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  “How did you know he’s with the mob?” Heidi asked.

  “I’m getting to that,” Kate continued. “A few days later, he called and asked me to meet him in Miami and had a courier deliver a first-class plane ticket to my office. We had a great time. The next week he flew me to New York. He lavished me with expensive gifts, jewelry, a mink jacket, all probably hot. I met him in Philly a week later, but he was in a hurry so we just got it on in his limo in the airport parking lot. He gave me a pair of handmade Italian lizard pumps and wanted me to wear them while we fucked. He even licked the shoes.”

  “Oh my God,” Miranda laughed.

  “This went on until about a month ago when I met him in Atlanta. He gave me a fabulous emerald necklace, then handed me a suitcase full of money he wanted me to launder for him.”

  “Katie, you didn’t!” Heidi exclaimed.

  “Of course not. Well, that ended the affair.” She ran a hand though her short, spiky hair and sighed. “Honestly, I’m glad it’s over.”

  “Did you keep all the goodies?” Miranda asked.

  “Sure did.”

  “You’re not worried he’ll try to bump you off or anything, are you?” Heidi asked.

  Kate shook her head. “If I informed on him or something, he might get nasty, but I was so fringe I’m not really a threat to him. I never even knew his last name or where he lives. Just Vincent.”

  Izzy lit another cigarette and blew smoke rings. “My, my, we’ve certainly been busy little beavers, haven’t we?”

  “To us, brazen hussies,” Kate toasted. The four women clinked glasses again and tossed back the last of their wine.

  “All this talk is making me hungry,” Heidi said. “Anybody ready for my famous spaghetti and meatballs?”

  * * *

  Over dinner, Miranda regaled her friends with tales of her journey. They insisted on seeing the golden cord she’d knotted with the sex magician, Lancelot Lucas. They high-fived her when she related her night on the riverboat casino with Clint. When she finished telling them about Eli eating her beneath the table in the New Orleans restaurant, they shrieked, “Oh my God!” in unison.

  She passed her cell phone around so they could see pictures of Eli, at Sybil’s place in Mendocino, in Santa Fe, in San Antonio, and in New Orleans.

  “He’s adorable,” Heidi said.

  “A definite hunk,” Izzy agreed. “Look at those abs!”

  “What’s he doing now?” Kate asked.

  “That’s a good question,” Miranda answered. “I think we need more wine for this part of the story.”

  “Let’s take it out to the hot tub,” Heidi suggested.

  They cleared the dishes and stacked them in the dishwasher, then walked outside across the dew-damp grass to a hot tub that overlooked the lake. They removed the cover and their clothing and climbed in. When all were seated comfortably at the four corners of the tub, Heidi passed the wine bottle around and they refilled their glasses.

  “Okay, Miranda, continue the saga of Eli,” Kate said.

  Stars sparkled in the jet-black sky. Like the quartz crystals at Uncle Bright’s place. Miranda gazed up at them, luxuriating in the hot, bubbling water.

  “After the French guys attacked us in New Orleans, he decided to go back to work at the vineyard in Napa Valley.”

  “Hello,” Izzy interrupted. “He’s like a sitting duck there, am I right?”

  “That’s what I told him, but he said he was tired of hiding and they’d find him anyway.” She sipped her wine and thought about the woman with the black curls. “What I suspect is, he’s got a girlfriend there and went back to her.”

  “What makes you think that?” Heidi asked. “It sounds like he’s so into you.”

  Miranda explained how she’d seen Eli and the other woman in the crystal, and how she’d experienced the same sense of fear and foreboding she’d felt upon viewing the scene of the horse-drawn carriages at Jackson Square.

  “I haven’t talked to him since he got back to Napa, a week ago. He left a message that he’d arrived safely and another saying he was working at the vineyard again, but that’s all. Nothing romantic, nothing dirty even.”

  “Oh, look.” Kate pointed at the sky. “A shooting star.”

  “Cool. Make a wish, everybody,” Heidi said. “I wish for a trip to the Caribbean.”

  “I wish Paul’s girlfriend would leave him and break his cheating heart,” Izzy said bitterly.

  Kate wished for a promotion. “I want my boss’s job. He’s a totally incompetent jerk.”

  “I wish Eli would leave Napa and move to Salem with me.” Wow, did I actually say that? I wonder if wishing on a star really works.

  “There’s another one,” Heidi said as a star blazed through the heavens. “Let’s make wishes for each other this time.”

  “I wish Izzy meets Mr. Right and they fall madly in love,” Miranda said.

  “Or lust, at least. Thanks,” Izzy said. “I wish Kate gets promoted to president of the company and fires her boss.”

  Kate laughed. “Sounds good to me. I wish Heidi buys a beach house on St. John and invites us all down over Christmas.”

  “Definitely,” Heidi agreed. “I wish Miranda and Eli have a big wedding and we’re all bridesmaids.”

  They put their toes together in the middle of the hot tub and lifted their legs out of the water, forming a pyramid. Kate started singing, “When you wish upon a star…” and they all chimed in at the finish “…your dreams come true.”

  Card 18: The Moon

  “I bet Troy was surprised to see you,” Eli said to Giselle as they strolled between rows of Meditrina’s grapevines heavy with purple fruit. The California sun warmed his shoulders. The smell of the soil, the vines, the ripening grapes enticed his nostrils. It’s good to be home, he thought.

  “I called ahead of time,” she said. “I wouldn’t just pop in on him unannounced. I don’t like surprises.”

  “Did your visit go okay?”

  Giselle eyed him curiously. “Of course. Why wouldn’t it?”

  “I guess I thought there was some, uh, animosity between you two.” Eli noticed a yellowing leaf and stopped to inspect it. Just a little dryness. I’m really getting paranoid.

  “Between his wife and me, yeah. But Troy and I have always gotten along.”

  He plucked a grape and held it to her mouth. Giselle opened her full lips and he slipped the grape between them. She sucked his fingers. A twinge of desire flared in his groin as he imagined her sucking his dick.

  “Do you still have a thing for him?” he asked.

  “Getting involved with a married man is a prescription for heartache. I’ve learned my lesson.”

  Eli’s cell phone chimed and he snapped it open. Miranda’s name and number appeared on the screen. Bad timing, he thought, shutting the cell. “Sorry, you were saying?”

  “Troy’s history. I have better ways to occupy my time now.” She smiled coquettishly at him.

  “I’d like to occupy some of that time, if you’re interested. Are you free tonight?”

  “I might be. Depends on what you have in mind.”

  He touched the tip of her breast, drawing slow circles around her nipple with his finger. “I’d like to cook dinner for you. I make a mean veal marsala.”

  Giselle tilted her head to one side and licked her lips. “Sounds delicious.”

  “Let me write down my address.” He pulled out his wallet and searched for a business card.

  “I know where you live. See you at seven.”

  * * *

  Giselle’s tight red dress left little to his imagination.

  I could get lost forever in that cleavage, Eli thought, as she stepped into his apartment. He allowed his eyes to feast on her flesh long enough to convey his intentions. “You look terrific.”

  She handed him a bottle of Chardonnay from Fortuna Vineyards. “This is one of our best, in my opinion. I’ll be eager to hear your take on it.”

  “Thanks. Can
I pour some for you now? Dinner won’t be ready for half an hour.”

  “Sure.” She cast her gaze around the apartment, checking it out. “The veal smells great.”

  “I’d planned to have a Sangiovese with dinner. Is that okay with you?”

  “Perfect.”

  He opened the bottle of Chard and filled two glasses. As she took the one he offered, her fingers brushed his. Her touch sent electricity surging up his arm. They clinked glasses.

  “To your visit,” he toasted. “Has it really been three years since you left Meditrina?”

  “Thirty-nine months, to be exact.”

  “Do you miss it?”

  “Of course. I mean, Texas is fine, but it’s not Napa.”

  He sipped the wine without taking his eyes off her. “This is pretty good. In a few years, you might give us a run for our money.”

  “That’s the plan.” She looked up at him through her thick, dark lashes. “Coyote’s been good about sending me to other parts of the world to get ideas for our business. I’ve been to France and Italy a couple of times. Last February I went to Australia—I even met Greg Norman.”

  “I’m envious. I’ve always regretted missing that excursion Troy chartered to France a few years back. Sounds like everyone had a hell of a good time.” He shrugged.

  “But it coincided with my sister’s wedding—what can you do?”

  She nodded. “It was great fun. Laissez les bon temps roulez, as we say in Louisiana.”

  He stepped closer to her and pushed her dark curls away from her face, smelling her perfume. It reminded him of the Garden of Eden in New Orleans. “Maybe we can take a trip together one of these days.”

  “Maybe.” She kissed him lightly, tracing the outline of his lips with her tongue.

  He pulled her into his arms and tried to kiss her harder, but she pushed him away, laughing. “Dinner first.”

  “Of course.” He trailed the backs of his fingers along her collarbone and down to her cleavage. “With each bite, I’ll be thinking of how you taste.”

  * * *

  The veal turned out better than he’d expected, and Giselle praised his culinary skills lavishly. With only candlelight illuminating her face, she seemed to glow from within. Her skin shone like the moon, a pale, luminous gold, and her black eyes sparkled.

  She ate the last bite and crossed her knife and fork on her plate. “How’s Meditrina’s Morte Jaune problem?”

  “I think we’ve got it under control, for the moment at least. But we had to rip up a lot of vines to keep it from spreading.”

  “Have you figured out yet how it started?”

  Eli shook his head. “It’s not an airborne disease and you can’t just sprinkle it on the ground like rat poison. Someone had to plant infected vines among our healthy ones.”

  “Hmm. That seems to rule out tourists tramping through the vineyard with contaminated shoes, doesn’t it?”

  “I’d always suspected a competitor wanted to ruin us. That’s why I asked a botany professor at San Francisco State to study the disease. He compiled a report of all the vineyards in France where the Morte Jaune fungus is known to exist.” He set his plate aside and rested his elbows on the table. “Then someone ransacked my apartment and stole my computer, and those two French guys attacked me in San Francisco. Naturally my suspicion grew.”

  “Did the police ever arrest anyone?”

  “No, and they never arrested the two guys who tried to get me in New Orleans either.”

  “Were they the same men who assaulted you in San Francisco?”

  “I really can’t say. It happened so fast, I didn’t get a good look at them.”

  Giselle smiled at him. “I’m glad you weren’t hurt.”

  “Me too.” He poured the last of the Sangiovese into their glasses. “Morte Jaune can take three or four years to show up, so I went through Meditrina’s files to see when we had visitors from the French vineyards on my ‘diseased’ list. Interestingly, there were only a few during that time frame.”

  “Do you have enough info to pin it on one of them?”

  “Unfortunately, no. To accuse a competitor I’d have practically had to catch someone digging around in the vineyard in the dark of night.”

  She sipped her wine, watching him over the rim of the glass with her dark, luminous eyes. “But it’s certainly possible. I mean, Meditrina isn’t a walled fortress.

  Anybody who wanted to could get in and plant diseased vines.”

  “I’m also considering the possibility of an inside job,” Eli said. “Whoever did it had to have a motive, as well as means and opportunity. I’ve examined the employee records for the past four years trying to find a logical suspect, but so far I can’t finger anyone. The whole thing’s so damned confusing.”

  Giselle leaned across the table, which accentuated her cleavage, and took his hands in hers. “Why don’t we put work behind us for a while?”

  * * *

  The moon shone through the window, spilling its creamy light across Giselle’s full, round breasts with their erect purple tips. Eli sucked one nipple, then the other hungrily.

  “Harder,” she moaned beneath him and grabbed his stiff cock. He obliged. As she guided him into her hot, wet slit, he buried his face in her cleavage.

  “I want to fuck you ’til you can’t take it anymore, ’til you think you’ve died and gone to heaven,” he said, pumping her body so vigorously he worried that he might hurt her. But she wrapped her legs around his hips, pulling him into her, slamming her mound against his pubic bone.

  “Yes… oh, yes…”

  Her fingernails dug into his skin. She bit his neck. Placing his hands on her ass, he lifted her pelvis to gain better access. He plunged into her as if she were a fertile field he was plowing with his rod. Again and again he thrust, delving deeper each time.

  “Split me in two,” she growled as he rammed his cock in her with a force that brought her to a crashing orgasm. He almost lost it as she ground against him, howling her pleasure.

  “Don’t come yet,” she ordered, squeezing the base of his cock.

  He eased out of her, gasping. Giselle rolled over and presented her firm, round butt to him. “I want you to fuck me in the ass.”

  Not many women he’d known liked it this way. Giselle’s unabashed eagerness revved him into high gear. First he inserted his finger to gently open her. Tight, but yielding. He was already so wet with her fluids that he had no trouble entering.

  While he drove into her channel, she fingered her clit, uttering low, animal sounds. His balls slapped her buttocks. Moonlight washed her sweat-glistened back. He grabbed her breasts with both hands, pinching her hard nipples until she cried out, shuddering violently as she came. He couldn’t hold back any longer. Like a fire hose gushing, his cock convulsed, spurting its hot juice as wave after wave of ecstasy washed through him.

  She collapsed on her stomach and he lay down on top of her, completely drained, his heart pounding against her back. Moments later he fell asleep.

  * * *

  Sounds coming from the guest room, which also served as his home office, woke Eli. His first thought was, the thieves are back.

  He tossed off the sheet and grabbed the baseball bat he kept under the bed. Tiptoeing down the dark hall, he noticed a faint light emanating from his office. Quietly he stepped inside and switched on a lamp.

  Giselle stood at his desk, naked, aiming a small flashlight at an open file drawer.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  She snapped the flashlight off and faced him. “Looking for your Morte Jaune report.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m worried that Fortuna Vineyards might be infected. I need to know what you’ve discovered.”

  “That’s funny. When I asked Coyote if you’d had any problems with the fungus, he said no.”

  Giselle eyed the Louisville Slugger in his hand. “Shortly after I started working there, we expanded and planted twelve additional acres with
Vinifera vines. They came from one of the French vineyards that’s recently admitted to having Morte Jaune. ”

  “Coyote knows more about growing grapes than I ever will. If Fortuna’s vines were contaminated, he’d be aware of it.” Eli took a few steps toward her. “I thought your job was coordinating events, not field work.”

  “We’re trying really hard to make a name for ourselves in this business. That’s damned hard when you’re located in Texas.” She placed her hands on her hips and glared at him defiantly.

  God, she’s beautiful, he thought, letting his gaze roam over her lush body. “Why didn’t you just ask to see my research? I would’ve been happy to get copies for you.”

  “That would be great. Can we make them now?”

  Eli shook his head. “I don’t have the report here. I gave it to Troy.”

  Giselle slammed the desk drawer shut. Her body stiffened. A dark shadow passed over her lovely face, like a cloud crossing the moon. Under her breath she muttered,

  “Mon dieu.”

  Card 19: The Sun

  Giselle turned down Eli’s offer of banana-pecan pancakes for breakfast. Instead, she gulped a quick cup of black coffee and left his apartment, insisting she had a busy day ahead of her. She seems to be in a big hurry to get away from me, he thought. I don’t usually have that effect on women.

  He decided to make pancakes for himself anyway. He mashed a ripe banana in a bowl, then added milk, an egg, a box of pancake mix, and a handful of chopped pecans.

  As he dropped a dollop of batter on a hot skillet, the phone rang. Miranda’s name and number flashed on his caller ID.

  “Hi,” he said, pressing the receiver between his ear and shoulder to keep his hands free. “How’s it going?”

  “Good. Am I catching you at an okay time?”

  “Actually, I’m in the middle of making pancakes.”

  “Sorry, I forgot about the time difference. Why don’t you call me when it’s more convenient?”

  He flipped a golden-brown pancake. “Where are you?”