Bewitching You (2 page)

Still there were a few details of Nana’s life that put her one step closer to what some people considered bonkers. For instance, Nana insisted on living amongst the Amish people in a small town in rural Indiana, far from any major city.

Away from the electricity and phone lines that she claimed gave her migraines.

Like many Amish, Nana lived on gas-powered appliances, lit her house with kerosene oil lamps, and heated it with a wood-burning stove.

Unlike the Amish, she had a fine collection of jewelry and lipstick, wore bright colors, and had indoor plumbing. Thank goodness for that. Sofia’s weekly visits would dwindle down immensely if Nana insisted on using an outhouse.

Batteries powered other things such as the radio and the small black-and-white television.

Sofia’s mother, Laura, had grown up like this. No wonder the woman took off to the city to raise Sofia surrounded by cars, lights, and noise.

A person could stand only so much quiet country life.

The view wasn’t awful. Watching the sunset over the serene horizon had inspired more than a few paintings. She walked to the window covered by plain white curtains and looked out at what her grandmother considered heaven. Nothing but acres and acres of farmland.

And a man on a bike.

Sofia squinted, trying to get a better view of him. He was at the end of the stone and dirt road, too far out of her range to get a clear picture. But he had dark hair, she could tell.

Like Gray’s.

Could it be? Is this where they were to meet?

“What is it, dear? Do you see him?” Nana asked, clearly having read Sofia’s mind. She stood from her chair and walked to the window to stand beside her.

“I don’t know. And stop it, or I’m leaving,” Sofia threatened weakly. Denying Nana her gift was almost pointless.

“Go see. He’s just standing there as if he’s waiting for something to happen.” Nana nudged Sofia. “Go make it happen.”

“What if it’s not him? Or what if it is?” Her mind ran circles around all the possibilities. “Can you read his thoughts from here?”
If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em, right
?

“No, he’s too far.”

“Darn.” Well, if he was the man in her visions, she could finally meet him. If he wasn’t, she could just say she was being a friendly neighbor. Yes, that’s what she’d do. She took a deep breath and marched out the door onto the porch.

~ * ~

Grayson Phillips’s legs burned after peddling his bike down the bumpy country road. He’d been riding for hours. He was overdoing it this morning, but at least the torturous bike ride through the country was keeping him from thinking of
her
.

Jeezus. The woman wasn’t even flesh and blood, yet still she manipulated his mind with sexual thoughts.

Thoughts that should be exclusive to his fiancée, Rachel.

And the dreams… The dreams were so sensual. So realistic.

To be so preoccupied with a woman who didn’t exist couldn’t be normal or healthy.

Gray took a drink of his water, then squeezed the rest of it over his face, letting it drip down his neck and onto his bare chest as he stared into the endless rows of corn that blocked him from going any farther. Where the hell was he, anyway?

All this nonsense had to be chalked up to sexual frustration. He’d been with Rachel for almost a year, and she was one of the rare women who wanted to wait until her wedding night to give away her virginity.

As soon as they were married, the dreams would stop. They
had
to.

He slid his water bottle back into its holder and turned his bike around. He had a long day ahead of him, ending with dinner with Rachel. She’d been working hard on planning their wedding, and thus far, he’d been no help. Even though he wanted this wedding, this future with Rachel, he couldn’t get excited about it.

Especially when another woman consumed his nights.

Today, he would change that. Today, he was going to forget about the damned woman with the vivid blue eyes and soft, sweet-scented skin who knew exactly where to touch him and when. The one who whispered fantasies into his ear and then played them out without the least of inhibitions...

Giving up fighting the dreams was tempting at times. They seduced him like nothing he’d ever experienced. But they weren’t part of
the plan
.

Thanks to the death of his brother, Gray knew life couldn’t be wasted on frivolous actions and foolish choices that left the people who loved you with a deep, punch-in-the-gut sadness.

Yep. Life had to have a plan, and
she
was not in it.

“Of course not,” he muttered to himself. “She’s just a fucking dream.”

Now, how the hell was he going to get home?

He’d been riding mindlessly since he woke up early this morning. He hadn’t showered or eaten. He’d barely dressed, throwing on a pair of basketball shorts and running shoes.

Get on the bike and go,
he’d told himself.
Peddle until she’s out of your head.

Stupid idea.

How he’d arrived in the middle of Amish country, with no recognizable landmarks in sight, was beyond him. Rows of corn stalks were in front of him, a plain white house and a lake to the left, crops of soybeans to the right, and a country road with nothing but the same behind him.
The house had two cars parked in front of it.

Huh
. No horse or carriage in sight. Maybe these people weren’t Amish.

A woman stepped out onto the porch and waved her arms. How odd. Gray shaded his hand over his eyes and focused on the stranger with long honey brown hair and petite body. She dropped her arms to her sides and gradually descended the stairs.

What did she want?

She wore a yellow knee-length sundress that flowed with her movement as she walked toward him. Slow, then fast, then slow again, as if she couldn’t make up her mind.

Gray gripped the handlebars of his bike. She reminded him of…never mind. That was ridiculous. It couldn’t be
her
.

She stopped halfway up the dirt drive.

“Gray?” she shouted.

At least, that was what he
thought
she said, but there was no way some woman living way out here in the freak-zone knew his name, especially a woman who looked disturbingly like the temptress from his dreams.

His pulse pounded.
What if
?
Just what if
?

No
. “Get your head out of your ass, Gray,” he muttered.

The woman started toward him again. With each step, she seemed more and more like the impossible.

“Gray?” She braced a hand on the curve of her hip and tilted her head. Familiar blue eyes, searching and unsure, seized hold of him from the short distance, paralyzing him.

It
was
her. Her hair, her lips, her voice—everything matched up. Everything.

She’s the one. Go to her.

He sucked in a gulp of humid air overfilling his lungs.

Go to her?
Where the hell had that thought come from?
He swiped a hand across his sweat-soaked forehead. Shit. He was losing his goddamned mind. That, or the blazing sun was playing tricks on him.

“Sorry,” he called out, but his shaky voice didn’t carry far. “I can’t.” He cleared his throat and tried harder. “I have to go.”
And stop talking to a fucking hallucination.

Determined to save face with reality, he planted his feet on his pedals and launched forward. Aching legs be damned. He was getting the hell out of there and finding his way home.

Going insane was
not
part of the plan.

~ * ~

Sofia shut the door behind her and leaned against it, her legs wobbly and her throat tight.

“Was it really him, dear? You don’t know for sure,” Nana said from her chair.

“He looked just like him.” Sofia sank down onto her bottom and pressed her forehead to her knees. Nana’s cat, Sam, rubbed against her leg and purred. “But he didn’t act like him. He seemed horrified of me. He sped away before I could even talk to him.”

“You called his name.” Nana stood and ambled toward Sofia. Her pink polyester pants scraped together as she crossed the floor. Nana was a plump woman. More for hugging, she always said. Sofia had agreed.

“I did call his name, didn’t I?” Sofia moaned and slapped her palm to her forehead. “Just brilliant.”

Nana sighed and carefully sat next to Sam on the hard floor. “You must remember that most people don’t share our gifts. Or at least, they don’t realize they do.” She patted Sofia’s leg and then ran her fingers down Sam’s tawny fur coat.

“I know, Nana. I was so excited, though. I half-expected him to run to me and pull me into his arms.”

“Ah, yes, but he doesn’t know you like you know him.”

“Do you think it’s over? Did I ruin my chance at love?” Cold panic had her thinking dire thoughts. Not being the perfect weight herself, why would an attractive man like Gray stop to talk to her long enough to show him how compatible they were? She really needed to start that diet her mom had told her about.

“No, no, dear,” Nana said in a comforting tone. “I hardly think that’s possible. This simply wasn’t the right time. Not yet.”

Sofia groaned. Twenty-four years without the love or touch of a man was too long, and Gray Phillips was the only man she wanted. She may have scared him away this time, but
next
time he was going to fall in love with her. Just like in her dreams.

Fate had plans for them.

~ * ~

“This one’s called white chocolate raspberry,” Nora Spencer said as she held up the bite of cake to Rachel’s mouth.

Rachel sighed louder than she’d intended. Planning a wedding with her mother wasn’t as fun as she’d thought it would be.

“Grayson’s allergic to chocolate products, Mom. I thought I told you that.”
Several times
.

Nora rolled her eyes and dropped the fork onto her plate. “But it’s white, and it’s delicious. What could the harm be? The guests will love it.”

“Yes, but my husband will break out in hives, stop breathing, and die on our wedding night.” Okay, maybe she was exaggerating, but the horrified look on her mother’s face was priceless.

“
Really
? He’s that sensitive?”

Rachel frowned and shrugged. “I don’t actually know what happens to him, but I don't want to find out on my wedding day, okay?”

Her mother flipped her auburn hair and turned to the baker. “Can we get rid of all the chocolate products, please? My daughter
thinks
her fiancé is allergic.”

Rachel ignored her condescending tone.
So, I don’t know all about my future husband’s allergies
. So what? That was the least of her worries.

 
The truth was, there were times she wondered if she really wanted to marry Grayson. The thought was silly, she knew. Any woman could see he was the perfect man. He was handsome, he had a successful career at Linden’s Advertising, and they’d been through a lot together, including the death of Hayes, Gray’s twin brother.

Her chest constricted.

Rachel didn’t want to think of Hayes. Not now. It was too painful. She shook the depressing memory out of her head and turned her thoughts back to Grayson.

The clincher had been when he’d met her parents. They’d immediately adored him. He had them under his spell...or it could have been because he was the first man she’d ever brought home who wasn’t an unemployed artist of some sort. Rachel couldn’t help it. She’d loved the passion that exuded from a man holding a paintbrush or a guitar or a camera...