Wind Goddess

by Crystal Inman

  Sylvia shrugged uncomfortably. “I’m not quite sure.” She laughed quietly. “I suppose being dragged to so many where I thought the decor subpar had something to do with it.”

  Tempest’s eyes were intelligent and kind. “Is that all?”

  “No.” Sylvia motioned to a chair. “Have a seat.”

  Tempest sank gracefully into the chair and tilted her head to the side. Her wave of ebony hair fell forward and concealed half her face. She brushed it back impatiently.

  “I used to believe in fairy tales.” Sylvia closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair. “Prince Charming and the princess of choice. Castles and kings. Peril and power. Fate and folly.” She opened her eyes slowly. Her dark blue eyes met Tempest’s. “Weddings represented all that for me. All that and more.”

  “But not any longer.” Tempest smiled sadly. “The beauty of the fairy tales is long gone, isn’t it?”

  “Not long gone,” Sylvia amended. “Just pushed far enough back to allow me to concentrate on the financial aspects. The bottom line is most important now. I see weddings as a necessary evil to appease nervous parents.”

  “That’s rather cynical.” Tempest blinked and waited for a response.

  “That it is.” Sylvia shrugged and tucked an errant lock of hair behind her ear. “I’ve grown up. I’ve made a mint off of giving an illusion to people. I’m the marital magician.”

  Tempest’s laughter pealed throughout the room. “The marital magician. I rather like that, Sylvia. I like that a lot.”

  Sylvia motioned to the ledger in front of her. “This makes sense to me. Always has.”

  “You don’t find pleasure in planning the wedding and seeing the results?”

  “Of course I do.” Sylvia frowned. “But it’s more customer satisfaction now. Odd how dreams change.”

  “Isn’t it?” Tempest murmured.

  Sylvia cleared her throat. “Sorry about that. And thanks for listening. I actually brought you in here to talk about your continuing with us while Beth is out.”

  “I’m here for as long as you need me, Sylvia Masters.” Tempest smiled. “Beth may continue to be out for awhile.”

  “How do you two know each other?”

  “A mutual friend,” Tempest answered easily. “It’s a small world.”

  “Isn’t it just?” Sylvia frowned and thought of her earlier conversation with Tristan. A thought occurred to her. “Are your parents still married, Tempest?”

  “Yes.” Tempest smiled. “They’ve been together a very long time. And even though they don’t always see eye to eye, they realize they are so much more together than they are separate.”

  Sylvia grew quiet for a minute. And then she spoke. “Your mother didn’t lose herself?”

  Tempest mulled over the question and all the reasons behind it. “No. I can honestly say that she and my father complement each other. They both came into the relationship with the realization they were two individuals. They still are. But they’ve come together and raised four daughters together. They’ve seen each other through so much. And when they needed to lean on someone, it was each other.”

  “A pretty picture,” Sylvia commented. Her head filled with pictures of her mother’s constant fundraising and putting off her dreams to make sure her father succeeded at everything he wished. The quiet dinners where no word had been spoken. The silent treatment that said so much more than words. She snapped back to the present.

  “You have three sisters?”

  Tempest’s lips twitched. “That I do.” She studied Sylvia. “Do you wish you had siblings?”

  “No.” Sylvia fought the shudder that worked its way through her. Siblings would have simply meant more tuition for out of country schools. Another thing for her parents to fight about. “I don’t think I was meant to have siblings.” She smiled ruefully. “I provided enough of a surprise for my parents.” Curiosity got the better of her. She leaned forward. “What are your sisters like?”

  “Wicked and wonderful. Maddening and magical.” Tempest ran her fingers through her long ebony hair. “Totally and completely irreverent and thick as thieves.” Her blue eyes sparkled. “Some of those more than others.”

  Sylvia switched gears. “I can understand why Mr. Calhoun wants to be a part of his sister’s wedding. But I don’t understand why he has to be underfoot the entire time.”

  Tempest sat back with a small smile. “Ah. The indomitable Mr. Calhoun.” She laced her fingers behind her head. “He strikes me as someone who must have control in every situation. No doubt it’s served him well as the tycoon he is.”

  “No doubt,” Sylvia muttered and rubbed her temple.

  “How is the Calhoun wedding progressing?”

  “As well as can be expected with constant supervision by the controlling brother.” Sylvia frowned. “We need to book a church for the wedding. Keira showed me the invitation list, and it’s extensive. We need something large and accommodating. There will be well over five hundred attendees.”

  “Done.” Tempest smiled assuringly. “And I’ll check around today for exclusive bridal shops. Are we still staying with the Celtic theme?”

  “Yes.” Sylvia nodded. “We had a bit of a glitch with that.” Her blue eyes saddened. “We hit a bit too close to home with that one. But it’s been approved.” She tapped her fingers on her desk.

  “What bothers you?” Tempest asked softly.

  “A great deal.” Sylvia took a deep breath and blew it out softly. “A lot rides on this wedding. Failure is not an option.”

  “Sounds like you’re planning a major military coup.”

  “What’s the difference?” Sylvia smiled tiredly.

  Tempest bit her lip and stood quickly. She walked over and placed her hands on Sylvia’s desk and looked her deeply in the eye. “I have a gift for you, Sylvia Masters. A gift I think you need right this minute.”

  “A gift?” Sylvia’s eyes blurred into a dreamlike state.

  “Yes.” Tempest smoothed back Sylvia’s hair with a smile. “The first of two I will bestow upon you, my mortal.” She cupped Sylvia’s chin and imprinted each word into Sylvia’s mind. “I give you the realization that you are more than these numbers in your ledger. That your worth is not measured in dollars and cents but by who you are. And you are an intelligent, capable woman whose strength is tempered by your gentleness. Find the balance, my dear. Not the bottom line in your ledgers, but the bottom line for you as a woman.” She stepped back and smiled as Sylvia’s eyes focused again.

  Sylvia blinked twice. “So. You have the church well in hand?”

  “Yes.” Tempest waved absently as she walked out of Sylvia’s office and to her own.

  Sylvia brushed her hair back and looked down at the ledger in front of her. The numbers blurred in front of her, and she pushed back the books with a groan. No more numbers today. Just a bit of a relaxing bath at home.

  * * * *

  Sylvia unlocked her front door and pushed it open with a sigh. How long had she been this tired? Months. She pushed the door shut with a slam and locked it. Everything she carried dropped to the floor with a thud.

  “Die, day, die.” Sylvia stripped out of her clothes on the way to her bathroom. She stripped nude by the time she reached the faucets and turned them to almost boiling hot. All the muscles in her neck and shoulders knotted in protest from her stressful day. Maybe the hot bath would at least relax her a bit.

  She played a bit in the running water before deciding to nip a glass of red wine from her kitchen. Music. There must be music. Sylvia turned on Mozart with a click and walked back to the bathroom with wine in hand. She sipped it and smiled.

  Steam rolled up from her bathtub, and she placed the glass of wine on the small table by the tub. Sylvia sank into the heat with a small groan and closed her eyes. Bathtub bliss. Too bad she couldn’t conduct business from this very spot.

  The small smile slid from her face as her mind wandered toward a certain tycoon. Tristan Calhoun. Couldn’t he lea
ve her alone while she tried to relax? He would probably be the first to advocate naked business practices.

  Sylvia blushed at the thought of the highly attractive man sharing her tub. Talk about bliss. She sighed and reached out for her wineglass. Her fingers curled around the stem and brought the drink back. A lovely red. Not as expensive as what Tristan brought to her on the picnic but a good year.

  “Damn him,” she muttered and brushed her hair back. He personified Prince Charming all right. A Prince Charming who played the field. No settling down for that one. Hadn’t he made that abundantly clear? No bridal bliss for him. Only the wedding for Keira. But wasn’t she exactly the same?

  Sylvia didn’t want any weddings in her future. Content to be the savvy businesswoman who brought that bridal bliss to others. Shit. All she needed now would be to adopt about half a dozen kittens from the pet shelter.

  She had a great life. A satisfying life. Didn’t she? Sylvia sank further into the hot water and let her mind wander. What had Tempest said earlier? About her parents being complete individuals before they came together as a whole? Isn’t that the missing key?

  Hundreds of couples had come through her shop. And the ones who lasted weren’t those where the couples were so dependent on each other that they couldn’t decide a simple color for a cummerbund.

  Sylvia’s blue eyes popped open in alarm. Surely to God she hadn’t been considering giving Tristan Calhoun a tumble, was she? Bad idea. Very bad idea. She groaned. Her experience with the opposite sex minimal at best, Tristan Calhoun way out of her league. Even for a tumble. And the thought of him with all the eye candy on his arm made her slightly nauseous.

  He was a fantasy. A man she could take down from her mental shelf and play with to her heart’s content. A man she could do whatever she wished to in her head without worrying about actually falling short in the real bedroom.

  It would have to do.

  A secret smile played on Sylvia’s lips. He could be her mental boy toy. Willing to do her bidding in every fantasy she could ever think of.

  Sylvia let herself relax fully into the water and licked her lips. She brought his image into her head easily. Untamed tawny hair. Brandy-colored eyes. The broad muscular body and strength he radiated.

  She let herself touch his soft hair and smiled. And then her hands moved over his face and memorized every feature. Her thumb ran over his full lower lip a second before she moved her mouth to match his.

  And then the heat that made her moan aloud. Tristan’s strong arms banded around her and molded every inch of her to his powerful body. More, all she could think. I want more.

  Tristan’s mouth moved over her bare skin, and Sylvia arched in the bathtub. He was wicked. And she loved every minute of it. His strong hands removed her clothes and then his own. When their bodies met again, heat filled Sylvia’s body.

  Her eyes flew open in the tub, and her breath sounded shallow to her own ears.

  “Oh, hell.”

  Sylvia stood quickly and wrapped a towel around herself. No more for today. Tristan Calhoun seemed to take control even in her fantasies.

  * * * *

  Sylvia published the wedding announcement in every major newspaper in the state and all the largest ones on the East Coast. She didn’t have long to wait for the results. Liz left a large pile of telephone messages on her desk at noon. There were at least six high society families who saw the wedding announcement and wanted to book her for their own weddings.

  Networking. Sylvia smiled. All working out rather well. She brushed her ebony hair back and rested her head on the back of her chair. If she closed her eyes for only a second, she could finish the rest of the day focused. A practice she had read about but never employed.

  She shifted and sighed. No go. She could see no point in trying to relax when there was so much to do.

  “Well hell,” she muttered and picked up her notebook again.

  Keira would come by tomorrow with Jon, and Sylvia looked forward to showing the groom-to-be a few of her ideas. They would have to mesh completely for her to go forward with her plans.

  There were a few boutiques that Sylvia wanted to check out first before she dragged Keira along with her to try on dresses. The regular ones wouldn’t do for what Sylvia had in mind. There had to be no doubt that this one-of-a-kind wedding would stand out for everyone involved.

  Sylvia rubbed her temple and frowned. She would have to deal with Tristan. No way around it. And for a man who made his living as a businessman, he didn’t seem to spend a lot of time in his office.

  It bothered her a great deal. More than she would ever admit to anyone. He should have his nose to the grindstone and out of her business.

  “Sour grapes.” Sylvia sighed and looked at her notebook. The headache only a small throbbing. Nothing life-threatening. Stress the trigger. It usually was. Sylvia reached in her drawer and pulled out a bottle of ibuprofen. She washed two down with her cold coffee and grimaced.

  “No wonder you’re usually so happy to see me.”

  Sylvia’s head snapped up, and her blue eyes narrowed. “For the love of God.”

  Tristan stood there in black slacks and a white dress shirt uncuffed and rolled up to his forearms. He leaned casually against the doorframe of her office. His tawny hair swept back in an attempt to tame it, she was sure.

  He held two cups of coffee in his hands.

  Damn him.

  “Mr. Calhoun.” Sylvia smiled tiredly. “Is there some type of bat signal that goes off to let you know when I’m in dire need of coffee?”

  His lips twitched. “Ms. Masters. We superheroes never reveal these things.”

  She rolled her blue eyes and sighed. “I just wondered how your business seems to thrive when you seem to be everywhere but at the office.”

  Tristan moved forward and held out a cup. “I delegate.” He took a sip of his own coffee and smiled. “Good stuff.”

  Sylvia reached out and took the cup in her hand. It warmed her palm. “Warm coffee,” she murmured. “What a concept.”

  Tristan walked around to the side of her desk and frowned down at the cup on her desk. He lifted it and sipped. “God, woman!” He slammed the cup back down. “Are you trying to kill yourself?”

  She took another sip of the coffee he brought and looked at him. “Some things tend to slip my attention when I’m busy.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Proper caffeine should never be one of those things.”

  Sylvia’s stomach growled.

  Both Tristan’s eyebrows arched. He put his hands on his hips. “And you don’t eat, either?”

  “I swear to God, if you pull a picnic basket out of your ass, I’m out of here.” Sylvia smiled.

  Tristan chuckled. “That would be beyond my realm of expertise.” He paused. “I could, however, call The River and have someone deliver a catered meal.”

  Sylvia warred with herself for a full minute. Tristan simply watched her without saying a word. “I suppose that would be an option.”

  Tristan simply shook his head and pulled a cell phone from his pocket. “We had chicken last time. How about seafood? Perhaps some shrimp and lobster?”

  She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. The feeling all new to her. Tristan calmly ordered while she watched. When was the last time anyone had ever done anything like this for her? Or had they ever?

  Tristan finished his call and put his cell phone back. He sank into the chair across from hers. The silence stretched out.

  “I don’t suppose you simply happened by?” Sylvia took another sip of her coffee and studied Tristan.

  Those wolf eyes pinned her. “I don’t suppose I did.”

  Sylvia’s stomach fluttered with nerves. “Then why are you here?”

  “Keira.”

  “Ah.” The knots in Sylvia’s stomach eased. Keira a safe subject. “And what does the bride want now?”

  Tristan shrugged easily. “Everything.” He smiled. “She wants me to give her away.”

 
Sylvia bit her lip. How painful must that be? “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I know that will be difficult.”

  “Yes.” Tristan rubbed his hand over his eyes. “For one, I wish our father could do it. For two, I don’t want to.” His wolf eyes saddened. “I don’t want to give her away.”

  Emotion clogged her throat. How wonderful and terrible to have that much love for another person. Keira is a lucky girl.

  “How long have your parents been gone?”

  Tristan sighed. “Almost two decades.”

  Sylvia started, and he grinned. “There is a wide age difference between Keira and myself.” He chuckled. “Mom always said Keira had been a gift late in life. I remember when they brought her home.” Tristan’s eyes darkened in memory. “She cried loud even then.” He paused. “I was in high school. She turned the whole house upside down.” His eyes met hers. “It was great.”

  “You’ve raised her.” A statement of fact.

  “I’ve raised her,” Tristan admitted. “I’ve watched her grow from a small girl into an opinionated woman who’s fallen in love. I’ve seen her through bad dates. Bad haircuts. Bad grades.”

  Sylvia laughed at his expression. “Not a scholar?”

  “Not hardly.” Tristan snorted and rolled his eyes. “She had no interest in school. Nor does she want to go into the family business.”

  Sylvia leaned forward. “What does she want?”

  “A family of her own.” Tristan sighed. “She wants the one thing she didn’t grow up with. The one thing I couldn’t give her.”

  “Oh, Tristan.” Sylvia held her hand to her throat and searched helplessly for the right words. “That’s not true at all. She’s a wonderful, intelligent woman. You’ve done a tremendous job raising her. You’ve given her everything she needs to be the amazing person she’s supposed to be. Marriage isn’t taking her away from you. It’s expanding your family.” She smiled a small smile. “Most women want to start their own family and share all the wonderful experiences they themselves have had.”