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He rapped on the door three times. Ashadow passed in front of the peephole, and he could see the outline of the curly hair he was coming tolove.
“Un momento!”
Her voice sounded slightly different, perhaps a little higher and lighter. Maybe the night had played with the tenor and this was normal for her. The heavy bolt turned on the other side of the door and a pair of smiling eyes and luscious red lips looked back at him. Her freshly washed face glowed, ahint of water still evident at her jawline, and her hair had been pulled into a loose top knot. It was now or never.
“Hi, I’m Romeo. Or, Ishould say Brand Salvatore. I’m here for my Juliet.” He had practiced the line a hundred different ways in his car while driving over, and that was the best that he could manage. Hot expectation consumedhim.
A look he didn’t recognize passed through her eyes. She licked her lips before responding.
“Hi. I’m Carina Donati. Are those for me?”
Brand had no idea that the predator had found herprey.
Chapter2
Mia Starr’s apartment—Oakland, California
“For the love of… Will you just give me a minute?Un minuto, per favore!”
Italian words of a four-letter variety echoed in staccato rhythm off the walls of the dark bedroom, the only source of light coming from beneath the bathroom door. Bedsheets damp with sweat tangled around Mia’s scarred right leg, areminder of the months spent in an excruciating cast, the memory haunting her as frequently as her current dreams. Or were they nightmares?
“All right, all right! Iget it! Can you get out of my dreams already? Ipromised I’d do it. Just let me wake up, woman!”
Grumpily, because there really wasn’t any other way at 2:30 in the morning after having only slept an hour, Mia struggled to get her eyes to focus. She pressed a cold hand against the base of her neck, cooling the hot skin. Athin sheen of sweat gathered on her brow, belying the unexpectedly chill air blowing in through the open window.
This was the fifteenth time the lady had visited Mia in her sleep over the last two weeks. The one night Mia had managed to fall back asleep after a visit, she received a second one. As her exhaustion built from the continuous nocturnal interruptions, she found herself slipping deep into her dreams as soon as her eyes closed.
Each dream started off the same. The instant Mia fell asleep, she found herself seated at a worn, lightly stained kitchen table, sunlight streaming through an open window overlooking a hedge garden.
Her hostess, ayoung brunette speaking with a lilting Italian accent, handed her a fine-boned blue porcelain cup filled to the brim with coffee and placed a plate of biscotti between the two of them. Two friends meeting up after a long absence.
The woman always started the visit by touching Mia’s hand, studying her palm and tracing her lifelines. Mia could have easily told her not to waste her time searching her palms for any goodnews.
The first few dreams felt like flukes. Only when the woman started giving advice on a repeating loop, did Mia begin to suspect the true origins of the dreams. Anna, as the young woman called herself, always picked up where she leftoff.
The dead lady was relentless.
“Mia, darling, why don’t you visit more often?” Her voice produced a faint trail of goosebumps up Mia’sarms.
“What are you talking about? I’ve been to see you every night since we met.” Mia held the cup of coffee to her nose and breathed deeply. The brew always had an unusual tang to it that teased her senses and lingered in the air even after the dream ended. “Remind me again, what’s in this coffee?”
“Darling, you know I’ve told you it’s lime. Just a twist of peel in the grounds. And I wouldn’t mind if we visited more often. Iquite like talking to you. Now, have you done what I asked yet?”
Hmmm … lime. By the time she woke, Mia always forgot it was lime that made to coffee taste so delicious. Anna took a bite of her cranberry and pistachio biscotti, savoring the crunch of the cookie. The woman feasted on the biscotti every time she appeared. Mia knew to wait until her ghost friend took her first long sip of coffee before continuing.
“Well, no, Ihaven’t done what you asked,” Mia informed her dream visitor. “I’ve been dealing with a bit more drama than usual, lately. Awoman keeps waking me up every night.” Raised eyebrows and a quirked mouth rounded out the sentence.
“Well, who else are you talking to? Ihaven’t run into anyone.” Mia’s dream visitor made a show of looking over either shoulder, scanning the ghostly kitchen for other visitors. The glint of humor in her eyes disguised any guilt she may have felt. Guilt didn’t exist in her wheelhouse. She was a lady on a mission, so it would seem. If only she’d explain her mission.
“You, Anna. I’m talking about you.”
More crunching of the biscotti interrupted Mia, temporarily pushing down her irritation. She sincerely hoped when she passed there would be an unlimited supply of her own cookies waiting for her. More coffee appeared in her cup and Anna gestured from the biscotti to the steaming beverage that was part of the dream, but seemed soreal.
“Eat. Drink.”
“That’s all I do with you, Anna,” Mia complained. “I’ve made seven batches of cranberry pistachio biscotti since you started visiting me. Iget up, always between the hours of 3 and 6 am, when normal living folks are asleep, and make biscotti. Lots of biscotti. My pants are starting to get tight. And don’t even get me started on the coffee.”
As though reminding herself of its presence, Mia took a grateful sip, the ethereal beverage sending a wave of comfort through her. As many batches of cookies as there had been during her waking hours, she’d brewed many more pots of coffee trying to bring all the tastes of the dream tolife.
