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CHAPTER1
BROOKE
“Idon’t think I can handle another douchebag today.” Brooke Howe cracked a smile as she glanced over at her best friend Arabella. She looked hippy chic in a white tee, ripped jeans, with strings of beads around her neck.
The two had become best friends while living together at a local coven with five other witches. Cutting through the rows of tarot cards, incense, copper bowls, and spell candles, Brooke’s heels click-clacked against Enchantment’s black and white tile floor.
“When I think about Nico Denopoulos, the words ‘gorgeous’ and ‘hunk’ come to mind, definitely not ‘douchebag.’ Did you forget you’re doing a personalized match for him this morning?” Arabella asked, drawing her dark brows together. Reaching for a china mug and a tin of tea leaves off a shelf, she set them up next to the coffee table book she wrote about Tassography.
“Crap, that’s today?” Brooke’s heart skipped a beat. Nico was the hot younger brother of their friend Willow’s husband Alex. They met at their wedding, and like the majority of the females there, she’d been riveted by his black, wavy hair and soulful dark eyes. He epitomized handsome and sexy in one unforgettable package. He’d shown up at the reception with a plus-one, but apparently now he was single and looking to mingle.
Rushing behind the counter to the spot where she kept her calendar, Brooke scanned her matchmaking appointments for June. Nico’s name was written in pencil, next to a reminder to get her brows threaded and pay the electric bill. “You’re right, as per usual.” Having a psychic for a best friend meant it came with the territory. She reached for her still-steaming cup and took a sip from her Matcha latte, burning her tongue.
“What’s up with you? You’ve been in a funk for the past few days.” Concern laced Arabella’s voice.
“Joe and I broke up. It’s the start of a new season, I shouldn’t be surprised.” At this point Brooke knew the drill. Eventually, malaise would settle in and then she’d shake it off and start over. A deep ache moved through her. She forced a smile. “I’m either an eternal optimist or a sadist. At this point I’m not sure anymore.”
“I’m so sorry, Brooke. I didn’t know.” Arabella walked over and pulled her into a hug.
Brooke eased back and shrugged. “You’d think I’d be used to it by now, but rejection still sucks.”Chalk one up to the curse of the matchmaker. It was one of the reasons she started her business in the first place: to help others find love, something otherwise elusive to her. She’d been laser-focused on growing her client base by offering extra services like date-coaching and image consulting. Eventually, she wanted to branch out and write an advice column for a magazine.
“It always does.” Arabella gave her a sympathetic smile and began rearranging the books on the shelf.
“It’s not like I got that fluttery sensation in my stomach when we were together. And the sex wasn’t anything special. So why am I feeling this sense of loss?” She’d dated her fair share of zodiac signs, from the crazy Geminis to the unyielding Capricorns, in an attempt to put herself out there in hopes of changing her fate. But every relationship ended the same way.
“You can’t give up hope. There are other single guys out there—guys like Nico.”
“You’re right of course, but I don’t know if I can withstand any more heartache. As for Nico, he’s strictly off-limits. He’s now an unofficial member of our friend group and a potential client.”
Brooke had two choices: sit and wallow in self-pity, or seize the cosmic opportunity to help her next client find love and cater to his tastes, however vanilla or kinky. Thinking about Nico and some kind of kink brought a host of sultry images to mind. She redirected her thoughts to doing his birth chart. Once Brooke got that out of the way, then she’d search her database and find three women who would be perfect for him.
At least she could try and look human when he got there. She pulled out her mirror and checked her reflection. Her eyes looked dull, and her cheeks lacked color. Before she could swipe some lip gloss across her lips or add a little blush to her cheeks, the bell dinged, and the door swished open. Smoothing a hand down her black sheath dress, she was glad she wore her old standby. It was laundry day. This had been the only clean thing left in her closet.
Nico Denopoulos strolled into the shop, and just like the last time Brooke saw him, all the air left her lungs in one big rush. She’d seen her fair share of good-looking men, but Nico was in a class of his own, a six-foot-four Greek god, with a chiseled face, sculpted cheekbones, and a powerful build that hit every one of her hot buttons. Black scruff darkened his strong jaw. She could imagine it scraping against her skin in the heat of passion. The caramel color of his skin caught under the glow of the lights. She swallowed hard and tried not to drool.
“It’s good to see you again, Brooke.” Nico joined her at the counter and pressed a kiss to her cheek. A spark of electricity rippled through her and scattered her nerves. He smelled incredible, masculine and sexy, with a hint of cologne. He pulled back, and his appreciative gaze swept over her face. “You’re looking well. I believe the last time we saw each other, there was a whole lot of clapping and cheering going on.”
Her cheeks flushed at the memory. “And tequila shots being consumed.” He was too much of a gentleman to say he’d caught the garter at the reception, while she’d been the one to catch the bouquet. There’d been an undercurrent of attraction pulsing between them from the moment they met. She’d never forget the hot glide of his fingers or the look of heat and amusement in his eyes when he slid the scrap of lace up her bare thigh. She’d been crawling out of her skin with embarrassment, and she couldn’t get over the sensation that she’d known him before.
He smiled wide. “It was a fun wedding.”
“Yeah, it was. Why don’t we go into my consulting room?” Brooke motioned to the storeroom.
“Lead the way.” Dark eyes rimmed with enviable lashes stared back at her. Everything about him was big and masculine, from his hands to his corded forearms. Joe had only been about an inch taller than her, so she’d traded in her heels for flats. She’d always feared he’d drop her on her ass when he tried to carry her, unlike Nico, who looked like he could lift her with one hand.
Nico’s heavy footsteps trailed behind her as they crossed to the storeroom. The familiar scents of lavender and rosemary mingled in the air and put her at ease. They stepped through a purple drape into her cubby. “Please, have a seat and make yourself comfortable. I’m sorry it’s the size of a matchbook.” Arabella had helped her feng shui the small space by painting the walls cream and adding a few of her favorite watercolors. The finishing touch was setting her desk in a commanding position. A small fountain set on the opposite wall, bubbling with a relaxing stream of water. A piece of green jade sat on her desk, next to a cherished photo of her standing beside her brother Drew, right after they’d hiked up Bear Mountain.
“No need to apologize.” Nico glanced around the room, nodding his approval. “I like it. You’ve made great use of the space.”
Ignoring the fluttery sensation in her stomach, she smiled at the compliment. She pulled out her phone and turned on her jazz playlist, hoping it would get them both in the zone. “Thanks. Congratulations on your restaurant. I’ve been planning to stop in for dinner, but I heard it’s hard to get a reservation.” Nico looked like a giant standing in her tiny room. His blue cotton shirt stretched over his broad shoulders and what looked like slabs of hard muscle beneath.
“You don’t need a reservation. You’re welcome any time.” His gaze slid to hers and got her warm all over. She’d never been so aware of a man in her life. He emanated a hot, sexual energy.
“I appreciate that,” she said with a nod. “How did you come up with the name ‘Gemini’ for your restaurant?Tell the truth, are you a closet astrology buff?” she teased, hoping to calm the butterflies floating around in her stomach.
A deep chuckle rumbled from his chest. He sat down in the chair across from her and stretched out. When his leg brushed against her thigh, awareness prickled along her skin. Her physical reaction to him unnerved her. She ignored the sensation and leaned back in her desk chair. “No, not at all. My partner thought it sounded cool. It’s strictly a coincidence.”
“Trust me, there are no coincidences.” This morning when Brooke checked her horoscope, it said she’d cross paths with someone that would change the course of her life forever. Did Nico have anything to do with the ominous prediction?
