 
Secrets of the Elusive Lover

Book 1

by

Mike Wells

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2011 Mike Wells

http://www.mikewellsbooks.com
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblances to persons living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.
Praise for Mike Wells' Secrets of the Elusive Lover

5 STARS! "I had planned to go to see a movie and made the mistake ? of reading a few pages of this book, then I was hopelessly hooked. Stayed up all night to see what was going to happen with Bethany and Adam...this book is so real, so honest, I loved every moment of it! I want more, more more!

5 STARS! Okay, I'll admit it publicly - I'm a fan of Mike Wells' writing. Regardless of the genre, his prose is clever, creative, and fresh. His stories are engaging, and his plots are original. Each time, I cannot put the book down. Secrets of the Elusive Lover features 38-year old Adam who hides his own insecurities while probing the insecurities of attractive young co-eds of the college town in which he lives. All goes well for Adam - and his Roster - until one day. Well, girls, haven't we all known at least ONE Adam in our lives? That wealthy, older, lover who drives a luxury car and amazes us with his kitchen *and* bedroom skills? Now he's exposed - read the thoughts, motivations, and comeuppance of this archetype Lover - as only Wells can construct.

5 STARS! The story is intriguing: on the surface it focuses on the idea of open relationships. At its heart, this is a book about judging people by your own standards and values, and the dangers and fascination of attempting to influence them to conform to your view of what they should be. Although the main conflict appears to be between Adam's concept of love and Bethany's, the real conflict comes from the two characters pulling at each other, trying to change each other to get the resolution they want. The conflict resolution is unexpected but extremely satisfying. All in all, a wonderful, funny, challenging exploration of the rules of romantic relationships!

5 STARS! Bethany is a sweet character and honestly I think she deserves better than Adam but I'm not sure. I liked the ending!!! Very original writing, I must say.

5 STARS! I have met a guy just like this Adam and it was nice to see the man get what was coming! Yum-yum. This book was good, really! I would highly recommend this one if you like messy relationship stories about guys and gals.

5 STARS! Read this in one long sitting. Awesome! I would love to read a sequel to this—please write one, Mike! I want more Adam and Bethany.

5 STARS! At first I thought I would not like this book because the main character, Adam, is such a disgusting womanizer, but then it kept giving me surprises, and how all these different girls reacted to him and dealt with him was something interesting—have to say I learned a thing or two from this book. Relationships are complicated and too painful! This book had a cool ending, I loved it!

BOOK 1

CHAPTER 1.1

Adam knew she was his "mark" the instant she walked into the bookstore. Wild mane of curly blonde hair, torn jeans, sandals, T-shirt, and one of those colorful African bags slung over her shoulder.

He watched breathlessly as she walked up to the clerk at the special order desk and asked a question. The man told her something and motioned in Adam's direction.

Adam immediately ducked his head behind the book he was reading so she wouldn't notice him. He waited a few seconds, then peeked over the top of his book and watched her walk over to the New Age section...

Yes, he thought, his heartbeat quickening.

She began to thumb through a book on astrology. The New Age section was directly below Adam's table in the cafe, affording him a clear view of everything, including the cleavage of those wonderful women who chose to wear low-cut tops. The girl picked up another book, an astrological cookbook. Adam couldn't read the title from where he was sitting, but he knew the order of the books in that section. And he recognized the cover art: Sagittarius.

She browsed through the book for a couple of minutes, then replaced it on the shelf and removed a Sagittarius volume from another collection.

Good.

Adam watched as she picked up books on the Tarot cards, Runes, palmistry, the I-Ching...

Yes, yes, yes.

She was perfect! An inquisitive learner, a crop ready to reap. And her body! Petite, but exquisitely curvy. He would have to tear off those baggy jeans and her T-shirt to know for sure. But his instincts told him he would have to work for this one.

He shut his dog-eared copy of _The Modern Tarot_. Making certain that she didn't notice him rise, Adam quietly made his way downstairs and to the front of the store. He checked his blue work shirt (which accentuated his blue eyes perfectly) in the reflection of one of the windows. He wanted to make sure the collar was open wide enough so that his Tamuwah Stone, which hung from a black leather strap around his neck, was clearly visible. He forced himself to relax for a few seconds, then walked over to the shelves where she was browsing.

She barely glanced at him. He gave her a friendly smile and began to scan the shelves beside her as if he were looking for a certain book. She was wearing some kind of essential oil...rose hips? Very nice. How he loved these second-generation hippie chicks! He watched out of the corner of his eye as she picked up a book on Zen meditation. Oh, she was so eager to learn! And Adam had _so_ much to teach her...

He squatted, moving a little closer, pretending to search the bottom row of shelves.

"Damn!" he said.

She glanced over at him.

"You haven't seen any books on Tamuwah, have you?"

"Tamu-wah?" she asked, a little awkwardly.

"Tamuwah stones." Adam reached up to his necklace and held the stone out so she could see it. "They're magic stones, from Africa." Her pretty green eyes focused on it, and he made sure he moved it back and forth a little bit that so she would see the rainbow hologram inside.

"That's pretty cool," she said.

Adam looked back at the bookshelves, shaking his head. "Man, that pisses me off. They ordered me a copy of a book written by the shaman who makes the stones, but they must have sold it to somebody else by mistake. The publisher is in Africa, too, and it takes three months to get a copy."

"Oh," she said sympathetically. Her eyes were drawn back to the stone. This was the critical juncture. Would she go for the bait?

"What's magic about it?" she asked.

Adam smiled inside. "It's a wish-fulfillment stone. It'll give you anything you want, if you use the proper meditation techniques. That's what's in the book. I had a Xerox of it, but I lost it."

She nodded, but looked skeptical. "Does it really work?"

"Oh, it definitely works." Adam chuckled and gave her his best grin. "Sometimes too well. You know the old saying, 'You better watch out what you wish for, because you just might get it?'"

"Yeah."

"When you use one of these things," he said, letting the stone drop back against his chest, "you really get to know what it means."

"Where did you get it?"

"In Africa. I went there last year on a spiritual retreat."

"Hm," she said, looking impressed.

Of course, what Adam had told her was a lie, along with practically everything else. But it was for a good cause. He stole a glance at her smooth, delicate neck. A _very_ good cause.

"If you're interested," he said, "I might be able to get you one."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I still have the address of the shop in Mali that sells them, and I've gotten a few for my friends. The shaman, the one who makes them, lives at the top of a mountain there." Adam had no idea if there were mountains in Mali or not, but he was confident that she had no idea, either.

"Are they very expensive?"

"No, not really. This one only cost me thirty bucks."

"That's not much." He could already see her tallying up her financial resources, which he was certain were practically nil. But of course, she wouldn't need them. He had a half dozen more Tamuwah stones at home, and he would simply give her one, at the appropriate time.

He leaned forward and inspected her face more closely.

"What's wrong," she said, looking self-conscious.

"Let me guess. You're a...Sagittarius?"

"Yes," she said, blushing a little. "How did you know?"

Adam shrugged. "It's pretty obvious. Sages are the great adventurers of the universe. The sign is ruled by Jupiter, which has to do with expansion, growth, development of higher consciousness...it's in your eyes."

"Oh." She smiled in a way that told him he had touched the right spot.

Adam debated only a split-second, then decided to proceed to the next level. There was a chance it was too soon, but other parts of his body had begun to interfere with his ability to think clearly.

"Where's your North Node?" he asked.

"My what?"

"Your North Node—it's part of your astrological chart."

"Oh. I haven't had my chart done yet."

"You haven't?" Adam said, incredulously. "You really need to have it done."

"I know, but I can't afford it right now. I'm in school."

"Oh. Well, I do charts on the side, kind of as a hobby. I could do yours for you, if you want."

She looked as if she were suddenly aware that he might be coming on to her. "That's okay," she said, backing away from him a little bit.

Take it easy, Adam. Be cool.

"It's no big deal," he said, turning back to the bookshelves. "I have a computer program that prints them out—it just takes a couple of minutes." Adam picked up a book on astral projection and thumbed through it, trying to appear casual. "You have to know your exact time of birth, though." As he flipped through the book, he could feel her sizing him up.

She said, "I'm not sure what time I was born."

"It's usually on your birth certificate, if you have a copy." Adam fought the temptation to look at her again.

She was quiet for a few long seconds. "What does the North Node mean?"

"It's calculated from the position of the moon. Every astrological chart has a North Node and a South Node—the South Node tells where you're coming from, karmically speaking, and the North Node tells where you're headed, in this lifetime. It tells you the main lesson that you have to learn while you're here."

CHAPTER 1.2

Fifteen minutes later, they were sitting upstairs in the café, sipping cappuccinos at the same table Adam had been sitting at before.

Her name was Bethany, she was 19 years old (he had calculated from her birth date), and was a sophomore at Kensington, majoring in philosophy (what else?). She had not mentioned having a boyfriend, which, in Adam's experience, meant that she either didn't have one or wasn't happy with the one she had. Fortunately, she hadn't asked how old he was, not that he would have hesitated to lie about that, too. He was 38, something he tried to hide from his "marks," who were always under 25 and often under 20 (women much older than that were too savvy for the whole routine). He usually told them he was 33. In addition to the obvious Biblical overtones, there was a nice symmetry to this number (not that he really believed in numerology or any of the rest of this New Age nonsense). Because he stayed in shape and had a baby face, they never questioned it.

When she asked him what he did for a living, he explained that after graduating from Kensington with a degree in business, he had opened a computer store on a shoestring, grew it for several years, then sold it to ComputerWorld at a big profit, which he then invested in stocks and bonds to provide himself with a comfortable living so that he could devote all of his time to "exploring himself." This was all true, except the last bit—it wasn't only himself that he was exploring.

The talk eventually turned to the Tamuwah Stone, as he knew it would. She wanted to know exactly how it worked.

"Have you ever held a magnifying glass in the sun and burned a hole in a piece of paper?"

"Yeah, of course. When I was a kid."

Adam tried not to smile at this remark. "Well, it works like that, using the principle of _focus_. A magnifying glass focuses light waves into a single, intense point of energy so powerful it can burn through things." He held the Tamuwah Stone away from his neck and turned it from side to side again. "This works the same way, except that instead of focusing light waves, it focuses _thought_ waves. So whatever you think about—your wish—gets magnified and focused into a single, powerful point of psychic energy."

"Interesting," she said. "How does it do that?"

Adam smiled. "I guess no one knows that but the shaman who makes them."

"So how do you use it? Just look at it and think about what you want?"

"You can do that, but it works a lot better if you repeat your wish over and over again in conjunction with certain mantras. You know what a mantra is, right?"

"Yeah," she said, though a little uncertainly. "It's a word you say over and over when you meditate, right?"

"Exactly. The shaman has about fifty in his book, and which one you use depends on what you're wishing for. Like if you want a lover, you use one set of mantras, or if you want a physical object, you use another set. They create special thought-energy patterns that are in tune with the stone and magnify your fulfillment wish even further."

She nodded, then gave Adam a curious smile, revealing a couple of dimples that made his heart ache. "So, what are some of the things you've wished for?"

"Well, when I first got it, I had been trying to sell my business for almost two years, but nobody seemed interested. A week after I started using it, ComputerWorld called. Six weeks later, it was a done deal."

She appeared to be skeptical. "It could have just been a coincidence, couldn't it?"

"That's exactly what I thought, until I wished for the next thing."

"What was that?"

"I had some money from the sale, not a fortune, but enough to make an okay living from it if I spent a lot of time investing it wisely. The only problem was, I didn't _want_ to spend a lot of time investing it wisely—I wanted to put into something and make a fortune fast, so I would be free to pursue other things. So, I wished for that on the Tamuwah Stone. A week later, I was having lunch—" he pointed to a nearby table "—right over there, in fact, and this guy in a three-piece suit asked if he could sit down with me because it was so crowded. When he found out I had owned a computer store, he started telling me about this nanotechnology company in California that he was investing in. Well, to make a long story short, I ended up investing some of my money in it, too—five thousand dollars, to be exact—and a year and a half later, when it went public, I got back over a quarter of a million."

Her eyes got big for a few seconds, but then her doubtful expression returned. "That could have been a coincidence, too."

"Yeah. And everything else I've gotten with my Tamuwah Stone could have been a coincidence." Adam chuckled. "See, that's what makes this thing so powerful, and, what makes me believe in it. It's really not magic, not in the sense that most people think of it. The things you wish for don't just appear out of thin air—you have to work for them, at least a little bit. All the stone does is line things up for you, so to speak, so you have the opportunity. Once that happens, it's up to you to take advantage of it." He motioned to the nearby table again. "When that guy told me about the company in California, I could have just said "oh, that's nice' and done nothing, and nothing would have happened. You have to work for what you wish for. And you have to take some risks."

Bethany nodded, and though she still looked like she was trying to maintain her objectivity, Adam could tell he was swaying her. It wasn't surprising, really. The stories were true, and they had a ring of authenticity when he told them, even though he was certain that the Tamuwah Stone played no role in them whatsoever. He had wished on the stone for a few things that had come true, but it was only when he was alone in front of his bedroom mirror, gloating over the girl he had just seduced with it. Still, the fact that he had used it, even in jest, eased his conscience a little bit.

Bethany took a sip of her cappuccino and gazed at the stone again. "Well, I have to admit, it's intriguing."

Adam nodded. "And you're right. It may well just be coincidence. All I know is that before I got the Tamuwah Stone and started using it, I was struggling to make a living from my little computer store. Now, I'm completely financially secure and do whatever I want all day long, every day."

"That's impressive, I have to admit."

Adam shrugged, then glanced at his watch. "Well, it's almost time for my afternoon nap."

She laughed.

He briefly pined over her dimples again, then scribbled his land line number down on a napkin and handed it to her. "If you find out the exact time you were born and call me, I'll do your chart for you."

* * *

After Adam got home, he went downstairs to his office and checked the messages on his answering machine. There was only one. After he punched the PLAY button, he automatically turned up the volume, which he always kept completely off.

"Hi, Adam, this is Gretchen. I just found out I have to work late tomorrow night and was wondering if we could do something tonight instead. Call me. Bye. Oh, have you heard _anything_ from that shop in Africa yet? It's been an awfully long time..."

Adam sighed. He hated it when the girls tried to deviate from their regular schedules. This time it was okay, though, because Jill had called earlier and canceled their plans because she was sick.

He went back upstairs and into his bedroom, dreading changing the sheets on his bed again. He had four sets, one for himself and three for the three girls on his "Roster," as he thought of it. Shortly after he had begun his Cosmic Casanova routine, he learned that women are hyper-perceptive when it comes to detecting the presence of other females—they have noses like bloodhounds, eyes like hawks, and ears that can hear through concrete walls and across vast distances.

Most of his girls wore perfume or essential oil, which he liked, but the bed sheets and pillowcases absorbed the fragrances and had to be constantly changed and hidden. The girls also had a habit of leaving telltale articles behind—books, socks, pens, hair bands, toothbrushes—you name it, which also had to be hidden and then un-hidden at the appropriate times. He believed this was intentional on their part, even if only on an unconscious level, either to ensure that they would see him again, or to mark their "territory" much in the manner of canines to ward off trespassers. Perhaps both. Then, there were the more subtle clues that required never-ending vigilance—checking the garbage cans for incriminating debris like Tampon wrappers, chewing gum, lipstick-smeared facial tissues, and so on; making sure the answering machine volume was always turned down so the "current girl" (his mental term for the one who was currently in his house) wouldn't hear the others calling; keeping his appointment book hidden from curious eyes at all times. Managing this "Rotation Procedure" was so complex that he had to use a written checklist to make sure he covered all the bases. It was typed on a small, laminated square of paper that he kept in his wallet. He was forever fearful that he would leave it laying out somewhere to be discovered.

It was all a lot of work, but it was worthwhile. His girls brought him an endless source of pleasure and delight.

The only kink that he hadn't worked out of his system was what he thought of has the Hair Problem. No matter how careful he was about adhering to the checklist, the girls invariably discovered a strand of hair somewhere around his house that was different from his and their own. He dreaded that moment even more than the dreaded moment when he would drop them from the Roster—the awful, sinking feeling he would get in the pit of his stomach when the girl would slowly raise her hand, the offending tendril pinched between her thumb and forefinger, and say, "What's this?" or "Hmmm..." or "Isn't _this_ interesting?" He would bumble his way through some explanation, either blaming it on the maid service or his nameless "ex-girlfriend," but they never quite believed him. Of course, this was usually the beginning of the end for them. For a while, he had tried using a small, cordless vacuum cleaner around the bathroom and the hot tub, which is where the Hair Problem most often manifested itself. Lately, however, he had decided that the Hair Problem was beyond any practical solution. He had adopted a philosophical acceptance of it—perhaps it was Nature's way of weeding out the girls who had become too nosy or possessive.

Even though he loved his lifestyle, there were times when he would become almost overwhelmed by guilt—usually after one of the girls had left the house and he started his cleanup routine—but he always talked himself out of it. Why should he feel guilty? As far as he could tell, all women—even the so-called "liberated" hippie chicks—were ultimately after one thing: finding a husband. And they would do anything to get one—lie, manipulate, coerce, whatever it took. Until Adam had sold his business, he had played the game their way, and he had been burned three times in a row. First, by the girl he dated during college, then by the girl he had dated during his first and only job, then by the girl who had helped him start his computer store. All three of them had pressured him into proposing to them. In the end, all three of them had dumped him and married someone else, claiming that he was too self-absorbed or career-minded or independent for them. Well, to hell with _all_ of them. He didn't need anyone, especially now that he was wealthy, and they could all go fuck themselves.

He tore Cassandra's sheets off the bed, and as he hid them in the closet, he smelled them. Sandalwood. At least the hippie chicks pretended they weren't husband-hunting. He supposed that was part of the reason he was attracted to them.

When he finished putting Gretchen's sheets on the bed, he took off his necklace and gazed at the Tamuwah Stone. "You did just fine today, just fine." he quietly told it.

He picked up the phone to call Gretchen.

* * *

Bethany was sitting at her desk in her dorm room, trying to concentrate on the reading assignment for her logic class, when her roommate bounced in.

"Hi," Terri said, tossing off her jacket. "How's it going?"

"So-so," Bethany said. She slipped Adam's phone number under her textbook before Terri had a chance to glimpse it—the girl didn't miss a _thing_.

Terri peered over Bethany's shoulder at the logic textbook. "That stuff looks like Greek to me."

"It _is_ Greek," Bethany said, annoyed. Terri wasn't the brightest girl on campus, but Bethany thought she should be smart enough to at least recognize Greek characters—she practically lived at the fraternity houses.

"Are you going to study all night?" Terri asked.

"I don't know. Probably." Bethany was considering calling Adam—she had already found out the time she was born from her birth certificate—but she couldn't make up her mind. Even though he had acted very casual, her instincts told her that he was interested in her, and she wasn't sure she wanted to get involved with him. Or anyone, for that matter.

She wished Leslie had been at home. Bethany had tried to call her several times, but one of Leslie's roommates said she was 'out' and didn't know when she would be back. Now, Bethany's long distance card didn't have enough money left on it to call again. It was expensive to call Michigan. God, how she missed Leslie! Why couldn't she have stayed on at Kensington? It wasn't _that_ bad.

"The Sigma Chi's are having a party tonight," Terri said, jarring Bethany out of her thoughts. "Why don't you come?"

Bethany only rolled her eyes. Terri knew better than that.

"Come on, Beth, you're never going to meet anybody just sitting here in the room."

Bethany turned around and faced Terri. "Who said I wanted to meet anybody?"

" _Everybody_ wants to meet somebody, Beth."

That was one aspect of Terri that Bethany detested—the girl's entire life revolved around guys. Bethany glanced past her, at Terri's side of the room. The two girls could not have been more opposite. The wall behind Terri's desk was plastered with photos from the endless fraternity-sorority swap parties she attended. A half-dozen stuffed animals were always scattered aimlessly about her pillow, as if to protect her. Proudly displayed on her windowsill were her high school cheerleader pompoms, which were beginning to look a bit faded. And to top off this scintillating show of sophistication was Terri's _Best Buns of the Year_ male pinup calendar, which was prominently displayed on the wall above her bed.

In contrast, Bethany's side of the room was neatly organized and, in her opinion, much more tastefully and simply decorated. Her wall sported only one poster, an artist's rendering of a beautiful temple in Tibet. An incense burner, crafted in the shape of Buddha, serenely sat in the center of her windowsill. After seeing Terri's pinup calendar, Bethany had bought one of her own which she felt helped balanced things out. It was called _Power Spots_. Tacked to her closet door, it was now open to a photograph of the mountain at the center of Maui, the power spot for the month of October.

Bethany turned back to her textbook, hoping Terri would leave her alone. She tried again to concentrate on her reading assignment. She soon felt Terri's hand on her shoulder.

"Beth, I know you're unhappy."

"I'm not unhappy," Bethany said defensively, but her voice defied her. She didn't know if she could stand another semester at Kensington. It was just too conservative for her. Since Leslie had left, she couldn't seem to find anyone with whom she had anything in common.

"I'll bet you'd like it here better if you had a boyfriend."

"Maybe," Bethany said, just to get Terri off her back.

"Then why don't you come with me tonight? You might meet somebody."

"I don't want to meet anyone at a frat house, Terri."

"Well, where else are you going to meet one?"

"Off campus," she said, thinking of Adam.

"Off campus?" Terri echoed, as if the words themselves had a foul taste.

"Yeah. I met a guy today at Hoffmeyer Bookstore."

"Really?" All at once, Terri was excited. She hopped on Bethany's bed and crossed her shapely cheerleader legs Indian-fashion. "Tell me all the juicy details."

"There are no juicy details," Bethany said, aware that her cheeks were hot "He's just a guy, that's all."

"Is he a student?"

"No." Bethany hesitated. "He's out of school. He's older."

"Oh. How old?"

"I don't know, thirty-something. I didn't ask him. Age isn't that important to me."

Terri's face had gone slack.

"What's the matter?" Bethany said irritably.

"Nothing."

Bethany sighed. She wished she could talk to Leslie about Adam—Leslie would understand. "Terri, you don't like it because he's not a college fraternity boy."

"That's not true. And what's wrong with college fraternity boys, anyway?"

"They're immature, that's what. All they want to do is get you over to their frat house and...you know."

Terri's face flushed. "You're so _prejudiced_ , Bethany. You say we're the snobs, but _you're_ the one who's a snob."

Bethany just shook her head and went back to her studying. "Can we not have this discussion now? I have to finish this chapter by tomorrow."

Terri watched her for a moment, then got up and gave her a big hug from behind. "I'm sorry, Beth. Tell me about him. I really want to know."

Bethany warmed up a little bit, but she didn't quite trust Terri. Still, if she couldn't talk to Leslie about it, she needed to talk to somebody. "You promise you won't criticize?"

"I promise." Terri's brown eyes sparkled with anticipation. "Just tell me. What does he look like?"

Bethany remembered Adam clearly, sitting across from her at the table in the café. "He's tall, in good shape."

"How tall?"

"I don't know. Six-one or six-two I guess. He's got a really cute smile, and blue eyes. Deep blue."

"Does he have a nice butt?"

" _Terri_ ," Bethany said, blushing again.

"Well, does he?"

" _Yes_ ," Bethany said, flustered. She glanced behind Terri, at the _Best Buns_ calendar. "Is that all you think about?"

" _Yes_ ," Terri said, imitating her. "What does he do? Where does he work?"

"He doesn't work."

Terri's face went slack again, but she quickly raised her hands in the air and said, "I'm not saying word."

"He's _retired_ , Terri."

Terri's eyes widened. "How old did you say this guy was?"

Bethany laughed. "Don't worry, he's not in a wheelchair. He owned a business and sold it and made a lot of money. He doesn't have to work anymore, he just manages his investments."

"That's pretty cool." Terri paused. "If it's true."

"It's true, Terri."

"Well, how do you know? You can't believe everything some guy you meet in a bookstore tells you."

"Oh, I see. But you can believe everything some guy at a frat house tells you."

"I didn't say that. You can't believe _anything_ that _any_ guy tells you. They're all the same, in that way."

"Now who's prejudiced, Terri?"

"I'm not prejudiced, I'm just...cautious. You have to be careful these days, Beth."

"I know," Bethany said, feeling a twinge of guilt. "But I think he's okay." The truth was, there was something about Adam that bothered her, but she couldn't really put her finger on it. He just seemed a little bit too...smooth. That was the word. But there was something else behind his deep blue eyes, something that she found warm and comforting.

"So are you going to hook up with him, or what?"

Bethany picked up her book and gazed at the phone number on the napkin. "I'm supposed to call him and give him my birth time. He's going to do my astrological chart for me."

"Wow. He's into that stuff, too, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Well, that's good. It's good to have something in common like that."

Bethany nodded, not knowing what else to say. Terri was quiet for a moment, but she looked like she wanted to ask something else.

"What is it?" Bethany said.

"I was wondering...do you think he would do my chart, too?"

Bethany glanced at Terri's cheerleader legs again. "I'll ask him," she said, but she had no intention of doing any such thing.

CHAPTER 1.3

Adam collapsed on top of Gretchen, drenched in sweat. They lay still for a few minutes, catching their breath, Adam enjoying nuzzling his face against her heaving breasts. She was a voluptuous redhead, quite different from Jill, who was tall and slender with short black hair cut like a figure skater's, and Cassandra, his third girl, a slightly pear-shaped, wide-hipped beauty with long, naturally wavy auburn hair. But then, they were all different, which was what made it all so wonderful.

Big breasts or not, however, if things worked out with Bethany, Gretchen would definitely be the one to go. She had grown increasingly pushy about the two of them spending more time together, as well as getting her own Tamuwah Stone.

Knowing that it might be the last time they were together, Adam gave each of Gretchen's nipples a long, sensuous kiss. He sat up in the bed and glanced at the clock. It was after ten.

"Gotta get going," he said.

"Ohhhh," she cooed disappointedly, already worked up from his kisses. "Why?"

"There are some stocks I need to check out today." The truth was, he wanted her to leave so he could go downstairs and check the answering machine to see if Bethany had called.

"Do you have time to do a Tarot reading for me?"

Adam hesitated. "I have a lot of work to do today, Gretchen."

"Please? I'm having so much trouble decided whether or not to take this new job."

Adam agreed, though this would be a _very_ quick reading. He felt sorry for Gretchen, because she seemed completely unable to make even the simplest decision without consulting Tarot cards or some other kind of oracle. Adam always wanted to help his girls with their problems as much as possible—he found this immensely rewarding, in addition to the more corporeal benefits of the relationships. But he also knew that people can't be helped unless they truly want to help themselves, and to change themselves. Gretchen didn't seem to want do that. It seemed to Adam that she wanted only to be "rescued"—she wanted someone else to step in and take care of all her problems for her. And from what Adam had learned, Gretchen's mother was exactly the same way, always in and out of mental hospitals, suffering from various forms of depression, attempting suicide, always creating some big crisis with all the other family members rushing to save her.

One ongoing problem of Gretchen's was fighting off men who tried to coerce her into sleeping with them. She was a secretary at a large law firm, and one of the partners was constantly pressuring her to sleep with him. He was married, an older, balding man that Gretchen found "disgusting." Now, she had gotten an offer for a better job, with higher pay and more responsibility—an office manager position for a small accounting firm. But she was afraid she would have the same problem with the owner, who was also married, with three kids. He hadn't actually made a pass at her, but Gretchen said she "had a feeling" he would as soon as she started working for him.

To speed the Tarot reading up, Adam pulled out one of his smaller decks that were more suited to her physical size—Gretchen had tiny hands and tended to be a slow and clumsy shuffler with the bigger decks.

When she finally completed the process, he laid out the cards and interpreted their meanings. It was all very clear, at least to Adam—she should take the new job and stand up to the owner and refuse to sleep with him.

"But what if he fires me?" Gretchen whined. "Then I'll be stuck. I won't be able to get my old job back."

"Then sue him for sexual harassment. You must know a lot of lawyers now. Ask for a million dollars and then you can retire, like me."

"Very funny," Gretchen said, with an exaggerated frown. When she did this, her mouth turned down and gave her a pouting, hurt little girl look. It was one of those looks that Adam loved and loathed at the same time. She had those swollen "bee sting" lips that the movie stars got using some kind of injections, only Gretchen's were natural. Actually, Adam considered them her best asset, her voluptuousness notwithstanding. And at the moment, the sight of those lips made him feel like peeling her panties off and having his way with her one more time.

But he was more interested in finding out if Bethany had called.

"You'll figure out what to do, Gretchen. Just trust your instincts." He wanted to add "for a change," but resisted the urge.

While Adam got up and put on his sweatpants, she made her pouting face again. He knew she was just trying to make him feel sorry for her, to manipulate him into letting her stay a little longer. When he moved towards the hallway and she realized he wasn't going to fall for it, she said, "Do you mind if I take a shower?"

"Help yourself." Adam stepped back over to her and kissed her forehead. "But I really have a lot of work to do today." This repetition was a subtle message, or perhaps not-so-subtle message, that he _really_ wanted her to leave. He hoped she understood it.

Apparently she did. She resignedly got up and went into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. As soon as Adam heard the water running, he slipped downstairs and checked his answering machine.

There were messages from Jill and Cassandra, but none from Bethany.

"Damn," he said. When he was halfway back up the stairs, the phone started ringing. He hesitated, making sure he could still hear water running, and then went back down the stairs. He only had the one telephone in his house, downstairs on his desk, next to the answering machine. It was clearly not in a convenient location, but it gave him a good excuse not to answer it when a girl was over. He avoided giving any of his girls his cell number.

Adam picked up the phone just before the answering machine did.

"Adam?" a female voice said.

"Yeah?" he said guardedly—the caller ID was blank. He never tried to guess which girl was calling, even if he thought he recognized the voice—it was too risky.

"Hi, this is Bethany."

"Hi, Bethany," he said, cranking up his enthusiasm. "How are you?"

"I'm fine. Um, I just wanted to let you know I found out my birth time."

"Great." Adam reached for a pen, then changed his mind and turned on his computer. "Hold on a sec and I'll type it into the computer right now." He cradled the phone against his shoulder and revved up the astrology software package. A menu appeared with an alphabetical list of charts that were already stored in memory:

Allison, Abby, Barb, Debra, Diana, Dee, Carol, Catheline,...

Adam smiled. The list was beginning to look like those displays of personalized ID bracelets they sold at the beach.

He opened a new file and typed in Bethany's name, followed by her birth date and birthplace, which she had already told him.

"Okay, go ahead," he told her.

"I was born at 4:23 in the morning."

"So you're an early bird," Adam said, as he typed it in.

"Is that what it means?"

"It can. You get up early the first day, and you just keep getting up early the rest of your life."

Bethany laughed. "Well, you just shattered my faith in astrology. I'm not capable of even tying my shoes before ten."

"Me neither, and I was born at two in the morning." Adam paused, thinking about how to phrase the next question. "I'll have this done today." He gripped the phone a little tighter. "When do you want to get together?"

"Oh...I don't know...when would be convenient for you?"

He didn't like her choice of words—it sounded too businesslike. "Well, I don't have any plans tonight. If you want, we could meet—"

There were footsteps coming down the stairs.

_Gretchen! Oh shit!_ He was so excited about Bethany he had completely forgotten about Gretchen.

"Hello?" Bethany said.

"Hold on," Adam said, and covered up the mouthpiece with his hand. He swiveled around in his chair. Gretchen was standing in the doorway, wrapped in a towel, her long, fire-orange hair dripping wet.

She eyed him suspiciously, then stepped into the room. "Who are you talking to?"

"Nobody. What is it?" Adam sounded more peeved than he had meant to.

"I just wanted to know if you have some shampoo..." Gretchen's eyes had focused on the computer screen. Adam turned around and quickly closed the file showing Bethany's birth chart data. He immediately wished he hadn't—when that file disappeared, it revealed the program's main menu, which showed the long list of girl's names.

Adam covered the phone's mouthpiece again and looked back at her. "What do you _want_?"

"Nothing," Gretchen said, her eyes filling with tears. She turned and ran up the stairs.

Adam sighed. _Great_. He composed himself for a couple of seconds, then uncovered the mouthpiece. "Sorry about that. Uh, let's see...we were talking about when we can get together."

"Is anything wrong?" Bethany asked.

"No, no. My next door neighbor was over here using the shower. Her water line broke yesterday."

"Oh."

Adam thought he detected some skepticism in her tone. "So, what I was about to say was, how about getting together tonight?"

"Well...I guess that would be all right. I have a test tomorrow, so I couldn't spend very much time..."

"I understand. How about eight?"

"That will work for me. Where do you want to meet?"

Before Gretchen had interrupted him, he was going to suggest that Bethany come over to his house, but now he knew he should revert to Plan B. The interruption had raised some doubts in Bethany's mind, Adam was certain. But Plan B usually worked.

He said, "How about meeting at the bookstore again? We can go up to the café."

"That sounds good."

They said their goodbyes and hung up. Adam went back upstairs and looked for Gretchen, but she had already left.

He felt badly for a few minutes, but then decided it didn't matter. He was going to remove Gretchen from the Roster, anyway, sooner or later.

CHAPTER 1.4

At 7:55 that evening, Adam was sitting in his Porsche in front of the entrance of Hoffmeyer Bookstore, watching the lights inside wink out, section by section. He had known the bookstore closed at eight. This was a key part of Plan B, and why it usually bore fruit.

After a couple of minutes, a red Toyota pulled up two spaces down. He knew it was Bethany's, because he had watched her drive away in it the day before. Adam got out of his car.

Bethany glanced at the darkened bookstore and rolled down her window

"Sorry about that," Adam said. "I thought they were open until ten."

"Well, where do you want to go?"

Adam looked up and down the street, pretending to think it over. He knew there were no other cafes or casual spots nearby where they could just drink coffee and talk. "Hmmm...I can't think of anywhere else to go around here, except maybe McDonald's." Since Bethany was already twenty minutes away from campus and from out of town, Adam doubted she knew anywhere else to go, either. He shrugged casually. "We could go over to my house, if you want. It's only five minutes from here."

She gave him a wary look. "I don't think so."

"Oh. I get it. You think I'm trying to make a move on you."

"No, it's not that. I'm just being careful." Even in the dim light, he could see that she was blushing.

"Well, to be honest, I _am_ trying to make a move on you."

Bethany seemed taken aback by his straightforwardness.

"I'm not going to lie to you, Bethany. I think you're very beautiful, and very intelligent." Adam shrugged again. "It would be nice to be alone with you so we could get to know each other better."

Now Bethany's face turned such a deep shade of crimson that, in the dim light, she looked like she had a tan. "I'm...flattered, but...I just don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not?"

"Because. I don't know you."

"You know me well enough to listen to my interpretation of your astrological chart."

"Yeah. So?"

"Well, I think that's interesting. An astrological reading is a very personal thing, very intimate—you have to make your inner self vulnerable to the reader. I'll admit, from your point of view, coming over to my house might be risky, but that would be risking your _outer_ self. Which part of you do you think is more important?"

Bethany smiled. "I see your point, but I'm still not going over to your house."

"Okay, that's fine. If you want to have your astrological reading done at a McDonald's, it's all right with me."

CHAPTER 1.5

It only took another few minutes for Adam to manipulate Bethany into coming over to his house. He finally won her over with the "You look plenty strong enough to take care of yourself" ploy, though it was clear to him from the very beginning that she wanted to be talked into it. Tonight, Adam noticed that she was wearing a little makeup and some nail polish, something girls didn't go to the trouble of doing just to have their horoscopes read.

Bethany entered the front door of Adam's house cautiously, as if she expected to see an S&M torture chamber, or thought that someone might leap out from behind the door and smother her with a chloroform-soaked handkerchief. But there were no torture chambers or deranged accomplices—just the foyer that led to Adam's living room.

"Wow," Bethany said. "This is beautiful." The contemporary, three-bedroom home was not huge by any means, but the design was unusual, and Adam was proud of it. The interior was done entirely in natural wood, which gave the house a sort of "Colorado ski lodge" feeling, as one of his girls described it. And there were only a few interior walls, allowing you to see from one room into the next, creating the illusion of expansiveness.

As he led Bethany into the living room, she asked, "What's that smell...is it all the wood?"

"Yeah," Adam said. "It's all California cedar. I've always loved the smell of cedar."

"Me too." The living room had a vaulted ceiling, and three of the walls were nothing but glass. The house was built on stilts, on the side of a forest-covered hill. The living room level with the tops of the maple and oak trees that surrounded it.

When Bethany stepped over to one of the windows, Adam took the opportunity to impress her by flipping on the exterior lights. When he did this, she gasped. All the leaves were illuminated and the room was bathed in a tranquil, earthy hues.

"Gosh, it feels like you're in a tree house," she said. "It's so peaceful."

"Yeah. But in the winter, when the leaves are gone, you can see for miles and miles." Adam smiled. "I like variety."

Bethany glanced at him, seeming to note the double-entendre.

She looked around the room, taking note of the massive stereo system and big-screen TV. Before she arrived, Adam had turned on the stereo to create the desired atmosphere. Some enlightened-sounding New Age music was playing, though not too loudly—he didn't want to drown out his own voice as he did the reading. He often burned incense, too, but never on the first visit. It tended to overpower the smell of cedar, which always seemed to impress the girls.

Adam motioned to the couch. "Have a seat."

It was a sectional sofa, arranged in a U-shape around a large coffee table so that each section faced a window. Bethany hesitated, then sat down on one end. Adam sat down beside her, but not too close.

She glanced at a large picture that hung over the fireplace. It was an acrylic painting of some water lilies that were floating on a perfectly still pond.

"I like that," Bethany said..

"Yeah, me too. A friend of mine painted it."

"Oh?" Bethany said, but Adam did not elaborate. The "friend" was Cassandra, a struggling artist. Cassandra also currently held the record of being on Adam's Roster the longest period of time—a whopping eight months.

Bethany motioned to a computer printout that was on the coffee table. "Is that my chart?"

"Yeah," Adam said, picking it up. He studied it for a moment. "Wow, I still can't believe this..."

"What?" Bethany said excitedly.

"You have a _very_ interesting chart."

"What do you mean? What's interesting?" She moved a little closer so she could see the chart, too. The fragrance of rose hips stirred him.

"See this arrow here?" Adam pointed to a blue line he had drawn from one side of the horoscope circle to the other. "It's what I was telling you about in the bookstore. It connects the North and South Nodes, and shows your karmic path in this lifetime."

"What does it say?"

"Your North and South Nodes are exactly the same as mine. Your karmic path starts the Second House, the house of money and materialism, and ends in the Eighth House, the house of psychic phenomena, death, rebirth...the Great Unknown. What this means is that in previous lifetimes, you've been more externally-oriented, but in this one you're moving towards an inner exploration of the Self and the universe."

"Wow. That sounds exactly right."

Even though Adam didn't really believe in past lives, it was the truth, at least according to the astrology books.

"Also..." Adam began.

"What? What?"

"Well, the overall shape of your chart—the layout of all the planets—tells you a lot." He paused. "Astrology is so complicated—you can find whole books written just about chart _shapes_ , which is just one aspect of the interpretation. But it's an important one, I think."

"Well, what about my chart shape?"

Adam pointed to the chart again. "See how all your planets form kind of a semicircle, with the moon leading the way?"

"Yeah."

"Well, that means that you move through life using your lunar nature to guide you—your intuition, your feelings, your emotional instincts.

"Wow—that's right. That's exactly how I am."

"Me, too. My chart has almost the same shape, with the moon leading the way."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Plus, both our moons are in Cancer."

"What's that mean?"

"It means we're both very sensitive people."

"Oh." Bethany looked at him for a moment, then back at the chart. Adam sensed the connection between them growing...along with something else.

He took advantage of the moment to move a little closer, but he wasn't obvious about it, pretending to merely cross his legs. He was glad to see that she did not move away.

* * *

Adam spent the next hour going over Bethany's chart in painstaking detail, explaining how each aspect affected her basic Sagittarian nature. By the end of the hour, he was on a roll, having her draw cards from his various Tarot decks and tying the meanings in with her chart.

While he was explaining how the four suits of the Tarot relate to the astrological elements of fire, earth, air and water, she interrupted him.

"How long have you been doing this, anyway?"

"Oh, ever since I sold my business. Six years or so."

"You're really good at it."

"Thanks," he said modestly, putting down the Tarot cards. "I still have to use my books a lot. Anyway, it's just sort of a hobby."

"I bet you could make a lot of money doing it, if you wanted to."

"Yeah, maybe. I don't need money, though." He was looking down at the soft skin of her shoulder—she was sitting very close to him now. No, it wasn't money that Adam needed.

Bethany glanced at her watch. "Well, I guess I better get going."

"Oh..." Adam purposefully let his voice reveal his disappointment and handed her the chart. "You can keep that."

"Thanks."

Neither of them knew what to say.

"Listen, I really appreciate you doing this for me."

"It was my pleasure, Bethany." Adam smiled. "Believe me."

She blushed and awkwardly stood up. "Well..."

"Do you really have to go?"

She did not answer. Her green eyes were fixed on him, unblinking.

"You could stay a little longer, couldn't you?" Adam gazed at her left hand for a moment, then gently took it in his own. It was soft, warm, girlish. She was wearing several silver rings, with intricate carvings in them, one on her thumb. God, how he loved these hippie chicks! Her mere touch made the synapses fire in his brain like a million Roman candles.

Bethany glanced down at their entwined hands.

"Well, I suppose I could stay a _little_ longer..."

CHAPTER 1.6

The next morning Adam awoke with his face buried in Bethany's sweet-smelling hair. He mentally said a short thank-you to God or whoever was responsible.

Adam watched her sleep for a long time. Her mouth was barely open and she was breathing softly. She looked like an angel.

Adam finally glanced over at the clock. It was 7:35.

"Bethany?"

"Mmmm..." she said dreamily.

"Do you have a class this morning?"

Her eyes slowly opened. "What time is it?"

When Adam told her, she sat bolt upright in the bed. "Damn! I've got an eight o'clock."

"Well, you better get going."

Bethany slipped out of the bed, naked. They both looked at each other. She suddenly appeared self-conscious and sat back down on the bed, with her back to him. She started to get dressed. Adam got up and put on his sweatpants, then sat back down on his side of the bed, watching her. He could tell by her jerky motions that she was feeling uncomfortable. After she put on her shoes, she picked up her African bag and disappeared into the bathroom.

Adam went downstairs to the kitchen, poured two glasses of fresh-squeezed orange juice, and brought them back to the bedroom. He offered her one of them—she was standing in front of his dresser mirror, brushing her hair. It looked like it had become quite tangled during the night, which was not surprising, considering that he had made love to her three times.

"Oh, thanks." She took the glass and sipped from it, looking at Adam.

"Do you want to take something with you? A banana or an apple or something?"

"No, I'm fine. Thank you, though."

Adam walked her to the front door, where she finished the orange juice and handed him the empty glass. "Well..."

He said, "I had a great time last night."

She nodded, though it looked like she was having second thoughts about it now.

"I meant it was _all_ great—doing your reading, everything."

She just nodded again. She was looking at the floor.

"Do you want me to...I mean, can I have your phone

number?"

Bethany looked up at him. "Do you really want it?"

"Of course I do." Adam took her hand and squeezed it.

Bethany brightened, as if she was expecting some other answer. She opened her bag and jotted it down for him. "This is my dorm number."

"You don't have a cellphone?"

"No. I always end up dropping them in the bathtub."

Adam laughed.

"Anyway, they're too distracting these days."

"Yeah," Adam said, but he had a feeling the way they distracted him was different than it was for her.

"My last class ends at three. I should be around after that."

Adam put his arms around her and kissed her lips, her cheek, her temple, her forehead, and buried his face in her hair one last time.

"I have to go," she whispered, slipping away.

"I'll call you later."

After Adam watched her drive off, he went back upstairs and laid on his bed, letting out a long, satisfied sigh. He started to doze but found he could not sleep, the heady touch and taste and smell of Bethany still lingering with him. After a few minutes, he got up. The Tamuwah Stone was sitting on the dresser, its leather strap piled in a heap. He picked up the jewel and wiggled it back and forth, watching the blue dots inside swirl around in circles.

"You did good," he whispered to it. "You did _real_ good."

* * *

"Do you have to burn that stuff in here today?" Terri said, coughing melodramatically as she entered the dorm room. "I've got a headache."

Bethany closed the top of her little Buddha-shaped incense burner—she had lit a few pieces of evergreen incense that reminded her of the smell of cedar at Adam's house. Terri was forever complaining about Bethany burning incense, and usually it irritated Bethany. But not today. Nothing could break the spell Adam had cast on her. She had been sitting at her desk for the past two hours, trying to work on the assignment for her logic class, but she couldn't remember a single word she had read—she was too giddy to concentrate.

Terri sat down behind Bethany, on her own bed. Bethany could feel Terri's eyes on her back. They had not talked to each other since the night before—Bethany had called Terri at about midnight and told her she wouldn't be coming back to the dorm room. She was sure that Terri was burning with curiosity.

Bethany kept her eyes on her textbook. But she could not help grinning ear-to-ear.

"Are you going to tell me what happened, or not?" Terri finally said.

Bethany turned around, still grinning.

"Wow," Terri said. "That good, huh?"

Bethany made an effort to compose herself. "I had an okay time."

"An 'okay' time? Gosh, Beth, you look like you had fifty orgasms."

" _Terri_ ," Beth said.

"Well, you do. Come on, tell me the juicy details. I want to hear them all."

"There's really nothing to tell. We went over to his house and he did my reading."

"And?"

"And...then I called you."

Terri laughed. "I know that, Beth. What happened after you called me?"

"Nothing. We talked for a while, and then, you know..." Bethany felt dizzy with the memory. She didn't have much experience, sexually, but no one had ever made her feel like that before.

"You did it, didn't you?" Terri said.

"Terri, I don't think I should discuss every detail of my personal life with you."

"And why not? I share everything with you."

"Well, that's your choice."

"Oh, come on!" Terri whined. She leaned closer to Bethany and lowered her voice. "How big is he?"

"My God, Terri, you're...incorrigible."

Terri laughed. "I've been called a lot of things, but that's a new one. A Bethany Special. I don't even know what it means."

"It means you're disgusting," Bethany said, laughing. "Now leave me alone."

"How was the reading? Was it awesome?"

"Yeah. It was amazing the things he could tell from my chart. He does Tarot cards, Runes, everything. He's really good."

"I can tell."

"I meant with astrology, Terri."

"Did you ask him if he would do my chart?"

Bethany felt herself grow tense. "No, I didn't have a chance. I'll ask him next time I see him."

"And when will that be?"

"I don't know," Bethany said, glancing at the phone. "He said he would call."

Terri nodded, but she could not hide her doubt. They both knew the perils of sleeping with a guy on the first date. Bethany hoped she wouldn't have to listen to Terri's thoughts on the subject. But Terri only said, "I hope he'll do my chart, too. I think that would be really cool."

CHAPTER 1.7

14. Bathroom trash can – empty

15. Bathroom sink – check for hair

16. Under bed – check for condoms, etc.

17. Glasses & cups - check for lipstick

18. Answering machine – turn down volume.

Adam paused, his thumb under the last item on his checklist. Had he turned the volume down on the answering machine? He thought so, but he decided to go downstairs and make sure.

Just as he reached the top of the stairs, he heard a car pull in the driveway.

He glanced at his watch—it was almost seven. He trotted down the stairs, double-checked the volume knob on the answering machine (he had remembered to turn it down, after all) and then hurried back up to the living room.

He was surprised that Cassandra had arrived on time. Not only on time, but early. She had the typical artist's personality—scattered, disorganized, and completely unreliable as far as schedules were concerned. How she kept her job at the picture framing shop was a mystery to Adam. He could only conclude that the owner either understood and tolerated her tardiness, or was sleeping with her. Or both.

He stepped into the kitchen, made a quick check of the spaghetti sauce that was simmering on the stove, and then went to the front door to meet her. He opened the door with a smile on his face, but it quickly disappeared.

It wasn't Cassandra, it was Gretchen.

She stood on his doorstep with her arms crossed over her substantial chest, glaring at him. Her eyes were puffy.

"We need to talk," she said icily.

Adam glanced up and down the street, knowing that Cassandra could arrive at any moment. "This really isn't a good time, Gretchen."

"It's never a good time." She gave him her pouting little-girl look. This time, it was not even remotely attractive to Adam.

"Come on, Gretchen. I really can't talk to you right now." He glanced out at the street again. Cassandra was the most laid-back and least possessive of his girls, but she wasn't _that_ laid back.

"What's the matter?" Gretchen said. "Is whoever you were talking to on the phone yesterday on her way over?" She looked past him, into the house. "Or maybe she's here now?"

"Nobody's here now. And the person I was talking to on the phone yesterday was just somebody I was doing a chart for."

Gretchen let out a short cackle that made Adam cringe. "Is that supposed to make me feel _better_?"

"It wasn't supposed to make you feel anything, Gretchen."

She watched him for a moment, still hugging herself with her freckled arms. "I want my hairbrush back. I left it here yesterday."

"Fine. I'll get it for you."

Adam stepped back inside, hesitating, wanting to shut the door behind him, but he didn't want to be rude to Gretchen. As he walked towards the bedroom, he heard her step inside the house. He went to his dresser and opened the bottom drawer, which served as his depository for leftover articles. Hidden under a sweater were a barrette that Jill had left the last time she was over, and a pair of pink panties that belonged to Cassandra, who wore them so infrequently she couldn't remember to put them back on. There were also a couple of rings and a bracelet that belonged to Cassandra, too—she was always covered with jewelry.

He picked up Gretchen's hairbrush, along with a gold necklace she had left behind the time before. Before he closed the drawer, he shoved all the other items to the back, where he also kept his "stock" of Tamuwah stones. He ordered them from the classified section of some obscure New Age newspaper he picked up in California. Time to reorder. There were only five left, and it usually took six weeks to get them. This was the reason he had been putting Gretchen off about giving her one of the stones—he wanted to save them for somebody new. And more interesting.

"Is that where you hide everything?"

Adam turned around. He was only mildly surprised to find Gretchen standing in the doorway, her arms still crossed.

"You left this here, too," he said, handing her the necklace along with the hairbrush.

"Gee, thanks." Her eyes narrowed to angry slits. "You know, I should have dumped you when I found that black hair in the hot tub. Your 'cleaning lady.' Boy, was I ever stupid. You're _much_ worse than any of the trash I work for."

"Gretchen, you knew all along I was dating other people."

"Yeah. But I didn't know 'dating' meant 'fucking.'"

Adam heard another car pull into the driveway. He glanced at his watch—it was almost seven. Tonight would be one of the few times when Cassandra decided to be prompt.

"You have to leave now," Adam said flatly. He walked past Gretchen and out to the front door.

Cassandra drove a huge, ancient Chevy convertible with a top that leaked. She had parked behind Gretchen's Buick, blocking it. Cassandra looked at Adam as if she was uncertain of what to do.

"You'll have to park on the street," Adam called to her.

At that moment, Gretchen bumped past him, hairbrush in hand, and walked out to her car. She glared at Cassandra, who only regarded her curiously.

Cassandra ground the Chevy into reverse and backed out of the driveway, the car shuddering a bit.

"Your standards have definitely dropped," Gretchen snapped, just before she slammed her own car door shut. She backed out of the driveway and burned a little rubber as she sped away. This was one of many times when Adam was glad that he lived on a sparsely populated street with neighbors who minded their own business.

"Who was that?" Cassandra said, as she walked up to Adam. She was smiling.

"Ah, just an ex-girlfriend."

"She looked pissed."

"She was," Adam said, a little miserably.

Cassandra reached up and stroked his face, her half-dozen bracelets clinking together. "You okay?"

"I'm fine." He put his arms around her and gave her a deep kiss, relishing it. "I'm just glad to see you."

"What's for dinner?"

"Spaghetti."

"Oooh, my favorite. And dessert?"

He gave her another long, deep kiss. "You."

CHAPTER 1.8

The next morning, Bethany went back to her dorm room right after her ten o'clock class to check the answering machine she and Terri shared.

Nothing.

She threw her keys at the wall, then sat down on her bed, not sure she was angry at Adam or herself for acting like such a girlie-girl. She stared blankly at the keys, which had bounced off the wall and landed on the floor.

_He didn't say he would call you yesterday_ , some voice inside her said _. He said he would call you_ later. _You know guys, Bethany. That might mean next week._

She calmed herself for a moment, then opened her bottom desk drawer and pulled out her Tarot cards. They weren't beautiful like Adam's, just a cheap deck she had bought over the summer, along with a book that told what each card meant.

Bethany closed her eyes and shuffled the cards.

_Tell me something to help me stop feeling so badly inside_ , she thought.

She pulled a card from the middle of the deck. It was the Two of Cups. The drawing on the card showed a young man and a young woman facing each other, each holding a golden cup, as if toasting. She noticed that one of the man's hands was touching the woman's cup.

She couldn't begin to remember all the meanings of the cards—there were 78 of them in all. She opened her book, to the Two of Cups, and read the description:

Two's symbolize union. The Two of Cups usually indicates the beginning of a deeply satisfying friendship or love affair.

She held the card to her heart.

"Hi!" Terri said, from behind her.

Bethany quickly closed the book, nearly spilling the Tarot cards on the floor.

"What are you doing here?" Terri said, dumping her backpack on her bed. "I thought you had statistics at eleven."

"I just stopped by to pick up some things." Bethany put the Tarot cards and the book back in the bottom drawer of her desk.

"You need Tarot cards for statistics?" Terri always pronounced the second 't' in Tarot, as if the word rhymed with 'parrot.'

"No, Terri," Bethany said irritably. "I forgot my homework assignment."

"Oh," Terri said, but it was one of those "ohs" that said she didn't believe Bethany's explanation.

Bethany picked her keys up off the floor, which Terri also noticed (the girl didn't miss a _thing_ ) and then slung her backpack over her shoulder.

"He'll call, Beth, don't worry."

Bethany pretended to be surprised. "Who'll call?"

Terri snickered. "Adam."

"Oh. Well, I'm not worried about it."

"Good. That's the best attitude. If he calls he calls, and if he doesn't he doesn't. And if he doesn't, it's _his_ loss."

"Right," Bethany said, leaving the room.

She only wished she felt that way.

* * *

Cassandra finally left Adam's house at about noon. She usually didn't stay that long, but she had the day off and was in a particularly horny mood. They got up about nine and Adam made French toast, then went back to bed for another couple of rounds.

When they got up the second time, Cassandra told him she wanted to show him three new paintings she had finished. Adam tried to act enthusiastic as he helped her get them out of the trunk of her car, but he really didn't want to buy any more of her artwork. He had already bought two of her water lily paintings—the one that Bethany noticed in the living room, and another one in his bedroom, which Bethany had also noticed.

"So...?" Cassandra said, after they had leaned the three paintings against the bumper of her Chevy.

"They're all great. I really like the little one..." Adam knew she charged a lot less for the smaller paintings.

She knew he knew this, too, and gave him a look that told him so.

"Come on, Cassandra. I really don't need any more of your paintings."

"Why not?" She pointed to a large one, of a barn next to a lake. "This one would fit perfectly in the space between the downstairs bathroom and the kitchen."

"Yeah. But those big ones are expensive."

"You can afford it."

This remark made Adam mad. "I _hate_ it when people say that. Just because I have more money than you do at this particular point in time doesn't mean I _should_ do anything. I work for my money, just like you do."

"I've seen how hard you work, Adam."

"Investing isn't as easy as you think, Cassandra. Besides, I worked my ass off to get where I am now. I spent almost ten years building up a business from scratch, working seventy hours weeks most of the time, no vacations, no nothing. I have a right to relax."

"I know," she said, now looking hurt.

Adam was tempted to just buy the damn painting she wanted to sell him, but he really didn't want to. "Cassandra...I don't want to hurt your feelings, honey. I _love_ your work. It's not the money. I just don't _need_ any more of your paintings. You can understand that, can't you? I already have two. If I buy any more, this place is going to start looking like an art gallery."

"What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing, but it's all just _your_ work."

"So?"

Adam shrugged. "I like variety."

She gave Adam a knowing look. "Yeah, I've noticed."

The main reason Adam didn't want to buy any more of her paintings was because it would create the wrong impression with his other girls—they would think he and Cassandra were practically married to each other, or at least that she was living with him. Bethany hadn't said anything when she had noticed the second water lily painting in Adam's bedroom, but she didn't need to say anything. It was obvious that the same "artist friend" had painted it. If there was one thing Adam had learned about women, it was that they were _always_ suspicious about other women who were supposedly just "friends."

Cassandra started loading the paintings back into the trunk of her car. From her swift motions, it was obvious that she was angry.

Adam stopped her, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Cassandra..."

She looked up at him. Her eyes were teary. "What?"

"You know what really bothers me about buying your paintings?"

"No."

"It would be nice if you _gave_ me one as a present, instead of selling them all to me. Or, even better, I'd love it if you painted one for me. Especially for me."

Cassandra looked down at the pavement. "I know...but these paintings take a huge amount of time, and I have to buy the canvas and wood for the frames, which costs me a lot of money, and—"

"And what about all the Tarot readings I've done for you, free, and your astrological chart, and the Tamuwah Stone I gave you."

She glanced down at the stone—she wore it around her neck, along with about five other necklaces.

"I'm sorry...But I'm _struggling_ , Adam, I really am. You don't know how hard it is, trying to make it as an artist."

Adam hugged her. "I know, honey. I know it's hard."

She pulled the smaller painting out of the trunk. "I want you to have this, Adam. It's a present from me."

"No, no...I don't want it. You sell it to someone else. You need the money, I know you do."

Cassandra hesitated, holding the picture out to him. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. Just paint me a little one especially for me sometime. Okay?"

Cassandra smiled. "Okay." She gazed at his house. "I've always wanted to paint one of your property, from the back, with the trees around it. I was going to wait until the leaves turned to do it—it'll be really beautiful then."

* * *

After Cassandra left, Adam made his way downstairs, holding his lower back as he did so. He didn't know exactly how many times he and Cassandra had done it—a half dozen, give or take—but it was enough to make his spine ache.

He turned on his computer and spent a few minutes connected to his on-line stock trading service, checking the prices of all his securities, and then decided it was time to call Bethany. He knew that she had probably expected him to call the day before, but he didn't want to appear over-eager—he was afraid he might scare her off.

He opened his desk and pulled out his appointment book. He had copied Bethany's number into it and then flushed the original scrap of paper down the toilet. This was a practice he had begun after one of his previous girlfriends playfully stuck her hand in his pocket, and, instead of "copping a feel," brought out a slip of paper that with a phone number and the name "Heidi" written on it. (A week later, the girl was deleted from the Roster, and, naturally, replaced by Heidi).

Adam called Bethany's number and waited. Somebody picked it up on the first ring. A female voice, but definitely not Bethany. Maybe her roommate.

"Bethany's in class right now," the girl said.

"Oh. Well, I'll call her back later, then."

"Is this Adam?"

He was a bit taken aback. "Yes."

"Hi. I'm Terri, Beth's roommate." She giggled.

"Oh, hi. Nice to meet you. I mean, talk to you."

Another giggle. "She'll probably be back a little after three. That's when her last class ends."

Boy, she sounds cute, Adam thought. He tried to imagine what she looked like, but drew a blank. Except he thought she might be petite, like Bethany. And _very_ feminine.

"Do you want me to have her call you?" Terri asked.

"Yeah, but I don't know if she has my number. Do you have a pen?"

"Yeah. I'm ready."

Adam gave her the number and asked for her to repeat it back to him.

"That's right." He hesitated, not wanting the conversation to end. "Well, thanks."

"No problem." Another giggle.

"Uh, I guess I'll talk to you later, then."

There was a long pause. "Bye."

Adam hung up the phone slowly, Terri's "bye" lingering in his ears. She had drawn it out a little bit, with just a slight lilt of seductiveness. He glanced down at his sweatpants—it seemed as if a midget was trying to pitch a tent inside them.

"Adam," he muttered to himself, "you can't go fucking Bethany's roommate. So just forget it."

He went back upstairs to make himself lunch.

* * *

Bethany called Adam back at about 3:30. After a little small talk, he invited her over for dinner. She agreed. But throughout their short conversation she sounded a bit distant, and this disturbed him. He thought he had made a relatively good impression on her, and he was excited about seeing her again. Not only was Bethany a fine physical specimen, she had a good head on her shoulders. That wasn't to say any of his girls were thick, except maybe Gretchen. Another benefit of the second generation hippie chicks was that they were usually very bright and questioned things most people took for granted. But his first impression of Bethany was that she was not only very smart, but unusually sharp and intuitive, someone who could challenge him, mentally, as well as give him sensual pleasure.

Adam went to the grocery store and bought some chicken to broil, along with fresh broccoli, corn on the cob, and plenty of greens for salads, in case she was a vegetarian (a lot of the hippie chicks were). While he was cooking dinner, he mulled over what might be bothering Bethany. His instincts told him it was probably the fact that he had not called her the day before. He would ask her about it, even though he didn't feel the need to do so—he knew he had only told her that he would caller her "later."

She arrived precisely at seven. Even though it was October, the weather had warmed into the 70's, and much to Adam's pleasure, she showed up wearing a pair of tight shorts and a top that showed her stomach. She had on thin, light blue socks with her sandals, and her curly blonde hair was pulled into a thick pony tail.

There was a moment of uneasiness for both of them as they said hello to each other. Adam gave her brief kiss on the cheek and led her by the hand into the kitchen.

"I think it's really cool that you can cook," she said, leaning against the counter, watching him check on the broccoli. "Most guys can't cook at all. Most _girls_ can't cook at all, these days. Me included."

Adam laughed. "I couldn't cook anything either, until I sold my business. It was something I always wanted to learn how to do, so when I suddenly found myself with all this free time, I bought some cookbooks and taught myself."

Bethany looked impressed.

"It's a lot nicer than going out, I think." Adam motioned to the table, where two candles were burning. "A lot more romantic."

"Yeah, it is," she said, smiling. She pulled one of his cookbooks off a shelf, flipped through it, then put it back. "So, have you ever been married?"

Adam raised his eyebrows, surprised by her directness. "Nope."

"Me neither," she said with a grin.

This made Adam laugh again. He turned off the stove and started draining the water off the vegetables.

Bethany said, "Do you mind if I ask you something else?"

"Not at all." Adam was almost certain he knew what was coming. He put the broccoli and corn in serving bowls, set them on the table, then turned and faced her. "Shoot."

"I was wondering how old you are."

Adam had been right. He opened his mouth, ready to lie to her, but the steady, open gaze from her green eyes stopped him at the last moment. "I'm thirty-eight."

The green eyes became very large. "God, I didn't know you were _that_ old."

Adam was sorry he had told her the truth. "Thanks a lot."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that. It's just that my dad's forty-one."

"Well, I'm not your dad."

"I know," she said defensively.

Adam put the chicken on a dish, slamming things around a little bit, even though he was trying his best not to let what she had said upset him.

"I made you mad, didn't I?"

"No." He set the chicken on the table, then pulled a bottle of wine and salad dressings out of the refrigerator. "Let's eat," he said, holding her chair out for her.

Bethany didn't move. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it. You're really young-looking, and young-acting. I would never have thought you were that..." She winced.

Adam smiled. "Ancient?"

"Damn," she said under her breath. "I keep putting my foot in my mouth. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, honest. I was just surprised, that's all."

"It's all right," Adam said, dismissing it with a wave of his hand. "I hurt your feelings, too. At least, I think I did."

She looked confused. "What do you mean?"

"When I didn't call you yesterday."

"Oh." Bethany glanced at the floor. "Not really."

"Yes I did. I thought you were a little distant on the phone today."

"Well...maybe a little bit."

"I'm sorry, I should have called you."

"It's okay. You didn't really say you would."

"I know, but I knew you _thought_ I would when you left. I just didn't want to appear over-anxious. I was afraid I might scare you off."

Bethany smiled, her cheeks flushing, and sat down at the table. As he pushed her chair in for her, he wondered what was making him be so honest with her. Maybe it was those green eyes.

He sat down to her left and they both put dressings on their salads in silence. After he poured them both some wine, he started to put a chicken breast on her plate, but she raised her hand to stop him.

"I should have told you, I'm a vegetarian."

"No problem," Adam said, putting the chicken on his own plate instead. "I thought you might have been, which is why everything else is vegetables."

They ate for a few minutes without speaking.

"You know, Bethany, I'm actually glad that your feelings were hurt a little bit."

Bethany stopped chewing. "How come?"

"Because if they hadn't been, then that would have meant you didn't care whether I called or not."

"Oh." Her face turned pink again. She blushed more than any other girl he knew, and he liked it. He liked it a lot.

After a moment, Bethany started chuckling to herself, shaking her head.

"What's funny?" Adam said.

"Thirty-eight. My father would _die_."

Adam laughed. "What sign is he?"

"Pisces," Bethany said. "Just like you."

This was good. In Adam's experience, a lot of younger women were attracted to older men who reminded them of their fathers.

"What does he do for a living?"

"He's an engineer. Or was. Now he's in management."

"Oh," Adam said. "Where did he go to school?"

"Duke."

"That's a great school."

"Yeah..." Bethany looked down at her plate. She seemed to be lost in thought.

"What are you thinking?" Adam said.

"Oh, I was just thinking about whether or not I should transfer to another college. I'm not really very happy at Kensington. Not completely happy, anyway."

Adam didn't like the idea of her moving away. "Why? What's the matter?"

"Oh, just a lot of different things. I hate to be judgmental, but I just don't like the whole Greek scene."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. That's a big part of Kensington.

"Were you in a fraternity?"

"Me? You must be joking. When I was at Kensington, I was one of the biggest hippies on campus. I had hair down to my ass."

"Oh my God...really?"

"Well, I'm exaggerating a little bit. It was almost as long as yours, though. Down to my shoulders."

"Oh, wow," she giggled. "Do you have any pictures?"

"Yeah, somewhere."

"I'd _love_ to see them."

"Maybe I'll dig them out sometime."

Bethany looked closely at his face, as if she saw a new side of Adam. "How did you stand it? I mean, I don't know how Kensington was back then, but now...it's hard to imagine you fitting in there."

"It was worse back then, believe me. You know, in the sixties, while there were demonstrations and sit-ins going on at every other college in the country, _nothing_ was happening at Kensington. That was way before my time— " Adam smiled "—believe it or not. But even when I was there, people used to say it was the only university in the world where the professors are more liberal than the students."

"They still say that," Bethany said, laughing.

"Well, I guess things haven't changed much."

"Yeah." Bethany paused, looking wistful. "God, I really miss Leslie."

"Who's Leslie?"

"She's my best friend. She went to Kensington last year, but she got too fed up with it all. She transferred to the University of Michigan at Ann Arbor."

"Wow, that's a _very_ liberal campus. I've never been there, but one thing it's famous for is that marijuana is almost legal in Ann Arbor—if you get caught, you only get a five dollar fine, or something like that."

"Yeah. Leslie lives in a coed dorm with two guys and three other girls."

"Lucky guys," Adam said.

"Yeah," Bethany laughed. "Can you imagine Kensington having that kind of a dorm?"

"No. Not in a million years."

Bethany sighed and looked wistful again. "Leslie fits in real well up there, but I don't know if I would or not. That school is so _huge_. There are fifty thousand students on campus...so many people."

"It is big," Adam admitted.

"See, that's the thing. I like the small-college atmosphere, the personal attention you get...and I _love_ my classes and my teachers—they're all great. Kensington has a fantastic philosophy department."

"Yeah, it's highly rated."

"It's just the social life that makes me unhappy. I don't want to be judgmental, but—"

"Bethany, there's nothing wrong with being judgmental. Why does everyone who's trying to be enlightened think that being judgmental is such a sin? Everybody is judgmental. It's human nature."

"Hmmm..."

"What do you mean, 'hmmm'?"

"Well...I'm not sure I agree with you. I don't think it's good to be judgmental. And I don't think I'm very judgmental. At least, I try not to be."

Adam laughed. "You just finished being judgmental two seconds ago, and I don't think you were even aware of it. And you did a fine job, too, I must say."

Bethany looked self-conscious. "What do you mean?"

"Didn't you just say that Kensington has a 'fantastic philosophy department'?"

"Well, yeah."

"Isn't that being judgmental? You're judging it against all the other philosophy departments in the country."

Bethany considered this for a moment. "Yeah, but that's a judgment about the _quality_ of something. I'm talking about judging people's, you know, behavior and values, things like that."

"Oh. I see what you mean. Like Adolf Hitler, for example. I guess he wasn't such a bad guy...I mean, I'd hate to be _judgmental_ about him."

Bethany laughed. "Well, in that case..."

"In _every_ case, Bethany. There's nothing wrong with being judgmental—making good judgments is a key part of life. Do you know much about the psychologist Carl Jung?"

"A little."

"Well, you may know had a theory about human nature called the Collective Unconscious."

"Yeah, I know about that."

"Well, then you also know that he believed that every archetype—Mother, Father, Killer, Thief, Racist, Priest, Teacher, Student, whatever—'good' or 'bad'—is within the psyche of every human being. One of those archetypes is the Judge, and you can't get rid of it. You don't _want_ to get rid of it—it serves a critical purpose in our lives. You can't live without it."

Bethany sighed. "Yeah, I know...I just feel guilty when I'm judgmental about Terri."

"Your roommate?"

"Yeah."

Adam remembered Terri's sexy phone demeanor. He had a feeling he knew at least one thing Bethany was judgmental about.

"I know this probably sounds stupid," Bethany said, "but she's another reason I'm not happy at Kensington. I really wanted to be in Roland Hall—it's the nicest dorm on campus. I put my name in the lottery and ended up with Terri as a roommate." There was a lonesome look in Bethany's eyes. "Leslie was the only person I was really close to, and since she left, I didn't think it really mattered who my roommate was. But Terri..."

"What's the matter with her?"

"Well, there's nothing really the _matter_ with her...what are you smiling at now?"

"Afraid to be judgmental?"

Bethany blushed. "Don't give me a hard time about that anymore, okay?"

"Okay, I won't. Go ahead. What is it about Terri that...bugs you?"

"Yeah. That's a good description. She _bugs_ me."

"How?"

"She's into all the sorority-fraternity stuff in a big way. She thinks that anybody who's not in one is a loser, or something. And she's got this dumb calendar on the wall..."

"What calendar?"

"Oh...never mind. It's silly for me to even bring it up."

This piqued Adam's interest, but he let it go. He thought he had a pretty good idea of what kind of calendar it was, anyway, based on his telephone impression of Terri.

"She and I are just total opposites, that's all. She doesn't understand me, and I definitely don't understand her." Bethany paused reflectively. "She's nice to me, though. I think she means well."

Adam nodded. But he obviously didn't know Terri well enough to pass his own judgment about this. "I understand where you're coming from—rooming with someone you're not compatible with can be a real pain. When I was a freshman, I had a roommate who drove me nuts—or I guess I drove him nuts, and he drove me nuts in retaliation. I snore a little bit, and he was a very light sleeper. In the middle of the night, he would throw things at me to try to make me stop—coins, pencils, keys, whatever was around. One night he threw his physics textbook at me. Have you ever been hit in the head with a physics textbook?"

"No," Bethany said, laughing. "But my high school physics teacher probably wanted to do that to me. I'm terrible in physics and math."

"A real right-brained type, huh?"

"Definitely."

Adam smiled at her. A moment passed when they both just looked at each other, smiling. Boy, he liked her. He liked her a _lot_.

Bethany picked up her fork and started eating again. After a moment, she said, "It's not just Terri. It's a lot of things together. I just can't decide if I should stay at Kensington or not."

"Well, I hope you do."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really."

Bethany glowed. She looked down at her plate, avoiding Adam's eyes.

"If you want," Adam said, "we could do a Tarot reading about it after dinner."

"Wow, that would be great. But..."

"But what?"

Bethany smiled. "Do you think you could be unbiased about it?"

"Not one bit."

CHAPTER 1.9

Bethany and Adam were laying on the bed, naked, facing each other, both with their heads propped up on their elbows. Between them, on the maroon floral sheets which Gretchen had unknowingly bequeathed to Bethany, lay one of Adam's many Tarot decks. After he had made love to her, he had done the Tarot reading he had promised. The cards seemed to say (and this really _was_ unbiased on Adam's part) that she should stick it out at Kensington, that the educational benefits outweighed the social drawbacks.

"Besides," Adam added, "now you know _me_."

She gazed into his eyes for a long time. He slowly ran his hand up and down one side of her firm, youthful body, beginning at her shoulder, moving down the slope of her waist, up the incline of her hip, down across her thigh, and then back up to her shoulder again. She had what he considered to be a perfect female form. She was by no means what most men would called "stacked," but her petite frame was evenly proportioned (as he had thought the first time he glimpsed her), her ample breasts and hips balancing out each other exactly. Her waist was so small he could almost touch his thumbs and forefingers together when he clasped his hands around it, and she had a sumptuous, full behind that almost brought tears to his eyes. Her skin felt as smooth and delicate as silk to his touch. With her long, thick curly hair, she reminded him of a nymph in a Rubens painting.

"I guess I'm not supposed to ask you this," he said, rolling her curls between his fingers, "but does your hair do this all by itself?"

"Yep." She twirled her thumb around in one of its countless corkscrews. "Kind of wild, isn't it?"

"It sure is."

"It's always been like this, ever since I was a little girl."

He draped a bundle of it across his face and closed his eyes, inhaling its heady fragrance. "I'd like to just roll around in it. _Wallow_ in it."

"Isn't that what you've been doing?"

Adam laughed. "Yeah, I guess I have."

He began to run his hand down her side again and noticed that she had a dreamy look in her eye. "I drew a Tarot card about us yesterday."

"Oh?" This jolted Adam out of his euphoric trance. "Which card was it?"

She smiled, then flipped through the deck of cards. She stopped on the Two of Cups and turned it around in his direction. "That one."

"Oh. Well, that's...interesting."

She asked him what it meant, but the look in her eye told him that she already knew, or at least had a good idea. The picture of the man and woman, looking into each other's eyes, toasting, was almost self-explanatory.

"It means," Adam began, feeling a bit uneasy, "or, it can mean, the beginning of a friendship, or of a romantic relationship."

Bethany smiled again. "That's what my book said, too."

* * *

Hi Les!

You won't believe what happened to me! I met the greatest guy at the Hoffmeyer bookstore! His name is Adam. I've been trying to call you and tell you all about him, but you're always out. (Where are you? Did you take off to Paris with some awesome hunk of man-meat??? Ha ha).

Bethany paused, reading the first paragraph of the Email message she was writing to Leslie. After her last class, she had gone to the student center and put more money on her telephone card, then went back to the room and tried to call Leslie again. No answer. Half an hour later, she tried once more. This time, somebody answered—it sounded like the same guy who told her Leslie was out of town for a couple of days. Bethany asked if he knew where she was, but he simply said, "I have no idea."

This really didn't surprise Bethany. She had the impression that life in the coed dorm was a bit chaotic, with six people living together in one suite. Plus, Leslie had a spontaneous nature, something that Bethany admired and made Leslie fun to be around. But not having any idea of where Leslie was, or exactly when she would be back, upset Bethany. She was dying to tell Leslie about Adam.

She didn't want to waste any more phone card money, so she finally decided that the best thing to do would be to send Leslie an email message. It was a hassle, because Bethany did not have her own computer. Bethany was writing the message out long-hand, planning to type it in later over at the computer lab. She wasn't a very fast typist, and she didn't want anyone looking over her shoulder while she composed it.

She re-read the first paragraph and continued writing:

_Les, this guy is_ so _incredible—he's a really spiritual person, into all kinds of New Age stuff. He did my astrological chart, Tarot readings...I'm learning sooo much from him. We have so much in com_

Bethany stopped writing. The door had opened—Terri was home.

Bethany slipped the letter underneath her history textbook. She said hello to Terri, trying to keep the annoyance out of her voice.

"Whatcha doin'?" Terri said, stepping up behind her.

"Nothing. Just studying my history assignment."

"Oh."

Bethany knew Terri had seen her slide the paper under her book, but dammit, she was tired of having to explain everything to Terri.

Terri said, "I've got some good news for you."

Bethany turned around. "What?"

"Your Prince Charming called."

"You mean Adam?"

"Yeah."

"He's not my Prince Charming, Terri," though Bethany thought it would probably sound like he was if Terri's curious eyes ever read the email message she was composing. "What did he say?"

"He said he'd call back later." Terri grinned. "He sounds really cute, Beth."

"He is." Bethany felt a flicker of jealousy, then was angry at herself for feeling it. But she didn't like the idea of Terri and Adam talking on the phone together, even just to relay messages.

"Well, thanks," Bethany said, and she turned back to her textbook.

At that moment, the phone rang.

Bethany and Terri looked at each other.

"I'll get it," Bethany said quickly, and she picked up the phone.

It was Adam.

After greeting him self-consciously, she looked at Terri, who was just standing beside her bed, watching her. Bethany covered the mouthpiece. "Would you mind, Terri? Just for a minute?"

Terri left the room, though not very willingly. Bethany closed the door and locked it.

"Sorry about that," Bethany said.

"No problem." Adam paused—he seemed nervous. "Listen, uh, do you think we could meet for a few minutes this afternoon?"

"Why? I mean...is something wrong?"

"No, no, nothing's wrong. I just... I wanted to talk to you about something, that's all. No big deal."

"Oh." Bethany had a feeling it was a _very_ big deal, whatever it was.

"It won't take long, I promise. We can meet at the bookstore, or wherever you want."

Now, she was really scared. It seemed like he was going to give her some kind of farewell speech. "Well, okay. What time?"

"How about four o'clock."

"That's okay with me."

Bethany hung up, trying not to panic. She told herself that she shouldn't jump to any conclusions. It could be anything—maybe it was something about her astrological chart, or the Tarot reading he had done for her. Something he forgot to tell her.

But she doubted it.

* * *

Adam sat at the same table in the bookstore's café where he had sat when he had first spotted Bethany. He was jittery. He was always keyed-up whenever he gave one of his girls The Speech. He had debated all day about giving it to her—usually he did not deliver it until much later in a relationship—but things had progressed very fast with Bethany. And from the dreamy look that he saw in her eyes when she had told him about drawing the Two of Cups, he knew it was time.

She arrived about ten minutes late, ten very long minutes for Adam. By the time she sat down at the table, he was so tense he thought he might knock his cup of cappuccino over if he tried to sip it. He had bought some for Bethany, too, knowing that she liked one spoonful of sugar with it. The cup sat waiting on the table for her, the foam on top starting to shrink a little bit.

"Thanks," she said, after she sat down.

"I hope it's not cold."

"No, it's fine," she said. She barely sipped it, then set the cup back down. Her green eyes were locked on his face, waiting.

Adam mustered up his courage for a moment, then spoke carefully. "Listen, Bethany, there's something you should know about me."

Her face changed color as dramatically as it did when she blushed. Only this time, it was pale.

"Don't worry," Adam said quickly, "it's nothing your thinking—I don't have AIDS, I'm not married, nothing like that."

A guy in a beret who was sitting at a nearby table glanced in their direction, apparently hearing part or all of what Adam said.

Bethany looked relieved, but only partially. "Well, what is it?"

Adam lowered his voice. "It's just that...I'm not the type of person who likes a deep, committed relationship. I like to keep my freedom."

"Oh. Well, who said anything about a 'deep, committed relationship?'"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply that's what you were wanting, or anything."

"God, we hardly even know each other." She looked flustered, almost angry.

"I know, I just...I really like you, Bethany. I don't want you to get hurt, that's all."

She took a sip of her cappuccino, setting the cup clumsily back down on the table with a loud _clink_. The man in the beret glanced at them again.

"Shit," Adam muttered. "I'm an idiot—I shouldn't have said anything."

"No, I'm glad you did. I like people who are honest." She looked past him, distantly.

They sat there for a few long minutes, neither one speaking, or even moving. Meanwhile, the guy in the beret finally got up and left. Adam looked at Bethany's face every so often, but she didn't look at him—only past him.

"Well," she said, glancing at her watch. "I should get going."

"Please, Bethany." He reached out and took her hand. It was cold. "Don't go away mad. Can't we talk about this?"

"I'm not mad," she said, and for a half-second, her eyes looked teary.

"Listen..." He squeezed her fingers as he searched for words. "The only reason I said what I said is that sometimes girls—people, I mean, because guys do it too—people can get a big, romantic fantasy going in their heads when they meet someone new, before they even get to know each other, just like you were saying. When you showed me that Tarot card, I was afraid that's what you were doing. I wanted to make sure you didn't get hurt, that's all. I was obviously wrong, and I apologize." Adam didn't really believe that he had been wrong about what she was thinking—the look in her eye had been unmistakable—but he wanted to help her save face.

"You don't have to apologize. I told you, I'm glad you said what you said, because it's honest."

Adam nodded, wishing now that he had never lied to her about anything.

"I am curious about something, though."

"What?" Adam said, with a sinking feeling.

"If you don't want a 'deep, committed relationship—eventually, I mean—then what do you want?"

"Oh. Well, I just want to be able to date different people, that's all."

"Me, too."

"Really?" Adam hadn't expected this.

"Yeah, of course. I'm only nineteen years old—why would I want to be tied down to one person?"

"Yeah," Adam said, but he wasn't quite sure if she was being honest or just telling him what she thought he wanted to hear. A part of him was excited, thinking he had discovered another free spirit like Cassandra. But another part of him was disappointed—he liked it when one of his girls wanted him all to herself. It made him feel powerful, and in control.

"So," Adam said, a little uncertainly, "it sounds like we're pretty compatible."

"Yeah." She took another sip of her cappuccino, which Adam was sure was cold now. She seemed distant again.

"So...since everything is okay...I was wondering if you wanted to come over to my house for dinner tonight. Or, if you're too busy, just come over after you finish studying. We'll have dessert or something."

She looked back up at him and smiled, though it looked a bit forced. "I better not. I have to get up early tomorrow."

* * *

As soon as Adam got home, he angrily tore Bethany's sheets off the bed. He was furious with himself for giving her "The Speech." It was too early, _way_ too early. And to make matters worse, he had allowed her make to him feel like an idiot, as if _he_ was the one who had become too serious about the relationship. But he knew better. That dreamy look in her eyes the night before was unmistakable.

As he put Bethany's sheets away, he calmed down a little bit. He decided that he shouldn't be so hard on himself. He was just trying to do the right thing, not wanting Bethany to be hurt. He wasn't about to just stand there and watch her—or anybody—step off the edge of a cliff without warning her. He may have been a playboy, but he wasn't unfeeling or cruel.

Still, he regretted having done it. He wished there was some other solution, something other than giving the girls The Speech when he felt they were becoming too serious or too caught up in their fantasies. But if there was, he didn't know what it might be.

Adam looked at the bare mattress of his king-sized bed for a moment, not knowing who would sleep there with him tonight. There was no point in putting sheets on it until he made some plans, if it wasn't too late to make plans, that was.

He picked up a deck of Tarot cards from the shelf. The Two of Cups was still on top of the deck, face up. He gazed for a moment at the picture of the man and woman toasting each other, then slipped the card into the middle of the deck. He started to put the cards back on the shelf, with all the other decks, but then looked back down at them.

_Maybe I should pull one about Bethany_ , he thought. _Just for the hell of it._

He closed his eyes and shuffled the cards, thinking about her wild hair, her lovely figure, her pretty green eyes...

He pulled a card from the deck and looked at it.

The Sun.

Adam smiled—it was one of his favorite cards. It showed a little boy, stark naked, riding a white horse which had just jumped over a stone wall. The sky was filled with a huge, yellow sun. The boy was wearing a crown of sunflowers, grinning, his arms and legs outstretched as if to embrace the world.

Adam remembered the description of the card from one of his books: _Freedom, liberation, joy, happiness_.

He gazed at the image for a moment and chuckled. Freedom, liberation, joy, happiness...those were all the things he associated with having his life just the way it was now, with plenty of girls, his Roster full.

He slid The Sun back into the deck and put the cards back on the shelf. He had no idea if he would ever see Bethany again. Somehow, he doubted it. No matter what she had told him, he was sure that he had shattered whatever romantic feelings she had for him.

He pulled out his cellphone. It wasn't Jill's night to come over, but maybe he could catch her before she left work.

CHAPTER 1.10

"Are you sure you're okay?" Terri said, nibbling on a French fry.

"I'm fine," Bethany said. "I'm still just a little upset about it, that's all." She picked at the salad she had bought, but then just set the fork back down. She had no appetite and didn't know why she had come with Terri to the cafeteria in the first place. Maybe it was just so she wouldn't be alone. Her meeting with Adam had upset her so much that she had to talk to somebody about it, even Terri.

"Well," Terri went on, "I know you probably don't care what I think, but I'd just forget about him, if I were you." She picked up another French fry with her long, manicured nails and dipped in ketchup, waiting for Bethany to respond.

"I probably should," Bethany said. "It's hard, though."

"It's for the best, Beth, believe me." Terri went to work on the French fry. "I've been through that 'I want to date other people' thing enough times to know."

Bethany just watched Terri eat for a moment. The former cheerleader was hardly someone to be giving anyone advice. She was a bundle of contradictions, one minute acting like she was this chaste, prudent young lady who was patiently searching for her own Prince Charming, and the next minute chattering on about what a cute butt some frat boy had who she had "shacked" with the night before.

"I don't know," Bethany said, trying to be optimistic. "I'm not ready to be tied down to one person, anyway."

Terri studied Bethany's face for a moment, looking concerned. "What are you saying, you're going to keep seeing him?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

"You're kidding yourself, Beth. You're going to get hurt."

"How do you know?"

"I just do. You're too sensitive for that kind of arrangement. I know you, Beth."

"And I suppose you're not too sensitive for it?"

Terri shrugged and ate another French fry. "Everybody's different."

Bethany bristled at the comment. She didn't appreciate Terri trying to come off as some highly-evolved being who was above such primitive emotions as insecurity and jealousy. The girl was lucky to get through a day's worth of classes without falling apart over a lost lipstick case or a broken nail.

"Thanks for your support," Bethany said coolly, and she picked up her tray and walked off.

"Beth," Terri called after her. "Don't be mad."

Bethany ignored her. It was time to try and call Leslie again.

CHAPTER 1.11

Jill was by far the most beautiful of Adam's three current Roster girls, at least by common standards. She was tall, about 5' 9", with wide-set, chocolate-brown eyes and stunning cheekbones. Her attractive facial features were accentuated by her figure-skater's haircut, which gave her the elegant appearance of a fashion model. She had, in fact, worked as a model during high school but found the profession "too full of air heads" to pursue it professionally. But she still cared for herself like a model. She exercised three times a week at a health spa, religiously, for two hours a pop, not including the time she spent in a tanning bed. There was not an ounce of fat to be found anywhere on her slender body, Adam was happy to report.

Now, Jill was employed by a fledgling music publishing company called Alternative Sounds, which was attempting to create a new type of music (or so they believed) which merged New Age jazz and reggae together. Adam questioned the wisdom of pursuing such a corporate goal, but he never let these doubts be known to Jill. She wrote press releases and advertisements for the company and seemed to be quite happy with her job. She was 24 years old, very bright and determined to be successful, though she sometimes suffered with bouts of depression.

Adam had managed to catch Jill in her office—she had been working late the past week on some important press release that she had told him about, though he hadn't paid much attention to the details. It was hard for him to concentrate on anything Jill said when they were together in bed—she really was a knock-out.

Since he had prepared dinner two nights in a row, Adam decided it was time to take a rest from his culinary pursuits and take Jill out for dinner. They met at a Japanese restaurant and had sushi, an "exotic food" that Jill especially liked, and something that Adam obviously couldn't prepare himself. Afterwards, she followed Adam back to his house in her car. As soon as they arrived, they slipped into the hot tub, which was out on a redwood deck that faced his backyard. The bushes and trees that surrounded his property afforded total privacy—bathing suits were not necessary.

Jill sat in the tub at a right angle to him, her long, spa-tanned legs draped across his lap. She had been unusually quiet all evening. Adam knew she was having another one of her down spells, but he had not said anything to her about it.

"Have you finished the press release you were working on?" Adam said, just to try and make conversation.

"I don't want to talk about work," she said glumly.

"Okay." He leaned forward and kissed her knee. Adam had never found knees exciting before he had met Jill, but hers were exceptional.

They didn't speak for a few minutes, relaxing, listening to the drone of the hot tub jets. Steam rose into the crisp night.

"Adam?"

"What," he murmured, kissing her knee again.

"Is this relationship going anywhere?"

Adam froze. _Here we go again_ , he thought.

"What do you mean, honey?" He said this as casually as he could—he didn't want to screw up tonight, the way he had done the night before, with Bethany.

Jill's soft brown eyes focused on his. "You know what I mean."

All at once, the water felt too hot. Adam gently moved Jill's legs aside and sat up on the edge of the tub, with only his calves in the water.

"I thought we had an understanding, Jill."

"What understanding?"

"That I was going to keep dating other people, and you were going to keep dating other people."

"At first, yeah. But are we going to do that forever?"

"My God, Gretch—I mean, Jill...do we have to keep going over and over this?"

Jill sat up in the tub. "What did you call me?"

Adam hadn't slipped like that in a long, long time. "Nothing."

"Yes you did, you almost called me Gretchen. I heard you."

"Okay, so I almost called you Gretchen."

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Who is she?"

"She's an ex-girlfriend, that's all."

Jill frowned at him. "How many ex-girlfriends do you have, anyway?"

"What do you mean?" Adam said, though he knew full well what she meant. Two months earlier, she had heard Heidi leave a message on his answering machine when he had made the near-fatal mistake of leaving the volume turned up (even using his checklist, he still screwed up occasionally). He had told Jill that Heidi was his ex-girlfriend, which was actually the truth, since he had just eliminated Heidi from the Roster. Then, a short week later, Jill had found a couple of strands of Gretchen's red hair in the shower, and he had blamed it on a fictitious ex-girlfriend named Kate who he had dated "a long, long time ago."

"Well?" Jill said. "How many ex-girlfriends do you have? Do you need to get a calculator, or what?"

"I've had quite a few ex-girlfriends, Jill. I'm thirty-eight years old, for God's sake."

She stared at him, now looking more confused than angry. "I thought you said you were thirty-three."

"What?" Adam said, rattled. What was happening to him? He hadn't ever made this many slips.

"You told me you were thirty-three the first night we went out."

"I did not."

"Yes you did."

"Well, you must have misunderstood me."

"Jesus...what difference does it make? Thirty-three, thirty-eight! Who gives a shit?"

She gazed down into the steaming water, looking depressed. An instant later, the hot tub motor clicked off. Within a few seconds, the water—and everything around them, it seemed—was perfectly still.

Jill slowly stood up. "I have to go."

"What? Come on, Jill, don't go. What's wrong?"

"I don't know," she muttered, pulling a towel around her moist body.

"Maybe we should do a Tarot reading."

"I don't want a Tarot reading, Adam." She opened the sliding glass door and went inside.

"Jill—"

The door slammed shut.

Adam got up, wrapped his towel around his waist, and went inside.

Jill was sitting on the edge of the bed, putting on her clothes.

"Come on, Jill. Please don't go."

"Don't beg, Adam. I hate it when guys beg."

Adam paused and looked at her incredible body. Yeah, she had probably listened to a lot of begging over the years.

"I'm not begging, Jill. I just think we should talk about this."

"I don't like talking to you. You always twist everything around." She was putting on her pantyhose and stopped, one long leg in the air. "You're too smart, that's the problem."

Adam tried not to look at her raised leg, but it was difficult. She noticed this and quickly finished putting on her hose, then stood up and stepped into her skirt.

Adam sat down on the bed. "I just don't see why girls always think relationships have to 'go somewhere.' What's wrong with just being in the moment? Just enjoying the relationship for what it is, letting it take its own course."

"That's just what I'm talking about, Adam. You're too 'spiritual' for you own good. Life isn't just some happy-go-lucky cruise down a river. You have to make some plans for yourself. Otherwise, you'll end up at the end of the 'journey,' as you like to say, with nothing. No kids, no family...all alone."

"Is that what you're afraid of, Jill? Being all alone?"

"I don't want to talk anymore about this." She stepped over to the mirror and started brushing her hair.

"Well, I think you're panicking. You're suffering from the 'I'm afraid I'll end up an old maid' syndrome."

"Well, I'm twenty-five years old, Adam."

"Oh my God! You better start trying looking for a nursing home—with our aging population, they're filling up fast these days."

"That's not funny. You don't understand, anyway. You're a man. You can get married and have kids whenever you please."

Adam was sorry he had made the joke. "Yeah."

"And in your case, you'll probably be in a wheelchair."

"Maybe so."

"Just sitting in a wheelchair, playing with your kids. And you'll probably still be hanging around Hoffmeyer Bookstore, too, only you'll need to find another one, since the café is on the second floor."

Adam was so astonished his mouth dropped open. Before he could close it, Jill glanced at him through the mirror.

"Didn't think I figured that out, did you?"

"What?" Adam said innocently.

"Do you really believe I thought it was just some big coincidence when you walked up to me in the New Age section? 'You look like a Scorpio...'"

Adam felt himself blushing.

Jill watched him for a moment, then looked back in the mirror and straightened up her blouse. "Oh, don't get upset, Adam. I thought it was kind of cute. Clever, really. But are you going to do that for the rest of your life?"

Adam did not answer, nor did Jill give him a chance to. She went downstairs, and after a moment, he heard the front door close.

* * *

An hour later, Adam was sitting at his desk, wearing his dark blue bathrobe, staring dully at the phone. It was only 8:30, and he didn't have a damn thing to do. He hadn't planned on calling Bethany until the next morning, partly to create a steady, twice a week rhythm of seeing her, like his other girls, but partly because he wasn't sure how she would react. For all he knew, she might be mad at him. Despite what some people might have thought about his character, Adam did not have "thick skin"— he did not take rejection well.

He debated about calling Bethany for almost half an hour, but finally, the silence of the empty house forced him to a decision. He picked the phone and called her number. It rang and rang and rang. Just as he was about to hang up, somebody answered.

Whoever it was sounded out of breath. He thought it sounded like Bethany's roommate, but he wasn't sure.

"Is Bethany there?" he said.

"No she's not. May I ask who's calling?"

"It's Adam."

"Oh, hi." It was Terri, all right—he was sure of it. "Sorry, I'm a little out of breath. I was at the other end of the hall."

"That's okay."

"I was studying with some friends." She took another breath. "Whew, that's better. Uh, Beth's not here right now."

"Oh. Do you know where she is?"

There were a few seconds of silence. "Well, I probably shouldn't say, you know."

"On a date, then."

"No, I mean, I just shouldn't say. It's her business—you know what I mean."

"Yeah," Adam said. A needle of jealousy pricked at his heart. He clutched the phone a little harder and composed himself. He wasn't going to let himself get jealous over some 19 year old college student. It didn't even make any sense in this case—he had only been out with her twice. He leaned forward a little bit, trying to make the pain in his chest go away, but it didn't help.

"Listen, Terri...this is Terri, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"Do you know how Bethany's feeling about me? I mean, maybe you don't know what's going on with us, but I got the impression you two were pretty close."

"Oh. Um, gosh, I don't know if I should talk about this or not."

"I understand. I just wanted to know if you think she'll go out with me anymore or not, after what I told her. Did she tell you about that?"

"Yeah," Terri said, though hesitantly. Another long silence. "To be honest, I don't know what she's going to do, but I'd say...well, the chances aren't very good. I'll put it that way."

"Oh." The pain in Adam's chest grew even stronger. "How come?"

"Beth's just not the type of person who can handle that kind of a, you know, situation. Don't get me wrong, I'm not _judging_ you for it or anything. Personally, I don't have any problem with it myself, but she's just super-sensitive, that's all."

"Uh-huh," Adam said. His throat felt dry.

They were both quiet for a moment. The silence in Adam's house seemed almost deafening. He needed companionship. He needed it _badly_.

"What sign are you, Terri? Just out of curiosity."

"I'm a Leo."

Adam thought he detected a shift in her tone. "A Leo, huh? Like to be on stage all the time...the center of attention."

Terri laughed. "That's me."

"Where's your moon?" Adam said. He thought the North Node might be a little advanced for her.

"My _what_?" she said, with a giggle.

"Your moon. It's a part of your astrological chart."

"Oh." She giggled again—she had obviously formed the anatomical connection with the word. "I have no idea."

"You've never had your chart done?"

"No...but I'd like to have it done. Sometime, I mean. Beth said it was awesome."

Adam swallowed hard, his temperature, and a few other things, rising. "I could do yours for you, if you want."

"I don't know if that would be a good idea."

"Why?"

"You know why."

"No, I really don't."

"Adam...Beth's my roommate. And my friend."

"Yeah, I know. But you said she's not going to go out with me anymore."

"No, I said she _probably_ wouldn't go out with you anymore."

"Well, weren't you just being nice? Trying to let me down easily?"

Another silence. "Well, I _would_ like to have my chart done. I guess there's no harm in that. Beth said she was going to ask you to do it, anyway."

"Uh-huh." Adam didn't remember Bethany saying anything to him about doing Terri's chart, but this was good. It made things easier.

Adam decided to go for broke. "I could do it for you tonight, if you want."

" _What?_ "

"I don't have any plans, and I'm just sitting here. I may as well do something productive." Or _re-_ productive, Adam thought.

"You're not serious, are you?"

"Sure I'm serious. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well...I'm studying right now."

"Can't you study later? You should take advantage of this opportunity, Terri. It would cost you a hundred bucks to have it done by anybody else. I just do it because I like to do it, and I'm still learning."

"Gosh, I don't know...if Beth found out..."

"Why does she have to find out? We don't have to tell her. Besides, any type of psychic reading is strictly confidential. I may not charge for my work, but I have professional standards."

Another long pause. " _Where_ would we do it, if we did it?"

(End of Book 1 – to be continued)

To purchase Book 2 of Secrets of the Elusive Lover, please  go to this page.

### A LETTER TO MY READERS

Hello, Dear Reader!

I hope you enjoyed this book. I write in a variety of genres—thrillers & suspense, romance, young adult, and horror. As I say on my website, my goal has always been to write novels that are so engaging and entertaining that you can't stop reading after a couple of pages—"unputdownable" novels. You can read all my book descriptions and read/download free chapters at www.mikewellsbooks.com. Be sure and sign up to my  VIP Reader List (free) so you'll receive news about upcoming books and giveaways.

Also, if you enjoyed this book, I would greatly appreciate your help with spreading the word about what I have to offer. Positive word-of-mouth for independent authors like me is crucial. Please pass this book along to your family and friends—give it to anyone who you think would enjoy it.

I always welcome comments about my books—please feel free to give feedback via email (mike@mikewellsbooks.com) or via my website/blog. Book reviews are also appreciated.

Thanks for reading and have a great day!

Mike Wells

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### Acknowledgements

Editor

Anna Wells

Proofreaders

Sarah Irene Gannon and Dax Tucker

### About the Author

Mike Wells is an American bestselling author of over 20 thriller and suspense novels, including _Lust, Money & Murde_r and _Passion, Power & Sin_. He is also known for his young adult books, such as _The Mysterious Disappearance of Kurt Kramer_ , _The Wrong Side of the Tracks_ , and _Wild Child_ , which are used by English teachers in high schools and colleges worldwide. Formerly a screenwriter, Wells has a fast-paced, cinematic writing style. His work is often compared to that of the late Sidney Sheldon, with strong and inspiring female heroes, tightly-written scenes, engaging action/dialogue, and numerous plot twists. He currently lives in Europe and has taught in the Creative Writing program at the University of Oxford.

