Sweet Nothings: A Karma Café Novella (3 page)

Every Karmanski woman for the last century had produced a female child by the time she was twenty-five. In keeping that thread of feminine power unbroken, that child was blessed with a gift. A gift of sight, or power, of sensitivity or healing.

Anja was twenty-four.

Time was running scarce. Tension knotted tight at the base of Natalia’s neck as she imagined that sacred tradition breaking. It would mean the end of the power her family had nurtured for over a century.

She wouldn’t allow it.

“This is a great apartment. I’m surprised it’s vacant,” her unknowing candidate for son-on-law said, rescuing her from her visions of doom, gloom and a magic-less life. He came over, all affable ease, and sat across from her to peer at the simple blank chart on the table between them.

“Well, we’re café proprietors, not landlords,” Natalia said with an expressive shrug. “My daughter lives in the apartment across the hall, and we’ve always used this space as more of an office. But times being what they are...”

She shrugged again, splaying her hands as if to say
what’s a body to do
?

“It does need a few upgrades to make it rentable, though. Which is why I’d let you have it at a wonderful discount.”

“You’ll have workers in and out?” he asked, his eyes taking on a sudden intensity. “Not that I mind, I just want to confirm the situation.”

“Only in the mornings. We’re just sprucing up a little. New paint, renovate the kitchenette, that sort of thing.” Natalia slid the blank chart and a pen toward Jacob, tapping her fingernail on the spot to fill in his exact birth information. “Our contractors are all women, very capable and quite handy. Cottage Caretakers, the company is called. Bianca will probably be in a few times this week.”

Eyes intense, Jacob gave the small living area a quick scan, then nodded before jotting down his birthdate, place and time.

Natalia frowned as she noted the information. She didn’t need to consult her ephemeris to know he wasn’t a perfect fit for Anja. Her only child had a strong, intense chart filled with fiery passions and idealistic extremes.

But Jacob’s chart was all over the place. He was sensual, but not overtly sexual. Artistic, yet pragmatic. Altruistic, yet self-focused. His planets were a lesson in contradictions.

“What is it that you do?” she asked, her shoulders drooping a little as she automatically filled in the planets and aspects, even though she wasn’t as hopeful as she’d been five minutes ago.

“I’m a partner in a law firm, specializing in estate law.”

She noted his hesitation, but was distracted by his words. A lawyer? Natalia pursed her lips. Estate law made sense, given his chart. She’d have preferred a trial lawyer, someone who could hold his own in an argument. After all, her girl did like to argue. Still... Partnership meant wealth. Prospects. She looked at his chart again, noting the stubborn streak in his fifth house of pleasure. A man who knew what he wanted and would insist on getting it. Maybe that’d work. Maybe it’d be enough.

Anja hadn’t yet married for love, so now it was time for Natalia to step in and ensure that she did, at least, marry for security.

“Well, it’s just a week,” Natalia decided with a frown. She’d know in a day or two if Jacob could be molded into a match—if not a perfect one, at least a good one—for her daughter. “You’ll get a nice, comfy place to stay with wonderful breakfast and lunch thrown in. As for the rest, we’ll see what happens.”

With a wide smile, she ignored his questioning look, instead slipping a key out of her pocket and sliding it across the table.

“Here you go. If you need anything, just wander across the hall. Anja will be happy to help you.”

#

Her tool belt swinging in a jaunty dance against her denim-clad hips and her hands full with her toolbox, pry bar and other various tools of the trade, Bianca paused at the top of the stairs.

She took a deep breath, setting the toolbox on the floor so she could tug at her shirt, a practical tee in her most flattering shade of red. She ran her hands over the butt of her best fitting jeans and gave her work boots a disdainful sigh.

Cottage Caretakers safety rules were clear. She was on the job, she wore safety gear. Too bad they didn’t make steel-toed stilettos.

Besides, she wasn’t the sexy dressing type. The one time she’d tried, from her push-up bra to her sequin mini-dress, she’d felt like it was Halloween, with her date acting as if she was a trick instead of a treat. And not the good kind of trick, either.

This time she was dressed as herself. But instead of its usual ponytail, her hair was loose, waving around her face like a black cloud. It looked good, but she knew it would be a total irritant within a half-hour on the job. Especially if it got stuck in her glossy red lipstick or lash-lengthening mascara.

Nerves spun through her system.

If her friends knew what she was up to, all seven of them would charge in wielding power tools.

Which was why she hadn’t said a word when Anja had called to warn her that cutie from the café was now a tenant in the apartment she’d be working in.

She wasn’t stupid.

So why was she hesitating?

She was cozied up in timid-ville, gazing wistfully over the brave fence, wishing she qualified for residency. Only once had she ever snuck over the fence, using up all her brave-mojo escaping a miserable home situation at sixteen. And instead of starting a precedent to bravery, starting a new life had pretty well cemented her desire to hunker down where life was safe and challenge-free.

But now she felt like she was standing on the edge of a cliff. She could stay in the safe zone, go through that door and quietly do her job. Or she could take a leap over the scary edge, walk through that door with the intention of seducing the sexiest guy she’d ever seen slurp soup.

The safe zone was comfy, but the scary edge held the prospect of great sex. And all she was doing now was peeking over the edge. That didn’t mean she had to dive over the side. If it turned out that the guy wasn’t as nice as he was cute, hey, no harm no foul. Stepping back in the safe zone in those circumstances wasn’t a retreat. It was being a smart woman.

“You’re smart, Bianca, not chicken,” she muttered to herself as she lifted the bag again and stepped up to the door. “Smart women go for what they want instead of running from it.”

She’d spent eight years surrounded by smart women. Seven of them, all ballsy, all strong. Wasn’t it about time she started acting more like them, instead of
hiding
behind them?

She lifted her hand to knock, then when there was no reply, followed Natalia’s instructions and used her key to let herself in.

With her friendliest, greet the client smile plastered on her face, she entered the apartment.

The radio was playing, but the room was empty.

“Hello?” she called.

Nothing.

No sexy hottie coming out of the bedroom. No gorgeous guy ready to parlay her attempted flirting into a full-blown affair.

Nothing.

She frowned at the small boom box on the counter, then the bank of lush greenery, a ficus and fern, two pathos and a palm in the window caught her eye. She remembered Anja arguing with her mother about always leaving music on for the plants at night. Anja, whose apartment was across the hall, must have won the debate over what time of day the plants needed to rock out.

Bianca sighed, her heart settling back to its normal rhythm. The nervous excitement drained, leaving her a little flat.

No biggie. She’d proven to herself that she could do it. She’d walked through that door with the intention to seduce a hot guy. She, who’d never so much as flirted first.

Dropping to the floor and scooting under the wooden frame that would, before the end of the day, hold a miniature kitchen sink, she grinned.

She should be proud.

She eyed the pipe she was there to install and hummed a sad little sound.

With a twist of her wrist, Bianca shut off the water to the apartment in preparation for installing the sink. She started measuring and fitting pipe, writing the numbers on her hand. Six, nine... her breath caught as she imagined putting those numbers to better use with the apartment’s current resident.

Was he the kind of guy who liked a little sixty-nine action?

Was she
?

Was he able to multi-task? Enjoy his pleasure while putting his tongue to good use at the same time? And just how good was his tongue, she wondered. Was he a slow and methodical lover? Or was he the kind to plunge, hot and fast, with a wild sort of rhythm that would shut her mind down and send her body careening out of control?

Sexy scenes from every romance novel she’d ever devoured flashed through her mind.

Her breath a little shaky, she wished she’d worn short sleeves instead of long. Maybe she should twist the valve again and send a little cold water over her head.

The image of that quickly morphed into hot, gorgeous and sexy from the café, with other things gushing.

She groaned.

“Ahem.”

Bianca froze. Her body went from turned on to tense in a heartbeat.

Well, hell.

Guess hottie was here after all.

This is what you wanted, she reminded herself.

Go for it. Jump off the cliff.

Or at least have the nerve to peek over the edge.

Plastering the flirtatiously sexy look on her face that she’d practiced for hours the previous night, she slid out of the cabinet frame and angled herself into a sitting position.

Her eyes rounded.

Her mouth dropped.

Her body froze.

All except for her heart, which tripped over itself.

It was the guy from the restaurant, all right.

He was still as sexy.

Still adorably cute, with that shaggy hair falling over his forehead and those vividly piercing eyes.

His shoulders were even broader than she remembered. His torso angling to a slender waist. His bare chest covered with a light dusting of dark brown hair that followed the same angle.

All the way down to the towel knotted at that waist.

Her breath echoed that knot, tangling in her throat as desire twisted deep in her belly.

The towel, which was the only thing covering that very gorgeous, very sexy body.

Chapter Three

One minute he’d been trying to wake up under the pounding water, too tired after tossing and turning all night to even belt out a tune. The next, he’d been blinking soap from his eyes and wondering what the hell had happened to his water.

With the last few drops of his shower sliding over his chest and a flimsy towel covering his goods, Jacob stared at the woman in his rented living room. She had a wrench in one hand, a long pipe in the other. Was she the cause of his water shortage?

His brain, never happy before a major hit of strong caffeine in the morning, struggled to process it all.

His body was processing just fine, though.

Eyes bluer than the sky at sunset looked out from the most beautiful face he’d ever seen up close. Black hair waved down to her snug red shirt that cupped lush breasts and highlighted her slender waist. His gaze dropped to the jeans that hugged slender hips before sweeping down legs that looked way too long for a woman so petite.

Incredible.

Pure, stunning sexiness.

Damn.

His brain finally engaged, just enough to warn him that his towel was going to be embarrassing in a few seconds.

“Hi.” Bianca’s smile was a little shaky at the edges. Humor or nerves, he couldn’t be sure. But there was no question about the interest in her eyes as they roamed his body.

“Hi.”

“Guess I interrupted your shower, huh?”

“What gave it away?” he asked, pushing one hand through his wet hair. The move shifted his towel. He grabbed fast, tightening the ends of the fabric before he put on a morning floorshow. Bianca’s eyes widened, then her brow furrowed as if she regretted his fast reflexes.