CHAPTER 1

 

 

The man in bed next to her rolled over and grunted. A typical satiated-man sound. He ran his fingers through the cloud of reddish-gold chest hair, scratching. Kept scratching instead of looking at her. “Was it as good for you as it was for me?”

Another typical man-thing. The question. Spoken like he really wanted to know the truth. Maybe take notes on how to improve for the future. No, that was her sarcasm talking.

Aisanna Cavaldi regarded him with a quirked eyebrow and a sigh boiling in her throat. He’d already asked her once before, earlier in the evening. A joke he had playing like a gag reel in his head. She supposed he found it funny. She, however, did not.

“Do you have to ask me every single time? It’s sex. It’s good. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t,” she said. “Does that satisfy your curiosity?”

Israel James shot her a wolfish grin before dragging her back to him, her face perilously close to his armpit. “Yeah, I know you like it. You know you like it when I give you a boning.” He ran a hand along her hairline in a gesture scarily similar to a noogie.

She didn’t appreciate the contact. And liked the use of the word boning even less. “God, you can be so childish sometimes.”

“So?”

“So…it’s annoying.”

Israel sighed. “Then why do you keep coming back?”

Actually, Aisanna didn’t know why. The sex was good enough—adequate enough—to get her through until she felt the desire for a repeat. It wasn’t like his personality was an eleven.

She felt nothing for Israel beyond friendship and the normal urge for physical affection. She didn’t dislike him; in fact, she found he fell more into the shady category of tolerable. He had an energetic nature and beautiful green eyes. There was something about him—some crazy charisma—that made her look twice, despite his juvenile behavior.

Men.

“It’s late,” she told Israel instead. “I really need to get home. I’ve already stayed too long. I’ve got an early day and a lot of inventory to do in the morning.”

Sitting up, she dragged the sheet with her to hide her nakedness. The night had worn on before she’d realized the time, the sun turning copper and lowering to touch the tips of the trees, making way for the moon and stars. The deep navy-blue of the evening.

“You can stay, you know. You don’t always have to run off like the hounds of hell are at your back.” He took hold of her ankle, rubbing his fingers along the smooth expanse of skin.

She slapped at them for effect. “Some of us have work.”

“I work,” he insisted. “I work on being my devastatingly handsome self.”

Chill floor tiles had Aisanna rethinking escape and drawing her legs back under the covers. “I’m serious, Israel. I have a full day planned tomorrow. Valentine’s Day is coming up soon and orders are piling up faster than I can fill them.” Not to mention the little matter of a heralded eclipse ready to unleash literal magical hell on their world.

No big deal.

Israel shifted to his side and sent her what he considered a come-hither look. “Babe, stay awhile. There’s no rush. Your work will still be there in the morning.”

She turned to him, the room smelling of the slightly musty aroma of a few too many days’ worth of rain and little initiative to do laundry. Driven was not a word she’d use to describe Israel.

Her hands moved toward the broadness of his shoulders, lingering there before slinking higher to circle his neck. Tracing the paths of his freckles. His naturally hot skin was soft under her fingertips. Her personal heater, she called him. Perfect for those cold winter days. He didn’t mind when she offered her cold feet to him, which she found herself doing more often than not.

“I don’t know if I should,” she hedged.

“Come on, babe. You’re a witch. You shouldn’t be working in a flower shop, anyway. You could do whatever you want.”

“It’s not just a flower shop. It’s my business. I’m a small-business owner.”

“You’re an earth elemental, and a sexy one.” He flipped over and shot her a small, half-formed smile. “Stay.”

The idea did have appeal. How nice would it be to give up the reins for the evening? To let herself go on a tide of skin and feeling? Yes, she’d done it before. And how lovely it would be to do it again.

“I’m not going to ask you again. Stay or don’t, it’s your choice.”

There was Israel, oddly sensual with the hint of red in his sunny hair and a perpetual smile on his boyish face. The glow from several candle pillars lit the room and bathed them both in an aura of gold.

The space needed the romance of the flame to hide its rough edges. The mattress sat on the floor without frame or box spring, and a single dresser purchased from a chain store sat smashed in a corner along with a bookshelf made from makeshift wooden beams and cinderblocks.

Israel, almost thirty, still lived like a college freshman while he clung to his youth. Somewhere along the line, he hadn’t accepted his age or the responsibility of adulthood. Shied from it like a horse from bit and bridle.

At first, she’d found his lackadaisical attitude endearing. His charm appealed to her on multiple levels, her desire to live a carefree life, a return to her own childhood and those good old days and reckless nights she remembered. They’d been brought together a year ago by their respective mothers. And much to those mothers’ mutual chagrin, the relationship never progressed past one night of pleasure a week. It suited both Israel and Aisanna well enough, leaving both free to do whatever else they pleased.

Aisanna rolled with the tide, enjoyed the time they had and never expected more. She didn’t want more, really. She was content with the arrangement and appreciated when Israel not only understood, but didn’t push her for anything more.

But why didn’t the man own a washer and dryer? It would sure beat the weekly trips to do his laundry at the laundromat. She did not understand why she kept coming back.

Until Israel shifted and bestowed her with a spectacular view of his body.

Yup, that was why. Damn. He enchanted her, drew her closer with an off-kilter charisma and a killer six-pack of abs.

Aisanna enjoyed his magnetism, sense of humor, and devil-may-care attitude. She just wished he would grow up a little.

“We can have so much fun if you stay,” Israel insisted. His foot ticked forward to rub along her leg in a continuous motion.

After another moment of hesitation, she dropped the sheet, baring her breasts for his scrutiny. “What the hell? I’ll stay. Why be your own boss if you can’t go in a few hours late?”

“There you go.”

She threw caution to the wind and let Israel kiss her.

The candle flames across the room grew when his tongue parried hers, tasting and nibbling. As his arousal heightened, they reached toward the ceiling. It was the way of a fire elemental.

In a world of magic, where power passed down through gender lines, Israel inherited his father’s prowess for controlling flame. For feeling the blaze of fire inside of him and expressing it in physical form.

Aisanna ignored the sparks flicking up the walls and along the lines of wallpaper. She fell to her back as Israel covered her with his body. His lips seared a path over her skin even as he failed to ignite the fire in her heart. She let herself burn without regret.

 

**

 

She managed to get to work the next morning with little fanfare. Her shoulders bent with fatigue and she pushed her old car forward on a hope and a prayer. She’d missed her last appointment with the dealer, gone over her oil change by at least a couple thousand miles. It slipped her mind. There were always more important scheduling issues. Which pushed maintenance of her car—which she had nicknamed Baby—into the corner and kept it there.

Still, she crooned to it, feeling as though she’d overtaxed herself. Damn, she shouldn’t have let Israel talk her into an all-nighter. She was too old for it. If not in body, then certainly in mind.

Her knees shook and her legs were sore. Somewhere along the line, she’d lost herself in the haze of lovemaking and overstayed her welcome into the wee hours of the morning.

One of the things she tried never to do.

They were the stuff of teen years, or the first few semesters of college when one became bloated with one’s own self-importance.

Aisanna was not nearly as limber as she used to be.

“Girl, you are stupid. Ignoring the limits of your aging body. You aren’t twenty-one anymore. You can’t stay up all night and expect to make it in to work without some kind of issue. A headache being number one.” She chastised herself, inching along in the throes of mid-morning commuter traffic.

A glance in the mirror had her stomach roiling. Her reflection showed each imperfection, and she hastily smoothed a stray hair out of her face. Did a double take to make sure it wasn’t gray.

She had no boyfriend and no man waiting at home. Instead, she focused on her job and enjoyed a single night a week with Israel. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d chosen casual intimacy over a real relationship, deciding to wash her hands of the institution. In the past three years, she’d had two men she saw informally. Not including Israel. Well, four, but it didn’t seem necessary to count the one night stand she’d had when she went to visit a friend on the West Coast.

It wasn’t as though she’d spilled candle wax on him on purpose.

Aisanna flicked on the blinker and made her way through the lanes toward the right exit. There, traffic thinned, and she took the streets at a steady pace.

Chicago was her playground on the lake. She’d lived within the confines of the city limits all her life. The only time she’d bothered leaving was for college. Then, finding Florida not one bit to her liking, she’d packed up her bags and moved back home.

If it were any other day of the week, of the month, she would have gladly called her extra staff away from their other duties and set them in the shop in her place. This was one day she had to handle without help, sadly.

Blinking, she managed to tear her gaze away from the mirror and turn into the side street leading to the space behind the shop. The car sputtered when she parked and turned the key, dying a slow horrible death. Yeah, she would definitely need to get on that oil change before she faced grimmer consequences.

She pulled the parking brake, taking a moment to draw a breath, to prepare herself for the full day ahead.

Why she’d decided to take so many orders in such a short time was beyond her reckoning, especially considering most of her help were missing in action. Maternity leave here, flu-like symptoms there, et cetera. She was down to two full-time employees and herself. It was a hell of a time to be short-staffed.

Oh well. She would prevail. That’s what it means to own your own shop, she thought with a sigh. The true price of adulthood no one told you about. Adulting sucked. Especially when the horrible feeling in her head was her own fault.

Aisanna dragged herself into the store through a back door, with a headache splitting her skull and a dull pain in her calves. “Hello? Anybody home?” she called out, dropping her purse on a table amidst the jingle of keys.

“We’re up front!”

The male voice sounded from the showroom. Aisanna sighed. This was going to take more fortitude than the giant cup of coffee she’d bought from a café. She should have gone for the double shot of espresso instead of playing it straight. Damn.

“Hey, what are you—”

She held up a palm to stem the comments before they began. “Don’t ask. Don’t.”

Elon Fayer took her in with a slight grin on his face. “You look like you’ve seen better days. Rough night? Feeling okay?”

Aisanna scowled, turning her back on him to grab an apron from a nearby peg hammered into the wall. “It’s none of your business, Elon.”

“Sure it’s my business. I care about you. It’s not a crime to want to know why you look tired. And no, I don’t mean it as an insult.” Elon swiveled around to lean his elbows against the glass counter, staring at his boss. He preferred to think of her as more of a coworker. A friend. It made her more down to earth, made her a little more approachable. Attainable. Rather than the ethereal beauty the rest of the world saw.

God, he’d been intimidated at first. Almost too scared to approach her with a simple hello. Others who’d worked for her before called her cold-blooded. He’d never believed it.

Her face was raw-boned, fine in its features with no hint of childish roundness. An angel face, some called it. Aisanna Cavaldi was a slim woman with a mess of red-brown hair who hardly looked old enough to run her own botanical shop in the bustling heart of Chicago. The truth of the matter was, she was the best in the city and folks came to her with everything from funerals to weddings to those just because moments. She handled each order with a practiced ease that came with good sense and fortitude. Two traits Elon greatly admired.

“Cut it out. You don’t want to know why I look tired, and I’m too exhausted to tell you.” Aisanna sighed and sat down with a plop. She shrugged out of her jacket, nose red from being out in the cold, and looped the apron around her waist to tie the strings in a bow. “I did a stupid thing last night,” she added lightly. “Not something I feel like talking about. I don’t enjoy rehashing my mistakes. Now, where’s Johan? He’s scheduled today.”

“He’s in the back sulking. Apparently, a walk-in didn’t like his bird of paradise and Gerbera daisy arrangement. And when he suggested sunflowers and blue hydrangea, they walked out.”

Aisanna scowled and muttered something under her breath about scaring customers away with bad taste.

Something had happened to her, Elon was sure of it. She hated when he expressed too much interest in her personal business. Her smile was a lie, the fakeness plastered on her pale face. He recognized the strain adding tension to her arms. The same strain she exhibited once a week after spending the night with Israel.

The thought had his blood boiling and his hands itching to strangle the guy.

Elon knew he was outside the realm of friendly interference when he pried into her personal relationships. It hadn’t stopped him before. In the effort of being a good confidant, an ear, a shoulder, he may or may not have pushed his way into a few private conversations where Aisanna unsheathed her claws on him.

No. It was her favorite word. No to friendship, no to dating, just no. No. No!

Still, he wanted more for her. Wished her the best of what life had to offer. So what if he felt he should be part of that best?

Elon grew up in the Midwest and was taught to see the good in people. Through the years, he’d turned it into a way to distinguish potential. He saw a great untapped well of potential in Aisanna, more than she wanted to believe. Oh, not in terms of business prowess or family life, but how she viewed herself.

In her mind, she was a pillar. Capable of making decisions outside of the realm of passion and feeling. She considered herself one of those ice princesses. Almost untouchable. Which was crazy. Beneath her frigid exterior lay a heart capable of great feeling. If only he could get her to see that.

“Did you at least have a good day yesterday?” he asked her, watching her work. There was precision in the way she moved. Select, cut, prune, scrutinize, arrange. Always order. “How are things with your family?”

“Yeah to the first question. Bad to the second.” She shot him a dark look. “It isn’t going to get better anytime soon. Think you can take a break from asking me about it every day?”

He shifted in his swivel seat while still keeping a keen watch on her from the corner of his eye. “I guess I’ll put some music on while we work.”

“Do whatever you have to do. We have a busy schedule today and there’s no time to waste.” She shrugged one shoulder up as though she didn’t give a rat’s ass whether his mind was racing or not.

It was a recently acquired act, he knew. A masquerade she’d put on for the last month since the problems started with her home life. She didn’t tell him much of anything, but he could figure some things out on his own, and knew whatever it was, it was big. He didn’t take it personally when she lashed out. She always apologized shortly after.

Elon removed a slim music player from his pocket and flicked shuffle. It connected immediately with the wireless speakers he kept in the storeroom, sound bounding out and filling the air. A fiddler slashed his bow along the screaming strings in an old blues number while a wizened voice belted out a Cajun melody.

He remembered the first time he’d met Aisanna all those years ago. He had graduated college and set off on his own, determined to make his way without the ever-obliging hands of his mother and father pushing him forward.

He’d packed the backseat of his car with boxes and miscellaneous items he’d sworn he would need. The miles went by and he wondered what his family was doing. Whether his friends had picked up the same game of basketball they’d been playing since 1998 with no clear winner.

It was a crazy mixture of excitement and sentimentality. Several times, he’d almost turned the car around and headed home to safety. He imagined his life there in his cozy small town. He would go to church once a week, probably end up with some nice girl who went to his same high school. What had made him think he could make it on his own? Or, more to the point, that he had to? There was nothing to prove, no one holding a too-high standard over his head.

In the end, the familiar picture in his mind saw him pushing the pedal down and driving faster toward the horizon. There was no clear destination in mind. Elon drove until his gut told him to stop, following road signs and turning when the mood struck. He now understood there was something about Chicago drawing him forward like a fish on a hook.

That awesome sense of destiny had not lessened his anxiety in the least.

He took the seven hundred dollars in his pocket and rented a crappy apartment for a month. Roaches skittered the length of paper-thin walls while neighbors argued about whose turn it was to take the dog for a walk. The carpet smelled of stale urine with a hint of shattered dreams and an undertone of depression, but it was his place. The first one he’d gotten on his own without help from anyone.

That counted for something.

The next item on his agenda was a job. His degree was in marketing, and Elon decided the instant he finished his thesis—and walked down the aisle in his graduation gown—he’d rather do anything else. Down the road, perhaps, but not immediately. He needed time to explore. There was a huge world of opportunities. Places to go, new friends to make, and he didn’t want to be stuck in a rut without having experienced it. Any of it.

Which was what he did, driving the streets in search of help wanted signs. And there it was, a hand-drawn sign in looping calligraphy denoting the need for extra help. Flower shop? His mind immediately conjured a group of ladies lined in a row, their dresses in shades of matching pastel colors while they gossiped like hens.

Still, he listened to the urging in his gut, the tiny push from his mind that told him yes, this is the place I need to be.

Who was he to fight destiny?

Opening the door to a tinkle of bells, Elon had drawn in the scents of the workplace, contemplated the blooms on display, and wondered what kind of people stalked those counters.

Then he saw her.

She was a vision, with a mass of hair the color of autumn leaves cascading over the shoulders of her shirt. Her arms were bare, silver earrings winking at her earlobes and her mouth painted red. None of it compared to her eyes. Her eyes, sparkling with interest, were blue and amber and green, dominating a flawless face and adding interest to her tall, slim figure.

Weeks later, when the haze finally cleared from his brain, he would decide it had been a long fall off a short cliff. A cannonball to the gut or a bullet plowing through his chest. His heart stopped, skipped a beat, two, and then restarted with a zap.

She had shot him out of a holding pattern as his heart and loins simultaneously leaped to attention. Yes, his heart whispered. There she is.

“Can I help you?” she’d asked in a smoky voice.

He’d never seen a perfect human being before, such a striking combination of attributes. Yet there she was. Real. She’d clad her slender frame in a V-neck shirt the color of emeralds to offset her hair. Elon slapped his hands over his suddenly tight pants and considered his life most decidedly on the right track after all.

Only luck had him getting the job without any kind of prior training or experience.

Now he shook his head to clear it, and came to attention at the snap of her fingers. “Elon, my God. Get your head out of your butt and focus on what you’re doing. Those peonies look awful!”