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Outside the winter light faded to darkness, but no one approached her, although more than one male customer openly ogled her ethereal blond beauty.
Izzo certainly wasn’t in sight. Not that Reese thought this meeting had anything to do with him. Just another dead end, another wild-goose chase courtesy of Wacky Taki.
Reese sipped the strong coffee. She might be a little nuts, but he had to admit she was plenty easy on the eyes. Taki barely touched the food she’d ordered. She did drink four glasses of water, however, and occasionally would wrinkle her cute nose and wave off smoke from the grill that drifted her way.
At six forty-five, she scanned the back of the room and gave a disappointed shrug when their gazes locked. She picked up her check and slid off the stool.
Agreeing that it was time to give up, Reese pushed through the front door while Taki dealt with the cashier. He noted she used cash.
The night seemed oppressively dark when he exited the restaurant. Fast-moving clouds obscured the moon, and a brisk wind sent leaves scattering across the sidewalk. He buttoned his jacket against the crisp evening air. A cold front had swept into South Florida, and the thermometer would dip into the forties tonight. A rare event.
Wrapping a wool cape around her slight frame, Taki stepped onto the sidewalk.
“Where are you parked?” he asked when she moved beside him.
“I’m in the public lot over on Washington.” She glanced at his rented Ford sitting in a no-parking zone in front of the popular restaurant.
“I was late, remember?” Reese said, wondering why he felt defensive.
She raised her eyebrows, but said nothing.
“Come on. I’ll give you a ride to your car.” He opened the passenger door and motioned her in.
When Reese pulled his door shut, the quiet in the interior of the sedan made him feel as if he’d just locked out the world and had Taki all to himself. Not a bad feeling.
“Thank you for coming,” she said in what had to be the most sincere thanks he’d ever received.
“You’re welcome.”
“I’m sorry you wasted your time.”
“I’m sorry no one showed.”
“Me, too.” She sighed, obviously frustrated. “What went wrong? Why didn’t they come?”
“Good question.”
“The note didn’t say to come alone,” she mused. “Although they couldn’t have known you were with me.”
Reese suppressed a chuckle. He’d think she’d been watching too much television, but doubted she watched the TV much, if ever, what with all that negative energy emanating from the screen. Wouldn’t be good for that karmic debt.
“Maybe you’ll be contacted again.”
“I sure hope so,” she said.
“I hope you understand why I couldn’t return your calls?”
“Your secretary explained. I know you’re a busy man.”
Her voice sounded sympathetic, as if he had terminal cancer.
“Let me see the photo,” he said.
She dug in a multicolored fabric bag that featured images of an elephant, its strap snug between her breasts, and produced a color picture of a brass bowl with swirling patterns etched into the metal.
Reese studied the image, briefly disappointed there was no sign of his briefcase in the background. He recognized the headline of today’s newspaper. Definitely a recent photo.
“You’re sure it’s your bowl?”
“Positive.”
He flipped the photo and read the note, finding nothing that would lead to its author. The way the note had been created screamed amateur. Or again, maybe too many TV crime shows. No way was Romero involved.
He lifted his gaze back to her serious face. “Is there any chance your student was playing a mean trick on you?”
She reacted to that idea as if he had struck her. “Ben would never do that.”
He studied her. We’ll see about that. “Okay. Can I keep this?”
“I guess.”
“I want to send it to the FBI lab. Maybe they can find a clue to our mystery.”
She brightened at his plan. “Good idea. Thanks.”
He started the engine and pulled onto Collins Avenue. She remained silent, probably lost in mystical thoughts as they drove the short distance to her Jeep. He needed to learn why the bowl was so damned important to her.
“I’m going to follow you home,” Reese told her when he pulled behind her vehicle.
“That’s okay,” she said too quickly. “You don’t need to.”
“Yes, I do.”
“But—”
“We don’t know who was in that restaurant, but they know who you are.”
“Oh.” Her eyes widened, and for the first time he noted a hint of worry.
“I need to make sure you get home safely.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
“Just don’t break any speed limits this time.”
She nodded, exited the car and climbed into her Jeep.
After driving a few blocks, Reese called Javi, who followed him, checking for a tail.
“You see anything inside the restaurant?” Reese asked.
“Nada,” Javi said. “I had another agent posted outside, and she didn’t notice anything, either. None of Romero’s known people were there. Other than the usual South Beach freaks, no one suspicious.”
“Do I have a tail?”
“You’re clear.”
“Thanks, Javi. Appreciate the help tonight.”
“Hey, no problem, Reese. Anytime you need help with that blonde, you just let me know. I’m your man.”
“I’ll check in with you tomorrow,” Reese said, refusing to react to Javi’s comment, and disconnected.
When Taki turned into the brick driveway of an impressive Miami Beach home, Reese pulled in behind her and released a low whistle at the affluent surroundings. Soft illumination highlighted a three-tiered flowing fountain in the center of a landscaped oval. Overgrown red bougainvillea lined the facade of a handsome coral-colored villa beneath a clay tile roof. He estimated the gated estate covered at least two acres directly on Biscayne Bay.
He’d pictured Taki in some sort of rustic commune, or perhaps even a tent, not in an exclusive waterfront mansion. Well, well. Wasn’t this an interesting turn of events.
She jumped from her Jeep and walked toward him. He now recognized the relaxed way she moved, a fluid lilt to her slim hips he found mesmerizing. But the expression on her face told him she debated some huge problem.
Reese lowered his window, the motor issuing a quiet hum.
She bent her knees to bring her face level with his. “Thanks for following me home.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Were we followed?” Eyes wide, she glanced toward the quiet residential street.
Reese smiled. “I don’t think so.”
Taki returned her gaze to his face and released a big sigh. “Well, then—”
“You wouldn’t have any herbal tea, would you?” he asked.
“Um...well...sure,” she said. “Lots of it.” She nodded toward the house. “So would you...like to come in?”
“I’d love to.”
Reese set the rental’s alarm with a shrill beep, thinking, Why bother? It hadn’t kept Izzo out of the Jag. Truth was, car alarms sounded so frequently in Miami everyone ignored them. Taki grabbed her bag from the Jeep and slung it over one shoulder. He followed her to a small building behind the main house that had probably once been a free-standing garage.
In another life, of course, he thought to himself with a chuckle.
* * *
TAKI MENTALLY ZIPPED through an inventory of her living room while unlocking the door to her cottage. Was there anything in open view that would give Reese a clue to her birth name?
The Spencer Trust lawyers hadn’t yet traced her to this address, but they might be getting close. Reese had her phone number and now knew where she lived. He could easily give her away without even knowing he’d done a bad thing. Far better that no one know anything about her history. Mistakes could be made, the wrong thing mentioned to the wrong person. Her father had minions everywhere looking for her.
She needed more time to square things with the universe. She needed to find that bowl before her father located her and she was forced to move again.
“Do you have a favorite tea?” Taki asked as she stepped through the entrance and flipped on a switch. “Or will any flavor do?”
“Whatever you have will be fine,” Reese said.
As she’d expected, he scrutinized her front room as if they’d entered a Ripley’s Believe It or Not! museum. She couldn’t tell if he was amused or taken aback by what he saw.
She allowed her gaze to roam over the eclectic collection of furniture and curios from her Eastern travels and secondhand shops. She was especially fond of her collection of statuettes of Lord Ganesha, the Hindu elephant god, a deity so powerful it was said he could remove any obstacle. Now, that was some symbolism she really liked.
Everything had meaning to her, although her possessions probably looked like a bunch of old junk to Reese.
But there were no trappings from the Spencer fortune, she realized with relief. Even if he had heard of a runaway heiress, he’d never make a connection to her.
“Make yourself comfortable,” she said, “and I’ll put on some water.”
Taki poured distilled water into a kettle and placed it on her stove. With a quick push of a button, she ignited the flame, and gas burned with a quiet hiss. Reaching for two mugs from wooden cabinets, she mentally kicked herself for letting Reese in when she knew she should avoid him. How could she keep a calm mind when the man stirred emotion she was better off burying?
He’d been sweet to meet her at Puerto Sagua, but she could have just said she was tired, that she needed to get some sleep. That wasn’t a lie, not at all. She hadn’t slept well since she’d met Reese. She frowned. Since her bowl had been stolen.
But oh, no. She’d been entranced by the color of his eyes, by the shape of his lips, by the rich timbre of his voice as he’d asked about tea. It was beyond foolish to allow Reese inside her home, and dangerous because she found him so absurdly attractive. And why did she? The man represented everything she’d run away from four years ago. She should stay away from him, as she did all negative influences.
So how to explain her intense rush of pleasure when he showed up at the restaurant? Her reaction had nothing to do with her bowl, much less any past or future karma. She’d been thrilled from her crown chakra to the tips of her toes that he had come to help her.
Definitely beyond foolish.
Waiting for the water to boil, Taki rejoined Reese in the living room. He stood with folded arms squinting at a print of Buddha hanging near the door to her bedroom. Sensing he was chilled in her unheated home, she turned on a rectangular space heater by the ancient pink brocade sofa.
He’s from Miami, she remembered. Miami natives took great offense whenever the temperature dropped below sixty.
“It’ll warm up in a minute,” she said. As she closed the door to the bedroom, Taki smiled at her dangling angels and prayed for luck.
“Is this also from Tibet?” Reese asked, indicating the colorful print.
“No, a secondhand shop on Lincoln Road.” Taki admired the peaceful scene of Buddha seated beneath a leafy tree. It was one of her favorite images, one that usually put her in a serene frame of mind. But not tonight with Reese standing right next to her.
“Tell me about your bowl,” he said, “why it’s so important that you’d risk your life.”
She continued to stare at the bright colors in the print. “I didn’t risk my life.”
“If Romero’s people are involved, you did.”
“But why would Romero’s people want my bowl?”
“I keep hoping you’ll tell me.”
Taki leveled her gaze at Reese. Something in his voice made her uneasy. He observed her steadily, a hint of five o’clock shadow on his chin and cheeks. Did he think she knew something about his stolen briefcase?
“I don’t know any more than you do about the theft, Reese.”
Before he could respond, the kettle issued a shrill whistle.
Reese followed her into the tiny kitchen and less than an inch separated their hips. Not for the first time, she noted how small her kitchenette was. He was so near, she could sense every movement, every shift of his weight on his feet.
“It’s amazing what someone did with this old garage,” he said, loosening his tie and looking around. “How did you find it?”
“I give private lessons to Victoria Van Buren, the woman who owns the estate. She was a friend of...” Taki trailed off, realizing she’d almost told Reese that Victoria was a friend of her mother’s. Better not reveal anything about her history.
“Years ago,” Taki continued after clearing her throat, “Victoria’s husband converted this garage to an apartment and loaned it to friends in need. Since his death, she’s continuing that tradition.”
“How long have you lived here?”
“Almost six months,” Taki said as she poured steaming water into a ceramic teapot. Of course she couldn’t tell him an outright lie. She had to be careful. Satya, truth, was an important yogic principle, one she believed in.
“It’s nice,” he said. “Cozy.”
“I really love this cottage. It’s full of such good energy. I think old buildings retain the souls of all the people who once lived inside.”
Reese blinked. “Like ghosts?”
“No, not exactly. Just some part of their essence—or spirit maybe left behind.”
“Come on, Taki,” he said with a laugh. “You don’t really believe drywall and wood retain dead souls?”
She nodded, again confused by the strange connection she felt to Reese, which made no sense. He was nonreceptive to her beliefs and plainly had a lot of lives yet to live, a lot of issues left to resolve.
Not that she didn’t, she reminded herself. Maybe she should be more open to his way of thinking.
When she didn’t answer, he said, “Seriously?”
She ought to push him far, far away, but couldn’t since he could help her find the bowl. She stared into the brewing tea, knowing that now she wasn’t being honest with herself. Her interest in Reese wasn’t all about the bowl anymore. Maybe it never was.
“Do you really want this tea?” she said. She dropped her hand to her side, brushing his arm.
With a grin, he raised his eyebrows. “Do you have anything stronger?”
“Wine. Red or white?”
“Red might warm us up,” he said.
Reese stood close enough that she could feel his breath on her cheek. Between his overwhelming presence and the steaming water, she didn’t need to warm up. She felt as if the flames from the stove would consume her any second.
For a crazy moment she wanted to touch him. She wanted to take the palms of her hands and glide them up the sleeves of his jacket, pressing firmly enough to feel the hard muscle she knew lay beneath the fine blue fabric.
“Taki?” he said, a soft question in his voice.
“You’ll have to move so I can reach the wine bin. It’s overhead.” Her voice sounded strained to her own ears.
“I’ll get it for you,” he offered.
When Taki met his puzzled gaze, her breath caught in her throat. She, a woman who prided herself on fabulous breath control, could barely inhale because of swift, overpowering physical desire. Reese no longer seemed familiar. He was now a stranger who awoke a hunger she’d thought buried beneath mounds of guilt and sadness.
She swallowed and pointed to the cabinet. “The far corner,” she said.
Reese’s eyes searched hers, but he raised his arm and easily withdrew a bottle of California Cabernet Sauvignon from the high cupboard.
“How’s this?” he asked.
“Perfect.”
When she accepted the bottle, she placed her hands over Reese’s long fingers. For a brief moment he didn’t let go, and she felt his cool hand beneath her warm palms.
“Thanks,” she said.
“Sure.” His gaze locked on hers, he released the wine and took slow backward steps out of the kitchen.
Trying to regain her focus, Taki took deep inhalations as she searched for the corkscrew in a messy kitchen drawer. Why could she never achieve order in her life? Guru Navi always lectured about order and cleanliness, saucha, another essential of a good yoga practice. She located the chrome utensil, grabbed two wineglasses and moved into the living room.
Out of the kitchen, the temperature dropped several degrees. Relieved by the sudden chill, she headed toward the orange glow of the space heater. She placed the bottle and glass on a table and collapsed onto the sofa.
Reese sat beside her, leaning forward to retrieve the wine. She relaxed into the cushions, happy to let him do the honors. She needed to recover from what had almost happened in the kitchen. Had he noticed her ridiculous reaction to him? She’d almost attacked him. How could he not notice?
“You still haven’t told me about your bowl,” Reese said as he opened the wine. “Let’s see. So far I know you have a terrible blot on your soul. Because of that blemish, your guru sent you on a difficult journey to Tibet.”
“Right,” Taki said, surprised by Reese’s quick recitation of the small bits she’d told him. And he didn’t appear to be making fun of her. He sounded seriously interested.
“The pilgrimage itself was cleansing,” she said. “But I had a task to complete. I failed that task.” A wave of sadness washed through her. She’d also hoped the bowl would cleanse her soul of the anguish created by her mother’s death.
Reese nodded. “You were to deliver the bowl to the—” he paused a moment “—Paradise Way Ashram.”
“Good memory.” Why in heaven’s name had she told Reese all these details?
He nodded and poured wine into each glass. When she raised hers, he tapped his against it with a gentle clink and said, “To getting your bowl back.”
“And to you getting your briefcase.”
She took a swallow of the heady liquid and let its warmth slide down her throat. She needed to relax. Her usual methods hadn’t calmed her so far. Maybe the wine would.
After taking a sip of his own, Reese said, “So tell me about this blot on your soul.”
She smiled in spite of her unsettled mind. “That’s just the way Debbie interpreted my explanation of rotten karma.”
“Maybe you’d better explain karma to me. I’m not quite clear on that concept. You’re doomed somehow because...?”
“Because of previous bad behavior, maybe even in another life. Every person is the result of their past actions and present doings. It’s the universe’s way of evening things out.”
“What goes around comes around,” Reese said with a nod. “Got it. So what is it you’ve done that’s so awful?”
She knew from his tone of voice that he would probe until he got an answer. She couldn’t tell him the whole truth, but she couldn’t lie.
“Not me exactly. Let’s just say that my family has done some really...bad things that I’m trying to atone for.” She shook her head. “Unfortunately, the way things are going I’ll never be forgiven.”
“But you can’t be blamed for what your family has done.”
“Yes, I can. I benefited from their greed.” She took a slow sip of her wine. “Are you warm enough? Do you mind if I turn down the heater?”
“I’m fine.”
When she rose, a quick series of questions snapped through Reese’s mind. Could her rotten family be in trouble with the law? Maybe already incarcerated? Is that why she’d asked if he took private clients? What sort of crime had they committed?
Exactly what would he find if he pulled Taki out of the county database?
But she wasn’t a witness for him to cross-examine, so he remained silent. During that quiet, a bewildering rapport with her blossomed. No one understood wanting to distance yourself from an overbearing family better than he.
“Families can be a real pain in the ass, can’t they?” he said when she’d returned.
“Yes.” She paused, then asked, “So you’re not close to your family?”
“Oh, we’re close. We just don’t get along. My dad never stops harping at me to resign from the U.S. Attorney’s Office so I can join him in his private practice. He takes it as a personal affront that I won’t.”
She swirled her wine. “And you don’t want to go into private practice?”
“Especially not with him. But we were discussing your problem with the missing bowl.”
Before he could stop himself, Reese tucked an errant lock of hair behind her ear. The blond strand was as soft as he’d imagined.
“Tell me if I’ve got this straight,” he said.
She picked up her wine again and took a cautious sip, then leaned against the sofa, raising a wary gaze. He wondered what worried her.
“You believe that by giving the bowl to the ashram, you somehow erase all the previous sins of your family?”
“I hoped it would erase at least some of them, even if just symbolically.” Taki stared into the deep red liquid in her glass and sighed. “But, oh, no. I had to leave the bowl in the Jeep, so certain no one would want it, that the security guard would prevent any theft. What was I thinking after traveling all the way to Tibet?” Concern wrinkled her delicate brow. “I wonder if that carelessness makes the whole situation worse.” She looked up. “What do you think?”
Reese crooked his arm on the back of the sofa and leaned against it. “My first thought is to argue mitigating circumstances.”
She flushed, and he wanted to touch her cheek and tell her she was delightful. He took a swallow of wine as Taki threw him a challenging look.
“This is all a big joke to you, isn’t it?” she asked.
“No. I want my briefcase back as badly as you want your bowl of salvation.”
“But you think I’m completely bonkers.”
“I think you’re lovely.” Reese entwined his fingers in hers and lifted. He kissed the back of her hand, finding it soft and smooth. “And, yes, maybe just a little bonkers.” Fascinated by the stubborn expression that washed across her flushed face, he released her fingers.
“Should I contact you if I get another message from the thief?” she asked.
“Definitely. And don’t meet anyone again without backup.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Backup?”
“Call it what you want, just promise not to go alone.”
“Sorry,” she said. “I can’t promise. That would be a lie. I want my bowl too much, but I’ll take extra precautions.”
He wondered what extra precautions she had in mind. “I’ll give you Agent Rivas’s phone number,” he said, removing a business card from his wallet. “If I’m not available, call him. He can send an agent.”
She accepted the card. “You’re giving orders again, General Beauchamps.”
“Sorry. Bad habit.” What did it matter? Reese thought, suspecting she disregarded orders as easily as he gave them.
“That’s okay,” she said. “I’m getting used to it.”
“Yeah, I know. You just ignore me.”
“I always ignore lawyers.”
“Have you had a lot of experience ignoring attorneys?”
Her face closed off to him then, and he wondered why. What had happened in Taki’s past that she hated lawyers? Had she been involved with her family’s crimes? Is that why she was so protective of her phone number?
“Any experience is too much,” she said.
Good dodge, he thought, and searched for a neutral topic. “Tell me about your name.”
“My name?” she asked in a voice he could only describe as cautious. Again he wondered about her secrets.
“I know you weren’t born with the name Taki. How did you come by it?”
“Oh,” she said. “My guru gave it to me.”
“Your guru?” Reese shook his head. “You have a guru?”
“Yes, I do. Guru Navi. He’s been my teacher since I was eighteen when I met him following a lecture.”
“Okay. Go on. Your guru changed your name because...”
“As a symbol of a new beginning. A new name, new beginning. Navi is my spiritual guide.”
“How old is he?” Out of nowhere, Reese irrationally hoped that this guru she spoke of with such affection was Shinhoster’s age at least. Even older would be better.
“I never thought about it.” She grinned. “Ageless, I guess. Or timeless anyway.”