Goddess of the Rose (Goddess Summoning #4)(10)

After a few minutes she pulled her hand from the water, shook it and wrapped it tightly in a strip of gauze she pulled from the open bottom drawer of the toolbox. She knew the bleeding would stop soon, leaving a narrow, unobtrusive scab she would cover for the next couple days with a flesh-colored Band-Aid. If the other volunteers at the Rose Gardens noticed it, Mikki would simply smile her way through their admonishments about being more careful when she pruned and making sure she always wore her thick leather gloves.

But few people ever noticed such a small, insignificant cut.

Carrying the bucket with her uninjured hand, she carefully divided the water among the five plants. She poured the blood-tinged liquid slowly over each plant's roots, whispering endearments to them and praising them for their beauty. As always, Mikki thought she could actually see the roses responding to the ritual. The cool breeze filtered through their thick leaves, causing the heavy blooms to nod their heads as if they were saying, Yes, we are part of you . . . blood of your blood . . .

And to Mikki, they were more than just plants. They were her legacy and the last vestige of her mother and her family. Without them, she would be alone in the world.

When the water was gone she smiled happily at her charges.

"I'd like nothing more than to pull my rocking chair out here, pour myself a glass of that new red I bought yesterday and spend the evening reading a good book." But she had a date, she reminded herself, with a man who had a nice voice and a charming laugh. Mikki checked the time; it was 6:45. It would take her at least ten minutes to walk to the restaurant.

"Damn!"

Mikki grabbed the empty bucket and the toolbox and tossed them inside the balcony door. She'd clean up the mess when she got home. Rushing to her bathroom, she gave her makeup and hair one last check. She looked good - the black leather skirt was one of her favorites, and the rust color of the cashmere sweater was a lovely compliment to her red-gold hair. Quickly, she chose a long, slender strand of antique black glass beads to hang around her neck and dug through her earring drawer until she found a pair of matching chandeliers.

She rushed from the bathroom, grabbed a sweater for her shoulders and was struggling to zip up her sassy new boots when she remembered the rose for her hair. She'd left it on the balcony. Grumbling to herself about being absentminded, she retrieved the cut flower, trimmed the leaves and the stem, and used the little decorative mirror in the living room to check herself as she positioned it snuggly within the curls over her left ear. Breathing deeply, Mikki smiled at her reflection. What better perfume could she choose?

Perfume . . .

Mikki narrowed her eyes thoughtfully and glanced at her purse. Deciding quickly, she unzipped the little side pocket that usually held only her lipstick, a compact and her keys. The glass stem was there, nestled among the more familiar items.

"Well, why not?" Mikki asked herself. "Sevillana said it brought her luck. Maybe if I wear it tonight I'll be lucky enough to have a decent date for a change."

Mikki pulled open the tiny cork and raised the vial to her nose. She inhaled and blinked in delighted surprise. The perfume was an earthy mixture of roses and spices. Mikki inhaled again. She'd never smelled any perfume like it. Along with the familiar scent of traditional roses, she thought she recognized cinnamon, ginger and clove, all blended together in a rich, sweet oil. She dabbed the perfume on the pulse points of her neck, throat and wrists before placing the vial back in her purse.

Humming softly to herself, she locked the door behind her and hurried to the sidewalk, loving how the evening breeze mingled the sweetness of her namesake rose and the earthiness of her new perfume. She certainly smelled good.

And suddenly she realized that she really was feeling very lucky.

Chapter Five

THE Wild Fork was located in the heart of Tulsa's Utica Square - a beautiful area filled with lovely landscaping, mature trees, trendy shops and fine restaurants. As usual, it was a busy Friday night and all the outside tables were already filled with hungry patrons. Mikki glanced surreptitiously around her. No, she didn't see any solitary men. He was probably seated inside. She checked her watch again. It was 7:10. She hated being late. Sighing, she entered the restaurant.

The harried ma?tre d' was taking the names of a party of six. He assured them the wait would not be too long and then with an effeminate flutter of his long, slender fingers, he waved the group into the waiting area. When his gaze shifted to Mikki his businesslike expression was immediately replaced with a welcoming grin.

"Mikki! Get yourself on in here. It's been ages since I've seen you."

Mikki returned his smile, and they shared a soft, girlfriend hug.

"Blair, you handsome thing, when are you going to kick Anthony out of your bed and invite me in?" Mikki teased.

Blair giggled and pretended to blush.

"Hush, bad thing. Tony's working tonight. He'll hear you and turn positively green with jealousy. And you know green is his worst color."

"As a striking redhead, I think it's tragic that some blondes can't wear green," Mikki simpered, batting her eyes coquettishly at her friend.

Blair stepped back and studied her. "And dahling, you are looking yummy tonight. That hot little skirt is just to die for! What's the occasion?"

Mikki's grin faltered. She had almost forgotten. Almost.

"I'm meeting a blind date here."

Blair sucked air and clutched his pearls. "Tragic," he said. "Let me guess. Nelly had something to do with this?"