What a Girl Wants Read Online Free PDF Page B

saw where the company was based.
    “Hi there!” someone said from behind him.
    He turned around to find a gypsy studying him curiously. She wore a colorful scarf around her head, completely covering her hair, and several more wrapped around her body. When she waved, all the bracelets on her wrists jangled merrily.
    Looking closer, she appeared to be young except for her eyes. Her eyes said that she’d seen a lot in her short life.
    She smiled at him as though they’d been friends forever. “How are you?”
    “Great,” he said, playing along. “And you?”
    “Better, now that you’re here.” She flashed him a brilliant smile. “I’ve been waiting for you to show up.”
    Was this Ariana Warren? “Who are you?”
    “I’m Esme,” she said as though he should know who she was. “What’s your name?”
    “Sebastian,” he said automatically. Then he shook his head. “I’m sorry, but I’m here for someone else.”
    “I know! Like I said, I’ve been waiting for you, Sebastian. I was beginning to turn into a crapehanger, though. I thought you’d never get here.”
    “Crapehanger?”
    “Someone who’s pessimistic,” she explained cheerily. “It was today’s Word of the Day.”
    Maybe she wasn’t as harmless as she looked.
    She tipped her head to the right, squinting as she studied him. “You have a lovely aura. You look ready to love.”
    “How can you tell?” He looked down to see if his fly was open.
    “It’s what I do,” Esme said. She handed him a card that she seemed to pull out from the air. “I’m a psychic. I help people find love. No fortune, no work-related issues, just love.”
    “That’s limiting your audience, isn’t it?” he joked as he slipped her card into his pocket.
    “No, it isn’t,” she replied in all seriousness. “Everyone wants love, and love is the most important thing in life. The rest is just filler.”
    Sebastian grinned. “Maybe I’ll come see you.”
    “Please do,” she said primly. “I’ll give you a friends and family rate.”
    “Are we friends?”
    “You’re going to see Ariana, aren’t you?”
    He frowned. “Was it that obvious?”
    “ Hello. I’m a psychic.” Shaking her head, she continued down the street.
    Smiling, bolstered, he rang the bell on Ariana Warren’s door.
    It buzzed open.
    He frowned. Shouldn’t she have checked to see who it was? There didn’t appear to be a camera. He went upstairs.
    The place was small, even by New York standards. But the studio had a lot of light and had a tiny view of the Golden Gate Bridge. The kitchen had empty glass jars of all sizes all over the place, as well as some books on herbs in disarray on the counters. The dining room table was crowded with similar bottles, filled and labeled.
    “Be right out,” a woman called out from what he supposed was the bathroom.
    “Okay,” he murmured, pushing a rolling cart of apothecary bottles out of his way. There was a spa bed of sorts that had crisp-looking sheets on them but not much else in the room except for a cabinet. On a coffee table there were a few books: Brew to Bikes: Portland’s Artisan Community , Ayurveda 101 , and Organic Body Care Recipes .
    He walked over to the table and looked at her products. The labels were simple—he lifted one up to inspect it closer. Each one was handwritten, with a feminine Dew Me at the top and smaller print that said what the jar contained. Several had drawings, although there didn’t seem to be rhyme of reason to them.
    Not scalable. He made a mental note of that. The product would sell better on the market if the packing were more modern than homey, too. People liked sleek. He’d add his thoughts into the marketing plan he’d have to write up.
    He lifted the bottle to his nose and sniffed. Coconut.
    The bathroom door opened and a woman came out. “Oh,” she said, stopping abruptly. “I thought you were George.”
    All thought fled from his mind as he laid eyes on Ariana Warren for the first time. She