Honey House Read Online Free PDF Page A

other in the quiet after the last of the dinner guests had left. He was a handsome man, with short auburn hair, warm brown eyes, and a great smile. It was clear he wanted me, but I wasn’t sure the feeling was mutual. Living at the Honey House complicated the situation. He could invite me to his room, which would make it seem very much as if I was agreeing to sex. We could go to the great room, which would make it seem as though I was saying no to anything too personal. Or, we could go to my place, which was a definite maybe.
    He stepped forward and placed his hands on my waist, and very slowly lowered his mouth to mine. His kiss was gentle and warm, like everything about him. “I don’t want this evening to end yet, KC,” he whispered.
    “Come to my place,” I whispered back. “We can have a nightcap and talk.” I knew I was sending mixed messages, but damned if I wasn’t receiving mixed messages from my own body.
    We held hands, and the warm flesh against flesh was nice in the increasing chill of the night air. When we entered my apartment, Jason turned and pressed me against the door. He placed one hand on either side of my head. When I didn’t stop him, he slowly lowered his mouth to cover mine. Then gentle Jason suddenly wasn’t quite so gentle anymore. He kissed me long and hard, and pressed something equally hard against my stomach.
    I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him closer, moaning softly into his mouth. His kisses were warm and wet, and it had been a long time since someone had wanted me like this. Jason slid his hands underneath my sweater, and caressed my back, before slowly sliding to the front and palming my breasts through my bra, his thumbs rubbing against my nipples.
    Pulling back from the kiss, he whispered against my neck, “I want you, KC.”
    His words brought a touch of reality back to me. This was supposed to be my maybe place, and I had walked in and telegraphed yes…yes…yes. I tried to pull further back, but I was stuck between a hard door at my back and a hard Jason at my front nuzzling my neck.
    “Jason, wait. Please, let’s slow down for a minute, okay? Let me get us that drink I promised.” I pushed at his shoulders to add emphasis.
    With a shaky breath, Jason released me. I led him to the couch and went to the small kitchen. “Macallan or Irish Cream?” I asked. A man’s drink said a lot about him.
    “Irish Cream, I don’t even know what Macallan is,” he laughed.
    I laughed too, but knew that was one strike against him. I’d gotten used to drinking top shelf on the cruises, and there was no finer single malt whisky, in my book. While I poured the drinks, Jason busied himself with something on my coffee table.
    When I joined him on the couch, I was dismayed to see what had captured his attention. The book on how to read Tarot cards was prominently displayed, and I knew I hadn’t put it there. Who would have done that? I flashed to that single mocking brow, raised so perfectly and knew. Damn, Quinn. Time for damage control.
    “Do you believe you can read the future or is it an act?” Jason asked, flipping through the pages.
    I sighed. “I think for most readers it’s an act. They learn to watch people, ask questions, and then answer the questions vaguely or use the client’s own desires to predict happiness. There’s no harm in it. Everyone walks away happy in the end.”
    “But what about you, KC? Is that how you do it? Do you tell fortunes at the Honey House?” Jason asked. His eyes were full of disappointment.
    Suddenly fed up, I said, “Look, Jason, I don’t owe you any explanations. It’s not like we’re in a long-term relationship and I’ve been lying to you. We’re just getting to know each other. Before I took over the Honey House, I was a psychic for a cruise line, providing entertainment through fortune telling. Sometimes I had a little luck and could “see” something about the client that was different from the regular reading.”