Sabina nodded, desperately searching for something more to say to him…anything that would keep him standing on the sidewalk just a few moments longer. Couldn’t he feel the attraction between them? Her heart fell. Maybe he wasn’t interested. And just because he was the most gorgeous man she’d ever met didn’t mean he was available. He could be involved, maybe even engaged or married. It would be just her luck to meet the only perfect man in New York, then find out he was already taken.

“All the good ones are,” she muttered, raking her dark hair out of her eyes.

“What?”

Sabina swallowed hard. “Nothing.”

“Well, it was nice running into you,” he said, giving her a nod. “Maybe we can do it again sometime.” He glanced at his watch. “I really am going to be late. So, take care.” He gave her a quick wave and started down the sidewalk.

Sabina watched him walk away, certain that she’d just blown any chance she had with him. But at the last minute, he turned around. “When?” he shouted.

Confused, Sabina shook her head. “When what?”

“When can we run into each other again?”

A giggle bubbled up inside of her at the sudden turn of events. “How about right here? Tomorrow morning? We can go for coffee.”

“Same time, same place.” He waved, then ran across the street and disappeared into a stream of pedestrians.

Sabina reached down and took the amulet between her thumb and forefinger. “I guess it does work,” she murmured.


“RUTA’S. IT’S ON Christopher Street. I know just where it is,” the cabbie said.

Alec Harnett glanced at his watch, then surveyed the gridlocked traffic on Sixth Avenue through the cab window. He reached into his briefcase and picked out the file folder labeled LUPESCU. The corners were dog-eared and the label was yellowed owing to the age of the file. Inside, he found a detailed listing of yearly visits to Ruta Lupescu’s shop by his father, Simon Harnett, written offers that had remained unsigned, and a stack of property appraisals that increased in value with every year that passed. In addition, there were copies of reports by the building inspectors, claiming that, despite his father’s insistence, Ruta Lupescu was in compliance with all New York city building codes.

The old Gypsy woman had been a thorn in his father’s side for nearly thirty years, ever since his father took over Harnett Property Development from Alec’s grandfather, George Harnett. And now that Alec had been named president of the company, the problem of Ruta Lupescu had fallen onto his desk.

He’d been headed to Ruta’s earlier that morning when he’d been knocked to the sidewalk. Alec smiled as he recalled the beauty who had caused the accident. He’d known more than his share of women in Manhattan, one more beautiful than the next. But this woman was different from all of them.

Alec had always been drawn to willowy blondes, the all-American beauty, cool and aloof, except in bed. The woman he’d met that morning was the opposite. She had an exotic beauty, every feature magnified just enough to make it extraordinary. Her mouth was wide, her lips lush, her skin like silk. Her violet eyes were ringed with dark lashes, and her raven hair tumbled around her face, creating a perfect frame for her beauty.

“You payin’ a visit to Ruta’s?”

Alec glanced up and the cabbie grinned, watching him in the rearview mirror.

“Do you know her?” Alec asked.

“Oh, yeah. Ruta is the best in the city. I met her back when I was working with NYPD. Now I see her whenever my luck goes south at the track.” He chuckled. “If she devoted herself to the ponies and lottery numbers, she’d probably be a millionaire. That woman has some scary psychic powers.”

“Interesting,” Alec said. His eyes came to rest on the cabby’s photo. Mario Capelli. He wondered if Mario knew that Ruta Lupescu was sitting on a multimillion-dollar lottery ticket. She owned a piece of property that every developer in Manhattan would trade his mother to own.

In the past twenty years, real estate values in the Village had skyrocketed. Most of the undeveloped property had been scooped up long ago in a mad race to provide housing and retail space to a growing population of very affluent New Yorkers. But Ruta Lupescu had acquired her building fifty years ago, before Greenwich Village became one of the city’s most attractive neighborhoods.

Now her building sat smack in the middle of a row of six properties owned by Harnett Property Development. With all seven in hand, they could build something special-a new hotel, luxury condominiums, or maybe a shopping complex with a movie theatre. But without Ruta’s property, plans for anything big were put on hold-unless Alec could convince her to sell.

His father had always considered the property to be his to begin with and had never made a reasonable offer, preferring instead to badger the old Gypsy into selling. But Alec took a more pragmatic approach to the problem. Everyone had their price, even Ruta Lupescu. It was his job to find it.

“What can you tell me about her?” he asked.

“Ah, she’s a sweetheart. Always willing to help a person in need. Why, most of those folks who live in her building are on fixed incomes. She barely asks for rent.”

“Seems a bit silly in this day and age,” Alec commented.

Mario shrugged, glancing over his shoulder. “I suppose it does. But Ruta came from nothing. She and her mother were refugees back in the late thirties. They came with only the clothes on their back. Just a few years after they arrived, her mother died. Ruta was a teenager. She told fortunes on the street and lived in the basement of an old building until she saved up enough to rent her shop. The story goes that one night, her landlord stopped in and she told him his fortune. And when it came true, he gave her the building, free and clear. A whole building for one fortune. Like winning the lottery, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” Alec murmured. He’d heard the story a million times, but told with much less awe and reverence. His grandfather, George Harnett, had been the man. And Ruta’s fortune had predicted good health and a long life for Alec’s grandmother Judith, who had been seriously ill for nearly a year. The very next day, Alec’s grandmother had miraculously gotten out of bed, and within a week, she was her normal cheery self.

“Back then, the Village wasn’t the best place to live,” Mario commented. “But things have changed.” He laughed, shaking his head. “That Ruta could live like a queen, but she’s still telling fortunes for ten dollars a pop.”

“What about her family? You’d think they’d want her to be comfortable.”

“Her daughter moved to Missouri with her husband a few years ago. She wanted Ruta to come with them, but the old lady was determined to stay. I don’t blame her. She loves that place. And everyone in the neighborhood loves her.”

Alec sat back, glancing around the cab. The interior was decorated with photos. At first, he assumed they were of Mario’s children, but upon closer examination, Alec found smiling couples, many of them dressed in wedding wear. “What are all these pictures?” he asked.

“Ah, most of them are fares. At least, that’s how they started. Once in a while, I make a few introductions and one thing leads to another and before you know it, they’re walking down the aisle.”

“You’re a matchmaker?”

“I guess you could call me that. Are you looking for a wife?”

Alec chuckled. “No, not at the moment.” But he couldn’t ignore the image of the violet-eyed beauty that drifted through his mind. He imagined she was a woman who could keep him interested for a long time. He’d find out tomorrow morning, but for now, Alec had to concentrate on the job at hand.

Mario pulled the cab over to the curb, then pointed to a brick five-story. “That’s Ruta’s. Say hello for me and tell her I’ll see her tomorrow afternoon. I take her out to Brooklyn every Thursday. She tells fortunes for free at a retirement center there.”

Alec paid the cabbie, then hopped out. He walked along the sidewalk, back and forth in front of the shop, as he collected his thoughts. His father had always come away frustrated from his meetings, unnerved by the yearly curse she had put on him. She’d even become a legend around the office. Whenever the photocopy machine broke or important paperwork got lost, it was blamed on the Gypsy’s wrath.

Alec took off his jacket and draped it over his arm, then loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. All he had to do was keep his cool, listen to her concerns and then address them, logically and calmly. His father had never tried that approach, so it might just work the first time out.

A tiny bell rang above his head as he entered the shop. The interior was a hodgepodge of old wooden display cases, thick tapestries and threadbare furniture, just another in the mix of odd establishments scattered throughout the Village. He wandered over to the counter and bent down to examine Ruta’s merchandise, if it could be called that.

There were birds’ nests and the jaw from some sharp-toothed animal, a small bowl of amber crystals and a bottle of dark green liquid. Everywhere he looked, there was something more bizarre-feathers and pickled eggs and dried roots and berries. His gaze halted on a stuffed weasel that sat above the cash register. The place was downright creepy-and empty. “Hello?” he called.

An instant later a slender figure popped up from behind one of the counters. Her long black hair tumbled around her face, and when she brushed it back, he met familiar eyes of a strange violet color. For a long moment, they didn’t speak, a tiny frown marring her smooth brow.

“It’s you,” he finally said. “From the sidewalk this morning.”

“Yes,” she murmured. Her fingered fluttered up to her necklace and she rubbed the pendant nervously. “How are you? How did you find me?”

“You work here?”

She nodded. “I do. My grandmother owns this place. Ruta Lupescu.”

“Your grandmother,” Alec said very slowly. “Ruta is your grandmother.” He fought the urge to step back out to the sidewalk and regroup. Either this was incredible luck or terrible irony. He’d been thinking about this woman all day and now here she was, as if destiny had put her in front of him.

Was there any way to separate business from pleasure now? Ruta had made her feelings about the Harnett family well known. What were the odds that her granddaughter would feel differently? Given time, perhaps he could enlist her help to convince Ruta.

For now, that’s what he needed-time. He could play it cool, collect a bit more information and revise his strategy. “I understand you tell fortunes here.” He swallowed hard, suddenly finding it difficult to speak. Out on the street, he felt safe, in control. But this was her environment. His mind drifted back to the old woman’s curse. Perhaps her granddaughter was even more powerful than she was.

“My grandmother usually does the readings,” she said. “She’s not in right now, but she’ll be back in about a half hour.” A tiny smile twitched at the corners of her mouth. “Funny, I wouldn’t have pegged you for the type to come into this shop.”

“I’ve always been curious,” Alec admitted, returning her smile. “And some power must have made me walk through that door.” He leaned in closer, bracing his elbows on the counter. “Maybe you would do my reading?”

She paused, then shook her head. “I’m really not that-”

“I won’t hold you to anything you tell me. I just have a few simple questions.” At first, it looked as if she might refuse and he’d be forced to leave without learning anything more.

“All right,” she finally said. “Why don’t you have a seat and I’ll go get the cards.”

“Cards? Aren’t you going to look into a crystal ball or read my palm? Or maybe you could do the tea-leaf thing?”

“There are many ways to do a reading,” she explained. “I prefer tarot cards, but if you’d like me to read your palm, I can do that.”

Alec sat down across the table from her and held out his hand. Right now, all he wanted was to touch her, to see if her fingers elicited the same intense reaction they had that morning. “Let’s try this first, and if I don’t get the answers I want, we’ll give the cards a shot.”

She reached out and took his hand in hers. The moment she did, Alec felt his blood warm and his pulse leap. Slowly, she drew her fingers over his palm, stroking it gently. He tried to concentrate on the task at hand, but Alec found himself fascinated by the sensations her touch evoked.

As she stared at his palm, he took the chance to examine her more closely. She was even more beautiful than he remembered. His eyes fixed on her mouth, and he imagined kissing her. She’d taste like some sweet, exotic fruit, strangely addictive, yet unfamiliar to him.