about your customers?”
“There’s not exactly a line. And I think I should study the cards more.” Their gazes locked and held for a potent moment. “Know anybody who might help me take down this canopy?”
“I think I just might,” Sloane said and got to his feet with a speed that convinced Sam that their thoughts were as one.
“Who knew I’d end up with such a helpful neighbor,” Sam teased, feeling lighter and happier than she had in quite a while. She still didn’t know his secrets, but right now, it was hard to care.
Sloane turned to give her an appreciative smile. He caught her around the waist and whispered in her ear. “Maybe it was in the cards.”
Sam laughed only a little before Sloane silenced her with a kiss.
* * *
Easter Island.
It was one of t
he zillion places on Jac’s bucket list. Being there with Marco was incredible. She lay in bed in their hotel room, watching the night sky beyond the window, and marveled that she was there. Her sense of time was all messed up after the journey, and even though they’d tried to stick to local time, she was wide awake when she should have been falling asleep.
The trip had been long. To Jac’s amazement, they’d had to fly to Chile, hopscotching practically all the way to the South Pole, then back north and west to the island. They’d connected in Miami, in Rio, then finally caught the flight to Easter Island from Santiago.
They’d arrived just after noon and had rented a 4x4, which didn’t seem very environmentally friendly to Jac, but one look at the roads had convinced her of its practicality. They’d found a hotel and booked a room, gone for a late lunch and then crashed. Their host had assumed they were a married couple and put them in a room with a queen-sized bed, and neither she nor Marco had corrected his assumptions.
They were both exhausted, she was sure, and had slept like the dead for a few hours after eating.
Now Jac was awake, listening to the deep rhythm of Marco’s breathing. She loved that they were in bed together, that he was practically naked beside her, and yearned to take a good look at him. Although they’d fallen asleep lying flat on their backs beside each other, Jac had awakened to find them spooned together, with Marco’s heat curled protectively behind her. It felt good enough that she didn’t want to move.
Even to check him out.
There was a huge window opposite the foot of the bed, which showed a square of night sky. The stars were brilliant and so numerous that she couldn’t believe it.
His darkfire crystal was on the sill, the blue-green light within it dancing like a miniature bolt of lightning. Marco’s body was warm against her back, and it was both comforting and sexy to be nestled against him like this.
Jac had learned a lot about her mysterious neighbor on their journey, and she made a mental list as she snuggled beneath the weight of the arm he’d thrown around her waist. He was vegetarian. He was calm in any situation. He was unfailingly polite. He slept very little, and he always looked composed. He didn’t touch her a lot in public, and Jac was glad about that. She preferred that intimacy be private and that a man be a gentleman. But there was no doubting his interest, which she supposed was why the hotel owner had assumed they were a couple. Marco held her hand and he whispered in her ear and he leaned his leg against hers. When she’d dozed in airports or on flights, she’d awakened to find herself tucked against his heat, like he was her guardian angel.