Flirtation (3 page)

Maybe he’d get a dog—walking dogs was supposed to be another good way to meet women. But that would probably require getting some little froufrou pooch, and he wasn’t up for that. Nah, if he got a canine friend, it would be a man’s dog—a Great
Dane or maybe a Lab or a Weimaraner. A solid hunting dog.

He hadn’t been hunting since he was a boy. When he and his dad would drive to the Virginia woods, they’d spend more time talking than hunting. Still he’d snagged a few ducks and some deer in his younger years. A dog would come in handy for hunting. Right now though, he was gone far too much with his job to have the responsibility of a pet.

It was dark, and the crickets were singing out in the yard. Still musing, he filled his wineglass, settling back and waiting for his appointment to begin; he had a few minutes yet. But surprisingly, just as he was about to switch to another window, the SexyTarot logo appeared on his screen, and Charley’s sign-on signaled him that she was there. Early.

CHARLEY: Hi, EJB—are you ready? I know I’m a little early. My last appointment ended sooner than I thought.

EJB: No problems, I hope.

CHARLEY: None at all. How are you tonight?

EJB: Happy to be talking with you again. I’ve looked forward to this all day.

CHARLEY: Me, too.

EJ blinked—her direct response interested him. Was this the beginning of something new? His senses went on immediate alert.

EJB: Really?

CHARLEY: Yes. I was thinking about you…I mean, your cards, a lot today.

EJB: Why? Did something worry you?

CHARLEY: No, I was just moved by your last reading. There were some powerful moments, and I think we should explore what’s holding you back in life. In love.

EJB: Why do you think anything is holding me back?

CHARLEY: Look here at The Eight of Swords. What do you feel?

EJ looked as she provided an image of the card on the screen for them both to look at. A figure stood blindfolded, bound, encircled by swords.

EJB: I want to help her. She’s trapped, unhappy.

Charlotte sighed, staring at the screen. He was a
rescuer. She loved men with strong protective instincts; they were the knights, the real romantics. The heroes. Not that she personally needed rescuing, of course.

CHARLEY: Perhaps it would be worth talking about what inhibits you—what you are holding back, and why.

EJB: Maybe it means I’d like to be tied up and blindfolded.

CHARLEY: (laughing) That’s always a possibility. Do you enjoy bondage?

EJB: I might, with the right person. I’m usually willing to try anything, once.

CHARLEY: I can see that—like we talked about last time, you’re a very sensual man. You crave it—but you also want more. Something deeper, more meaningful. Does that sound right?

She was way off, but he wasn’t about to let her know that. He was happy with his love life just the way it was, but he supposed she had a script of things she said to people to elicit certain responses. He was willing to play along.

EJB: I don’t know. I enjoy women. I don’t want to be tied down, but sometimes…

CHARLEY: Sometimes what?

EJB: I don’t know. I date a lot, and I love a woman in my bed, but sometimes there is something missing. Sharing. Warmth, I guess.

He watched the words he’d typed pop up on the screen, almost without him thinking about it, and he stopped typing, sitting back, blinking. It was happening again. With almost no effort, she managed to get him to tell her private thoughts, things he barely admitted to himself.

CHARLEY: So you are a romantic at heart. I felt that. You have an active sex life; your body is being engaged, but not your heart.

EJB: Do you enjoy romance, Charley?

CHARLEY: I think all women do.

EJB: I want to know about you.

CHARLEY: Let’s draw another card for you first. See what’s coming your way in terms of romance, of something deeper than one-night stands.

EJ waited a beat as she expertly deflected the at
tention from herself; maybe this wasn’t going to be as easy as he thought.

He saw another image pop up on the screen. The card didn’t have any images on it, but displayed a group of sticks—what he knew now was the tarot suit of Wands—flying through the air, the Roman numeral VIII printed clearly at the top.

CHARLEY: Eight of Wands—fire, movement and change. This seems like a favorable indication of new opportunities coming your way, but there’s some question about how well things will go, or if you are ready for what’s about to happen.

EJB: You get all that from looking at one card with sticks flying through the air?

CHARLEY: (laughing) Well, I’ve talked with you a few times now, so I’m detecting patterns. And it’s not all about the image itself. It’s the suit, the number, the element the suit represents. In this case, fire. Swords, in your previous card, represent air—your intellectual side, your thoughts, the mind. So the issues are between mind and heart, rationality and desire.

Looking at it elementally, fire is fed by air—so your thoughts, what’s going in inside your mind, are feeding these passions you feel, maybe in some form of dreams or wishes, but they’re also holding you back, as the Eight of Swords indi
cated. You’re being careful. Guarded. The question is why? What are you worried about?

The fact that both cards are eights is also important—numbers have lots of various interpretations, but in Chinese mythology this number is very auspicious, suggesting a time of growth and change, new beginnings. So I think you have a lot to look forward to, though it doesn’t hurt to be careful. When we want something bad enough, we can be blind to the consequences.

EJ sat back, watching her analysis roll out on the screen, fascinated in spite of himself, and then quickly got a grip. This was the danger, that she could figure out what he needed to hear—that was the hook. And she was very good—however she arrived at her conclusions, or maybe it was in the delivery, she made him want to believe.

EJ decided the moment was right to push things a little further.

EJB: It feels good to talk with someone who understands. Who can see the things I need, what’s inside.

CHARLEY: We all need that.

EJB: True, but I feel like we have a…connection. You have somehow managed to see things about me that even my closest friends don’t know.

Charlotte sat back, looking warily at the words EJB typed in, unsure how to respond. It seemed like he was reading her mind, mirroring her thoughts. She’d been purposely trying to keep things less sexual tonight, concentrating on his deeper needs, his emotional situation, but even so, she still had this in credible feeling of electricity just talking to him. And apparently he felt it, too.

She knew it was breaking her own set of professional rules, but she followed her heart.

CHARLEY: I know. I’ve felt it, too. But it’s not right for me to get personally involved with a client…

EJB: How could this not be personal? Everything we’ve shared has been personal. Intimate.

CHARLEY: I’ve just never had this happen before. It’s very powerful.

Yeah, right
. EJ rolled his eyes, ignoring his own increased heartbeat, telling himself it was just excitement at setting the trap while he tapped at the keys, playing out the conversation.

EJB: Me, either. But I feel like the change that the cards say is coming into my life is…you. Maybe the risk I’m supposed to take involves you.

CHARLEY: You really think so?

Charlotte’s heart beat furiously, and her palms were actually sweating. On some level she’d known this was going to happen—there had just been something about their previous conversation that suggested it—but still, she couldn’t believe it was really happening. It was so…
romantic.
She and this man she’d never met had a genuine, spiritual bond, and it was the most romantic thing she’d ever experienced. He wasn’t like other men who were condescending about her spirituality or her tarot reading, or who approached sex as if it were a sport. EJB was sensitive, expressive and open.

EJB: What do the cards say?

She picked up her deck, and shuffled carefully, holding the deck close by her heart, feeling the cool breeze from the window against her overly warm skin as she cut the deck and took the card from the top, flipping it over slowly, hoping…
The Lovers
.

C
HARLOTTE’S HEART
leapt as she looked down at the nude figures intertwined in a passionate embrace even though she knew the cards were not literal—seeing the
Death
card didn’t mean you were going to die, and seeing
The Lovers
didn’t necessarily mean you were going to become romantically involved. But it didn’t mean you weren’t, either. It all depended on free will, and what she decided to do at this very critical moment. She could walk away, or she could take a chance.

She clicked the image so it appeared on the screen for EJB to see, too, not typing a word.

EJB: That’s amazing.

CHARLEY: It can be about difficult situations, and making good choices. It’s not always about romance.

EJB: Maybe we should choose to make it about romance.

CHARLEY: (smiling) I was kind of hoping you’d say that.

She let out a happy little squeak after she’d typed the words, bopping up and down and nearly knocking the laptop from its perch on her thighs. She was excited as all get out. Could this really be happening to her?

Thoughts raced through her mind. What did EJB look like? What was his voice like? What color were his eyes? He had to be handsome, with the active sex life he’d mentioned. She thought about that for a second, and shrugged. So what if he was a bit of a playboy? If she was going to try to have a romance, it might as well be with a man who knew what he was doing.

She wondered what his real name was. She had seen his credit card payment, but it just said his last name—Beaumont—and the first two initials. She wanted to know his first name, so she could see how it felt moving past her lips for the very first time.

EJB: Can we set the tarot cards aside for a few minutes and get to know each other a little bit?

CHARLEY: Okay. I was just thinking I wanted to know what your real first name was.

EJB: (smiling) I guess that’s a good place to start. Actually, I usually go by my initials, EJ, since my dad,
and my grandad, had the same first and middle names. But my full name is Ethan Jared Beaumont.

Charlotte pressed a hand to her heart, inhaling and then whispering the name on the breath she released. He even had a romantic name, for goodness sake. She said it over a few times, and then answered.

CHARLEY: May I call you Ethan?

EJB: I kind of prefer EJ, only because my dad was Ethan, and I’d rather hear my name than his off your beautiful lips. And I assume your real name is not Charley?

CHARLEY: No, but it’s a shortened form of my real name, Charlotte.

EJB: That’s beautiful—it’s incredibly sexy. I’ve never known a woman with that name. Until you.

Charlotte felt herself blush, and rolled her eyes at herself. Oh, my.

CHARLEY: Thank you. What else would you like to talk about? I asked about names, so I guess it’s your turn.

EJB: Personally, I’m wondering what you like in
bed. What your favorite spot to be touched is, what makes you cry out.

CHARLEY: I haven’t had all that much experience finding out, I’m afraid to say. Does that bother you?

EJ scowled at the screen. What game was she playing now? He was supposed to be playing the dupe, letting himself appear to be reeled in, so he played along.

EJB: Are you saying you’re a virgin?

CHARLEY: (laughing) No, not quite. But it’s been a while. A long while.

EJB: Care to share why?

CHARLEY: Nothing earthshaking, just life. I had other priorities and, well, I don’t make a habit out of having casual sex.

EJB: That’s good to know. I can’t say I’ve been serious with anyone in a while, either, though I’m open to the idea. With the right person. It’s just that between running the family business and dealing with life, there hasn’t been time to find her.

He sat back in his chair, smiling. That should bait the hook nicely. If she hadn’t recognized his name already as part of one of Norfolk’s leading families, she at least knew he was successful in some sense.

CHARLEY: Work can be rewarding, but it’s hard to not let it take over your life and crowd out everything else.

EJB: True. I love my work, but I’m finding you to be quite the distraction. I was thinking about you all day at work today.

CHARLEY: You were? Why?

EJB: I guess it’s the things you shared with me. The intimacy between us. We may not have had sex—yet—but we talked about it, and you’ve gotten under my skin.

CHARLEY: EJ…I don’t know what to say.

EJB: Say you’ll meet me.

CHARLEY: That may not actually be possible.

EJB: Where do you live?

CHARLEY: Virginia.

EJB: Where in Virginia?

CHARLEY: On the coast. Norfolk.

EJB: Charley, fate is on our side.

CHARLEY: Why do you say that?

EJB: I live in Norfolk, too.

Charlotte sat back, stunned. Was this possible? She’d heard a lot of stories about people meeting on the Internet, traveling incredible distances to be together, but ending up in the same city? She might not be so surprised in an enormous population like New York City, but for two people in Norfolk—the sheer magic of it floored her, and she had no idea what to say.

EJB: Charlotte. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to shock you. This is a huge coincidence, I know, but it’s not all that uncommon these days. Maybe we’re just lucky. Maybe it’s fate. Are you okay?

CHARLEY: Not scared. Amazed.

EJ sighed—of course. Amazed because she believed she’d found yet another dupe to rob blind. He was surprised she hadn’t backed off when he ended up living in the same town, and wanted to
meet. Maybe Ian was right and she was just the information gathering point for a larger operation, because he’d expected it would be safer for her to stay anonymous—unless she was angling for a bigger take.

If she’d checked out his registration information, and the credit card information from his donation, she would know a lot about him already. She’d know he lived in a wealthy neighborhood, and that he was in her backyard. He supposed she had to play it cool, pretend like she had no idea. She might know a lot of other things, depending on how good she was with a computer network.

He wanted to get to the bottom of this. Whatever was going on, Charlotte Gerard was part of it, and he wanted to find out how. No doubt they had other victims on the line, and he wanted to close this down before they took some other poor guy’s life savings.

EJB: Charlotte, can you do another reading for me? In person.

CHARLEY: I’d love to, EJ. That would be perfect.

EJB: I understand your concerns, and we could meet in a public place, a café, if you like.

Charlotte sat back, considering. She knew that was the smart thing to do, but she didn’t like the idea
of meeting EJ with lots of people around, or reading for him in public, which was bound to be a very personal experience, considering.

Putting her faith in the universe, she flipped another card:
The Fool
. While she might be foolish to take such a leap, the card generally advised taking a chance, and trusting that things would work out. So she held her breath and took the plunge.

CHARLEY: No, I’d really rather meet you at your house.

She decided, ultimately, that it was safer to meet him at his place, so he didn’t find out where she lived. Also, if the residence looked sketchy, she could just leave.

EJ: Thank you, Charlotte. I have a feeling this is going to be life-changing for both of us.

T
HE NEXT DAY
, Charlotte stepped from the taxi, smoothing her yellow and white pinstriped seersucker sundress and catching her breath at the sight before her. It was the most beautiful house she’d ever seen, with the ivy-covered porch and bursts of spring flowers everywhere.

Its grandness could have been off-putting with the porch’s sturdy columns and iron rails, but everything was wrapped in green and color, the plants
were mature and well-tended. No modern landscaping could rival it. This gorgeous old house had known love, nurturing and happy times.

It must also be worth a fortune. She counted the beautiful, multi-paned windows on just the front—twenty-one. Wow. She looked up to the third floor, wondering what it would be like to gaze from one of those windows down on the magnolias that were just past their peak. The grass was green and lush, without a weed in sight. Relatively assured the man she was meeting was probably not an axe-murderer—not that money guaranteed against that, but she was willing to err on the side of her instincts—she waved to the taxi driver and sent him on his way with a smile.

Stepping up on the porch, she pushed the buzzer and waited, heart pounding. The man who would open the door had been sizzling in her fantasies for days, and now she was going to meet him face-to-face. Not one to succumb to nerves so easily, she was virtually vibrating with excitement and anticipation.

Nothing happened. No one arrived at the door. Pushing one curl, damp from the heat and plastered to her forehead, back in place, she hit the buzzer again, this time, holding it down longer, frowning.

Still nothing. Pursing her lips, she took a deep breath. She didn’t believe EJ was the kind of man to stand her up—especially on the porch of his very own home. She decided to look out back.

Sure enough, as she rounded the end of a long,
curving drive, she spotted a man working in the yard and caught her breath again.

Oh my.

Standing atop a wooden ladder by the side of a large gazebo, he was stretched tall, wearing only low-slung jeans and a white T-shirt that clung, grooming the very fruitful wisteria that covered the panels of the charming structure. He must be the gardener—maybe he’d know where EJ was.

But Charlotte just stood there and watched for a moment. How could she do anything but? He was gorgeous. His muscles clenched and released as he maneuvered the clippers around the curves of the beautiful vine, taking care not to damage the huge, lavender-blue blossoms.

Watching him work told her more than the man would probably ever suspect. How he gently worked his way around the blossoms, how he made precise cuts.

Heat gathered low in her stomach, and she tried to control the flush that moved up into her cheeks as carnal images flashed through her mind. She was here to see one man, and getting all hot and bothered over another. She shook her head, surprised. It wasn’t her habit to gawk, but as she let her eyes travel up the length of the man’s taut form, resting for a few moments on his narrow, masculine hips and backside, she couldn’t suppress a sharp twist of desire.

She was going to meet EJ looking flushed and be
wildered, and she didn’t want to be sending out the wrong signals. They’d acknowledged the spark between them online, and now they had to see if it would fade in real life. She knew she was there for much more than a reading—but if she thought about that too much she wouldn’t be able to take one more step forward.

Time to stop ogling the gardener.

Gathering her composure, she stepped forward, a little more nervous than she had been. The grounds of the house were huge, and she walked slowly through the gorgeous yard where everything was blossoming, eager to burst from the bud. Her body felt heavy and warm the closer she got to the gazebo, and she pushed her hair back from her forehead again. Finally she stopped, trying to control her voice as she observed him close-up.

“Excuse me, I’m looking for EJ Beaumont. Could you tell me where to find him?” She wished her voice wasn’t so breathless, but it was the best she could do.

The clipping stopped and the man turned slowly on the ladder, looking down at her with clear green eyes that warmed as he looked at her. His gaze was as lush as the foliage surrounding him, and she couldn’t look away.

“Charlotte.” Her name escaped from his lips on a husky welcome, his genteel southern drawl softening the consonants and making it sound much more romantic than she’d ever thought it was.

“EJ?” Her voice was barely a whisper. Oh. My. God. The gardener was EJ?

He didn’t step down from the ladder right away, but stayed there, towering above her, taking her in as if he never wanted to stop looking at her. He didn’t say another word, and she started to feel like a bug under a microscope. But then he smiled.

She double-stepped a little, thinking she’d hit an uneven patch in the yard. Either that or this was the first time in her life a man’s smile had literally tipped her off balance. She looked up, dazed, and he smiled even more widely, starting down the ladder.

“Charlotte,” he repeated, as if feeling her name with his mouth, melting her knees in the process. She almost backed up a step, mesmerized and trying to escape his spell, clearly in over her head. But she held her ground, waiting.

She opened her mouth but no sound came out as he walked up close, and took both of her hands in his. His skin was warm from his work, his hands rough but not calloused, his touch welcoming but not inappropriate. Curling her fingers around his was the most natural move in the world, and she lifted her eyes and fell into heaven.

“EJ,” she said again. “Oh. I thought you were the gardener.” She swallowed, catching her breath. “I’m sorry. I mean, I’m not sorry you’re the gardener—that’s a fine profession and I love gardens, but I am a little early, I have this thing about time, I like to be
on time, I hate to be late, so I end up being early all the time, but being early can be just as rude as being late, but…”

She ended her babble, staring haplessly, watching him nod slowly and seriously as if every word coming out of her mouth made absolute sense.