A Touch of Mistletoe Read Online Free PDF Page B

time she hesitantly began to extend the tips of her fingers, ducking her head. "Please. Only if you prefer a handshake."
    Asami withdrew her hand and replied with a bow. "Thank you. I appreciate your courtesy."
    "I'm from the South, Asami-san — at least, the Southern United States—and if nothing else, we're known for our courtesy." Ash deftly insinuated his tall, skinny frame into the narrow gap between Asami and the door. He flipped the door sign to 'closed' and turned back to her, ignoring the way her eyes swiftly averted when he caught her staring. In a sea of Asian people ranging from short to average height, Ash was used to standing out as the sole black man, quite literally. At over six feet, he tended to be a clear head and shoulders over everyone else on the sidewalk.
    Ash gestured to the door at the rear of the shop. "My office."
    Asami glanced beyond Ash at the closed sign and remained rooted to the spot.
    "As you can see, Asami-san , I'm the only one here," Ash said, spreading his hands palm up. "There's no one to run the shop when I'm away from the counter, hence the sign."
    "Of course," Asami murmured. "Excuse me." She turned for the back door.
    Ash rubbed at the bridge of his nose. There were days he wished he hadn't come to Tokyo, notably every time he had to overcome the initial prejudices of a new client, but the payoff in terms of steady paranormal work had been every bit as brisk as his Uncle Barry had promised. Ash had run up against too many psychics and not enough work in his hometown. Through Uncle Barry's connections and the timely need of a wealthy Tokyo businessman who had sponsored his move, Ash had gone to Japan to further his paranormal work. The chance to learn the ins and outs of supernatural traditions in other cultures was an enormous plus.
    He followed Asami into the cramped office and folded himself into the chair behind the desk, so flimsy it might as well have been a card table. He had to slide in carefully to keep his knees from knocking it into Asami as she settled into her chair.
    "Now." Ash steepled his fingers. "How can I help you, Asami-san?"
    Asami narrowed her eyes. "You don't know?" The mild question was a barb, considering Ash's work.
    Ash huffed. "I'm not that kind of psychic," he replied. He put his head to the side. "You made an appointment for a paranormal consultation, so you know my real business isn't the hoodoo trinkets I sell through the storefront." It pained him not to use the word vaudun , but the word wasn't pronounced that way in Japanese.
    Asami inclined her head, watchful eyes fixed in the vicinity of Ash's chin rather than meeting his gaze. "I don't know very much about what you do," she admitted. "Only that you are a paranormal specialist?"
    "That's a good way to put it," Ash said. He wanted to ask who had referred her to him, since that side of his business was networked solely through word of mouth, but if there was one thing he'd learned during his past few years in Tokyo it was that an outright question was impolite, and would be ignored. Her tone and expression were deeply skeptical, so he wondered who had pointed a non-believer his way.
    "Like a detective," Asami said.
    Ash bobbed his head. "That's accurate." He was sure he hardly fit the popular conception of a detective. He wore immaculate three-piece suits simply as a matter of course doing business in Japan, but he didn't like trench coats, his stint of cigarette-smoking had been limited to an incident where his momma had smacked the tobacco stick right out of his mouth, and he despised fedora-wearing men with a passion.  Not to mention, he was black where most people would think they were booking white when making an appointment with a detective.
    "Detective services often extend to protection," Asami ventured.
    "Sure, I suppose." Ash unlaced his fingers to rub his chin. "Though I suppose it depends on the kind of protection you have in mind."
    "One of the athletes I manage," Asami said. She