Anywhere but Here

Anywhere But Here by Debbie Mumford

Freya’s Bower.com ©2006 Culver City, CA

Anywhere But Here Copyright © 2008 by Debbie Mumford. All rights reserved. Cover illustration © 2008 Freya’s Bower. All rights reserved. Editor: Marci Baun

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, any place, events or occurrences, is purely coincidental. The characters and story lines are created from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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Anywhere But Here The tall, well-muscled man’s presence permeated Kelly’s tiny therapy room with an unsettling sense of possibility. He turned from the shelf where she displayed her lotions, aroma therapy candles and instrumental CDs, and her gaze swept quickly from head to toe. Dark hair, a little shaggy around the ears; broad chest covered by a black tee; narrow, jeans-clad hips. She reined in her galloping heart and focused on his eyes. Lord have mercy, she thought. No man should have eyes the color of sapphires! Definitely a prime specimen, the kind of man she dreamed of meeting -- anywhere but here. “Good morning, Mr. Griffin,” she said, her professional tone belied her racing pulse. “I see from your chart you’re experiencing some pain.” “My neck,” he agreed. “I pulled a muscle, but I hate taking drugs.” He grinned sheepishly, and Kelly’s heart somersaulted. Why did they have to meet here? If she’d bumped into him at the library or the grocery store, he’d have been fair game. But not here. Never here. She controlled a sigh and said in a steady voice, “I’ll concentrate on your neck and shoulders, then. Are you familiar with massage?” “No, but my sister swears by it, and well, anything to ease this pain.” He tried to shrug, but grimaced instead. She winced in sympathy, asked a few more questions about his general health, and then motioned to the massage table. It dominated the room with its crisp white sheets and lightweight beige blanket. “In a moment I’ll leave. Disrobe to your level of comfort and lie face down on the table. Cover up with the sheet and blanket and place your face in the cradle.” She indicated a padded, circular extension. “Try to relax. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” His whole body turned, following her movement as she crossed the compact room. She paused, hand on the doorknob, and gave him a confident smile. “Don’t worry, Mr. Griffin. You’ll feel better soon.” “Jim,” he said quietly. “My name is Jim.” “It’s nice to meet you, Jim.” Her heart threatened to explode as she turned the knob and escaped into the hall. Kelly closed the door firmly and leaned her head against its solid surface. This ethical test was overdue. She’d been practicing for over a year and had never once been attracted to a client. No way would she fail. She would not let her emotions rule. Eyes closed, she struggled to find the serenity with which she always approached clients. Several deep, cleansing breaths later, Kelly wrestled her attraction into a remote corner of her mind. Jim Griffin was suffering. She possessed the skill to ease his pain. Nothing else mattered. Centered and focused, she knocked on the door, asked if he was ready, and entered the therapy room. *** Several weeks, and many treatments later, Kelly wandered through the local farmer’s market, thinking of Jim. The man captivated her thoughts no matter where she went. Snippets of their conversations replayed in exacting detail. He ran a small landscaping business -- plants thrived in his presence. His parents lived back east, but his sister’s family lived here. He owned a dog. At least, he thought he did. Tales of Toby’s adventures had Kelly convinced that, in reality, Toby owned Jim. 5

She stepped into the shade of a potter’s booth, relieved to be out of the sun’s glare. Good thing she’d decided to wear shorts today. Her sleeveless knit top already clung damply, and it wasn’t even noon. She admired the hand-thrown pottery lining the booth’s shelves. A sapphire pitcher - just the color of Jim’s eyes -- beckoned to her. She lifted it from its shelf, enjoying its smooth, flawless glaze. Reasonably priced, too. She replaced the jug and moved away, still focused on its graceful lines. “Kelly?” Jim’s voice startled her, but not as much as the solid, furred warmth that pressed against her bare legs. She looked down into the tongue-lolling grin and liquid brown eyes of a huge yellow lab. “You must be Toby,” she said, caressing the dog’s velvet ears. Smiling, she met Jim’s gaze. “Hello, Jim. Isn’t it a perfect day?” “It is now.” The obvious admiration in his eyes, coupled with the husky rasp of his voice, sent a thrill of excitement skittering along her spine. Her pulse thrummed, sending a flush up her neck. “He’s a beautiful animal,” she said, squatting down to give Toby her full attention. Toby wriggled excitedly and expressed his delirium by bathing her face with a pungent, wet tongue. “Toby!” Jim yanked the dog away and stretched over to help Kelly to her feet. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “Here, use this.” He pulled an overlarge handkerchief from his pocket and made dabbing motions at her face, while trying to keep the excited dog from knocking them both over. Kelly laughed, took the handkerchief, and finished mopping Toby’s slobber from her cheek. “Miserable mutt,” he mumbled, “might’ve known you’d blow it.” When he had the exuberant animal under control, he nodded to the park behind the booths. “Shall we get out of the crowd?” They walked in companionable silence with Toby bounding at the end of his leash. Sunlight gleamed through the trees’ lacy green canopy, and flowers nodded in neatly trimmed beds Conspicuously aware of Jim’s interest, Kelly took a deep breath and blurted, “I’ve been wondering…could I move you to another therapist’s schedule?” He stopped and turned to face her, shocked disappointment clouding his eyes. “Why?” She flushed, looked away, took another deep breath and said, “Because I’m attracted to you, and I can’t ask you out while you’re my client.” A smile erased the disappointment, and his sapphire eyes sparkled. “In that case, don’t bother. The only reason I’ve been coming in so often was to see you.” Kelly laughed as Toby caught their mood and did his best to trip them with his leash. “Great,” she said. “You’re fired! How about lunch?”

6

Excerpt from Second Sight by Debbie Mumford A Freya’s Bower Paranormal Novel

Jenny glanced up when Zach strode through the door. His tall form filled the doorway and her world sparkled with possibility. At the same time, the book he carried called her tiger from bondage. The tiny hairs along the nape of her neck leapt to attention. She marshaled all her strength to push both terror and elation from her mind and rose to greet Zach. “Good morning, Zach,” she said, managing a polite smile. “Shall we start your translation now?” Zach studied her with a soul-piercing gaze. Her ego squirmed under his scrutiny, but her expression remained impassive—a practiced skill. Finally, he relented and shrugged his broad shoulders. “It’s up to you, Miss Murdoch. You had a bad reaction to the book yesterday.” He held up his hand to ward off objection. “I’m a psychic and a trained observer. The book upset you. If you’d prefer, I’ll take it elsewhere.” Jenny closed her eyes briefly, unable to bear the compassion written on his face. There had been little enough compassion in her life. Pity, yes, in abundance, but not compassion. She didn’t know how to deal with it. The tiger paced in the back of her mind, awaiting his opportunity. Ignoring impatient growls, she opened her eyes. “I discussed the situation with my uncle last night.” She mirrored Zach’s hand gesture to forestall interruption. “Don’t worry. He gave me permission to decline the project. However, I believe I can translate your document and I’d like to try.” “Where do you want to work? Here, or in the conference room?” “Let’s go to the conference room. The enclosed space minimizes distractions.” She nodded toward the wide front window and the pedestrians wending their way along the busy downtown street. They moved quietly down the hall and into the conference room. When they reached the massive mahogany table, he repeated his actions of the previous day, withdrawing and unwrapping the volume with an economy of effort. Jenny expected him to sit once the book had been exposed, but he didn’t. She had the uncomfortable feeling he wanted to be ready for any unexpected action on her part. He exuded a strange mixture of empathy and reserve. His presence disturbed her balance and she had to work to banish him from her mind and concentrate on the leather-bound book. Taking a moment to ground herself firmly in the here and now, Jenny drew on her white gloves, widened her stance and planted her navy pumps on the plush forest green carpeting. She gripped the back of the black leather client chair and basked in the room’s familiar psychic aura. Her surroundings oozed comfort, and the man beside her, though potentially distracting, radiated warmth and compassion. She accepted his support and added it to her defenses. Armor fully in place, she reached for the book. White clad fingers caressed the fine leather of the cover. She acknowledged the tiger’s agitated pacing but kept her attention focused on the runes. She’d never seen this type before, not in any text she’d studied, or in any of the obscure fragments her uncle’s friends had brought for scrutiny. She turned pages at random, stopping here and there to trace a rune with her index finger. Her finger hadn’t quite finished the journey across one particularly complex rune when she glanced up at Zach. She intended to tell him she couldn’t help, couldn’t find meaning in these symbols, but her finger completed the design and the tiger leapt free of his confined corner, bounded to the center of her mind and roared triumphantly.

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