Chapter 16 #2
“How about I start?” he said as he stepped closer.
“I’m sorry I didn’t take a chance on you when Betty told me about her vision.
I was a skeptic, and when she told me that I’d be the only one not to give you visions, and that we’d one day end up married, I didn’t believe.
I’m sorry my sister was the center of the danger you went through, and I’m sorry that I broke your trust. But know this, Cara.
I’m not sorry I went into your office. I’m not sorry for getting to know you, and I’m damn sure not sorry that you’re pregnant. ”
“You know?” Her brows knit together. “How?”
“It doesn’t matter.” He closed the distance between them and cupped her cheek. “What matters is that you know I’ll never do anything to hurt you again. I love you, Cara, and it about killed me when you disappeared.”
Cara lowered her gaze to the floor. She wanted to believe him, more than anything, but after everything she’d been through, she was afraid it was yet another ruse.
“If you’re saying that because of the baby, Cooper, you don’t have to worry.
I’ll let you in his or her life as much or as little as you want. ”
Cooper lifted her chin until her gaze to meet his.
“You aren’t hearing me, Cara. I’ll love that baby no matter what, but my life isn’t complete without you.
I didn’t know love until I met you. I didn’t realize how much I needed it until you left.
Cara…baby. I need you, and I don’t need anything else. ”
Cara chewed her bottom lip. “You once said one problem at a time. I don’t want to be a problem, Cooper.”
“Don’t you get it? You’re not a problem. You’re my solution, baby. You’re more than I could have ever asked for. You’re more than I ever dreamed of. Please, baby, give me a second chance to do things right.”
Cara nodded, and that was all it took. Coop wrapped her in his arms quicker than she could blink and pressed a kiss to her lips.
A spark ignited from that brief touch and settled in her heart, spreading a hazy sense of comfort throughout her body.
Relief rolled off him in waves, calming and blanketing her in his warmth.
A second chance was all it took. Within two months, she was married with the last name she’d despised.
Within four, Cooper had quit the bureau to help run the bar because he wanted to be there when their child was born.
This was her life. It was finally complete.
With each visionless touch and each heated kiss, her world was forever rocked by the one man she’d once wasted brownies on.
I hope you enjoyed Cara’s story. Keep reading for a sneak peek of Psychic Charm, Harper’s story available on by clicking HERE.
Harper gazed out her office window, the warmth of the sun heating her face. The trees below swayed in a late afternoon breeze. If she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine the smell of the salty air as it drifted from the ocean.
The headset pressed against her ear hummed as the caller spoke.
She’d know the caller’s voice anywhere; silky, sexy, and dangerous.
It vibrated, the voice of the kind of man her momma warned her about and one her Aunt Betty would have tied up in her bed.
She was promiscuous like that. A thrill seeker just like Harper.
You don’t walk away from his kind. You walk backward and pull him by his tie straight to the bed.
It was the reason goose bumps covered her arms, and why she locked her doors at night.
For all she knew, the body attached to the voice was short, bald, and would think the big O belonged on the music scale.
His voice was probably more than his body could ever deliver.
That would be her luck, not that she’d ever invite this guy out for coffee to test her theory.
Even she had boundaries, not many, but some.
He hadn’t told her exactly what he did, and she’d never asked for fear she’d wind up dead. She was too young to die.
“Harper, are you still there?” His voice oozed sex and wrapped around her body, making her all warm and tingly inside.
Whatever his profession, he’d make a killing as a phone sex operator.
If she closed her eyes, he could be anyone, anywhere.
A stranger on the street, a dark, mysterious man from a bar, her gynecologist. She’d never know until she heard him speak.
The truth was he was just a man on the phone asking her to tap into the energy of a location.
Harper adjusted the headset and moved away from the window. Her gut churned, and yet she couldn’t pinpoint why. “I’m still here. Just trying to tap into the energy and get an idea. Where did you say this business trip was taking place?”
“Mexico.”
Mexico? Who takes business meetings in Mexico?
Drug lords, America’s Top 10 Most Wanted hiding from the law, that’s who.
Not that it was any of her business. She didn’t get paid to have an opinion on how this guy ran his life.
He paid her for something entirely different; use of her ability to guide him away from danger and uneasy situations.
He’d branded her the intuition he’d been born without.
“Mexico,” she whispered to herself and closed her eyes.
Her gut clenched tight, and her heart pounded frantically.
A feeling of unease skittered down her spine.
The location wasn’t a place she’d soon be visiting.
“It doesn’t feel right. If I were you, I’d either move it somewhere else or cancel it altogether. ”
“How about Los Angeles?” He was quick to ask.
Her shoulders immediately relaxed. Her ass cheeks no longer could crack a nut from its shell. That was the place. She felt it in her gut. “That feels a lot better. Relaxing even. Maybe you should extend your stay after the meeting and have a vacation.”
His deep laughter filled the line. “You’re cute. How much time do we have left?”
His words put a smile on her lips.
“Ten minutes.” She ignored the time on the clock. He’d paid for a fifteen-minute psychic call. That was twenty minutes ago. She just couldn’t make herself hang up. He was like a drug. A sexy, addictive, in-need-of-rehab drug, and she needed a fix.
“What are you wearing?”
Typical. She’d give him the same answer as last week. He’d asked so many times the question no longer made her blush. “This isn’t 1-800-Talk-Dirty-To-Me. I’m wearing clothes.”
“You stay dressed a lot.”
“People tend to do that when at work.”
“Let’s play a game. You tell me what you’re wearing, and I’ll answer one question honestly. Anything you want to know.”
“How do I know you’re telling your truth?”
“You’re psychic.”
Harper pressed her lips together. If her sisters knew she was getting personal with a client, well, they’d probably pat her on the back or give her high-fives. They were good like that.
“Fine. I’m wearing a black pencil skirt, a white silk blouse, and three-inch heels.”
She totally lied, trying to make herself a more attractive package. Harper ran her sweaty palms down her boyfriend cut jeans she liked to wear loose in case she splurged at lunch and needed the extra room. Jeans that cut into her stomach ranked right up there with an enema.
She glanced down at the coffee stain smack-dab on the lead singer’s nose on her favorite concert tee-shirt. She was hopeless.
“Sophisticated, refined, and I bet wearing the heels makes you the perfect height to kiss.”
A shrill of excitement traveled down her spine. Down, girl.
“Your turn.”
“What’s your real first name?” The question flew from her mouth before she could stop it.
It was the same question she wondered every time he called.
Maybe she wanted to know—she had hoped it was Bob or Leroy—to kill some of the fantasy she had after every conversation.
Oh Leroy, take me. That was about as sexy as granny panties.
She needed his name to be like jumping into a bucket of ice.
“That’s the question you were waiting to ask? My name?” His voice turned playful. He almost sounded disappointed she hadn’t asked how many inches lay behind his zipper.
“It’s only fair, you know mine. Don’t tell me you’re a Harold or a Eugene.” Please do.
“This is confidential?”
“Like attorney-client privilege. Okay, well, maybe not that. How about, like a barista and a customer. What’s the name they put on your cup?” She’d bet he ordered his extra hot and black.
“Ryker Cage.”
“Of course it is.” Her hand flew to cover her mouth, and her eyes bulged. She couldn’t believe she’d just blurted that out loud.
A low, throaty, very masculine chuckle reached her ears, making her goosebumps add an extra layer. “My turn. What’s your favorite dessert?”
“Anything chocolate,” she answered without hesitation. “You?”
“The chocolate left on your lips.”
She fanned herself, trying to control the heat flooding her body. Blood rushed to her cheeks, and she bit her lip to keep from moaning. This guy was good. Too good. “Okay, I think your time’s up.”
“Harper.” The way he said her name left her breathless.
“Yeah?”
“My time was up thirty minutes ago. We’ll talk again soon. You can count on it, princess.”
A dial tone filled her ears, and she let out the breath she’d been holding, yanked the headset from her ears, and tossed it onto her desk.
What was it with that man? Every time he called, she felt like she’d run a marathon.
A sexy, naked, in-the-mud marathon, but a marathon nonetheless.
The first time he’d called, he’d asked to speak to a manager, and he’d been asking for her ever since.