Bewitching You

chapter Two



A car was parked in the driveway of the home Sofia and her mother shared, so Sofia pulled along the tree-lined city street and cut her engine. The old blue sedan probably belonged to one of her mother’s clients. It didn’t look familiar.

Sofia’s mom was one of many fortunetellers in Indianapolis, Indiana. She read palms and tarot cards with an accuracy that bewildered and sometimes frightened. Occasionally, when urged by an eager, generous client, she brought the crystal ball into play. To Laura, a ball of glass was just that—a ball of glass. Still, it was the one prop that delighted most of her patrons and had them coming back for more.

“Who am I to argue?” Sofia’s mother had once said with a devious grin and a handful of cash. “They only want to hear good things about their future anyway.”

Sofia couldn’t blame her mother. The few times a client had gotten a preview of an ill-fated future, they’d become irate and left without paying. Even though some might consider Laura Good a charlatan, what other choice did she have? This was her career, her lone source of income.

Sofia walked up the path to her home and noticed her middle-aged neighbor, Herbert Lawrence, from the corner of her eye. His thin six-foot frame cut across their adjoining lawns, coming toward her at a rapid pace.

“Ms. Good,” he shouted, before Sofia could run inside and hide. “Ms. Good,” he said again, as she turned to acknowledge him. He had moved into the neighboring house five years ago, yet she was pretty sure he didn’t know her first name or her mother’s. They’d both been branded Ms. Good, and of course, always in an exasperated tone.

“Yes, what can I do for you?” Sofia asked with an innocent smile. What has Mom done to piss him off this time?

He jerked to a halt four feet in front of her with the standard grimace on his face. “You have to make her stop.”

As usual, Sofia didn’t have a clue what he was talking about, but no doubt her mother was guilty. The woman was like Dennis the Menace, and Herbert Lawrence was the unlikable, high-strung Mr. Wilson. Sometimes it was fun to watch their antics, but mostly Sofia wished her mother would grow up and leave the poor guy alone.

She inhaled a small breath and asked, “What should I ask her to stop doing?”

He shook his finger toward the side of the house. “Purple,” he said, his voice hitting a new high. “Out my kitchen window, all I see is purple with little tiny flowers. Why would she do that to me?”

“She planted purple lilacs again?” Was her mother running out of ideas? She’d planted lilacs last summer after she’d discovered he was extremely allergic to them, and that he hated the color purple.

Herbert’s elderly mother visited him every other weekend, and Sofia’s mother used the kind, somewhat senile woman to get all kinds of information.

“No, she painted the side of your house purple,” he gritted his teeth and continued, “with little tiny white lilacs. So every time I look outside my kitchen window, that’s what I see.”

Sofia bit her lips shut to keep from laughing. Her mother really needed a hobby. “I apologize, Herbert…or Mr. Lawrence. I’ll talk to her about it. I’m sure it was just a misunderstanding.”

“See that you do.” His silvery eyes matched the grey streaks running along each side of his head.

Had he been grey when he’d moved in five years ago? Sofia couldn’t remember. She nodded and turned, making long strides up the porch and into the house. Thankfully, Herbert let her leave without another word.

The door to her mother’s den was closed. The sign on the dark walnut-stained door read, “Reading in progress. Do not disturb.”

Her mother’s murmuring voice reverberated out into the sunlit hallway. The sound was familiar and comforting. One she connected with her childhood.

Sofia used to sit against the wall and listen in on her mother’s sessions, falling asleep at times. Of course that always angered her father, she remembered. He’d scoop her up into his arms and tell her to read a book or go outside and play. He hadn’t believed in the powers of the mind or any type of “nonsense that couldn’t be explained by science.”

Oh, the arguments her parents had battled through. He’d yell and her mother would yell louder. In the end, he decided to leave and never come back. His leaving was for the best, Sofia realized now. How would he have handled knowing his own daughter was full of nonsense as well? Ever since puberty had set in.

Yep, it was better this way.

Her sandals tapped as she took the curved hardwood stairs up to her room. It had already been a long day, and all she wanted to do was work on her latest painting.

She’d dreamed of a beach, late at night. Gray Phillips, of course, was there, not too far ahead of her. His pant legs were rolled up, as if he’d walked through the water along the shore. His shirt was unbuttoned, revealing his broad, muscled chest. He held a camp lantern. That, along with the light of the moon, allowed her to see him waiting for her. His smile was white compared to his dark features—brown hair, dark eyes, and olive skin. He seemed happy, or was he amused by her? Who knew? At any rate, the scene had begged to be painted, as had the rest of her paintings that lined her bedroom walls and filled her closet.

One day she’d display them and show the world her visions, if she ever got the courage. Right now, her only desire was to paint. It fed her soul and eased her mind.

She stepped out of her sundress and threw on an old t-shirt just as the phone rang.

Oh, crap. Sofia checked the caller ID to make sure it was who she thought it was. Restaurant De Mon Coeur popped up on the screen.

She’d forgotten all about work again. Again. When was she going to get her head together?

“Hello?” she answered, and braced herself to hear French curse words through the earpiece.

“Sofia,” her coworker and friend, Madeleine, said in a hushed tone. “André’s on a tirade. Get down here now. It’s super busy.”

“Shoot. I’m so sorry. I’ll be right there.”

~ * ~

“I can’t believe we’ve been waiting for twenty minutes,” Grayson whispered against Rachel’s ear. “We have a reservation.”

“They look busy.”

Gray drew in an annoyed breath and rolled his tense shoulders. Tomorrow at work was going to be hectic, and he didn’t have time to sit around and wait when he could be preparing for his presentation. If he got this new account, there was no reason Linden wouldn’t give him the promotion he needed to have a financially stable future with Rachel.

He glanced at her sitting next to him. Not too close and not too far. That was the way she liked it, and he couldn’t complain. Rachel was a beautiful woman, but there were times when he needed his distance.

That would change after the wedding night, he was sure. After they made love for the first time, the connection, the passion between them would grow.

“I like that dress on you,” he said, trying to find some compliment that wouldn’t make her feel uncomfortable in his presence.

She brushed a hand over the peach silk hem running across her thighs. “Thanks,” she said and gave him a glance. “I like your, um, tie.”

Gray grinned at her. Her shyness was an adorable quality. Not being able to help himself, he leaned down and brushed his mouth against her ear. “Our wedding night is close,” he whispered.

“Phillips?” A man in a tux appeared before them. “Party of two?”

Rachel stood quickly, the profile of her face a new shade of red.

“That’s us,” Gray said. He stood close to Rachel and placed his hand on the small of her back, hoping someday she’d get used to his touch.

~ * ~

Sofia finished buttoning up her vest and thanked the heavens the material was black. She’d forgotten to wash the vest and her matching black skirt since her last shift two nights ago. The baby-blue blouse underneath was straight from the dryer and slightly wrinkled. It would have to do. She was so late.

The kitchen was bustling like Sofia had never seen before. She slipped by the perspiring chef, who was cursing in French over a boiling pot of something.

“Bernard,” he yelled at one of the prep chefs, who nearly dropped the knife from his hand.

“C’est terminé?”

“Un moment,” Bernard answered with a shaky voice.

Boy, was he in trouble, Sofia thought as she reached the wall where the time clock hung. Two years of working in the place, and she still didn’t have a clue what they were saying, but their body language and tone said more than words ever could.

She pulled her time card from its slot and clocked in...forty minutes late. Shoot.

“Sofia,” André shouted as he pushed through the door, his face even redder than the chef’s. “You’re late again.”

“I’m sorry.” She gave him her best innocent smile. The man was a sucker for a sweet smile and a blonde head of hair. One out of two had to work.

He growled under his breath. “One more time and you’re fired. Go take tables five through nine.”

“Yes, sir. Right away.”

~ * ~

Gray pulled Rachel’s chair out for her, but her attention was on the piano player seated twenty-odd feet away. She gave him a small wave as if she knew him.

Which would be impossible. The guy had tattoos crawling up his neck underneath his pressed white dress shirt. He was sporting a goddamn ponytail and smiling back at Rachel as he worked his fingers against the keys, playing a slow tune.

“You know him?” Gray asked, and guided her into her seat.

“Um, sort of. We went out once or twice a couple of years ago.” Her voice faded as she spoke, but he heard every word.

“Really?” He sat across the table and watched as she continued to glance at the piano man, who probably got his last tattoo in a nine-by-nine cell from a guy named Snake. “He doesn’t look like your type.”

“My type?” Her brown eyes fluttered as if being cleared from confusion, then quickly veered up at him. “You’re my type, Grayson.”

“Huh.” So, there was a side to his virginal bride-to-be he didn’t know about. “You said you went out once or twice?”

“Well, three dates, but it was a long time ago.” She clasped her hands together on top of the table.

“Maybe we should talk a little more about our past relationships. Sometimes I feel like I don’t know you as well as I should. And we are about to be married. It couldn’t hurt.”

“I’d rather not. It’s not a big deal.” Her cheeks flushed as she made busy work of tugging the napkin onto her lap and straightening it, avoiding his stare.

Gray wondered what she was hiding. “It’s important to me,” he said. “I don’t like surprises. You know that.”

“You’re being ridicu—” Her eyes narrowed as she glanced over Gray’s shoulder.

“What? See another ex?”

“No, there's something wrong with the waitress. She's staring at us. Very strange.”

~ * ~

Sofia balanced the glasses of water on the tray as she slowly walked up to the man who could only be her Gray and the woman he was with.

Maybe she was his cousin or sister or...or his maid.

Why would he take his maid to dinner, Sofe?

The tramp had a nice-sized ring on her finger. No way was he married to her. That wasn’t possible. At no point in her visions did he ever wear a ring or speak of another woman.

No, when she closed her eyes and dreamed of Gray, they were completely in love. No other woman existed. It was only the two of them.

She stopped behind him. Inches away. If she weren’t sane, she’d think she felt an unknown force luring her to him. Of course, this was the man who she would inevitably and passionately fall in love with. She knew that. How could she not be drawn to him?

One small step farther and she was standing beside him, looking at his strong profile. His clean-shaven jaw was clenched. His full lips frowned. His thick, dark lashes hovered heavily over his eyes, and his large hands pressed down on the table in front of him.

He made it obvious he was avoiding her as she walked up beside him. But why?

The water glasses on the tray Sofia held clinked together. She realized she was trembling.

“Are those ours?” the woman sitting across from him asked.

Sofia ignored her. Whoever the woman was wasn’t important. She’d be out of the picture soon anyway. Trying to gain composure, she cleared her throat and remembered Nana’s words from that morning.

He doesn’t know you like you know him.

It wasn’t fair. She couldn’t call out his name, jump into his lap and kiss him like in her dreams. She was a complete stranger to him.

Which didn’t explain his reaction when he crooked his head to peer up at her. His dark eyes widened and his lips parted.

“Who…?” He stood too quickly and bumped the tray she was holding.

Sofia didn’t have a tight enough grasp on the tray, so it wobbled in her hands. One glass of water tipped over onto the table. It rolled and crashed onto the tile floor. The other glass took its time, almost in slow motion, as it toddled and leaned toward Gray.

“Oh, shoot.” She watched the water splash up against his chest.

Smooth move, Sofe. Way to make a man fall in love with you.

She stood paralyzed for a moment, as did the rest of the restaurant, it seemed.

So here he is. My destiny. Now what?

She couldn’t help but ogle the way his wet light blue shirt clung to the muscles in his chest. The way his shallow breaths lifted his pecs. Per her dreams she knew exactly how solid those pecs were to the touch. Solid. Powerful. That was Gray.

Yeah, she had it bad.

With all the courage she could muster, she met his gaze. Why would she be afraid of a man who was kind and loving, anyway? Who treated her with respect and compassion?

She noticed his Adam’s apple bob, and looked up farther to see his face pale. She held back the urge to reach up and press her mouth to his. To taste him.

To love him.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered as she met his searching eyes.

His gaze swept over her, but stopped at her name embroidered into her vest. She’d never felt more naked but, oddly, in a good way—in a heated, passionate, make-love-to-me-right-now way.

“You should be,” he finally said, with the deep voice she knew so well.

“What?” Sofia shook her head out of its hazy state.

“You should be sorry.” He flicked at her name on her vest. “Sofia, this is the worst service I’ve ever received.”

“Excuse me?”

“How much do you get paid to work at a snail’s pace?” He picked up the tipped over glass lying on the tray she somehow still held outright. “And drench the customer in the process?” He set the glass down on the table, making a clinking sound that echoed throughout the otherwise silent room.

Sofia peeled her eyes away from Gray to see that everyone within viewing range was staring at her, including his dinner date, who only had pity in her eyes. Pity for Sofia.

“Grayson,” the woman whispered, “it wasn’t her fault.”

No, not my fault I’m in love with a man I’m only just meeting, Sofia thought, before Gray’s rough finger under her chin stole her attention. He guided her to look up at him.

“This was entirely her fault. She’s intrusive and clumsy. What else do you have up to, Sofia? Are you trying to ruin my dinner date?” He sneered down at her. He actually sneered. His lips curled wickedly, as if she didn’t mean anything to him and never would.

Her chest squeezed as she choked on a breath. Seriously? In all the scenarios that had filled her fantasies, she’d never thought her first meeting with Gray would go like this. Heck, she’d never dreamed he’d act like an arrogant, rude bully.

And for the first time in her life, rage filled her.

Not heartbreak. No, he didn’t deserve that. Not with the way he was acting. The woman had called him Grayson, but the man from her dreams would never treat Sofia this way.

“Look,” he said, and tapped his finger on her chin. “She can’t speak either. Is she even really here?”

That was it. A person could only take so much ridicule. She swiped his hand from her chin with one hand and slammed the tray against his abdomen with the other.

It wasn’t enough. He deserved more pain, so she stomped one of her Mary Jane’s down on his foot as hard as she could.

“F*ck,” he yelled, and inhaled sharply.

Good. Now maybe he’d wise up.

“Sofia,” André shouted from behind her. Oh, shoot. Sofia twirled around to face the angry Frenchman.

"He started it,” she said, and immediately wanted to kick herself for sounding like such a child.

“You’re fired, Sofia. Clock out and leave.”

“But—”

“There’s no excuse for harming a customer. Leave. Now.”

Gray’s date stepped forward. “She’s not to blame, sir. My fiancé is, I think, having a bad day.”

“Fiancé?” Sofia spun back around at the word. She looked up at Gray. “You’re engaged?”

He didn't answer, but the rigid expression on his face was enough of a reply.

Okay, now it was time for the heartbreak.

Sofia cheeks blazed. How could she have gotten it so wrong this time? The man she was in love with wasn’t a jerk…and he certainly wasn’t engaged to a beautiful woman.

“Of course not,” she whispered, feeling defeated. “Only in my dreams.”

“Your what?” He grabbed her forearm.

An extraordinary surge of heat rose through her body, and Sofia wondered if he’d felt it too. He closed his eyes for a moment and then opened them halfway, staring at her with a strange intensity.

“Grayson,” his fiancée said, “what is wrong with you? Let her go.”

Sofia wasn’t afraid of him. She met his stare with an angry one of her own…which melted quickly when he leaned in and brushed his lips against her ear.

Her skin prickled at the mere touch, how his breath warmed her ear. Maybe he realized what a jerk he’d been and was going to apologize. She breathed in his familiar scent and reached her hand up to caress his cheek. Welcome him home.

He grasped tighter to her arm, pulling her hand back down to her side. “Get out of my head,” he said in a low growl, and released her.

Before she could gather her wits and her pride to respond, he threw a bill on the table and guided his fiancée out of the restaurant.

~ * ~

Rachel stared out the window, apparently giving Gray the silent treatment for behaving so poorly. He’d been an a*shole, he knew, but how else was he supposed to react when the woman from his dreams showed up as their server? When she stared at him with those striking blue eyes that dug into his very soul? When she dared him to kiss that silly, lovesick expression off her face?

She wasn’t supposed to be real. She was a dream, and dreams couldn’t threaten your future. They couldn’t materialize in front of you and your fiancée and make you second-guess every decision you’d ever made.

But that was exactly what she’d done in a matter of seconds.

He gritted his teeth and clenched tight to the steering wheel. Shit. The mirage, the hallucination…the whatever you wanted to call her, named Sofia was not a part of his plan. No, not a woman who haunted him, stalking his dreams and making him want her more than he’d wanted any other woman.

To know she existed blew his mind. How could it be possible?

“I’m sorry,” he said, trying to sound like he meant it. He reached for Rachel’s limp hand and gripped her palm.

Sure, he was sorry for causing a scene, and even more regretful for being the reason Sofia lost her job. Not for a second did he like knowing he’d hurt her in any way, but he hoped it had worked. He hoped the woman hated him enough to make her stop torturing his mind. How she did it, he didn’t know, but maybe now the dreams would end.

“Do you know her?” Rachel asked.

The question surprised Gray. Had he been that obvious? “I’ve never met her before,” he said.

Even though he’d made love to the woman every night for the past month, kissed every inch of her sweet skin, he’d never actually met her in real life.

“Why do you ask?”

“The way she looked at you. It was odd. I see women staring at you all the time when we’re walking down the street or eating out, but never like that.”

“She was definitely a whack job.” Gray cringed at his own words. When had he become such an ass?

“You looked at her the same way.” Rachel wriggled her hand from his grasp and shifted a lock of hair behind her ear.

“Don’t be silly, Rache.” He didn’t bother arguing with her. He knew the look. He’d seen it on Sofia’s face. But he refused to believe he’d been giving it back. “She’s no one to me.”