the rest. “I don’t—”
“Shhh.” Concentrating on the cards as she laid them out, her eyes widened.
At her audible gasp, he leaned closer. “Something wrong?” He tilted his head to read their titles: The Tower. Judgment. The Fool. The Lovers. The Moon.
Lydia nodded like a statue of a coin-fed fortune-teller. “Oh.” She leaned closer. “Oh, my. Most unusual.”
He tensed. “What?” What sort of trickery was she up to?
Her voice softened. “You’ve been through an ordeal. Rest assured your loneliness will soon end. Great happiness awaits after a terrible trial.”
His gut churned. “You don’t know what you’re saying.” The accident ripped his happiness away when it took Karen. Nothing could be worse than that.
“Of course, I do. I’m never wrong.” Lydia’s gaze slid to the room’s entrance.
Joss spoke with Charlie Fulton dressed in painter’s overalls. Some costume. But then, next to her, anyone would appear silly.
Lydia rested her palms against the table. “Tonight is a fateful night.”
The ominous statement settled over him like a mist. Fate had never been kind to him before. “Why?”
She leaned forward, candlelight sparking in her brown eyes. “Your life is on the verge of great change toward a destiny you cannot avoid. Finding your true soul mate.” She spoke as if revealing a great secret.
The words pierced his heart. “No.”
“Oh, yes. The cards indicate it here.” She splayed her hands across the cards.
A parlor trick, nothing more. A reminder he didn’t need. “I have to go.”
Pushing away from the table, he strode to Joss, who poured green liquid into the punch bowl. He’d approached her with the intention of bidding her good night and getting the hell out of there. Instead, he asked, “What is that?”
After ladling some into a glass, she held it up. Wisps of smoke curled up from the drink. “Taste it and find out.”
More than the drink tempted him. “It looks dangerous.” But its citrus scent enticed him. His fingers closed around hers, and the tiniest jolt sparked through his hand, like deadened tissue reanimated.
Alarm crossed her face as she slipped her hand away. “Appearances can be deceiving.”
Did she know his costume hid a damaged man? Wincing, he sipped. His taste buds danced in delight at the refreshing fizzy liquid.
Her focus concentrated on his mouth and her smile returned. “Good, isn’t it?”
Unlike his evening. The way she watched him drink unsettled him. Awakened parts of him that, for the last five years, languished in a numbing, deep freeze. The shock of returning to life overwhelmed him. “Your aunt shouldn’t play at things she doesn’t know.” Neither should he. This woman was obviously out of his league.
Her shoulders stiffened. “My aunt does know. She’s been reading tarot and palms since I was a girl.” She turned the corner and disappeared down the hall.
Now he’d insulted her family. He had to make her understand. Following, he caught her arm. “She shouldn’t meddle. Not where people’s private lives are concerned.” Her silky softness invited his touch. He became sharply aware of every detail about her. A loose strand of hair flowing against the graceful curve of her neck. Hazel eyes ablaze with a fire he couldn’t fathom, but ignited sparks, surging along his veins like a lit fuse. Every impulse urged him to press her against the wall and taste her golden skin. Explore her curves.
Her lips parted and hovered open for blissful seconds. “I’m sorry.”
Her whisper hit him like a gale-force wind. It broke whatever spell he was under, and he stepped back. “No. I am.” For coming here. Jesus, what the hell was wrong with him, grabbing her like that?
A glance to the other room revealed her aunt staring with an odd expression. Pity? Self-satisfaction?
He couldn’t get away fast enough.
Outside, he ripped away the mask and let it fall to the ground as he climbed in his truck. A fateful night, the aunt said. The only thing tonight portended was more social disaster. A destiny he seemed doomed to relive over and over.
Chapter 2
The sting remained with Joss long after Eric fled the inn. Deep-rooted pain emanated from him when he’d first entered, and his palm against her arm sent an electric shock straight to her bones. The poor man. Grief kept him its prisoner. Joss understood how easy it was to fall into that dark trap. The way he’d held her, he sought escape. Comfort.
He awakened deep-seated sensations in her. In the few moments with him, she’d felt more alive than she had in three years.
So strange. Normally, one look allowed her to see the person inside. With Eric Hendricks, her receptivity went into overload. His soul, pent up for years, stirred to life and churned up love, fear, joy, hopelessness, yearning, jumbled and shifting faster than light. He displayed great strength in his firm stance and gentle touch. Beneath a hard veneer of sheer pain, one other trait came through clearly—purity of spirit, and integrity enough for many men.
The arrival of more guests drew Joss to the foyer again. Another matronly witch and an older man wearing a checked flannel shirt, jeans, and boots stepped inside, followed by a princess and a boy in a fabric turtle shell.
Joss recognized the girl as one of the riders whose horse was boarded at the inn’s stable. After greeting them and pointing them toward refreshments, she returned to Lydia. “Sorry about Dr. Hendricks.”
“Don’t apologize. It’s wonderful you have so many guests.” Lydia fingered the flowers in the vase on the table.
One woman stood in the archway to the front room, her bright-eyed glare directed at Joss. Wearing a short white shift adorned with large red hearts, the woman held a wand topped with a glittering red heart.
Confused by the woman’s malevolence, Joss approached and fought to overcome the negativity oozing from her. “Did you try some of the booscotti?”
The woman tilted up her chin. “I’m not hungry, Mrs. Gibson,” came her familiar nasal reply.
Recognition finally hit. Of course—the girl who worked at the diner in town. “Sheree?”
At her curt nod, Joss forced a smile. “I love your costume.”
Sheree’s gaze darted her length. “Likewise.”
What could be her problem? The woman wielded her wand like a weapon, ready to strike. “Please have a drink and make yourself at home.”
“Thank you.” Her narrowed eyes swept the room as if suspecting an ambush, and then she moved stiffly away.
Joss crossed the room to Lydia. “That was weird.”
Lydia
