4. CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 4
A nd immediately grew light again.
The bees stopped their buzzing, and Lexi was still standing with her fellow travelers. Margot stood next to her, one hand remaining on Lexi’s arm, the other still holding the drink she’d brought with her from the other bar.
But Taco Shots was… not Taco Shots.
Right before her eyes the lights had gone down on one world and brightened again on another.
Now, instead of the charcoal gray walls and black leather furnishings of the lounge behind the Mexican restaurant, they stood in a sitting room of forest green walls and heavy golden curtains, with sparse wood furnishings pressed against the walls, leaving room cleared in the center, presumably for their… arrival.
With a gasp, Lexi whipped her head left and right, up and down. “Margot, this is… what the…” She remained planted as the other Taco Shots patrons hustled past her toward the door leading out of the small study, bearing the comfortable air of people who had stepped through this looking glass before.
“You ain’t seen nothing yet, as they say.” Margot took her hand and together they followed the others, Lexi’s eyes widening as they entered the main salon .
An expansive lounge in the art nouveau style, the club looked like it had been lifted right off the streets of the Left Bank in Paris. It boasted abundant dark wood carved into the twirling tendril designs of the period, leaded glass throughout, and the classic black and white checkerboard tiled floor.
Several enormous candelabras, aglow with elegant tapers, hung from the ceiling. Oil lamp sconces adorned the walls, and once again tea candles lit every table. The golden light flickered and reflected off the mirrors and hammered silver bar top, adding to the headiness Lexi already felt. A hearth big enough to stand up in graced the far end of the room.
“Welcome to Club Deux Mondes, baby doll.” Margot swept her hand like a gameshow hostess revealing the grand prize. “Let’s get you set up with a cocktail for starters while you take it all in.”
She led Lexi toward the long bar on one side of the room. They pulled up two stools and waved over the bartender. A well-lit mirrored bar back displayed a hundred choices of drink, most of them brands she didn’t recognize with labels she’d swear were handwritten in calligraphy. A sign above the bar spelled out the club’s name. Not Du Monde, like the famous New Orleans café, but rather Deux Mondes. Two Worlds . Right.
She asked for a local beer, figuring it the safest bet, yet unsure exactly what “local” might mean in this case. But as she watched the man fill their orders, she cocked her head. The glasses and bottles he reached for seemed to move across the counter, meeting his reach halfway. Telekinesis? Or were her eyes playing tricks? She caught his eye and raised a questioning brow. In response, he smiled, and with the flick of a finger directed an orange wedge to rise from its bowl and serve itself straight into her drink. Her lips rounded in wonder, but she giggled when the bartender winked and then moved on to some other customers .
Okay, so Margot wasn’t kidding when she mentioned they might be able to help with her sight . Lexi had no idea how common such gifts were here, but obviously, at the very least, they didn’t get people thrown out of their jobs or into a psych ward. Chalk one up for this place.
Still releasing a few nervous giggles, she swiveled around to look at the room. It was bustling, and not only with Taco Shots visitors, but dozens of people Lexi assumed were locals, dressed in a style she could only call modern Victorian. Women wore soft camisoles, gathered and fitted to show off their curves, or corset-style tops with laces and boning, though not quite as severe as a traditional bodice. Below that they wore leather pants, soft leggings, or flowing skirts that allowed easy movement. Many sported low-heeled boots that tied all the way up to just below the knee.
The men also tended toward leather pants, with rolled up shirt sleeves and either brocade vests or suspenders. Many wore their hair long, often tied into a knot at the nape of the neck. Bowlers and top hats hung on hooks at the coat stands.
As she examined further, she noticed the local clothing looked somehow... off. All buttons and no zippers. All cotton, wool, or leather and no synthetics. And everything looked one of a kind, handmade.
“Margot, did we go back in time? And to when exactly? I can’t figure out—”
“It’s not when we traveled to. It’s where.” Margot smiled as she, too, took in the room. “It’s the same time, date, and year as it was in Taco Shots, but it’s a parallel world. Same time, same town, different version.”
“But the clothing—”
“Their history diverged from ours over two hundred and fifty years ago. No Industrial Revolution here. Some things are exactly the same. Some are totally different. Some things…” She gestured to a woman wearing leather pants and boots, a soft linen shirt with suspenders, and her hair in a late Victorian updo. Curls piled high on her head with tendrils hanging down and ribbons running through. “Some things are their own unique blend.”
Something else had been hanging at the edge of her awareness, and she realized now it was the crystals. All the locals wore them. Sparkling jewels, smooth stones, clear quartz, every color and texture, sewn into their garments to adorn collars or cuffs. Or worn as broaches, headbands, bracelets, and belts.
“Margot, what’s with…” But her friend was now chatting up the bartender.
Lexi turned back to the salon. Maybe it was the light dancing off a million gemstone prisms, maybe the warmth from all the candles and the roaring fire, maybe the portal travel itself, but she suddenly felt flushed and lightheaded. Reaching a hand to her cheek, she found it quite warm. She tried to get a look at herself in the mirror behind the bar to see just how pink, or perhaps pale, her face had turned, but the rows of bottles broke her image into a Picasso portrait.
Frustrated, she picked up a spoon and moved it around in front of her face, trying to get a decent glimpse of herself in its reflection.
“You’re going to be upside down and backwards in there,” a deep and somehow familiar voice whispered in her ear, instantly sending a warm tingle between her legs and right up through her… second chakra.
Lexi swung around on the stool, her knees bumping into the leather clad, rock hard thighs belonging to the man attached to the voice.
“Would you care for a mirror?” he asked as her gaze went from the thighs she was hotly aware were still touching her knees, to his face. A beautifully chiseled face, with wavy, shoulder-length dark blond hair. A slight upturned tease on his lips. And the most intense gray-green eyes she’d ever seen.
Gray-green eyes.
She nearly tipped backward off her stool.
After seeing his face so many times in her dreams, here he stood. Solid. Three-dimensional. His body radiating actual warmth, his scent clean, masculine, and enticing.
Heat flashed across her skin, time moving in a super-slow-mo crawl. One thousand one, one thousand two…
He lifted a brow and she snapped back to attention, putting a hand to her face. “I just feel a bit warm.”
“Ah. I’m assuming you’ve not visited us before,” he answered. “It’s the effect of being in our universe. The energy flowing through our world is a richer, more powerful energy than you experience in yours, and the matter here is finer, stronger, and more resilient. You could say the fuel and substance of our world is cleaner, if you will, purer.”
“Kind of like using premium unleaded gas instead of regular.” Her eyes never left his as she spoke. Except when they strayed to his lips. Full and beautifully curved, every gentle crease now crystal clear, unlike in her visions, and begging for the touch of her fingers.
“From what little I know of your petroleum products, yes.” He smiled at her comparison. She’d never seen that smile in her dreams, and her stomach did a little flip at the beauty of it. “Our bodies, as well as our minds, benefit in amazing ways from the use of the… premium fuel.” He winked, and the tingle flared again.
She wiggled on the stool.
What the heck is going on? She gave herself a mental slap in the face. Was she actually swooning over a man she’d known for, what, two minutes? This wasn’t like her at all. Of course, in some ways she felt like she’d known him for months. Could he possibly have any idea? She doubted it .
“That’s why we’re physically stronger and live longer than you,” he said, “and when you visit us here it has some of the same effects on you, at least temporarily. Your body is experiencing a bit of a rush right now.”
Lexi listened to his explanation, but sitting as she was, she happened to be eye level with his chest. Even through his soft cotton shirt it was clear how broad and perfectly sculpted it was, as were his arms which were revealed by his rolled-up sleeves and…
Damn it, the tingle was becoming a slow burn.
She shook her head to clear the teasing thoughts. “I’m sorry. Your universe? I really am in a parallel world?”
“Indeed.” His smile flamed wider and she struggled to maintain focus. It was hard enough comprehending the evening’s events without dream boy and his Michelangelo-worthy body still in contact with hers.
She gazed across the room, squinting as she forced herself to concentrate. “So, the Many Worlds Theory of multiple dimensions is the correct one. The Copenhagen Interpretation was wrong all along.”
“Ah. I’m guessing your expertise is theoretical physics?” He offered his hand. “I’m Gideon Ashe, by the way. Owner of this salon. I specialize in vibratory physics. Which university are you with?”
She took his hand, which felt way too comfortable and familiar. “Alexa Cross. Lexi. And no, I’m a legal assistant. But I’ve been an armchair science enthusiast my whole life. I find it fascinating.”
His expression dimmed for the briefest of moments at her response, and her excitement right along with it. He released her hand, stepping back a foot and disconnecting their small point of physical contact. His gaze left her eyes for the first time as he quickly scanned her from head to toe, nodding as he took in her thoroughly non-professorial outfit .
Nice going. She’d already managed to distance the man who was supposed to be making out with her at some point in the future. Had she actually done something to change her destiny? Because now that she was here—now that he was here—she really, really didn’t want to change a thing.
She smoothed the hem of her skirt lower. “Margot brought me along because she knew how completely blown away I’d be, but also because…” His eyes were back on hers, though he turned his head in the most minuscule way, as if trying to hear a distant sound. “She mentioned something about your world understanding my… um… precognition? That maybe someone here can help me?”
He stared right through her, without responding, as if his thoughts had been dragged elsewhere.
“Mr. Ashe?”
His eyes brightened as he came back to the present, and a soft understanding smile returned. “Please forgive me. I’m afraid I’m rather preoccupied tonight. Though, that’s no excuse for my wandering thoughts.” He took her hand again, clasping it gently in both of his. “Margot was right to bring you here. I’m sure we can help with…”
The sound of his voice dimmed and…
Blood streamed through the cracks in the cobbled street, inches from her face as she lay on the cold road, the smell of copper hitting her nose, turning her stomach. Not her blood, though. She’d fallen, exhausted, but in one piece.
Boots ran past, splashing red on her cheek. Looking up she saw the soldiers running by, their swords flashing in the dwindling daylight. Their uniforms blue wool. Their weapons antique.
One stopped and reached a hand down to her. “Get up, son. You’ve got to keep moving.”
She took his hand and tried to stand.
“That’s a good lad,” the soldier told her.
Lexi blinked, back in the salon and disoriented, but thankfully still upright on her stool.
So, she wouldn’t be allowed a vision-free evening after all. But what kind of vision was that ? It certainly didn’t look like the present or future, unless maybe it was in this anachronistic world? And the soldier had called her “son” and “lad.” No, it wasn’t her future. Not a precognition. It was more like someone else’s… past .
“Miss Cross, are you all right?” Gideon still clasped her hands in his, his face gone tight with concern. He slid one palm up her arm to her shoulder.
Past her shoulder, to her neck, sliding back to the nape as he rolled her onto her back. The canopy of the big four-poster loomed above them, the only light coming from the fireplace as he stretched out on top of her, their bodies bare, skin to skin. His mouth moved across her face, landing kisses on her eyelids, her temples.
“Gideon.” She arched into him as he slid one hand along her inner thigh, pushing her leg out a bit as his fingers found their way up to her core and…
The warm, golden light of the salon was suddenly too bright. She closed her eyes tight against it.
He squeezed her shoulder. “Miss Cross? Are you okay?”
She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly and turning away as she moved apart from his touch. Reaching for her beer, she swallowed a few cold sips, pulling herself together before she looked back into his face and answered him. Rude or not, she had to take a moment.
Or she’d come right there on her stool.
Lust slammed into his cock with such force he gasped .
What the fuck? Thank God for his leather pants keeping the instantly rock-hard thing at bay.
Sucking in a big lungful of air, he focused on calming his heart rate, which was high both from the shock and the need to pump blood to other parts of his body. Like his brain.
Margot was off her barstool and hovering over Lexi. “What’s wrong, baby doll? Did you just have a vision?”
Lexi nodded, hands shaky around her beer stein. “Yeah. Sort of.” She darted a look at him. Darted it away just as quick. “I’m okay. You know these things happen. No biggie.”
“You’re so flushed,” Margot fussed. “Your cheeks are bright red.”
He took two steps back, putting space between himself and the women, and using Margot’s body to hide any telltale bulging until his sudden, unexplained libido took a rest.
The last few minutes had been a whirlwind of emotions he couldn’t explain, just as he’d experienced in his office earlier. Fleeting wisps of familiarity, disappointment, confusion, even a fast moment of fear, before finally culminating in the sudden rush of desire. The instant he’d touched her shoulder he’d wanted nothing less than to clear the room of everyone there, throw her round bottom up on the bar, rip her undergarments off from under that damnably short dress, and slam the hell into her.
With one hand across his brow, he massaged his temples. His thoughts had turned crazy. Not that his desire was completely without reason.
Lexi Cross.
Gorgeous. Smart. Forthright.
He didn’t remember seeing her name on the guest list. Of course, he’d barely had a moment to glance at the thing, but this was a perfect example of the kind of bullshit Matthew had been pulling lately. Neither an artist nor academic, Lexi was a casual invitee of Margot, Matthew’s girlfriend. A plus one’s plus one. Fantastic. Another sign he’d been slowly losing control of the portal one week at a time.
Still, if she truly had psychic abilities, Gideon could understand why Margot might bring her over. When the rare person from the other world had been granted such gifts, they often struggled with lack of understanding and control of their talents. And with her blanking out like that in public, she was vulnerable. Which concerned him on a personal level in a way he couldn’t explain.
His hands clenched into fists at his sides.
Margot’s tug on his arm pulled him forward. “Gideon, did Lexi tell you about her visions? Do you think you can help her?”
Lexi shifted forward, her lips parted slightly.
He nodded in response. “I’ll see what I can do.” Though with this possibly being the last time the portal was open, they couldn’t do much to help her out. And what exactly were her psychic talents? His evening had been full of unexplained sensations. Was she somehow doing this to him?
He glanced at the grandfather clock across the room and shook his head. He had a serious job to do tonight and needed to pull his head out of his ass. Compounding mysteries aside, he had more guests to greet, and his last possible chance with the Egyptian artifact.
“Miss Cross, it’s been a pleasure meeting you, but unfortunately I have an appointment I need to keep.” He began to offer his hand again, and she lifted hers in return, but the memory of what touching her had done to him before—if that’s what had indeed caused it—forced him to pull his away. He clasped his hands behind his back instead.
“I’ll send someone over to you about your gift of sight,” he offered with a slight bow. “In the meantime, ladies, if you leave the salon tonight, make sure you have an escort. And remember to keep an eye on your wrist timers. You’ve got less than four hours left before you need to be back in the study room for your return home.” He fixed Margot with a serious look. “Do not be late again, Ms. Gillette. It’s becoming a habit with you.” He nodded one last time to Lexi before taking his leave.
The look on the beautiful brunette’s face as he turned and walked away sent an ache through his gut. Abandonment . That’s what he saw in her cornflower blue eyes. That’s what he felt he’d done to her, deep down in his bones.
And he didn’t understand any of it.