A Fare To Remember: Just Whistle\Driven To Distraction\Taken For A Ride (18 page)

Luckily, she didn’t have to wait long for the feel of his mouth on hers and the mind-exploding sensation of the kiss she’d longed for. With his hands around her waist and his tongue coaxing her into sweet delirium, Rachel cherished his ability to drive her to distraction, en route to delivering her to love.

TAKEN FOR A RIDE

Kate Hoffmann

CHAPTER ONE

T
HE TINY BRASS BELL
above the shop door jangled wildly as Sabina stumbled through, her iced latte clutched in one hand. She kicked the door shut, the click of the latch echoing in the silence. Outside, the temperature was already rising, the weatherman promising at least an eighty-degree day. Hot weather in Manhattan was always good for business, Sabina mused.

Her grandmother said that the spirit world felt closer when the air was thick with heat and humidity. Sabina believed that the stress of summer in the city brought more people into the shop for psychic relief, the same as it did around the holidays. Either way, more business was good business.

She wandered through the familiar interior of the shop, exotic scents mingling in the still air. The tourist guides had called Ruta’s “disarmingly peculiar” and “an odd little establishment” and “a relic of the Village’s colorful past.” For Sabina, it was more than that. It was home.

She’d taken her first steps on the thick Turkish rugs and she’d done her schoolwork on the round table with the crystal ball. Her friends used to play with the stuffed marmot that sat on a shelf above the ornate cash register and she’d learned to add and multiply with well-worn decks of tarot cards.

Sabina had never really thought of her grandmother as unusual, at least not when she was younger. Ruta was like so many other immigrants living in New York. It wasn’t until later that she learned how different her grandmother really was. Descended from Gypsy kings and queens, Sabina’s ancestors had once roamed eastern Europe in wagon caravans, peddling potions and amulets and even curses.

Ruta had come to America as a child over seventy years ago, escaping Hungary months after the war broke out. A stranger in a strange land, Ruta’s widowed mother had told fortunes in Times Square while Ruta sat by her side, learning her secrets.

And so it had been, the secrets of the Gypsies passed from Ruta to Sabina’s mother, Katja, to Sabina. Unfortunately, Sabina had never developed her own powers. She couldn’t see into the future, she couldn’t decipher a person’s life from the lines on their palm, and she’d never made a potion or a charm that worked. Still, that didn’t stop her from plying the only trade she knew.

Both her grandmother and mother had assured her that her gift may arrive late, but it would indeed come. In truth, Sabina knew she had no professional future in the fortune-telling business. She was lucky to have skated by for this long. When Ruta finally retired, the shop would pass to Sabina. And she’d already begun to make a few changes that reflected her own talents and interests.

She closed her eyes and imagined what her shop might look like. Instead of the dark, mysterious interior, she would throw open the heavy drapes and tear down the tapestries. Sabina’s shop would be bright, with glass shelves and warm wood cabinets. She’d sell lingerie, beautiful, sexy creations of her own designs. And she’d sell scented lotions and fine soaps, luxurious robes and pretty sleepwear. There would be candles and bath oils, anything to please the senses. Her customers wouldn’t need a psychic reading to feel good.

Sabina glanced over at the far corner of the shop. She had already convinced her grandmother to try an aromatherapy counter, and she’d recently ordered a new line of herbal candles. Ruta was stubborn and Sabina had to make her changes gradually.

“Bina, I’ve been looking for you.”

Sabina turned to watch her grandmother emerge from behind a bead curtain. As always, Ruta was dressed in her traditional Gypsy costume, a flowing skirt with an embroidered peasant blouse. Her wrists were adorned with gold bangles and a bead necklace hung from her neck. She’d twisted a colorful scarf through her long gray hair.

“Morning, Nana. Did you sleep well?” She circled the counter and pressed a kiss to Ruta’s cheek.

“No,” she said, a heavy Hungarian accent coloring every word. “I was up all night. Look what I have for you.” She reached into the pocket of her skirt and placed a photo on the counter in front of Sabina. “Mrs. Nussbaum’s nephew. She gave it to me last night at her reading. He is a doctor. A proctologist. And he is very handsome, don’t you think?”

Sabina groaned inwardly. “Nana, please. No more matchmaking. I can find men to meet on my own.”

“Then why don’t you do it, Bina? You have not had a boyfriend in many months. You spend every spare minute upstairs in your apartment, drawing your designs and sewing them up. I am starting to worry about you. Your whole life has become underwear. If you do not let someone else see your underwear, you will grow old a spinster.”

Sabina shuddered. That word was so awful.
Spinster.
It ranked right up there with troll and gargoyle. But she was willing to die a spinster before she let Ruta fix her up again. Her grandmother’s matchmaking efforts up to this point had been nothing short of disastrous. “I don’t need your help.”

“Maybe just a little bit?” She reached in her pocket again and withdrew a red string with a clay amulet dangling from it. “Here, put this on. It is a love charm.”

“Nana, this won’t work.”

“You will never know unless you try it,” Ruta said. “I have been open-minded about your smelly oils and silly candles, so you could do the same about my charms. Your destiny is out there waiting for you if you would just open your eyes to it.” She brushed Sabina’s hands away as she lowered the charm over her head. “There,” she murmured, fussing with a series of knots in the string. “You have made your grandmother very happy now. Tonight, I will sleep well.”

Sabina fingered the amulet. “This is silly. How could this possibly help me find a man?”

“Give it a chance to work, Bina.” Ruta sighed softly. “I only want what is best for you. Now that your mama and papa are living in that horrid place, we must stick together, yes?”

Sabina laughed softly as her grandmother walked back through the bead curtain. She’d been to Branson, Missouri, and it wasn’t all that bad. Between the tourists and the retirees, her mother’s new shop had more customers than Katja could handle.

Sabina plucked at the charm, holding it up to examine it. “Sometimes it’s just better to pacify her than to argue,” she murmured to herself.

“I heard that!” Ruta shouted. She reappeared at the bead curtain, poking her head through to give Sabina a disapproving look. “If you spent half the time talking to eligible men as you spend talking to yourself, you would be in the midst of a grand romance now.”

What was she supposed to do? Everyone else in her family spent their time communicating with the spirit world. And since she didn’t possess the power, Sabina had always chosen to discuss her problems with herself. “I’m going to buy some bagels.” She tucked the amulet beneath her blouse, then grabbed her iced latte. “I plan to meet at least six or seven men along the way. In fact, by the time I get back, I’ll be married and pregnant.”

“It is good to think positively,” her grandmother replied. “But no talking to yourself. The men will think you are crazy.”

Sabina walked out the front door and headed toward the corner. Crazy? Sabina was the only normal person in her family. She glanced down at the charm swinging from her neck. Well, almost normal. She’d agreed to wear the amulet, hadn’t she? Sabina wondered just what was mixed with the clay. Her grandmother had shelves and drawers and boxes full of strange ingredients—dried beetles and cats’ whiskers and boars’ teeth.

Sabina dodged an old woman walking her Pekingese, her attention still focused on the amulet. She didn’t see the man approaching until she ran squarely into his chest. Her iced latte exploded in front of her. Sabina jumped back, but her legs tangled in the leash of the Pekingese and she fell forward again, the drink splashing into the man’s face. He cursed as they both tumbled to the sidewalk in a flurry of arms and legs.

For a moment, Sabina was afraid to move. The old woman scolded her as she extracted the leash from around Sabina’s ankles, but when she tried to apologize, she realized that the breath had been knocked out of her.

The man beneath her groaned, and slowly she placed her hands on either side of his broad shoulders and pushed up. “I—I’m so sorry. I wasn’t looking and I didn’t—” Her gaze met his and the apology died in her throat as she stared into impossibly blue eyes.

Even with her latte dripping off his face, she could see she was lying on top of the most gorgeous man in all of Manhattan. Her eyes drifted to dark lashes, a perfectly straight nose and a sculpted mouth. As the heat of his body began to seep through her thin cotton dress, a wave of giddiness washed over her.

He reached up and softly brushed the hair away from her eyes. “Are you all right?” he asked, concern etched across his brow. His voice was so deep and smooth that it sent a tiny shiver down her spine.

He wasn’t a dream. He was real, all hard muscle and long limbs. The scent of his cologne teased at her nose and she drew a deep breath, closing her eyes and turning into his touch. Could the amulet have worked so quickly?

“Hey,” he murmured. “Open your eyes. Talk to me.”

Sabina did as she was told. “What would you like me to say?” she replied.

“Are you all right?”

Sabina blinked. “I—I’m not sure. How about you?”

He slowly pushed up, bracing his hands behind him. Sabina rose with him, her knees resting on either side of his hips. “I don’t think I’m bleeding.” He moved his arms, then his legs. “And all my limbs seem to be functioning.” He frowned. “Why am I wet?”

“That would be my Hazelnut iced latte,” Sabina said apologetically. She reached out and brushed the sticky drink from his face, her fingers skimming across his smoothly shaven skin.

He grinned crookedly. “Well, that’s fine. I haven’t had my morning coffee yet. I guess wearing it would probably help me cut down on the caffeine, but it’s going to be hell on the dry cleaning bill.”

Sabina smiled, pleased that he found their situation amusing rather than irritating. They’d only just met, but she already knew this man. He was sweet and charming and sexy. He smelled good, he dressed well and she loved the sound of his voice.

“I’d love to sit here and chat,” he said, straightening his tie. “But I’m in a hurry.”

Sabina felt her cheeks warm with embarrassment, then quickly scrambled off him. “I’m sorry,” she said, getting to her feet. “It was my fault. I—I was distracted.”

“No, it was my fault,” he countered.

Sabina offered him a hand. When he stood beside her, she realized how tall he was—well over six feet. His suit was impeccably tailored to his lean body. Her eyes rested on the messy brown stain seeping through his tie and white shirt.

“Oh, look what I’ve done. I’ve ruined your shirt and tie. You can’t go to work like that.”

This was perfect! She could offer to take his shirt to the cleaners and they’d have to see each other again. Or maybe he’d be willing to stop by her apartment while she soaked it in cold water. Her mind flashed to an image of him, shirtless, standing in her kitchen.

He gave her a shrug, then waved his newspaper between them.

“Really, I’m fine. That will teach me to read the baseball scores on the way to the subway.”

“At least let me pay to have your clothes cleaned,” Sabina offered.

He shook his head as he brushed stray droplets of her latte off his suit. “I just live a few blocks from here. I’ll run home and change.” He reached out and touched her shoulder. “You’re sure you’re all right? No broken bones, no internal injuries?”

Sabina nodded, desperately searching for something more to say to him…anything that would keep him standing on the sidewalk just a few moments longer. Couldn’t he feel the attraction between them? Her heart fell. Maybe he wasn’t interested. And just because he was the most gorgeous man she’d ever met didn’t mean he was available. He could be involved, maybe even engaged or married. It would be just her luck to meet the only perfect man in New York, then find out he was already taken.

“All the good ones are,” she muttered, raking her dark hair out of her eyes.

“What?”

Sabina swallowed hard. “Nothing.”

“Well, it was nice running into you,” he said, giving her a nod. “Maybe we can do it again sometime.” He glanced at his watch. “I really am going to be late. So, take care.” He gave her a quick wave and started down the sidewalk.

Sabina watched him walk away, certain that she’d just blown any chance she had with him. But at the last minute, he turned around. “When?” he shouted.

Confused, Sabina shook her head. “When what?”

“When can we run into each other again?”

A giggle bubbled up inside of her at the sudden turn of events. “How about right here? Tomorrow morning? We can go for coffee.”

“Same time, same place.” He waved, then ran across the street and disappeared into a stream of pedestrians.

Sabina reached down and took the amulet between her thumb and forefinger. “I guess it does work,” she murmured.

“R
UTA’S
. I
T’S ON
Christopher Street. I know just where it is,” the cabbie said.

Alec Harnett glanced at his watch, then surveyed the gridlocked traffic on Sixth Avenue through the cab window. He reached into his briefcase and picked out the file folder labeled LUPESCU. The corners were dog-eared and the label was yellowed owing to the age of the file. Inside, he found a detailed listing of yearly visits to Ruta Lupescu’s shop by his father, Simon Harnett, written offers that had remained unsigned, and a stack of property appraisals that increased in value with every year that passed. In addition, there were copies of reports by the building inspectors, claiming that, despite his father’s insistence, Ruta Lupescu was in compliance with all New York city building codes.

The old Gypsy woman had been a thorn in his father’s side for nearly thirty years, ever since his father took over Harnett Property Development from Alec’s grandfather, George Harnett. And now that Alec had been named president of the company, the problem of Ruta Lupescu had fallen onto his desk.

He’d been headed to Ruta’s earlier that morning when he’d been knocked to the sidewalk. Alec smiled as he recalled the beauty who had caused the accident. He’d known more than his share of women in Manhattan, one more beautiful than the next. But this woman was different from all of them.