Sharon Hartley - The South Beach Search

She took a sip of the tea before answering. “I don’t know. I feel some sort of strange connection, but I can’t explain why.”

“Maybe it’s because we both were victims of the same crime two days ago.”

“So we’re like a victim support group?”

He smiled. “Exactly.”

“No. The way I felt was...well, strongest when I touched you the night of the theft.”

“When you touched me?”

She nodded. “When we shook hands. I’d like to try an experiment. Do you mind if I touch you again?”

He gave her a lazy grin. “Well, that depends on where you want to touch me.”

Heat flooded her cheeks as she said, “I want to touch your third eye.”

He blinked. “My what?”

“The third eye is the center of insight and intuition. It looks beyond the physical world.”

“And just where is this special body part?” he asked.

Taki bit her lower lip and gazed at the furrowed spot between and just above his dark eyebrows. “Right here,” she said, touching the spot lightly with her index finger.

A jolt of his energy rocketed through her, shooting all the way down to her toes. His eyes widened, and she knew the voltage affected him, too. She lowered her hand.

“Did you feel that?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

“Yeah, I felt it.” He leaned forward with his forearms on the table, holding her gaze. “Does that mean we’re attracted to each other?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I think it proves my theory that you’ve been harassing me through several lifetimes,” she said, sitting back.

“Harassing you?” Reese narrowed his eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, anyway, we’ve known each other in a previous lifetime, probably several, and we have some issues to work out.”

Reese went still, but continued to stare at her.

“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.”