Janet Evanovich - Full Bloom

Destiny Moultrie's long black hair hung like a silk curtain on either side of her face as she gazed down at the dainty palm she held, studying each line and crease carefully. "You're going to meet a tall, dark, and handsome man—"

Annie Fortenberry snatched her hand away. "Oh no, you don't. You're not saddling me with a … a man!"

Destiny arched one brow. "You don't like men? They come in handy on cold winter mornings."

The petite woman sitting across the antique Pennsylvania farm table, which seated twelve, nodded, and a thick strand of copper hair fell across her forehead. She raked it back, and it disappeared into the tousled mop that barely grazed her shoulders and gave her a girlish look, even at thirty. "You're right," she said. "On cold winter mornings when you don't want to leave your warm bed and haul the trash to the street. That's the only thing a man is good for."

"Then I probably shouldn't tell you the rest. The really good stuff."

"Good stuff?" Annie's green eyes registered interest. She could use some really good stuff in her life. She offered her hand once again.

"It says the sex will be dy-nuh-mite!"

Annie reclaimed her palm and looked at it. "Where does it say that? You made that up."

"The Divine Love Goddess never makes up stuff."

Annie glanced up and noted the serious expression on Destiny's face. Despite the early hour, the woman's makeup had been artfully applied, emphasizing deep-set indigo eyes and high cheekbones. Annie wondered how long it took Destiny to achieve that look. Her own makeup regimen took all of three minutes, beginning with a light foundation to tone down her freckles and ending with a quick swipe of her mascara wand. "Hmm," she said, taking care to hide the doubt in her voice, even though her friend Jamie Swift had claimed Destiny was the real thing. "Very interesting."

Destiny suddenly sneezed. "Uh-oh. I can tell I'm close. I always start sneezing when I'm on to something."

"Good sex, huh?" Annie said. "Jeez, I might have to reconsider. As long as I'm not stuck with him for the rest of my life," she added, wishing she were really more sophisticated and open to casual sex. Instead she followed Dear Abby's advice that couples should be in love before crawling between the sheets together. Abby obviously didn't have this hormonal thing going on that made Annie think about sex a lot.

Destiny sneezed again. "Wow, that was a big one. Either I'm right on-target or I've got a cold. There was a draft in my bedroom last night."

Annie stood and hurried to the kitchen counter, where she kept a box of tissues. She plucked several and handed them to Destiny, who dabbed her nose. "I'm sorry you became chilled last night," Annie said. "It has been so warm this winter that I haven't bothered to turn on the heat."

Which was true. Beaumont was experiencing record-high temperatures for February, and it wouldn't be long before everything was in full bloom. New shoots had already begun pushing their way up through the dirt, and Annie had spied teeny buds on the large peach tree out front. But the old antebellum mansion-turned-bed and breakfast nestled between massive, centuries-old live oaks permitted little sunlight. That, combined with the West Indian coral stones from which the house had been built, kept it a good ten degrees cooler inside than out.

Destiny propped her elbows on the table. In the next chair, an aging overweight tabby cat named Peaches uncurled and stretched before dropping to the floor with a thud. She walked over to her empty food dish, stared for a moment, and then turned to Annie as if to say, What's with it?

"The, um, draft in my room last night had nothing to do with the temperature," Destiny said. "There's a spirit in this house."

"Oh yeah?" Annie cocked one eyebrow.

"A ghost," Destiny said. "A dead person, in this case a woman, who for some reason is still hanging around."

Annie didn't know how to respond, so she said nothing.

Destiny shrugged. "It happens to me all the time. Dead people latch on to me like flies to molasses."

Peaches made a guttural sound deep in her throat and gave Annie what she referred to as the evil eye. The cat raised her paw and whacked the plastic dish hard. It skidded across the floor and hit the wall.

"Your cat is hungry," Destiny said.

"She has already eaten," Annie replied. "Just ignore her."

"You've never seen the spirit?" Destiny asked.

"I don't believe in ghosts."

"I'll bet you've felt her presence. A sudden drop in temperature or a feeling of being watched?"

Annie's look was noncommittal, but she remembered instances, a brush of cool air against her arms or the back of her neck, guests complaining of missing items that usually showed up in unexpected places at a later date, plus sounds in the night. "I think you have to be open to that sort of thing," she said. "I'm not."

Destiny didn't look convinced, but she didn't push. "So, do you want me to finish your reading? Find out if you're going to enjoy the Big O anytime soon? Or multiples thereof," she added.

"Multiples?"

"I don't like to brag, but my own personal record is five."

"Holy crap!"

"He was young and good-looking, and we had this chemical thing going. Not to mention the fact he was slow handed, and pushed all the right buttons, if you get my drift."

"Sounds like a keeper to me." Annie hadn't had her buttons pushed in a long time.

"Which is why I married him." Destiny sighed. "It didn't work out."

Annie knew Destiny had been married five times but was currently single. Until a couple of months ago, the woman had enjoyed a hot-and-heavy romance with a hunk named Sam, but she'd pulled back when he began using the M word. Destiny had no desire to marry anytime soon.

"So why did you divorce this guy if he was so good in the sack?"

"You still have to be able to talk to a man at the breakfast table, and he wasn't very bright. As time went on, my passion dwindled."

Annie hadn't felt passionate about anything since Jiffy Peanut Butter came out with a reduced-fat variety. "That's too bad," she said.

Peaches began swatting the cabinet door where her food was stored. "That's it," Annie said, getting up from the table. She picked up the cat and lugged all twenty-two pounds of feline and fur to the back door. Peaches hissed. "Go catch a mouse," Annie said, and put her out. "That cat has one goal in her life, and it's to drive me crazy."

"She's uneasy because of the spirit. Cats sense these things."

Annie shook her head. "She's always been snooty and difficult, but my grandmother adored her. Unfortunately, the cat has never liked me."

"She needs to meet a nice tomcat."

"Too late. She's been spayed."

"That explains her sour moods. A good roll in the hay works wonders."

"Well, the only male I'm looking for at the moment is my worthless handyman, Erdle Thorney," Annie said, "but I don't have to be psychic to know that he's laid up drunk somewhere. Wait till I get my hands on him. I'm going to hog-tie him and kick butt."

"Some people like being tied up," Destiny said, studying her nails, "or so I've heard."

Annie grinned. "I don't think we're talking about the same thing." She couldn't help but like the quickwitted, free-spirited woman who had become something of a celebrity since starting her column in the Beaumont Gazette less than a year ago. Destiny used her psychic powers to give people, mostly the lonely-hearted, guidance and direction. She stood out in a crowd in her outrageous clothes, which included leather, fake fur in an assortment of colors, and plunging necklines that emphasized perfect oversize breasts. Annie would have given her grandmother's sterling silver to know if they were the product of good genes or a boob job.