Body Movers Books 1-3. Stephanie Bond
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“So I gathered,” the woman said, her dark eyes shining. She extended the receipt she’d written to Carlotta. “Thank you very much for the donation.”
“You’re welcome,” Carlotta said, feeling guilty as hell as she took the slip of paper.
When their hands brushed, a strange look crossed the woman’s face. She clasped Carlotta’s hand. “Wait.”
From the sharp tone in the woman’s voice, alarm blipped through Carlotta’s chest. “What is it?”
The woman had turned Carlotta’s hand palm up and was studying it, a crease between her perfectly arched brows. Carlotta glanced at Hannah, who only shrugged. After a few awkward seconds had passed, the woman looked up.
“I don’t mean to worry you,” she said quietly, “but you are facing danger.”
Carlotta squirmed. “Why would you say that?”
The woman’s cheeks turned pink. “I’m sorry. Sometimes I have a gift…for seeing things. When I touched your hand, I felt danger. Do you have a big, strong man in your life to protect you?”
Hannah snorted. “No.”
Carlotta nervously withdrew her hand. “We’d better be going, Hannah.”
The woman smiled. “My name is Amy, Amy Lin. I didn’t mean to scare you, but please be careful.”
Carlotta studied the woman’s body language for some sign of a con or impending sales pitch. Instead, Amy Lin’s eyes burned with sincerity and…concern.
Without responding, Carlotta backed away and left the store, with Hannah at her heels like an excited puppy. “Oh my God, that was a psychic moment!”
“I don’t believe in psychics,” Carlotta said as she climbed into the van.
Hannah catapulted herself into the seat and slammed her door. “Well, I do, and I’ve always wanted something like that to happen to me.”
“If it makes you feel better, I wish it had happened to you, too. That kind of stuff is wasted on me.”
“I wonder what she meant by you facing danger?” Hannah bounced in the vinyl bench seat. “Ooh, ooh—maybe Peter Ashford is the danger, and you need someone to protect you from him.”
Carlotta sighed, exasperated. “It doesn’t mean anything, Hannah. It’s one of those blanket statements that could apply to anyone, anytime.” She gestured to the cars around them as Hannah wedged the van between two moving cars. “I’m in danger just sitting in traffic in this city.”
“Still,” Hannah said solemnly, “you shouldn’t dismiss something like that.”
Carlotta laid her head back. “Just take me home. This is turning out to be a lousy day.”
“Hey, what’s up with you giving all your loot to charity back there? That was probably hundreds of dollars’ worth of stuff.”
“Thousands,” Carlotta corrected, closing her eyes.
“Jesus God, even worse.”
“I just couldn’t stand the thought of that woman spreading stories to her friends about me selling my clothes. Everyone will think I’m broke.”
“You are broke.”
She expelled a long sigh. “I know.” Her chest and head ached when she thought about the things that Tracey Tully had said. Did everyone assume that she and Peter were having an affair, or perhaps had been all along? If Angela had thought so, it made sense that the woman had confided in her friends. And she hadn’t helped matters by making a spectacle of herself at the funeral.
Good grief, when had life gotten so complicated?
Hannah rattled on about a psychic moment she’d had with a dog, until they arrived at the town house. Cooper’s white van sat in the driveway.
“Wesley must be going on another body run,” Carlotta said as they parked.
“Let’s go with them!”
“Are you nuts? I’m not getting involved this body-moving business.”
“Why not? It’s fascinating.”
Cooper Craft came out of the house dressed in jeans and a dark sport coat, and strode toward his van.
“And so is he,” Hannah murmured.
“Down, girl,” Carlotta said before opening the door and dropping to the ground.
Coop glanced up and smiled as they approached. “Hi. I didn’t expect to see you.”
“Are you and Wesley going out on a…job?”
“Yeah, he’s changing.”
Carlotta swallowed at the force of his eye contact behind his glasses. When had the man gotten so…appealing? His hair was nicely rumpled, his shirt had French cuffs and his jeans were snug against long, muscular legs.
“Remember me?” Hannah said, stepping up and practically bursting out of her tattooed skin.
“Sure I do, Hannah,” Coop said cheerfully, but his gaze snapped back to Carlotta.
“Right,” Hannah said dryly. “Okay, I’m taking off. Call me later, Nancy Drew.”
Carlotta glared at her friend as she climbed into her graffiti-van.
“What was that all about?” Coop asked with a laugh.
“Nothing,” Carlotta said. “Except I think that Hannah is crushing on you.”
He smiled and his eyes crinkled at the edges. “It must be the spring weather. I’m feeling a pretty intense crush coming on myself.”
The way he looked at her made it obvious that Hannah wasn’t the object of his affection. Carlotta’s chest tingled with pleasure, but she didn’t believe in starting something that she couldn’t finish. What the man did for a living just creeped her out too much. And since he was going to be around a lot, she thought she should be honest.
“Look,” she said, breaking the pregnant pause, “you’re really nice—”
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