To Have & to Hold (7 page)

She crossed
Otterman
to stand at the mouth of an alley straddling a bar
&
grille and a tea shop. At the corner of the bar
&
grille, she paused near an outdoor cafe table. She laid the spectacles on top of the table and rummaged through her purse as if she
’
d forgotten something.

Then she muttered an incantation.
The language ancient and
primal,
tumbled from her lips
, fully formed and without effort
.
The
common
translation?
Expose the unseen. Keep hidden the obvious.

The hundred-year-old wire-rimmed reading glasses hummed, the tinted blue glass darkened to
black like photo-chromic lenses. T
he gold metal rims rattled across the copper-colored table, then evaporated into thin air. A curtain of energy shimmered to life at her back,
tingling
the fine hairs on her neck.
Time to move.
Time for the rabbit
to disappear into its warren a
nd the fox to appear.
The spell would keep her hidden, lulling her stalker into a false sense of security.
Cate
ducked into the alley and through the side entrance to The Tea Cozy. The rabbit had just become the fox.

#

Infernal bucolic area.
Damn. At least England, even Cornwall on its worst day,
had been civilized
for hundreds of years. Not this backwater mountain region. Michael James stood in the darkened doorway of
KnitPick
, a knitting store o
n North Pitt Street in some God
forsaken town
called Mystic Springs.

He
’
d arrived in
Pittsburgh yesterday morning, s
lept
all day
at a hotel near the airport
,
then
drove
an hour southeast this morning to
Mystic Springs, where he’d
check
ed in at the Courtyard Marriott. He’d
followed
Cate
from her home
right
back to Mystic Springs. Hell, if he
’
d known she
’d
head
this way
, he would have stayed
put
instead of wasting the half hour
driving
to her remote house and back.

He needed to talk to her. Convince her to divorce her reprobate husband before he
decided to come after her. It was only a matter of time. The blasted man still loved his wife.
He’d come for her eventually.

God,
Michael
hated the chase. Women
, as a rule,
came to him. He did not pursue them across continents and into mountainous pastoral locations that made him sneeze and wheeze. But
Cate
was different.
Special.
Worth millions.
Mi
llions that w
ould soon be at his disposal.
She
’
d be his to manipulate.
To possess.
To fuck.
And he
’
d steal her away from the always smug Grayson Cooper. He
’
d almost had her four months ago. It
should have been
as easy as taking candy from a child.

Today, he’d take what he wanted.

But first he had to find her again. 

One moment she
’
d been crossing the street, the next, he
’
d lost her. He
’
d looked down the street for traffic before crossing Main, and when he
’
d looked up, she
’
d vanished.
Troublesome woman.
He thought she
’
d disappeared down the alleyway between The Brew Pub and The Tea Cozy, but when he
’
d check
ed
, the alley
was
empty. He
’
d looked inside the darkened windows o
f both the pub and the tea shop and tried the doors, but
both had
been
closed
, locked up tight
.

So m
uch for keeping tabs on her
.
He
’
d go back to her house and wait for her there.
Besides, h
e had a gift to leave her an
yway, t
o let her know he
’
d arrived in town. The token would make her putty in his hands.
Literally.

#

Sleigh bells jangled over the door as
Cate
entered the tea shop. Matt
Nathanson
’
s
Modern Love
played softly from the overhead sound system. The walls were painted a chocolate brown, the wood trim a creamy white. Tabletop displays of stacked teacups, travel mugs, and packaged shortbread cookies,
and the
wide array of colorful tins nestled on mahogany shelves lent the shop a welcoming atmosphere.

The sweet scent of exotic teas surrounded
Cate
and a warm, comforting magic tingled along her skin,
the touch
like a mother
’
s
gentle
hug. She paused to consider the ramifications. Over the past several months, she
’
d not encountered one other person here in Southwestern Pennsylvania with obvious
magickal
abilities, other than her live-in midwife, Hattie. And now, within minutes, she
’
d experienced two distinctly different pulses of
magickal
energy.

Cate
browsed the collection near the big plate-glass windows, watching for someone to step from the shadows or nearby alleyways looking for her. No one followed or passed by. Whoever it was, they wouldn
’
t find her now. The magic she
’
d employed would hide her until they moved on. A
magickal
curtain shielded the tea shop from the corner of the bar and grille
,
where the antique spectacles
still
cast their magic. Anyone looking in would see an empty shop. Illusion spells were some of her favorite.

She shrugged off her uneasiness and caressed her belly. Yes, rubbing her tummy was a bad habit, but it seemed to soothe her and the fluttering baby growing inside. Her baby bump had just begun to show. And the morning sickness phase seemed to have disappeared.
Finally.
Thank God.

“How far along are you?” A p
retty petite blonde wearing hip-
hugging black jeans, three-inch purple suede peep pumps, and a white gauzy peasant blouse glanced at her and smiled as she continued to stack tea tins on the shelves to
Cate
’
s
left.

The woman looked like a sun-kissed pixie, even at the beginning of June in the cooler mountain climate of Pennsylvania. She was all tanned skin, warm brown eyes, golden blond hair cut in a shoulder-length bob, and curves that accentuated her hourglass figure. Cute and friendly summed up
Cate
’
s
first impression of the other woman.

“Four months,”
Cate
answered. “I
’
ve just begun to show and my jeans are starting to get tight. I
’
ll need to buy maternity clothes soon. How could you tell?”

“I recognize the comfort rub. I did the same thing with each of my pregnancies.”

“Each? You don
’
t look old enough to be pregnant once.”

The woman
laughed,
the sound robust, jovial. “Thank you. I
’
ll take that as a huge compliment. I have three girls. Now ages five, seven, and nine.”

“Wow. You can
’
t be old enough for three.”

“I started young. And my husband is in the military--Captain America off saving the world, one big bad terrorist at a time. So we make good use of the time he
’
s home. Procreated like rabbits there for several years.” She brushed her hands down her black jeans and offered
Cate
her hand. “I
’
m April Easton.
Nice to meet you.”

“
Cate
Cooper.
Pleased to meet you.”

“Your first baby?”

Cate
blushed. “Yes.”
And probably her last.
“How do you do it with three girls? And you work. I can
’
t imagine. I
’
m tired all the time.”

“I own The Tea Cozy. I set my own hours and since all the girls are in school from seven-thirty to three now, I have a good chunk of the day to pursue my own interests, which wasn
’
t always the case.” April laughed again and squeezed
Cate
’
s
arm. “It gets better,
then
it gets much
much
worse. Hold on for the ride.”

“Great.”
Cate
glanced out the window again.
Nothing unusual.

“Someone waiting for you?”

“Ah, no.
Looks like it might rain.
I w
ant to get home before it pours.”

“Where
’
s home?
Do you live in Mystic Springs?”

“No.
Laughlintown
.”
Cate
didn
’
t bother to give specifics.

“I live
in Ligonier. That’s only five miles or so from you.
We
’
re practically, neighbors. Why don
’
t you
join me for a cup of tea
? Lunch is two hours away.”

“All right.”

“Pick your poison.” April gestured to the wide variety of jarred loose tea leaves displayed on the burgundy granite counter top.

“White Pomegranate is my
usual
favorite. But I
’
m intrigued by
Dragonwell
.”

“Excellent choice.”
April grabbed the jar and used a silver scoop to transf
er loose tea into a ceramic pot, then filled it
with boiling water from the spout of
a
stainless steel dispenser. She popped a lid onto the pot to let it steep. She swir
led the pot three times counter
clockwise.
Then sat it
down
.
“The
Long Jing
Dragonwell
from
Zheijiang
Province is one of our best-selling teas.
A soothing, yet refreshing blend with nutty high notes and sweet undertones.”
April giggled. “You
’
ll love it.
Cures all that ails you.
A spa-day in a cup.”

Cate
laughed in response.
“What a selling point.”
The muscles in her face relaxed into a natural smile for the first time in weeks. She liked April.

“Why don
’
t you grab a table and I
’
ll bring the refreshments.”

Cate
picked a spot near enough the window that she could watch outside. She sat in the chair facing the door.

April slid a tray onto an adjoining table. She unloaded the tea pot, a plate of mini-scones with clotted cream and lemon curd, two fine china cups and saucers, silverware and two matching plates. “Here
we go.
Fresh scones and a cup of
the best
tea
in Southwestern PA.
What more can a girl ask for?”

“Smells heavenly.”
Cate
poured her tea, adding a spoonful of sugar,
then
sipped the hot brew. “
Mmmm
. God, that tastes so good. You
’
re right.
Amazing.
I
’
ve died and gone to h
eaven.”