N. Walters - Pride of the Lion

“Sure.” It was easy to give the other woman her promise. After all, it wasn’t as though she planned to go skydiving anytime soon.

Sabrina reached into her pocket and drew out a thick, vellum card. “Take my card. If you have any questions, please call me.”

She took the card and slipped it into her purse. “I will. Thanks.” She probably wouldn’t need it for help, but she might use it for research somewhere down the road. “How much do I owe you?” She should have asked that before she sat down, but the idea of meeting a real-life fortuneteller had overridden her usually frugal self.

Sabrina frowned again. “No charge. Your conference fee covers the reading.”

“Great. Good. Well, it was nice to meet you.” Araminta slowly backed away. Sabrina watched her, her brow furrowed with concern. It was starting to freak her out, so Araminta turned and hurried out of the room. She needed to get changed into something less businesslike for the evening party.

She glanced over her shoulder and found the fortuneteller still watching her. Araminta shivered but then shook off her unease. It was all part of the woman’s shtick, her act, telling her to beware. She probably changed it up between people, telling some of them they’d find love, others that they’d gain wealth and a few were probably told to beware of danger.

It was a good plan, because people were always falling in and out of love, having small windfalls of one kind or another, or having something bad happen to them. The odds were good that she’d be right much of the time.

A voice in the back of her head whispered that Sabrina Wolfe might be the real deal. Maybe she was psychic, maybe she could read the tarot and see messages that others might not see. “And maybe I’ll become a supermodel,” Araminta muttered.

Putting the entire exchange from her mind, Araminta rode the elevator up to her floor and headed to her room to change. She’d had a wonderful day and she wasn’t about to let some ominous warning from a complete stranger ruin her mood. She’d met so many kind and generous people, some of whom had even read her books and had nothing but good to say about them. It was a heady feeling.

She let herself into her room and tossed her purse aside. What a rush it had been to have people come to her table this afternoon and want her to sign her book for them. Several of them had even wanted their picture taken with her. She’d handed out bookmarks and pens and signed books for almost two hours. When she’d left the ballroom, Luna was still signing books for fans. That would probably last another hour or so. That’s why the fortunetellers had been set up in another room. Luna always had something planned to entertain the conference goers.

She kicked off her shoes and undid the buttons of her blouse, pausing to smile as she replayed the day. She had so many ideas running around inside her brain. Her fingers itched to get at her keyboard to write it all down, but she knew she didn’t have time. Not if she wanted to be ready in time for tonight’s dinner and party. Araminta glanced longingly at the computer. “No, don’t start.” She knew herself well enough to know if she started writing she might not surface for two hours or more. That would make her extremely late. “There will be plenty of time to write when you’re home alone next week.”

She shimmied out of her skirt and tossed it onto the bed. She went to the closet and stared at the dress she’d brought for tonight’s dinner. It was sleek in design, but it had pockets large enough for her to hold her room keycard and a few dollars so she wouldn’t need to bother with a purse. The hem fell to just above her knees and the color was basic black. But the neckline showed some cleavage and she could dress it up with the necklace she’d brought. It was a daring new look for her and she was looking forward to wearing it.

Being here this weekend had brought out another side of her and she planned on enjoying every minute of it. She’d dance again tonight and maybe even have a drink or two.

Grabbing clean underwear, she headed off to the bathroom to shower and get ready for the evening.

The party was in full swing. Once again, the bar was set up against one wall and the dance floor was hopping. There were a few more men here this evening and Araminta wondered where they’d come from. Maybe some of the husbands or boyfriends had joined the conference goers for the final night.

“Here you go, pretty lady.” A glass of ginger ale appeared in front of her and Rick, the bartender from last night, smiled at her.

“You remembered.” It was very flattering and she smiled at him, lifted her glass and had a sip.

“I never forget a pretty lady’s order.” Like last night, he was once again shirtless and wearing tight leather pants and leather boots. His dark hair fell around his angel’s face, framing it to perfection. He was also flirting with her. What she couldn’t figure out was if it was for real, or because he was hoping for better tips.

And when had she become so cynical?

Either way, it didn’t matter. She was leaving tomorrow. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t have some harmless fun.

She raised the glass and saluted him. “Appreciate it.”

He propped his elbows on top of the bar and leaned toward her. “You know,” he began, his voice low and husky. “I get off in a couple of hours. Maybe you’d like to go for a drink in the hotel bar, or something.”

It was the or something that made her catch her breath. A shiver raced down her spine, but she couldn’t tell if it was from fear or arousal. This handsome-as-sin guy was asking her out for a drink. Was it the dress? No, couldn’t be. Maybe she was giving off pheromones or something after last night’s dream. She’d been thinking about it on and off all day long and it had kept her in a continual state of low arousal. Rick was nothing like her dream man, but there was no denying he was hot.

He reached out and grazed his thumb over the curve of her cheekbone, startling her. Her glass jostled and several drops of ginger ale spilled onto her hand.

“What do you say?”

What did she say? She wasn’t sure what to say. Rick’s smoldering dark eyes never left her face. He was obviously waiting for an answer.

“Ah.” Araminta threw caution to the wind. “A drink would be nice.”

Rick laughed and straightened away, but not before he picked up her hand and brought it to his mouth, licking off the droplets of spilled ginger ale. Araminta sucked in a breath at his bold action.

“A drink it is.” He glanced down at the other end of the bar where a group of women waited. “Gotta get back to work, but I’ll see you later.” The emphasis he put on the word you made it sound very intimate.

He turned away and headed toward the other end of the bar, giving her a great view of his perfect butt. What in heaven’s name was she doing? She’d made a date with a man she didn’t even know.

“You’re having fun,” she told herself. And she had to stop talking to herself in public. The problem with living alone or with just a cat was you got used to talking out loud. Fine when she was alone, but it made her seem just a bit strange in a crowded room.

Leaving her glass behind, she headed to the dance floor. Multicolored lights flickered on and off, casting everyone in an unearthly glow. The music pounded in her ears and vibrated up through her feet and into her body. She felt strangely alive and anticipatory.

Would she enjoy drinks with a handsome man or would it turn into more? Her stomach jumped at the mere thought. This wasn’t like her at all. She didn’t do things like this. But maybe it was time she did. Agreeing to have a drink didn’t mean there would be anything more to it than that. She was in a hotel surrounded by tons of people. It would be perfectly safe and maybe even fun. And she’d probably get tons more ideas for another book.