Aquarius Addiction (Zodiac Series) Read online

  Table of Contents

  AQUARIUS ADDICTION

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32

  CHAPTER 33

  CHAPTER 34

  CHAPTER 35

  CHAPTER 36

  CHAPTER 37

  CHAPTER 38

  CHAPTER 39

  CHAPTER 40

  CHAPTER 41

  CHAPTER 42

  CHAPTER 43

  CHAPTER 44

  CHAPTER 45

  CHAPTER 46

  CHAPTER 47

  CHAPTER 48

  EPILOGUE

  AQUARIUS ADDICTION

  ZODIAC SERIES

  TRISH JACKSON

  SOUL MATE PUBLISHING

  New York

  AQUARIUS ADDICTION

  Copyright©2015

  TRISH JACKSON

  Cover Design by Leah Suttle.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, business establishments, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.

  Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  Published in the United States of America by

  Soul Mate Publishing

  P.O. Box 24

  Macedon, New York, 14502

  ISBN: 978-1-61935-696-2

  www.SoulMatePublishing.com

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  To my husband and soul mate

  for keeping romance alive in my life.

  Aquarius

  The Water Carrier

  Good Traits:

  Inventive

  Creative

  Compassionate

  Intelligent

  Eccentric

  Freedom-loving

  Flirtatious

  Bad Traits:

  Radical

  Rebellious

  Unpredictable

  Detached

  CHAPTER 1

  “I am not dying.” Arlette Xylander banged her hands on the steering wheel and yelled, “I don’t have to believe it.” She dug in her handbag for a tissue and dabbed at the angry tears. She found a space, pulled to a halt in the parking lot, and blew her nose. She let out a gut-wrenching sob and forced back others that wanted to follow.

  She sneered at herself in the mirror. “Get a grip. Now your face is a total mess.”

  The label on the eye-drops said they would get the red out. She poured liberal amounts into both eyes, then wiped the mascara that had run down her cheeks with shaking hands, her jaw clamped tight. She had to stop her hands from shaking, but how? Her whole body was still reverberating from the shock. Her mouth was dry and her stomach clenched tight.

  She took a deep breath, and another. Would nothing slow down her racing heartbeats? She threw her head back and rested it on the back of the seat. Tears threatened again, but she forced them back.

  Still fighting to control her runaway emotions, she thrust her feet into the red high-heel sandals and jumped down from the truck, dragging her handbag with her. She took a few more deep breaths and squared her shoulders.

  A few minutes later she entered the red-brick FBI building on shaky legs, and, after showing her ID to security, headed for the elevator.

  She peered through the glass door of Chad Kingsley’s office. Another man sat across from him, with his back to the door.

  She unclenched her fists and flexed her fingers, and took a few more deep breaths before she knocked. Chad lifted his gaze from the paperwork, and beckoned. She opened the door and stepped inside, closing it carefully behind her.

  “Arlette. Thanks for coming in so quickly. Let me introduce you.” His open palm pointed to the stranger, who stood up and turned around to face her.

  His dark-blond untidy hair framed a square jaw and straight nose. He was heart-stoppingly handsome.

  “Andre Rossouw.” His gray-green eyes flicked across her breasts before he lifted them to stare into her face. She noticed an old scar running from the corner of his right eye across his cheek. It didn’t detract from his good looks, but rather it made him more interesting. Make that stand-and-stare-with-your-mouth-open handsome. She closed her mouth and took the offered hand.

  “This is Arlette Xylander,” she heard Chad speak, but she felt like she was underwater. “The psychic I told you about.”

  He held onto her hand for a few seconds more than necessary. “I didn’t expect you to be so . . .” he said, and slowly released his grip.

  She felt like she had been gob-smacked. Never in her entire life had she been so totally aware of someone. He was taller than her, but not excessively so. She guessed he was somewhere around five-ten or eleven, stocky and muscular, with those gray-green eyes under dark eyebrows and thick lashes. His khaki Dockers hugged his hips and his broad chest filled the bottle-green Polo shirt nicely.

  “Those eyes of yours, I don’t think I’ve ever seen eyes that color before.” He leaned forward and stared unashamedly. “They’re kind of a light blue, almost lilac.”

  She silently prayed the eye drops were still working.

  She smiled and dipped her head. Why was she acting like such a moron? “I’ll take that as a compliment.” She pulled the chair closer to Chad’s desk and slid onto it, setting her handbag down on the floor. She carefully crossed her legs and tugged the skirt down as far as it would go.

  As the stranger settled into the chair beside her, his arm brushed hers. Was that a bolt of static electricity? She looked down briefly to avoid his eyes, and studied his sturdy Timberland shoes while she steadied herself.

  “So why don’t you tell me what we’re looking at?” She slid the paper from the center of Chad’s desk toward her. I hope they can’t see how my hands are trembling.

 
Chad’s brown eyes crinkled at the corners. His short, military-style hair outlined a square face with slightly protruding ears, and a skin the color of strong coffee. She could tell he had noticed the exchange. He kept a straight face, though. “Andre’s sister. She disappeared a long time ago, and . . .” He turned his gaze to Andre. “Why don’t you tell her?”

  The handsome face turned somber now. He blinked a couple of times and rubbed his chin. “My little sister, Susanna, was eleven years old when someone took her.” He stared directly into her eyes.

  She held his gaze. “Go on, please.” Her voice sounded weird and heat flushed her face.

  “That was four years ago.” Andre sighed. “We’ve never been able to find out anything about where she is, or who took her. Don’t know if she’s alive or dead. It’s like she was abducted by aliens, and spirited away.”

  He ran his hand through his hair, noticed her eyes following the motion. It was difficult enough to talk about Susanna, but he found this woman distracting. She was a psychic. He hoped that didn’t mean she could read his mind, see the pictures he was seeing, wondering what her breasts looked like, how her wide mouth would feel under his. And those legs . . .

  “So, the FBI has been on the case for almost since it happened, but . . .”

  Damn. I can’t keep my eyes off her.

  “Yeah, we’ve done everything we could think of, interviewed just about everyone she ever associated with—all her classmates, teachers, the pastor at her church, her friend’s families. Not one little clue has ever come up. It’s kind of like that girl who was found with two kids in the guy’s backyard. You know the one. Jaycee Dugard.” Agent Kingsley chewed the end of a pencil. “I told Mr. Rossouw, er, Andre, we sometimes use you to help, and I gave him some of your history, and he said he’s willing to try anything. Right, Andre?”

  “Maybe you could tell me a little more about how this works,” Andre said to Arlette.

  “Sure, of course.” She smiled. Her tongue flicked out and she ran it over her lower lip.

  Why did such a simple action seem so sensual?

  “I can’t guarantee anything.” She looked across at Kingsley, who nodded in agreement. “I’m not an agent or anything like that. I work purely on a contract basis. I usually spend as much time as possible with the missing person’s family, go to their home, touch the person’s possessions, and they take me to the last place they saw their loved one.”

  Andre nodded. Did she say touch? Funny, that’s just what he wanted to do to her. And she would be in his parents’ home.

  “Are you with me, Andre?” She brushed her hand across his shoulder.

  “Sure. Of course. I suggested that we try using a psychic long ago, but my parents didn't believe it would help, and whenever I tried to bring it up again, they dismissed it. It’s just that . . .” He swallowed. “They’re getting older. They married late in life, so by the time Susanna was born my mom was forty-six. I want to find her, find out what happened to her before . . . Before it’s too late.” He hoped she wasn’t going to touch him again.

  “I understand. Anyhow, sometimes I get visions. Like flashes of memory. I’ve been able to help them solve quite a few missing persons cases, haven’t I, Chad?”

  Andre found himself staring at her legs. She must have noticed, because she tried to pull her red mini-skirt down.

  “Yeah. You’ve been more successful than most of the other psychics we’ve used. You really do have a gift.” He turned to Andre. “What are your thoughts on this? We'll need your parents to be on board, but I'm sure you know that.”

  “Yeah. I was finally able to convince them this time that it’s worth a try. Anything’s better than nothing.” Those eyes were truly unusual. “If you’re up to it?” Why do I have such a strong urge to kiss you?

  “I have to warn you,” she said, “They aren’t often . . . I mean, they are often deceased.”

  Andre ducked his head to get his gaze away from her. “I know. Getting closure sounds like such a cliché, but I think it would help to know.”

  “So, is that a yes?” Kingsley said.

  “Sure. Yes. It can’t hurt,” Andre responded.

  The FBI agent looked at Arlette. “I’ll have Mary type up a contract with the usual terms. When can you start?”

  “Where am I going?”

  The agent turned to Andre, eyebrows cocked.

  “It’s . . . you want to go to my parents’ home, right? The farm. I mean, that’s where she was when she was taken.”

  “I think that would be the best place to start.”

  His heart was beating way too fast. Wait a minute. Was she blushing? Was that . . . were her nipples going hard under that T-shirt? He tore his gaze away and looked out of the window. Anything to distract himself.

  “They live in Union Parish, up north near Arkansas. They’re farm people. Susanna went to the local primary school in Farmerville.”

  “I’ll see what hotels there are and get Mary to book you room,” Kingsley said.

  “No. No hotels,” Andre said.

  They both turned to him and stared.

  “I mean, the hotel in Farmerville is not very good. I think, I know my parents will be happy to have you stay on the farm. They have plenty of space and it’ll save you a lot of driving. The farm’s fifteen miles from Farmerville. Depending on how long you plan to stay, of course.” He wanted her to sleep there at the farm. Where he could be alone with her. At night. He raked his hair with his fingers again. He had to stop this line of thought.

  She stared across the desk at Kingsley, who held his hands out in a noncommittal gesture.

  “I don’t want to impose. It’s really no trouble, Mr. Rossouw. I don’t mind driving,” she said.

  “Andre. My name is Andre.” He dragged his cell phone out of his pocket, scrolled through his contacts, and hit a button. The woman put her hand on his arm and shook him.

  “Really, please don’t bother your parents with that.” Her hand was small and soft on his skin.

  “Mom,” he said. “I’m at the FBI offices. Remember I told you I was gonna see if I could get a psychic? Well, I did. She’s sitting here beside me right now. She has to see Susanna’s room. She’ll probably have to stay a couple of days.”

  “She can’t stay in that nasty hotel, son. Tell her she can stay with us. It won’t take more than a few minutes to get the guest room ready.”

  “I told her already. Thanks, Mom. I’ll let you know when she’s coming.”

  He closed the phone in his hand and looked into her eyes. “She told me you have to stay there. No arguments.”

  “But . . .”

  He touched her arm. Wanted to hold it, run his hands along it. “You don’t want to get on the wrong side of my mother. Believe me. Can I call you Arlette?”

  “If you tell me where that accent comes from.” That smile again.

  “South Africa. We moved here when I was a kid, but my accent never changed.”

  “It’s very sexy,” she said, looking away and blushing.

  Don’t do that, he wanted to shout. Her nipples were still hard. “I guess you could come with me in my truck. Seems like waste of gas for both of us to drive there.”

  “No. I’ll follow you. I’d like to retain some independence. Or you could just give me the address. I’m sure my GPS would find it.”

  She was all business now. “No, they often get it wrong. You know how it is in rural areas. I wouldn’t want you to get lost. I don’t mind driving here to get you.”

  Kingsley cleared his throat. Did he feel the sexual tension? “I’ll have the paperwork ready this evening. Today’s Tuesday. Would Thursday be too soon?”

  She tapped the side of her head with a finger. “No. I can’t think of anyplace else I’m supposed to be this week.”
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  “Okay. You want to stop by here Thursday morning on your way out?” Kingsley didn’t seem too fazed by her.

  “Sure, Chad, that would be perfect.” She turned toward Andre and held out her hand. “I’ll meet you here. Thursday at around eight. See you then.”

  She picked up her bag and left the office. He watched her legs in the red high-heeled shoes, and how her ass moved under the tight skirt until she was out of sight.

  “Whew,” Andre said. “That’s hot. Did you see her nipples go hard? I don’t know how you kept from watching them.”

  Kingsley laughed. “I saw them. But, don’t let her beauty fool you. She’s one tough cookie. We have strict rules. No sexual relationships with other agents or clients. She may not be an agent, but she knows the rules apply to her, too, while she’s working. I can’t speak for what she does in her personal time. And before you ask, the answer to your next question is no, she’s not married. Had a boyfriend but he doesn’t seem to be around anymore. But if I’m not mistaken, you said you have a fiancée.”