Rose Quartz Read Online Free Page A

efficiency of years of practice. First she ground the coffee beans. Closing her eyes, she inhaled their heady aroma. Then she got the coffee started and fed the cat. As soon as the pot shut off she poured herself a cup of the steaming dark liquid. She took a sip, then another and jolted to life as the rich caffeinated beverage rolled through her system.
    Coffee cup in hand, she walked to the living room and once again looked out the window. She could feel her body tensing as her eyes swept the street. If anyone sat in the cars parked along the curb she couldn’t see them.
    She rolled her head from side to side and forced herself to relax. If there was someone watching the apartment house there just wasn’t a whole lot she could do about it.
    What she could do was paint. Her fingers tingled with anticipation.
    Walking back into the kitchen, she filled up her coffee mug again, went upstairs and put on old sweats and a paint-spattered tee then walked across the room to her loft that overlooked the kitchen. Light streamed through the window.
    She took off her amulet, laying it on an old wooden table. She never wore it when she worked because it gave her an unfair advantage. What she painted came from her soul, not the whims of ancient gods. She knew, even after she’d taken it off, an aura of creativity still enveloped her but there was nothing she could do about that.
    Walking to the easel, she picked up a paintbrush and felt a shudder of delight. Painting for her was a sensual experience. She painted in oils, her specialty being beautiful flowers in exotic vases.
    Stepping back from the easel, Bella studied the project she’d started before she left. White lilies and roses spilled over a cobalt blue vase and a white lilac lay at its base as if dropped by a careless hand.
    Her showing was only a week away. Only this last piece remained to finish. She squeezed paint from a tube onto her palette. Then, dipping her rabbit’s fur brush into the deep blue splotch, she began.
    Time lost all meaning. A shrill persistent noise broke her concentration. She blinked and looked at the clock. Eleven a.m. She picked up her coffee, sipped and wrinkled her nose. Ice cold. The phone stopped ringing. She looked at her painting and nodded in satisfaction.
    Puss–Puss came strolling in.
    “Damn, I’m good.”
    “Mrrow.”
    “Glad you agree.” She leaned forward, sniffed then laughed at herself. “They look real enough to give off fragrance but right now they smell like oil and turpentine.”
    The phone began to ring again. Still studying the painting, she reached for the phone. “Hello,” she said absently.
    “Welcome home. When did you get in?”
    “Hello, Jeffrey. Last night.”
    “How was your trip?”
    She paused, uncertain how much information she wanted to share with a man she’d been seeing on a semi-regular, semi-casual basis and settled for, “Interesting.”
    “Why don’t you tell me all about it over dinner tonight?”
    “Jeffrey, I—”
    “Come on, Isabella, between your trip up north and your trip to Italy it’s been nearly two months since I’ve seen you.” His pleasant voice deepened, became husky, “I’ve missed you, Bella. If you were trying to prove how important you are in my life you’ve succeeded.”
    Bella closed her eyes and rubbed the spot between her eyebrows with her index finger. She could feel a headache coming on. “We both agreed this was a no-commitment relationship, Jeffrey. Or did you think all you had to do was turn up the charm and I’d fall into your arms?”
    He gave a low, intimate laugh. “Be fair, Bella, you did fall into my arms.”
    “Bad choice of words.”
    “Come on, sweetheart, I’ll take you to that little Greek restaurant you like so much. If dinner’s all you want, I’ll take it like a man.”
    “That’s what I’m afraid of,” she said dryly.
    He laughed. “Pick you up at seven?”
    Capitulating, she said, “Fine,” and hung up the phone.
    She stretched,