Kate Hoffmann - A Fare To Remember

He leaned forward and dug into the duffel he’d shoved under the seat. He retrieved a small gift-wrapped box and placed it softly in her hands.

“Open it,” he instructed when she seemed more interested in the shiny bronze box rather than the contents of his offering.

She pulled off the top. Inside was his old pager…or at least, what was left of it.

“Anger issues?” she asked, a smile teasing the corners of her mouth.

He shook his head and extended his palm. She placed the box in the middle of his hand and grinned at the mess inside. “I had to show my credentials just to get it through Security. I like to think of this more like frustration. And determination. How long do you plan to stay in Puerto Rico?”

“Well,” she said, retrieving the box and capping it with the bowed top, “I was going to decide after I found out who I met poolside. What’s your schedule like?”

He leaned in, twisting so they faced each other, then took off his hat and stuffed it in the pocket in front of him so he could close in even more. Rachel couldn’t help but run her fingers through his newly dyed hair, which also seemed longer, thanks to what she suspected were extensions. The picture of Roman sitting still for the procedure in some frou-frou salon made her giggle, but when his newly green gaze glittered with curiosity, she tamped down her mirth and instead concentrated on the sudden, overwhelming awareness sparking between them. He obviously would do whatever it took to be an effective agent. And by boarding this plane, he’d proved that he was also willing to do whatever it took to bring her back into his life.

“I’m completely in vacation mode for the foreseeable future. Things are going to shake up at the Agency, and until then, I’m all yours.”

“And what if they call you back?”

“First they have to find me.”

She licked her lips, trying to sate her incredible need to lick his instead. “They are Homeland Security.”

“Are they?”

She arched a brow. “Are you keeping secrets from me, Roman Brach, if that really is your name?”

He leaned sideways so that his smooth, recently shaven cheek brushed lightly against hers. “It is really my name,” he whispered.

Her flesh rippled with goose bumps. “Really? And what other secrets are you willing to share with me?”

“Whatever you need to know to love me again, I’ll tell you.”

“How do you know I ever loved you to begin with?”

“Because you did. No more games, Rachel. No more distractions. Being away from you made me realize I’d lost a shot at something amazing. I love you. I probably have since the moment I spotted you in that television studio, but more than likely since the first time we made love. And I loved you even more when you put up with Tremayne in order to save my project.”

“You love me because I saved your ass?”

“It’s not the only reason, no, but it damned well doesn’t hurt. In this business, saving someone’s ass is serious business.”

“Like us?”

“Like us.”

Rachel closed her eyes in anticipation of Roman’s lips descending on hers to detonate all other thoughts from her brain. They had a lot to talk about, a lot to explore, a lot to admit and a lot to learn. But so long as Roman was willing to lay his heart on the line, so was she. The payoff could be more than she ever imagined that fateful morning when she’d stepped into Mario’s cab and followed Roman into a life she never thought she’d have the fortitude to deal with-until she had.

Luckily, she didn’t have to wait long for the feel of his mouth on hers and the mind-exploding sensation of the kiss she’d longed for. With his hands around her waist and his tongue coaxing her into sweet delirium, Rachel cherished his ability to drive her to distraction, en route to delivering her to love.

THE TINY BRASS BELL above the shop door jangled wildly as Sabina stumbled through, her iced latte clutched in one hand. She kicked the door shut, the click of the latch echoing in the silence. Outside, the temperature was already rising, the weatherman promising at least an eighty-degree day. Hot weather in Manhattan was always good for business, Sabina mused.

Her grandmother said that the spirit world felt closer when the air was thick with heat and humidity. Sabina believed that the stress of summer in the city brought more people into the shop for psychic relief, the same as it did around the holidays. Either way, more business was good business.

She wandered through the familiar interior of the shop, exotic scents mingling in the still air. The tourist guides had called Ruta’s “disarmingly peculiar” and “an odd little establishment” and “a relic of the Village’s colorful past.” For Sabina, it was more than that. It was home.

She’d taken her first steps on the thick Turkish rugs and she’d done her schoolwork on the round table with the crystal ball. Her friends used to play with the stuffed marmot that sat on a shelf above the ornate cash register and she’d learned to add and multiply with well-worn decks of tarot cards.

Sabina had never really thought of her grandmother as unusual, at least not when she was younger. Ruta was like so many other immigrants living in New York. It wasn’t until later that she learned how different her grandmother really was. Descended from Gypsy kings and queens, Sabina’s ancestors had once roamed eastern Europe in wagon caravans, peddling potions and amulets and even curses.

Ruta had come to America as a child over seventy years ago, escaping Hungary months after the war broke out. A stranger in a strange land, Ruta’s widowed mother had told fortunes in Times Square while Ruta sat by her side, learning her secrets.

And so it had been, the secrets of the Gypsies passed from Ruta to Sabina’s mother, Katja, to Sabina. Unfortunately, Sabina had never developed her own powers. She couldn’t see into the future, she couldn’t decipher a person’s life from the lines on their palm, and she’d never made a potion or a charm that worked. Still, that didn’t stop her from plying the only trade she knew.

Both her grandmother and mother had assured her that her gift may arrive late, but it would indeed come. In truth, Sabina knew she had no professional future in the fortune-telling business. She was lucky to have skated by for this long. When Ruta finally retired, the shop would pass to Sabina. And she’d already begun to make a few changes that reflected her own talents and interests.

She closed her eyes and imagined what her shop might look like. Instead of the dark, mysterious interior, she would throw open the heavy drapes and tear down the tapestries. Sabina’s shop would be bright, with glass shelves and warm wood cabinets. She’d sell lingerie, beautiful, sexy creations of her own designs. And she’d sell scented lotions and fine soaps, luxurious robes and pretty sleepwear. There would be candles and bath oils, anything to please the senses. Her customers wouldn’t need a psychic reading to feel good.

Sabina glanced over at the far corner of the shop. She had already convinced her grandmother to try an aromatherapy counter, and she’d recently ordered a new line of herbal candles. Ruta was stubborn and Sabina had to make her changes gradually.

“Bina, I’ve been looking for you.”

Sabina turned to watch her grandmother emerge from behind a bead curtain. As always, Ruta was dressed in her traditional Gypsy costume, a flowing skirt with an embroidered peasant blouse. Her wrists were adorned with gold bangles and a bead necklace hung from her neck. She’d twisted a colorful scarf through her long gray hair.

“Morning, Nana. Did you sleep well?” She circled the counter and pressed a kiss to Ruta’s cheek.

“No,” she said, a heavy Hungarian accent coloring every word. “I was up all night. Look what I have for you.” She reached into the pocket of her skirt and placed a photo on the counter in front of Sabina. “Mrs. Nussbaum’s nephew. She gave it to me last night at her reading. He is a doctor. A proctologist. And he is very handsome, don’t you think?”

Sabina groaned inwardly. “Nana, please. No more matchmaking. I can find men to meet on my own.”

“Then why don’t you do it, Bina? You have not had a boyfriend in many months. You spend every spare minute upstairs in your apartment, drawing your designs and sewing them up. I am starting to worry about you. Your whole life has become underwear. If you do not let someone else see your underwear, you will grow old a spinster.”

Sabina shuddered. That word was so awful. Spinster. It ranked right up there with troll and gargoyle. But she was willing to die a spinster before she let Ruta fix her up again. Her grandmother’s matchmaking efforts up to this point had been nothing short of disastrous. “I don’t need your help.”

“Maybe just a little bit?” She reached in her pocket again and withdrew a red string with a clay amulet dangling from it. “Here, put this on. It is a love charm.”

“Nana, this won’t work.”

“You will never know unless you try it,” Ruta said. “I have been open-minded about your smelly oils and silly candles, so you could do the same about my charms. Your destiny is out there waiting for you if you would just open your eyes to it.” She brushed Sabina’s hands away as she lowered the charm over her head. “There,” she murmured, fussing with a series of knots in the string. “You have made your grandmother very happy now. Tonight, I will sleep well.”

Sabina fingered the amulet. “This is silly. How could this possibly help me find a man?”

“Give it a chance to work, Bina.” Ruta sighed softly. “I only want what is best for you. Now that your mama and papa are living in that horrid place, we must stick together, yes?”