trying to bring to mind a religious store close by. I didn’t even know what that meant—or if “religious stores” even existed. “On the way back, we can stop off at my mom’s church for some holy water. But I can’t be gone too long because I have a date with Richard tonight.”
Before Christa could continue plotting Sinjin’s assassination, we both turned at the sound of the door opening. A man entered carrying an enormous flower arrangement, swaying with the weight of it. The arrangement was so massive that it dwarfed him entirely; all I could see were his jean-clad legs.
“Delivery for Jolie Wilkins,” he said as he wrestled with the arrangement, finally setting it down on the counter before he stood up and stretched out his back. I heard an audible crack. “Damn thing is heavy,” he muttered.
“I’m Jolie,” I said, walking up to him. He handed me a receipt and motioned for me to sign it. I did and received a quick smile before he raked Christa up and down (she, of course, smiled flirtatiously at him).
“Hope you enjoy them,” he said, throwing Christa a wink. She didn’t respond, but she watched him slam the door and disappear into his delivery van.
“He was kinda cute,” she said, but I wasn’t paying any attention. Nope, I was focused on the mammoth bouquet. I made no attempt to approach it.
“Well, you have to find out who they’re from,” Christa said.
“I already know,” I answered. My stomach had fallen to the floor. But queasy stomach or not, I couldn’t help admiring how exquisite the arrangement was, with enormous white lilies hovering fragrantly over crimson roses. There had to be more than seventy-five roses.
Christa reached for the card. I didn’t try to stop her, so she broke the seal and pulled the card out, clearing her throat as she did so. “Please forgive me,” she read, then dropped her hand and shrugged. “That’s all it says.”
But I didn’t know if I could forgive Sinjin because it wasn’t a matter of anything he’d done. It was a matter of something that he was.
Six hours later, I was still in my store. I hadn’t had one client all day. Ordinarily, I would have packed up and gone home, but an hour or so earlier, someone had called and begged to come in for a reading. Figuring my wallet could certainly stand to benefit, I’d consented. Christa had already left to prepare for her date, but Iwasn’t too concerned. I usually let her go home early when it was slow anyway.
At exactly four p.m., I heard the door open and I glanced up from where I was sitting behind the counter. I started to smile in greeting, but the smile was immediately wiped clean off my face. For the second time in the course of a week and a half, I was struck speechless by a handsome man. The first time, of course, had been when I met Sinjin. And this time … I glanced down at my logbook to where I’d haphazardly scribbled down his name.
This time, it was … Rand.
“Hi,” I said, jumping down from the stool, and circling the counter to meet him. I gulped hard, wondering why I was suddenly being tormented by incredibly striking men. Men who exceeded the most admirable qualities of humanity.
This guy didn’t say anything right away. Instead, he just stood there—all six-two, maybe six-three of him—and seemed to stare through me, almost as if I were transparent. He was broader than Sinjin, but also shorter by a couple of inches, if I had to guess. His hair was wavy and chocolate brown, the exact shade of his eyes. He had a strong, tan face, sculpted with broad, masculine angles, and a cleft in his chin.
“Um, are you Rand?” I repeated, beginning to feel uncomfortable under his silent scrutiny.
A huge smile softened his face, bookended by two dimples. He was simply magnificent, and I felt myself swallow hard. “I apologize for zoning out,” he said as he shook his head in apparent embarrassment. He spoke with an English accent, and his voice seemed suddenly so