“All this talk is making me hungry,” Heidi said. “Anybody ready for my famous spaghetti and meatballs?”
Over dinner, Miranda regaled her friends with tales of her journey. They insisted on seeing the golden cord she’d knotted with the sex magician, Lancelot Lucas. They high-fived her when she related her night on the riverboat casino with Clint. When she finished telling them about Eli eating her beneath the table in the New Orleans restaurant, they shrieked, “Oh my God!” in unison.
She passed her cell phone around so they could see pictures of Eli, at Sybil’s place in Mendocino, in Santa Fe, in San Antonio, and in New Orleans.
“He’s adorable,” Heidi said.
“A definite hunk,” Izzy agreed. “Look at those abs!”
“What’s he doing now?” Kate asked.
“That’s a good question,” Miranda answered. “I think we need more wine for this part of the story.”
“Let’s take it out to the hot tub,” Heidi suggested.
They cleared the dishes and stacked them in the dishwasher, then walked outside across the dew-damp grass to a hot tub that overlooked the lake. They removed the cover and their clothing and climbed in. When all were seated comfortably at the four corners of the tub, Heidi passed the wine bottle around and they refilled their glasses.
“Okay, Miranda, continue the saga of Eli,” Kate said.
Stars sparkled in the jet-black sky. Like the quartz crystals at Uncle Bright’s place. Miranda gazed up at them, luxuriating in the hot, bubbling water.
“After the French guys attacked us in New Orleans, he decided to go back to work at the vineyard in Napa Valley.”
“Hello,” Izzy interrupted. “He’s like a sitting duck there, am I right?”
“That’s what I told him, but he said he was tired of hiding and they’d find him anyway.” She sipped her wine and thought about the woman with the black curls. “What I suspect is, he’s got a girlfriend there and went back to her.”
“What makes you think that?” Heidi asked. “It sounds like he’s so into you.”
Miranda explained how she’d seen Eli and the other woman in the crystal, and how she’d experienced the same sense of fear and foreboding she’d felt upon viewing the scene of the horse-drawn carriages at Jackson Square.
“I haven’t talked to him since he got back to Napa, a week ago. He left a message that he’d arrived safely and another saying he was working at the vineyard again, but that’s all. Nothing romantic, nothing dirty even.”
“Oh, look.” Kate pointed at the sky. “A shooting star.”
“Cool. Make a wish, everybody,” Heidi said. “I wish for a trip to the Caribbean.”
“I wish Paul’s girlfriend would leave him and break his cheating heart,” Izzy said bitterly.
Kate wished for a promotion. “I want my boss’s job. He’s a totally incompetent jerk.”
“I wish Eli would leave Napa and move to Salem with me.” Wow, did I actually say that? I wonder if wishing on a star really works.
“There’s another one,” Heidi said as a star blazed through the heavens. “Let’s make wishes for each other this time.”
“I wish Izzy meets Mr. Right and they fall madly in love,” Miranda said.
“Or lust, at least. Thanks,” Izzy said. “I wish Kate gets promoted to president of the company and fires her boss.”
Kate laughed. “Sounds good to me. I wish Heidi buys a beach house on St. John and invites us all down over Christmas.”
“Definitely,” Heidi agreed. “I wish Miranda and Eli have a big wedding and we’re all bridesmaids.”
They put their toes together in the middle of the hot tub and lifted their legs out of the water, forming a pyramid. Kate started singing, “When you wish upon a star…” and they all chimed in at the finish “…your dreams come true.”
Card 18: The Moon
“I bet Troy was surprised to see you,” Eli said to Giselle as they strolled between rows of Meditrina’s grapevines heavy with purple fruit. The California sun warmed his shoulders. The smell of the soil, the vines, the ripening grapes enticed his nostrils. It’s good to be home, he thought.
“I called ahead of time,” she said. “I wouldn’t just pop in on him unannounced. I don’t like surprises.”
“Did your visit go okay?”
Giselle eyed him curiously. “Of course. Why wouldn’t it?”
“I guess I thought there was some, uh, animosity between you two.” Eli noticed a yellowing leaf and stopped to inspect it. Just a little dryness. I’m really getting paranoid.
“Between his wife and me, yeah. But Troy and I have always gotten along.”
He plucked a grape and held it to her mouth. Giselle opened her full lips and he slipped the grape between them. She sucked his fingers. A twinge of desire flared in his groin as he imagined her sucking his dick.
“Do you still have a thing for him?” he asked.
“Getting involved with a married man is a prescription for heartache. I’ve learned my lesson.”
Eli’s cell phone chimed and he snapped it open. Miranda’s name and number appeared on the screen. Bad timing, he thought, shutting the cell. “Sorry, you were saying?”
“Troy’s history. I have better ways to occupy my time now.” She smiled coquettishly at him.
“I’d like to occupy some of that time, if you’re interested. Are you free tonight?”
“I might be. Depends on what you have in mind.”
He touched the tip of her breast, drawing slow circles around her nipple with his finger. “I’d like to cook dinner for you. I make a mean veal marsala.”
Giselle tilted her head to one side and licked her lips. “Sounds delicious.”
“Let me write down my address.” He pulled out his wallet and searched for a business card.
“I know where you live. See you at seven.”
Giselle’s tight red dress left little to his imagination.
I could get lost forever in that cleavage, Eli thought, as she stepped into his apartment. He allowed his eyes to feast on her flesh long enough to convey his intentions. “You look terrific.”
She handed him a bottle of Chardonnay from Fortuna Vineyards. “This is one of our best, in my opinion. I’ll be eager to hear your take on it.”
“Thanks. Can I pour some for you now? Dinner won’t be ready for half an hour.”
“Sure.” She cast her gaze around the apartment, checking it out. “The veal smells great.”
“I’d planned to have a Sangiovese with dinner. Is that okay with you?”
“Perfect.”
He opened the bottle of Chard and filled two glasses. As she took the one he offered, her fingers brushed his. Her touch sent electricity surging up his arm. They clinked glasses.
“To your visit,” he toasted. “Has it really been three years since you left Meditrina?”
“Thirty-nine months, to be exact.”
“Do you miss it?”
“Of course. I mean, Texas is fine, but it’s not Napa.”
He sipped the wine without taking his eyes off her. “This is pretty good. In a few years, you might give us a run for our money.”
“That’s the plan.” She looked up at him through her thick, dark lashes. “Coyote’s been good about sending me to other parts of the world to get ideas for our business. I’ve been to France and Italy a couple of times. Last February I went to Australia—I even met Greg Norman.”
“I’m envious. I’ve always regretted missing that excursion Troy chartered to France a few years back. Sounds like everyone had a hell of a good time.” He shrugged.