After the Rain (The Twisted Fate Series Book 1) Read Free Page A

verbose, confused, over-energized and nonsensical. His mind boggled.
    “And what did you discover?” he asked, playing along out of sheer morbid curiosity. Marcus gave astrology about as much credence as stories of Big Foot and the tooth fairy.
    “Well, we’re very, very sexually compatible,” she reported seriously. She seemed to emphasize the word “very” rather a lot. He wasn’t sure he liked it. “We’re both fire signs – I’m a Sag. But we wouldn’t be good in a relationship. Too fiery. Too stubborn, too many arguments and differences of opinion. But we can become friends,” she concluded with yet another overly-eager smile.
    Despite himself, Marcus had to admit that he agreed with some of what she said. He could never be in a relationship with her, that was for sure. He was also stubborn, he knew that. Argumentative – yes. Fiery – most definitely.
    But there was one thing he vehemently disagreed with: there was no way, no way, they were sexually compatible. None. She wasn’t his type, at all . He usually liked women whose hair didn’t remind him of a toddler’s colorful finger painting. He wouldn’t sleep with her if she was the last woman on the planet, and he suspected the feeling was mutual. He probably wasn’t her type either – he clearly didn’t have dreadlocks, wear tie-dye clothes, play the didgeridoo, and read people’s auras, or whatever else her ilk was up to these days.
    But the flight that day was eighteen hours long. Seven-and-a-half to Dubai, with a three-hour stopover, and then another six to Prague. So despite their glaring differences, he would have to make nice.
    “Here, why don’t you sit down?” Marcus asked as he moved his briefcase off the chair next to him. Stormy smiled and tossed her bags down on the floor with a loud thud as she flopped down next to him. He glanced down at her carelessly discarded luggage, and once the literal dust had settled, he tried not to recoil in horror. Exhibit A was a strange ethnic looking embroidered handbag that looked like it had been dragged through a swamp sideways, and Exhibit B was none other than an old brown guitar box covered in tattered stickers and black marker scribbles. He quickly shifted his foot and nudged his pristine leather briefcase a little further away from her belongings, wondering whether hepatitis was a suitcase-to-suitcase transmitted disease.
    Marcus turned back to his newspaper, acutely aware of the invasive new presence next to him. Trying to make himself comfortable again, he continued to flick through the financial pages… where was he before being so abruptly interrupted? Oh, yes, the benefits of investing in platinum…
    He was just starting to regain his focus when he felt a sharp blow to his ribs. Ouch!
    “Sorry,” Stormy smiled apologetically as Marcus turned to see her trying to cross her legs on the narrow chairs.
    “What are you doing?” He was trying to hide the irritation in his voice, but it was difficult under the circumstances.
    “I’m just going to do some meditation before taking off.” He watched in fascination as she fluttered her eyes closed, made some strange humming sound, breathed in and out loudly and then let her hands come to rest in a kind of praying position. She was like an alien creature. She might as well have come from another planet. It was a miracle they even spoke the same language, breathed the same kind of air.
    Deciding to ignore her, he turned back to his stock reports. But her deliberate, wheezy breathing was driving him mad, and his years of training as a lawyer meant he couldn’t keep quiet when he had an objection. “Do you mind?”
    Stormy turned to look at him. “Mind what?”
    “Your breathing is very loud. I’m trying to read the paper.”
    Stormy smiled broadly. There was absolutely no sign of fear or offence on her face, which was the type of reaction he was used to eliciting when using that specific tone. “Someone’s a grumpy grump,” she