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  “And now I need to help you find your stolen briefcase while I find my bowl,” she continued. “That way the negative energy will finally be severed between us and we’ll both have what we need, improve our karma.”

  “Sever...negative...energy.” He leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. “And that’s a good thing?”

  Taki nodded, surprised to be telling him the theory she had formulated last night after calling her guru at the ashram to tell him about the theft and meeting Reese. Navi agreed that the instant connection she had felt to Reese could be because they had known each other in previous lives. Of course that’s the only thing that made sense. She couldn’t be attracted to a man so like her father, so slick, arrogant and impatient.

  Guru Navi had taught her so much, and they’d come such a long way together, how could he be wrong about this?

  “I see,” Reese said. He tossed back the peppermint tea as if it were a glass of whiskey. “Tell me more about your bowl,” he said, with a look that suggested she’d suddenly sprouted wings and might fly like one of her angels. “You said it’s valuable because it’s one of a kind?”

  “Yes,” she said. “My guru suggested a difficult task in order to ease my terrible...” She trailed off. Better not to tell the whole story. It was obvious Reese thought her philosophy foolish, and telling him would only further widen the breach between them.

  “Your terrible what? Go on.”

  “The bowl isn’t valuable in the sense you mean. There are thousands of similar bowls—even in catalogs. Anyone can buy one.”

  “Then why is yours so special?”

  “I trekked to a secluded monastery in Tibet to have my bowl blessed. The monks suggested I allow it to remain with them for one hundred and eight days, a number with spiritual significance, and then they shipped it back to me.” She shook her head, remembering the kindness at the monastery. “My bowl can never be replaced.”

  “You mentioned the bowl sings? In fact,” he said, “I seem to recall something about yodeling.”

  “My bowl does not yodel,” she said, but understood Reese was teasing. “It doesn’t rap or sing arias, either.”

  “Oh, perhaps rock, then?”

  She fought a laugh. “When you rub a wand around the interior, the vibration makes the metal hum, producing a clear, peaceful sound. It also chimes when you strike the rim. So, yeah, it sings.”

  Hearing the lovely, high-pitched tone in her mind, she smiled at Reese, wishing he would pry open his mind just a little. Too bad his head was already crammed full of legal mumbo jumbo. At least he had asked for an explanation.

  He gave her a half smile. “Where did you come from, lady?”

  “I don’t know,” she answered. “But I think you were there with me.”

  “Two vegetarian stews,” the waiter said as he placed steaming crocks on the table. Next came a wicker basket overflowing with slices of warm bread.

  They both ate for several minutes without conversation. Finally, Taki took a drink of cool water. “I guess we were hungry.”

  He smiled at her over a spoonful of stew. “You were right. This is delicious.”

  She took another bite, pleased that he liked her favorite lunch.

  “How long have you been a vegetarian?” he asked.

  “When I was thirteen, I decided I loved animals so much that I just couldn’t eat one.”

  “I’ll bet your mother loved that.”

  “My mother died when I was nine.” Taki almost choked on her water when she realized what she’d said. Why on earth did she insist on babbling her secrets to this skeptical man? Of course, he was partly right. Her decision to become a vegetarian had incensed her father.

  “I’m sorry,” Reese said.

  “That’s okay,” she blurted, knowing her words only made the moment more awkward. By the kind way he smiled at her, though, she knew his sympathy was genuine.

  He offered her a slice of bread and took one himself.

  “This soup is really good,” he said again.

  With peace between them, she decided to tell him her plan. “That pawnshop I told you about isn’t very far from here.”

  He eyed her steadily. “Which pawnshop is that?”

  “Jacques’s Hock. Where the clerk said to come back about the bowl.”

  “We are not going to any pawnshop.”

  She stared right back at him, not liking his dictatorial tone. She took orders from no one.... Well, except maybe Guru Navi, but he never gave orders. Only suggestions. This guy acted as if he were a five-star general.

  “Why not?” she asked. “We’re right here.”

  He shook his head as he took another bite of stew. “That’s a job for trained federal agents.”

  “Going to a pawnshop requires training?”

  “In this case, yes.”

  She sat back and folded her arms. “You love giving orders, don’t you? And you’re used to everyone doing exactly what you tell them.”

  He dropped a piece of bread on his plate, his dark eyes focused on her. “Have you been following the Romero case in the Herald?”

  “No.” Best not to tell him she ignored newspapers. They were full of nothing but negativity, bad news, sad news, making it impossible to live in the present moment.

  “Carlos Romero is in jail awaiting trial on a long list of charges, including first-degree murder for blowing up a post office in Fort Lauderdale and killing four people,” Reese explained.

  “I remember that,” Taki said with a shudder. Even she hadn’t been able to avoid the horrifying story of the victims of that violent blast. It’d made national news. Why did people always have to hurt each other?

  “Murder comes easily to some people,” he said. “They stole my briefcase hoping to discover the location of an important witness. Fortunately, they found nothing.”

  “Well, I’m glad of that. But why would murderers take my bowl?”

  “I was hoping you might know.”

  “I don’t,” she said.

  “Then maybe a diversion, to throw us off track, or just an opportunity to make a quick buck. But I’ll send an agent to check out your pawnshop. I promise.”

  “When?”

  “May I finish the lunch you ordered for me?”

  “Of course,” she said and took a sip of her tea.

  Good thing peppermint is excellent for indigestion, she thought, because Reese looked as if he was in for a serious case of heartburn.

  * * *

  BACK AT THE federal building, Taki smiled at Reese’s secretary as they walked past her cubicle. She had a pencil stuck behind one ear and a pen behind the other. The poor thing looked totally frazzled.

  “Sorry I’m late, Joanne,” he said and grabbed a stack of messages from her desk.

  “Romero’s attorney is trying to reach you,” the secretary said. “And Agent Rivas has phoned twice. I canceled the three o’clock conference when you weren’t back. It’s rescheduled for tomorrow at four.”

  “Thank you,” Reese mumbled as he entered his office.

  “Wow.” Taki moved to the front of his massive desk as he stepped behind it, reading his messages. “I made you miss a meeting.”

  “It wasn’t important,” he said, still shuffling through the pink papers in his hand.

  As she sat in a well-padded chair, Taki watched Reese morph back into Mr. United States Attorney. He’d relaxed slightly at lunch, but on entering his office he reverted to all-business. Just like her father. Never enough time to get everything done.

  He’d insisted she accompany him upstairs so she could hear him dispatch an FBI agent to the pawnshop, although she figured it was really because he wanted to keep her away from the place. But since that meant he was worried about someone besides himself, maybe ther
e was still hope for Reese Beauchamps. She hoped so. Despite his arrogance and love of barking orders, she liked him, although she couldn’t figure out why.

  She hated to think it was because he was so good-looking. What did that say about her? But he did have the most gorgeous dark brown eyes. If she let herself, she could stare into them all day. And she liked the way his thick brown hair sported just a little wave. If he let it grow long, it would be magnificent.

  “Call your agent Rivas,” she said, disgusted with herself. “Then I’ll let you get back to work.”

  “Right.” Reese dropped the messages on the desk, pulled a swivel chair toward him and picked up the phone.

  To give him space while he spoke to the agent, she wandered around his large office with the fabulous view, examining various diplomas and certificates adorning the walls. Could pieces of paper tell her anything about the man?

  She admired elegantly framed degrees from undergraduate school at Princeton and law school at the University of Florida. Her father had once wanted her to attend Princeton.

  Without reading, she focused on the Old English script in a dignified plaque as a sickening realization shot through her.

  That was the third or maybe fourth time in one afternoon that Reese had caused her to think of her father. Before today, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d allowed the soulless monster to creep into her thoughts. Being reminded of the past never did anything but cause her pain.

  The two men didn’t resemble each other at all physically, but both attacked life as if it were an opponent to be wrestled into submission.

  She resisted the urge to run out of Reese’s office.

  She needed to stay far away from this man. It didn’t matter how good-looking he was. He behaved too much like her father and would destroy the serenity she’d fought so hard to create.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “GET BACK TO me on that right away, Javi. Yeah, thanks.” Reese deliberately made his voice loud so Taki could hear him. She’d been staring at his Juris Doctor degree for five minutes as if it held the key to the secrets of her quixotic universe.

  When he replaced the receiver, she turned. Reese smiled at her, liking it much better when they were friends.

  “He’s ten minutes from the shop and will call me right back. Do you want to wait to see what he finds out?”

  “No,” she said. “I no longer think anything will come of that.”

  “What?” Reese pushed back in his chair, causing it to squeak in protest. “But you insisted on checking out the lead immediately.”

  “I know. The thing is...” She paused and looked out the window. “Well, after we left the restaurant our path took us by Jacques’s Hock, and I got a strong feeling that my bowl wasn’t there.”

  “You drove by the pawnshop? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  She met his gaze again. “You’d have just fussed about it,” she said with a graceful shrug.

  “And you got a...a feeling that your bowl wasn’t there?”

  She straightened her shoulders. “Yes.”

  “What kind of a feeling? Explain.”

  “How can you explain a feeling? I just sensed my bowl was not inside that building.”

  Reese rose, thinking Taki the most illogical person he had ever encountered. How could she change her mind so quickly? “My investigator is already on his way.”

  “Sorry. I was wrong,” she said, blue eyes troubled. Then she brightened. “But at least I admit it.”

  “Yeah, at least there’s that.” Reese fought an impulse to warn her about relying on irrational feelings. “Taki, in my experience, facts work a lot better when searching for the truth.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you think so,” she said, moving toward the door. “But I’ve learned facts can be manipulated. Twisted into something ugly.”

  Reese came around his desk and stood beside her, wondering why he felt the urge to touch her, however inappropriate such an action might be. Would that be considered harassment in one of those previous lifetimes where they’d known each other?

  Previous lifetimes? Yeah, sure. No doubt they’d known each other during the Civil War. Or maybe ancient Rome.

  “Thanks for lunch,” he said. Taki had insisted on paying, reminding him that he was her guest. “I’ll let you know if anything develops.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Please don’t go to any more pawnshops, Taki. And I’m not ordering. I’m asking.”

  She cocked her head. “And you even said ‘please.’”

  “I’m serious,” he said, doubting she would listen. Taki existed in some mystifying world of her own creation where dangerous men like Romero didn’t exist. Too bad that world was total fiction.

  “I promise.” She smiled, dimples appearing in her smooth cheeks, her face so serious and open that he knew she considered her promise a sacred vow. Without warning, she rose to her toes and brushed a kiss on his left cheek, her lips as soft as her promise. Her fresh scent, maybe jasmine, filled his senses, reminding him of sunshine and a gentle spring breeze.

  “Thanks for worrying about me,” she said, hesitating an instant too long before pulling away, her breath warm and sweet on his chin. Reese closed his eyes against the thought of crushing her to him.

  What the hell is wrong with me?

  With his fingers pressed to the spot where her lips had touched, he watched Taki exit his office in her strangely elegant manner.

  Talk about a breath of fresh air. Taki had blown into his life and shaken it up like nothing ever had. Treating what he knew to be fact as fiction, she made the impossible seem somehow believable.

  Negative energy? Third eyes? Mysterious feelings? Ridiculous.

  As his buzzer sounded insistently behind him, Reese felt as if he was coming out of a trance. The woman was sincere in her quirky beliefs, but a total fruitcake. He shook his head to clear it.

  Damn, but she was a huge distraction, one he didn’t have time for.

  Reese sat at his desk and prioritized the phone calls he needed to return. Thanks to his little time-out with Miss New Age Wonder, he wouldn’t get home tonight until after ten o’clock.

  Better stay far, far away from Wacky Taki or he’d never get any work done.

  “Yes, Joanne?” he said into the intercom.

  “Agent Rivas is on line two.”

  Reese punched the speaker. “What have you got for me, Javi?”

  “Dead end, Reese. Some crackhead pawned a silver cup from a horse race, nothing from Tibet. But the clerk practically got religious when talking about your friend Taki. When do I get to meet this knockout blonde?”

  “She’s a little hard to reach,” Reese said, realizing with a groan that he still didn’t have her phone number or address.

  Taki might be a nut job, but she was also damned elusive.

  * * *

  AT HOME THAT EVENING, still unsettled by the loss of her bowl—not to mention her lunch with Reese—Taki tried to calm her mind by sitting for meditation. But her restless thoughts looped over and over one thing: Reese made her think of her father—actually, reminded her of her father—and she hated her father.

  Maybe Reese could help her find the bowl, but she had no business coming within a square mile of him if he dredged up thoughts of the soulless monster. She should never look into Reese’s eyes—no matter how dreamy those particular eyes. No matter how dark, how aware. She sighed.

  Longing to regain serenity, Taki rose and opened her back door to gaze out on her small herb garden. The sight of vigorous plants bursting
with life out of their neat rows immediately improved her mood. The natural world always soothed her. Other than practicing yoga, her happiest times were spent with Mother Nature, either hiking or watching beautiful things grow.

  She moved down the steps, feeling as if she were transitioning into another world, a better place, a quiet and simple space where no problems interfered. With the property bordered by tall oaks, she always felt as if she were entering some secret garden as she entered the backyard of the estate where she lived.

  Inhaling deeply, she was rewarded with the delicious scent of the rich earth she’d worked so hard to create—Miami Beach actually had pretty lousy dirt—and, yes, there it was: a hint of lavender.

  Her gaze zeroed in on the row of lavender, shiny green leaves and tiny purple buds. So hard to grow in South Florida, but with the cooler temperatures of winter, her third attempt had finally met with success. Lavender encouraged relaxation, and soon she could create her special scented bath oil. She often gave samples to new students, recommending long, soothing soaks after class. Maybe she should give some to Reese.

  The image of a bare-chested, dark-eyed Reese easing his muscled body into a steaming tub made her anything but relaxed—in fact, it instantly destroyed the tranquility she’d come outside seeking.

  Closing her eyes, she released a slow exhale, forcing her traitorous mind away from a naked Reese Beauchamps. It would certainly help if she didn’t find him so darned attractive.

  She slipped off her shoes and stepped into the soft damp dirt between rows. Glorying in that sensation, she wiggled her toes and hugged her elbows. The plot might be small, but it was all hers, and she was perhaps too proud of these happy, healthy herbs.

  And how could she call herself an herbalist if she didn’t grow her own product? She’d been on the run so much lately, this was the first time she’d been able to grow her own crop in what seemed like forever. She frowned, thinking back. How long had it been since her last real garden? One where the plants sent their roots straight into the earth and not some plastic pot.