I couldn't shake the scents of nature around me. Every blossom on a tree caught my attention, their fragrance meeting me first, calling my eyes to find out where that delightful scent came from. Crossing Parnell Road, to walk down the side in the sun, I could smell the hanging baskets several feet away, before I even registered they'd been replanted for Spring. Smells assaulted me at every corner, they were rich and delicious, making me lick my lips and smile a mile wide. After what had happened this morning, you'd think I would abhor anything to do with dirt. But I seemed to gravitate towards it, weaving along the pavement, avoiding harried mid-morning workers, just so I could walk beneath each basket overhead.
My deli came into view, the planters outside appearing fuller and brighter than those on either side. They would have been replanted at the same time as the others in the street, by the Parnell Business Owners Association, whom I paid an exorbitant fee to, so my shop matched all the rest. But they looked so much better, so much more, than those trailing the length of the street either side.
I pushed the chiming door open and glanced around my domain. The potted plants I enjoyed tending, and received many remarks of approval about, looked lush and vibrant this morning. I was sure they hadn't been as healthy last night when I left. But today their leaves were silky and smooth, unblemished and verdant. The whole place looked full of life.
Except for Sonya, whose eyes expanded to the size of saucers as soon as they met mine.
"Where the hell have you been?" she hissed under her breath as I approached.
"Yeah, I know. I'm sorry I'm late, I'll tell you all about it later, when we're not so busy." The place was packed, and with lunch just around the corner, everyone would be wanting a flat-bread or focaccia loaf with salad and cold cuts and some decadent home made sauce.
"Late!" she spluttered. "That's a bit of an understatement. You're not just late, you're..."
But I waved her away as a customer approached and set about making a little slice of heaven for their lunch. Sonya watched me like a hawk for the duration of the lunchtime rush, but thankfully didn't get a chance to wring me out. I knew I deserved it. They'd been left to open and prep on their own, and they'd only ever had to do that when I was sick. And I always warned them, I never simply didn't turn up. But I was sure she'd understand as soon as I got an opportunity to explain.
Lunch rush zoomed by and before I knew it, Marcus and Alice were able to hold the fort, so I walked out the rear of the shop to face an extremely irate Sonya. I brushed my fingers over the leaves of the pot plants that lined the back of the shop, somehow feeling braver for the action, even if what I was about to admit would sound really lame. Who falls into a pit and gets buried alive whilst jogging through a park?
"Hey," I said, rounding to face her as we made it to the kitchen out back. "I'm sorry I'm late, but there is a perfectly decent explanation, if you'll just hear me out."
"You didn't call. You didn't leave a message. You simply didn't turn up," Sonya said, sounding more serious than I had ever heard her before. Her face was set as hard as stone, the water bottle in her hand was crushed under her fisted palm. Her pale blue eyes blazed with ire, and her rosebud lips were pressed in a thin line. I'd never seen Sonya this angry before, and for a moment I lost the ability to speak.
I reached out and thumbed the leaf of a potted palm off to my side nervously. God knows why I have so many plants in the store, even here out the back, where we bake the bread, I had a little green corner by my work desk. The smooth leaf sifting through my fingers calmed me down and allowed me to find my voice again.
"I fell into a ditch on my run. It must have knocked me out for a time and when I woke up the sun was higher in the sky," I admitted with chagrin.
Sonya stared at me for several long seconds, a shocked look on her face. Then through gritted teeth she said, "You were knocked out for two days?"
I stared back at her, speech impossible right then. She had to be wrong. Two days?
"What day is it?" I asked eventually, through numbed lips.
"Thursday," she replied, the look of anger turning to something else. Concern.
I shook my head and slumped onto my desk chair, my face landing into my cupped palms. It couldn't be Thursday. I couldn't have been in that ditch since my run on Tuesday morning. No way.
"You're kidding right?" I said in a croak.
"Oh, hell, Casey. What the devil have you been up to? Everyone has been so worried. The staff, your brother. Even Theo was asking where you had gone."
"Theo asked where I was?" Of course I'd home in on that little bit of gossip. I'd been flirting with the adorable, very fine looking Theo Peters for almost a year. He was the one man I could actually use my feminine wiles on. Or at least attempt to. I'm not sure he'd been that affected by my unskilled flirting talents, or just humouring me. But either way, since Theo started getting his afternoon snack in my deli, life had taken on a new sense of fun.
"Yes, even Theo. He was concerned as much as us." Sonya flicked her glance to a wall clock in the corner. "And he should be here any minute to ask again. So, honestly, you're going with passed out in a ditch in the Rose Gardens? Is that the best you've got?"
She started chewing on a strand of her long blonde hair, a habit I had unsuccessfully been trying to wean her from. It does not look good in a delicatessen having the staff gnaw on their hair. Dusky blonde locks or not.
"Stop that!" I reprimanded and watched in utter shock as the branch on the potted palm next to her swatted at Sonya's hand. She let out a choked, strangled sound, then reached forward to grasp the base of the pot as though she thought the movement meant it was about to fall off its stand. With two hands and a frown line marring her usually smooth forehead, she shoved the pot back a few centimetres, despite it not needing to be moved at all, and then dusted her palms off on her jeans.
I was so stunned that she hadn't realised that the plant had actually swatted her, that I stood up too quickly. And consequently made the chair tumble over backwards crashing into a tower of baking trays, which all clattered to the ground in a thundering crash.
Sonya yelped. I shushed her. Then we both started snapping at each other as adrenaline flowed.
A noise came from the front of shop interrupting our little sniping match, then pushing through the swinging kitchen doors, into the chaos and raised voices, stood Theo. Staring at Sonya who was still yelping and now swearing something unspeakable about bossy employers and even bossier best friends, and then his gaze turned to me, as I bent over trying frantically to right the baking trays with little success.
But at the sight of Theo Peters - made to measure suit, red silk tie and stunning hazel eyes - I promptly dropped the lot of them. The clang of metal on tile rang out and Sonya screamed in surprise. Then promptly stormed from the kitchen with a look of thunder on her face directed at me. I huffed out a breath at Sonya's inability to handle loud and disruptive situations at the best of times, and tried to ignore Theo's piercing gaze.
"Let me help you with that, Cassandra," he said in that deep, velvet voice of his.
For some reason Theo always calls me Cassandra. I don't know why, but he does. And although I should be annoyed by it, I am endeared. My reaction makes no sense at all. Maybe it's his slight Greek accent; Cassandra rolling off those lush red lips not only sounds seductive, it somehow connects right to that hidden spot between my legs. Every time he calls me Cassandra, I threaten to pool in a puddle of longing and desire at his feet.
"Don't be silly," I chided. "You're a customer, you shouldn't even be back here."
I started stacking the trays haphazardly, tempting fate as they would surely topple again. Theo reached over my shoulder and straightened them, his proximity almost too much. I slipped out from under his arm and placed several steps between us. It was one thing to verbally spar with the man, but anything physical still made my legs turn to jelly.
I stared up at him for a moment, enjoying the fact that he wasn't watching me, but instead
concentrating on his task. He was the most beautiful man I had ever seen. He simply stole my breath. Thick black hair, cut a little too long for fashion, but somehow setting a trend of its own. Tall, at well over six feet, with broad shoulders and long legs. His clothing, whether dressed for work in his expensive suits, or just in casual weekend wear, was bespoke. Definitely from High Street, or Smith and Caughey's on Queen. If I could afford it, I'd shop there.
His eyes were a mesmerising hazel, hints of jade and amber in amongst a deeper brown. He had a strong, firm jawline, with cheeks that cut sharp lines across his face. His lashes swept down to meet them, and I often found myself just staring at their length. There was a hollow at the base of his neck, that when dressed in a suit and tie I couldn't see. But on weekends, when he'd bless my store with his presence, I saw it. I was staring at that hidden spot now, when his attention turned back to me.
"Where have you been, Oraia," he said softly, taking a step towards me. He'd called me that before too. I'd looked it up on-line. It was Greek for 'lovely'. An endearment he surely used on every girl in town.
"I had an accident," I admitted, reaching out to smooth a leaf on the potted palm that had just caused this ruckus. The branches seemed to sway towards me and for a moment all I could do was suck in air. It was calming to touch them, but to see them move in a way that was not possibly natural, made me hold my breath.
I glanced up at Theo to see if he'd witnessed the unnaturally moving palm, but his eyes were on me. I watched as his face slowly turned completely white. That was saying something; Theo, being of Greek descent, had an all-year-round tan. Those beautiful eyes also widened for a moment and then he sucked in his own breath of air, muttering something under his breath that decidedly sounded like a swear word. But I couldn't be sure; I think it was Greek.
His gaze ran over my entire body, but unlike before when heat had pooled deep down inside whenever he'd done that same move, a chill of dread followed the path where his gaze landed. And when his eyes came up to mine they flashed. Actually flashed a different colour. And not any colour I'd seen on anyone ever before. But gold. His hazel eyes flashed gold; pure, brilliant, shining yellow-gold.
He shook his head once, hands fisted at his sides, and then spun on his heel and stormed through the door to the front of the shop. I followed hurriedly behind him, wanting to ask him what was wrong. But by the time I made it to the footpath, he was gone.
And all that met me was a wash of heat across my body, as though a fire had flared and I'd stepped too close. I jumped back inside the doors to my deli, seeking refuge automatically amongst the plants.
Something had upset Theo and I had a sinking feeling it wasn't anything that I'd like.
About The Author
Nicola Claire lives in beautiful Taupo, New Zealand with her husband and two young boys.
She's tried her hand at being a paramedic, bank teller and medical sales representative, (not all necessarily in that order), but her love of writing keeps calling her back.
She has a passion for all things supernatural, spiced up with a good dollop of romance - as long as they include strong characters, alpha males and capable females, and worlds which although make-believe are really quite believable in the end.
There's nothing better than getting caught up in a compelling, intriguing and romantic book.
When she's not writing or reading, she's out on her family boat at Lake Taupo, teaching her young boys to fish, showing them the beauty that surrounds them in nature and catching some delicious trout for dinner.
Kindred has been a joy to write, creating a rich world with dynamic characters and paranormal twists that shock and awe has been pure bliss for this author. And just as well, because there's a lot more story yet to tell...
Find more Nicola Claire books at:
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Sweet Seduction Sabotage Page 30