by Jaci Burton
He didn’t have to wait long. She opened the door and stood aside for him to come in.
“You’re right on time. Welcome to my home.”
The inside was nothing like the outside. Candles were lit everywhere, giving off the same sensual patchouli and cinnamon scent as her shop. Bright colors from throw pillows and blankets lifted the mood of the place. Shades were open, sunlight streaming into each and every room. It was bright, colorful and homey.
Flowers bloomed healthy and vibrant in various pots throughout the house. Sophie led him from the small living room into the equally tiny kitchen. It was clean and smelled like citrus. Her bedroom was very small, including the bed, but a colorful quilt and a row of colorful plants along the windowsill brightened up the room.
“It’s small, but it’s home and I love it to death. I know that’s silly since it’s not much…”
“You have a beautiful home, Sophie.” Surprisingly, he meant that. The place was a dump on the outside, but welcoming on the inside. And she wasn’t apologetic about it at all. For some reason that meant something to him.
“Let me go get ready. It’ll only take me a second.” She turned and stepped through the multicolored beads separating the kitchen from the bedroom.
Logan stood in the living room and listened to the sound of rustling clothing. And bells. Like the bracelets she wore around her ankles and wrists. Something about those tinkling bells was surprisingly arousing.
She hummed while she dressed, an upbeat oldies tune that made him think of summer, of being young and carefree.
He jammed his fingers through his hair. Hell, had he ever been young and carefree? Had there ever been a time when he wasn’t worried about his magic, how he appeared to others? As soon as he had been old enough to recognize that he had powers, that he was “different” than the other kids his age, he’d pushed his magic as deep inside himself as he could, and fought to keep it there.
Kids were so cruel. They’d pick on anyone who wasn’t “normal”. And he was as goddamned abnormal as they came.
Was there a time he hadn’t tried to mask who and what he really was?
At least with Sophie he never had to do that. She somehow knew of his magic, and because she seemed to possess some of her own, whatever weird powers he had inside didn’t seem to matter to her at all.
The beads flew to the side as she stepped through.
She’d pulled her hair up into a high ponytail, showing off sculpted cheekbones and smooth, perfect skin.
How could someone wearing faded blue jeans and a loose, white sweater look so damn sexy? He’d taken her so fast the other night he hadn’t had time to explore and taste her. A compelling urge came over him. He wanted to undress her, revealing every inch of her body slowly, then lick her from her neck to her toes.
Sophie’s gaze met his and she stopped, her eyes widening.
She knew what he was thinking. He could tell by the dark blush staining her cheeks. Did she feel the same intense desire? His cock rose and pressed against his jeans, clearly outlined for her to see.
He should turn away until he got his unruly libido under control. But he didn’t. Instead, he waited until her eyes traveled down to his crotch.
When she looked up at him again, she smiled.
Shit. The sensuous curl of her lips only made his hard-on worse. This was going to be one hell of a long day.
“Why are you doing this?”
Frowning, she asked, “Doing what?”
“Coming to my parents’ house today.”
“Because your mother invited me.”
“That’s not the only reason and you know it. Give it up, Sophie. I’m not interested in having a relationship with you.”
Her smile died. “I’m doing whatever is necessary to protect you and your family, Logan. I wish you could see that.”
“I see plenty. What I see is you trying to wriggle your way into my family, thinking you can tap into some of our fortune.” He advanced on her, stopping only inches away. “It’s not gonna happen, sweetheart, so you might as well quit now.”
He refused to be swayed by the hurt look in her eyes. She was the best con artist he’d ever come across.
Her smile returned, but the pain in her eyes remained. “If there’s nothing more you’d like to say, we should probably go so we’re not late.”
Irritated beyond the ability to think straight, Logan turned on his heel and mumbled, “Fine.”
She followed him out to the car and slid in the passenger side, buckling her belt and looking out the side window the entire trip.
Although he didn’t know her that well yet, what he did know proved that it was uncharacteristic of Sophie to be silent. He knew why, too.
He’d wounded her with his words.
And he fucking hated that he felt guilty about it.
Too bad. He’d said nothing that wasn’t true. She was a fraud. He knew it, and she knew it. She was just frustrated because he, unlike everyone else, hadn’t been fooled by her.
The show of hurt feelings was just an act, like everything else.
She was not hurt!
* * * * *
Sophie forced back the moisture welling in her eyes, resisting the urge to put her face into her hands and sob.
She wasn’t a baby and wasn’t about to act like one. So Logan didn’t believe her. She’d known that would happen. Convincing him was going to take awhile. Until then, she had to remain strong and not let him push her away. No matter how much he tried to hurt her, she would not waver from her goal. Her beloved Aunt Janine would never forgive her if she let her emotions get in the way of seeing a vision through to its conclusion.
She missed her aunt, though she still spoke with her. But it wasn’t the same. Channeling the dead wasn’t as easy, or as fulfilling, as sitting down across the kitchen table and looking at that person eye to eye. At most she’d be given brief glimpses into Janine’s spectral aura, but they were mainly thoughts and feelings, not actual words.
Still, those forces continued to guide her. Her mother, her aunt, and those who had come before. They kept her strong.
And focused.
Which is what she had to be now. She couldn’t afford to involve her heart in matters having to do with Logan.
Yeah right. Too late for that.
Despite his icy wall, there was a vulnerability about him that touched her deeply. She sensed that he wanted to love, but he didn’t trust. And he’d have to learn to trust in love before he could truly experience it.
Love? Who said anything about love?
No. No way was she falling in love with Logan. She’d guarded her heart, made sure that she’d do her duty to him and his family and not get involved.
Liar.
Oh hell. Despite her own internal warnings, it had already happened.
And now that it had, she was bound and determined to be the woman to win his trust…and his love.
A definite risk to her heart, but who was she to attempt to defy fate?
They drove well out of town and into a densely forested area. The Storm house sat back from the road, down a long paved driveway.
The house was charming in its rustic simplicity, and she couldn’t wait to go inside and explore.
“Oh, this is a beautiful home, Logan!” Without thinking, she grabbed his hand when he came to her side of the car to open the door and let her out. And she refused to let go of it as they walked toward the house, even though Logan’s narrowed gaze indicated he didn’t want to be holding onto her in any way.
Too bad. She was much too excited to pay attention to his frosty mood.
When they walked inside, Logan had to let go of her hand because she was swept into the room by Shannon and Kaitlyn and dragged into the kitchen, where a horde of family members were present.
She was introduced to Galen, Angelina’s husband, a huge bear of a man with an Irish lilt to his voice and the most beautiful green eyes she’d ever seen. She also met Shannon’s fiancé, Max Devlin.
&n
bsp; Whoa, now there was a man with magic.
They sized each other up in a matter of seconds. It didn’t take her long to sense that Max was lupine. He grinned and nodded knowingly when they shook hands, obviously as aware of her power as she was of his.
From what she sensed of Max in those few brief seconds, Shannon was one lucky girl.
Every single one of them made her feel welcome. At home. As if she was family.
All except Logan, who kept his distance, eyes narrowed as if he expected her to slip some of the family silverware into her pockets.
Determined to ignore his glaring looks, she decided to simply enjoy his family’s company and forget he was even there.
The house smelled of Cajun spices. Angelina let her help out in the kitchen along with the rest of them. They all worked, either setting the table or fixing drinks. Even the men.
They laughed so much it was just like the times spent with her aunt and her friends. Bittersweet memories washed over her, reminding her that she was truly alone in the world now. Yes, she had Samantha and Joshua, who were more her family than anything. But eventually they’d both marry and have families of their own.
She’d be completely alone, then.
Would she ever marry? Would she ever have a family like the Storms embrace her and welcome her into their homes, their lives?
She wanted that more than anything. The scary part was, she wanted it with the Storm family, not just any family.
More importantly, she wanted it with Logan.
But wishing for something and having even the slightest hope of getting it were two different things. Clearly, Logan would never accept her in his life.
No, that wasn’t quite true. He wasn’t ready…yet. Which didn’t mean she couldn’t convince him. After all, she had set goals her entire life, and had always worked hard to reach them. Grades, college, her own business—every goal she had attempted she had reached.
Logan was a goal. Or, rather, Logan’s heart was. If she put her mind to it and made him see what she saw, he’d come around.
She glanced out the back window, impressed by the massive size of the land the Storm family owned. A long stretch of grass and trees surrounded the fenced property. A narrow path led to a wooden dock where two good-sized boats sat on the huge lake.
“Your home is beautiful, Angelina,” Sophie said.
Angelina wiped her hands on a towel and came to the window. “Thank you. We love it here. It’s so quiet. In the summer you can hear the cicadas sing and watch the lightning bugs do their dances across the black night.”
She loved her trailer, but it was surrounded by nothing but dust, gravel, and a sparse collection of very wimpy looking trees. Here there were fat willows sweeping the ground, so thick you could hide within their branches. She sighed, knowing it did no good to want what she couldn’t have.
“I’ll have Logan show you around later,” Angelina said, patting her shoulder.
“I don’t think he’ll be very willing.”
Angelina gave her an enigmatic smile. “You let me worry about that part. Come, dinner’s ready. Let’s take everything out to the table.”
Chapter Seven
There was too much food. Shrimp, crawfish, rice, beans and plenty to drink to go along with it.
Sophie stared wide-eyed at the plate in front of her, then looked over at Angelina, who’d filled it for her.
“Surely you can’t be serious.”
“It’s not that much, cher. Enjoy it.”
She ate, her mouth taking in the wonderful Cajun flavors as if it hadn’t been fed for months. The Storm family definitely knew how to cook.
“Sophie, tell me a little about yourself.”
Her gaze shifted towards Galen’s strong voice.
Dilemma. How much should she reveal? She quickly looked to Angelina, who nodded and patted her hand.
“It’s perfectly all right to be honest, ma belle. No one here will tell your secrets.”
Such confidence Angelina had in her family. Sophie felt like this had suddenly become a very big deal.
“I come from a very long line of voodoo priestesses,” she started, then paused as she waited for shocked or disbelieving expressions.
Surprisingly, no one batted an eyelash. No one but Logan, who arched a brow as if he was waiting for her to spew a stream of lies.
“Go on,” Angelina prodded.
“When my parents died, I went to live with my Aunt Janine, who also practiced magic. She taught me to tap into the resources available to me. Turns out I listened pretty well, so after college I decided to open a shop in the Quarter. My aunt had saved the inheritance money my parents had left, and gave it to me as a graduation gift so I had the capital to fund my business.”
“Whoa, back up a second,” Logan interrupted. “You went to college?”
“Sure I did.”
“Did you finish?”
“Yes, Logan, I finished.” Was that a big deal?
“What was your degree?”
“Am I being interviewed for a job? Would you also like to see my résumé?”
Aidan laughed so hard he spit out the piece of bread he’d just taken a bite of.
“Aidan Storm! Mon Dieu. Close your mouth!”
“Sorry, Mom,” he said, still chuckling.
“No, you’re not being interviewed,” Logan continued, glaring at Aidan. “Just curious what you majored in.”
Sure sounded like a job interview. “Psychology. And since you asked, I also got my masters and Ph.D. And yes, from legitimate, accredited colleges, not internet or mail order.” Because she just knew that’s what he’d think.
“Holy shit, you’re a Ph.D.?” Aidan exclaimed.
“Aidan,” Angelina warned.
“Sorry. Again. Shutting up now.”
“Good idea,” Lissa said, cramming another piece of bread in his mouth.
Sophie laughed.
“You’ve got to be in your mid-twenties, right?” Logan asked.
“Asking my age is illegal in a job interview.”
Now it was Max’s turn to choke.
Angelina rolled her eyes. “Boys. Really. Logan, you’re browbeating poor Sophie. Leave her alone.”
“I don’t mind, Angelina.” She looked at Logan again and said, “Yes, I’m twenty-five. I graduated high school at sixteen, finished my Bachelor’s in two years, my Master’s in a year and my Ph.D. the year after that.”
“Dayum,” Aidan said. Lissa threatened him by holding up an even larger slice of bread.
“Wow, Sophie, you must be a genius. Congratulations.”
Sophie blushed at Shannon’s comment. “Thank you. I just happened to do well in school.”
“Do well?” Shannon exclaimed. “Hell, you’re obviously quite gifted to get through school that quickly. I’m impressed.”
“I’ll be damned,” Logan whispered as he stared at the wine swirling around in his glass. When he looked up, Sophie was mesmerized by his crystal blue eyes. They seemed to hold her transfixed.
“You have a doctorate in psychology, and yet you run a cosmic voodoo shop in the Quarter.”
“It’s not a cosmic voodoo shop. It’s what I do and it’s a legitimate business. I love my job.”
“So, in other words, you could be really helping people, using your education and your intellectual gifts to aid those who are suffering, and instead you choose to practice bullshit magic.”
“Logan, I’m warning you,” Angelina said.
The sky darkened outside as Angelina glared at Logan, a rumble of thunder shaking the floor underneath her. Then just as suddenly, the clouds lifted. Angelina focused again on Sophie. “Why did you open the shop, cher?”
Conscious of everyone watching her, she kept her eyes on Angelina. “When I first began to learn about the magic inside me, I toyed with it, trying to figure out what I could do. As a child I was very curious. Then as I got older my magic grew more powerful. I worked on it all the time and discovered I had a knack for fo
retelling—predicting the future, I guess you’d say. I could ‘feel’ people. Inside of them. Not only where they’d been, but where they were going.” She rubbed her forehead. “It’s kind of hard to explain.”
“I think we know what you mean,” Kaitlyn said. “Our magic is similar in a lot of respects, although I don’t think it’s as extensive as yours.”
“Thanks.” What a comfort it was to be around people who didn’t think she was some kind of bizarre mutant. At least most of the people seated at the table felt that way. “Anyway, I discovered that I could accurately predict the future…at least as it related to people, not necessarily events. So don’t ask me the lottery numbers for next week because I don’t know those.”
Everyone laughed. Everyone except Logan, who regarded her with an expression akin to utter disbelief. She refused to let him intimidate her.
“So you decided to set up your shop so you could tell people their future?” Lissa asked.
“Sort of. I also spent some time interning with a social worker and a practicing psychologist, so I try to blend a little magic and foretelling of the future with practical advice. Some people come to me thinking I can solve all their problems, when telling their future won’t help them at all. I keep a list of social workers and licensed psychotherapists that I refer people to if I feel they need it.”
“Aha, so in essence you are using your education to help people,” Max said.
“I’d like to think so. I hope so. There are a lot of very lonely people in the world. People who just want someone to listen to them while they reason out their problems.”
“It seems like such a waste,” Logan said. “You open up a shop, dole out advice from your crystal ball for a few bucks a pop instead of really helping people.”
Undaunted by Logan’s viewpoint, she said, “I am helping people. People who don’t have the money for mental or social health treatment, or those who are too afraid of modern medicine to go to the professionals for help with their problems. Those people are the ones who come to me. And I spend a little time with them, talk out their problems, and by the time I’m finished I can usually get them to agree to seek professional help.”
“I think what you’re doing is admirable, Sophie,” Angelina said. “And you’re right. There are those who stay with the old ways. People who need the kind of help you provide. You’re not so much telling their future as you are helping them understand how their pasts affect their futures.”