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to Joyce and Jim's Main PageHEART OF SHADOWS
ISBN - 1-58749-493-0
“Rae Harris?” He walked into the store right behind her and closed the door on the freezing wind that swept in from the street. The little chime tinkled a frantic warning as the scent of the sea rushed in with him. “You’re Rae Harris.”
She turned and faced him. He was tall and broad-shouldered. Slender in a way that made her think he wasn’t exactly a body builder. He wasn’t thin but she didn’t think she’d like to try to tackle him and hold him down. There was bound to be a wiry strength to him that was deceptive. She’d been taught to size up an opponent that way.
“It’s cold out there.” She didn’t answer him as she cleared a space for her groceries behind the front counter. Outside she was calm, even cheerful. Inside, she was on edge. Waiting. There was something about this man that bothered her. A slight tic started in her left cheek. “I’ll make some tea.”
If she knew him, she would’ve excused herself and gone upstairs to put away her groceries. He’d browse while she started some tea. If he were a regular customer, he’d agree with her about the unseasonably cold weather. They’d have a conversation about the weather or new books that had been released or a movie they’d seen.
But he wasn’t a regular. She couldn’t imagine him browsing through the collection of books she’d carefully accumulated. He didn’t seem the type to browse. He wanted something. She could feel it emanating from him. The thought made her heart beat faster. Her hands were unsteady. She didn’t want to imagine how he knew her.
A can of pineapple rings dropped out of one of her grocery bags. It clattered noisily on the floor. Before she could retrieve it, he scooped it up and held it out to her. “I’ve been looking for you.”
“Thanks.” She was careful not to touch him as she took the can from him. He was close enough that his light aftershave teased her senses. She took a step away from him, putting the counter between them. “I think you have the wrong person.”
He stood with his back to the door. There wasn’t anything particularly threatening about him. But he was starting to make her nervous. She could feel his intent gaze on her as she finished with her groceries. He was trying to decide the truth.
“I don’t think so.”
She couldn’t tell if he was dark or fair. The black hat he wore was pulled down low on his face. It added to his sinister appearance. She had the impression of a strong chin when he was close. The rest was hidden from her. The whole cloak and dagger thing was ridiculous. It irritated her already outraged senses. What was he hiding? “What do you want?”
Bright blue eyes confronted her. There was a faint rasp to his low voice that sent a shiver down her spine. “I came to find you.”
The chime sounded again on the front door. “Rae Harris, I’m busting to get that book, girl! You promised me it would be in today. Where is it?” Delia Martin smiled broadly and rubbed her hands together. Her dark eyes watched the stranger walk away from the counter. “Friend of yours from the city?”
Rae got Delia’s book from under the counter. “Not exactly.” If he wasn’t sure who I was before, he knows now.
She watched him walk through the shop. He took his time while Delia rambled on about a movie she’d seen. He picked up books. Smelled samples of herbal soaps and teas. He was still wearing his dark gloves and hat. She knew he was killing time. I came to find you.
By the time Delia left, Mr. Dougherty came in for some fresh parsley. Then it was Mrs. Wentz for her monthly shipment of chamomile. Then it got crowded.
Rae didn’t forget about him. He was lurking there in her shop somewhere. Waiting to catch her alone. She debated with herself about calling the police. But what would she say? He seemed suspicious? He was waiting for her at the shop when it opened? None of that sounded that desperate.
Despite her anxiety, she stayed away from the phone. She had her own reasons for not involving anyone else. She could handle the problem, if it turned out to be one.
She wanted to march back to the reading area and tell him to leave. But then whatever he had to say would come out in front of her customers. She was trapped by her own reluctance to let that happen. He knows who you are. He knows you won’t make a scene. He’s using that knowledge against you.
Who was he? How did he know her? The questions whispered against her senses and infuriated her.
One thing for sure, he wasn’t there to sample her fresh order of lemon balm, good as it might be. There was the distinct aura of coffee about him. He likes to eat big steaks and large breakfasts. He refuses to sleep in pajamas. He’s used to getting what he wants without much trouble.
The nagging thoughts raced through her mind as she smiled and talked with her customers. She bagged tea and wrapped books but the impressions continued. It was unusual for her to be so in tune with anyone on such close association. She didn’t even touch him. Who is he?
Around six, it was dark enough for the twelve, claw-footed lamps to come on at the same time. She bought them last year at a local flea market. They were set on a timer so she wouldn’t have to run through the shop turning them on and off. Their light was so much better than fluorescents hanging from the ceiling. The pink glow cast a soothing, romantic aura across the shop.
Rae officially closed her book and herb shop at seven. A few customers straggled in and out until seven-thirty. Finally, she wished Sally Newgate good night and realized that the store was empty. Or is it
She tried to look through the shelves without craning her neck or walking up and down the aisles. There was a small space set up at the back of the shop where she’d created a cozy spot for reading. Two overstuffed red velvet chairs and a small table away from the street traffic. She never realized that she couldn’t see it from the front of the store. Anyone could be back there. He could still be there.
Rae switched off the big hot water dispenser she kept in the front of the store for making tea. She closed up the honey and cream. She stored everything away in the little refrigerator behind the cabinet then started to straighten up the shop.
There were always stray books where they didn’t belong. Careless hands moved tea bags and teapots and forgot to put them back. There was a gum wrapper in the middle of one aisle.
It was so quiet. She never noticed before. She was alone in the shop plenty of times. Maybe it was because she knew she wasn’t alone. Instinct told her he was still there. Waiting.
Rae realized that she was avoiding going to the back of the store. She straightened her curly dark hair back in its clip and tucked in her green sweater. She really couldn’t believe he was waiting back there. She consulted her watch. It was three hours. Anyone would be tired of waiting.
She stopped short as she rounded the last aisle. There he was. He was reading an old book, a treasure she found at the auction last year. It was a book of love poems written by an eighteenth century monk to a wealthy matron. The copy was handmade, bound in cloth, and written in the tortured monk’s own hand.
Rae’s heart was pounding. Whispers of sound buzzed through her head. Snatches of conversation and random thought tugged at her awareness. The scents from her shop mingled with the salty smell of the ocean on the night air. Control. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, fighting for serenity through the whirl of her emotions. She hadn’t had a problem with control for so long.
He looked up. “Finished?”
“What do you want from me?”
“Just an answer.”
He’d removed the hat, gloves, and coat. His face was arresting. Angular lines, high cheekbones, and a clever chin defined it. It reminded her of a painting she saw of the fairy king. His eyes were bright blue between dark lashes. His mouth had an ironic quirk to it. Either he had a wonderful sense of humor or he thought the world was a pretty strange place.
He watched her as closely as she watched him. Like two jaguars claiming the same prey. Straightening her spine, she pushed back a strand of her hair that always refused to be tamed by her clip. “You’ve waited a long time. You must be a very patient man.”
“Not really. But sometimes, you have to be patient to get what you want.”
“And what is it that you want?”
The blue gaze pinned her in place then assessed her slowly. “You.”