Once upon a time, there lived a young woman who could speak with the dead.
She was a cleanser of the soul—the souls of the dead, those who had passed on with regrets. She could calm disturbed spirits, listen to their woes, and send them off to where they belonged. It was a centuries-old skill that ran in her family, carried on by word of mouth, and many came to the mountainous shrine in northern Japan seeking comfort, hoping to speak with their loved ones who had passed away or to ward off evil or purge an evil curse.
Her mother, grandmother, great-grandmother, and the other women who had come before them had all had the same power, and it was a given that Misato carried on the family tradition.
But Misato hated it.
And here in Hunter's Wharf, her roommate, Caroline, was the only person who knew about her background as a shaman. Caroline had graciously sponsored her on a working holiday, saying it was the least she could do after Misato performed a cleansing ritual for her. At the time, Caroline had been suffering from chronic pain and fatigue so severe that she could barely get up in the morning, and no doctor could identify the cause. She had come across a small magazine article about the mysterious Ohkami women and traveled to Aomori, desperate for any help she could get.
Misato soon identified a seriously malicious spirit, the vengeful spirit of a living man who had stalked Caroline for years, clinging to the high school teacher front and back, and proceeded to dislodge and neutralize it. Caroline said the man finally stopped following her, finally stopped showing up in the least expected places to persist that they were fated mates. Once again regaining her peaceful life, Caroline said she would be forever grateful and had told Misato to give her a shout if there was anything at all that she could do for her.
And Misato had taken her up on her offer.
So, she could speak to the dead. Perhaps she could ward off evil spirits, even destroy them—with training, of course—but Misato had wanted to live a regular life as an ordinary girl. She wanted to experiment with makeup, date boys, discover love, get married someday, and have a happy family. Thanks to the Internet, she had read about things like that. Thanks to her mother, who had bought a state-of-the-art computer for handling the administrative end of her shaman business and unwillingly given Misato a window to the world.
Misato didn't mind the training that never seemed to end. What she didn't want was to have her mother match her up with a man who would enhance her abilities, only to say goodbye to him as soon as she gave birth to a baby girl, as had the other women in her family. She wanted love in her life, not strict discipline in a solitary setting.
It wasn't asking too much to want a normal, happy life and a little romance, was it?
So she had left her mother a letter and taken off. A few years had passed since she left her snowy village and her country—and crossed over to the other side of the Pacific Ocean.
She no longer had to get out of her futon before the sun was up. No more standing under a waterfall on dark, freezing winter mornings. Instead, she took hot showers in the morning, made herself a cup of wake-me-upper coffee, and pulled her long black hair back in a ponytail to show off her modest assortment of earrings. And she now had the luxury of experimenting with eye shadow, mascara, and shiny lip gloss before leaving for work at Vicki's Gourmet Coffee in downtown Hunter's Wharf.
Customers of varying backgrounds came and went to the thriving coffee shop at all hours, most in business suits except for one particular customer who always sported fancy designer jeans she knew must have cost a bundle.
Derek Reilly.
Derek Reilly was a man who turned heads—predominantly female heads. He was a guy who oozed confidence. The word that came to Misato's mind was a recent addition to her growing English vocabulary: "Bleh!"
Okay, maybe he was good-looking with those broad shoulders that emphasized his lean but muscular build, those long legs that seemed to go on forever.
But Misato didn't think it was natural for a man to go around wearing sunglasses all the time, even in the evening. Sure, he'd take them off at the counter and show off his sparkling blue eyes behind those dark lashes, then he'd flirtatiously wink at her.
He'd done that the first time they met, and she'd been stunned. It had felt like sparks flew between them the moment their eyes met, and her heart had begun racing.
Something like that had never happened to her before, and Misato was sure that it showed just how much he disgusted her.
It made her blush—she couldn't help it; she wasn't used to having close contact with men unless she was performing a ritual for them. He had then turned to the other man who was usually with him and laughed. Nope, she definitely didn't like Derek Reilly.
The other man was okay, though. Connor Williams was also tall and handsome, but he seemed more reserved, down-to-earth, and decent. Misato thought the mild-mannered man looked apologetic when Derek went on and on about how cute and sweet she was. She hated people like that who made fun of others and acted superior like they owned the world, though, okay, maybe he did own a large part of it because it was clear, even to her naïve eyes, that he was very wealthy.
He wore top-of-the-line brands, had a different woman waiting outside the coffee shop for him practically every evening, and took off in a red Ferrari—not that she was watching him or anything, of course. She knew that he was a typical example of a playboy, and she wasn't interested in playing.
Misato believed in old-fashioned romance. She felt that a man should pick up a woman at her home when they were going out on a date, not meet her outside a coffee shop. At least that's the procedure she learned on dating in the women's magazines she devoured.
To top off her list of negatives about Derek Reilly, his women wore heavy makeup that made them look like witches, not to mention very revealing clothes that emphasized their curves. She secretly hoped they would all catch colds and go home.
As soon as Vicki's Gourmet Coffee opened for business, Derek would sometimes walk in, yawning and saying he needed his morning coffee fix and acting as if he hadn't gotten any sleep the night before. Hmm, what could he have been up to all night?
"About that Blue Mountain coffee you mentioned—Misato?" Her boss, Vicki, waved her hand in front of Misato's eyes. "Hello? Earth to Misato. Hello, hello?"
"Huh? Oh, sorry, Vicki, my mind was wandering."
"Daydreaming, were you?"
"I'm sorry, I should be focusing on my work. It won't happen again."
"It's okay; all the customers have left, and we're closing for the day." Vicki looked toward the door and saw the object of Misato's attention.
"Ah, Derek Reilly. Now, that's a mighty fine male specimen, eye candy that won't make you fat. I don't blame you for being attracted to him."
"I'm not attracted to him!"
"Hey, don't get worked up, sweetie. Why don't you just walk out there and ask him to take you out on a date?"
Misato blushed. "A date? I don't—why would I want to do that?"
"One, you always turn red when he comes by. Jeez, you're almost that hue now, and all I've done is mention his name. Two, it's about time you started dating. Caroline's told me how shy you are, but you're what, twenty-three or twenty-four?"
"Twenty-one."
"Oh, my. You're right there in the prime of youth and should be getting out there enjoying your life more. The clock starts running faster and faster as you get older, you know. No, wait, let me finish," she said when Misato started to object.
Vicki had been a student of Caroline's in high school. Caroline had asked her to give her friend Misato a chance to work and familiarize herself with the local culture, and she had agreed to look out for her.
"Three, Derek Reilly is a fantastic catch. He's always with Connor—I told you I went to school with Connor, didn't I? Well, Connor's always going on about what a great guy Derek is, and they go on photo assignments together in all parts of the world. The newswire wants him on staff, but Derek seems to prefer to freelance, which I'm sure is because he's so damn rich and doesn't even have to work. Lucky guy, huh?"
Misato wasn't sure what the correct response was but nodded anyway.
"And he's tall, dark, and handsome, with a bit of a dangerous air about him, you know? Are those deep blue eyes mesmerizing or what? A nice guy who's competent at what he does, rich, and gorgeous to top off the package? I'd go after him myself if I didn't have my Kevin."
"Vicki!"
"Just kidding. Do me a favor, Misato. Think about going out on a date with him, okay? Caroline asked me to look out for you, and I know I sometimes—okay, maybe often—sound like a nagging mom, but we both want you to be happy."
"You aren't that much older than me."
She sighed. "I'm about to hit the big three-oh. But, hey, before we end this discussion, let me tell you something." She moved in closer as if preparing to share a big secret.
"I think Derek's interested in you."
"No way." Misato rinsed a dishcloth and began wiping the countertop. "He always teases me and makes fun of me. He treats me like I'm a little girl."
"Well, he is acting unusually immature himself, like a grade school kid who can't help picking on the girl he likes."
"Oh, Vicki, cut it out. Let's just finish cleaning up and go home."
"Okay, okay." At least she planted that thought in the girl's mind. From what she'd heard from her former teacher, Misato had been brought up at an old shrine and had had a tremendously disciplined childhood. She supposed it was necessary to perform the sacred ritual Caroline said she experienced, but a girl deserved to have a little fun.
Misato let out a huge sigh. She knew Vicki meant well and appreciated her concern, but she was perfectly happy with her life and saw no need to approach Derek—or any man for that matter—at the moment. Someday, the time would come for romance, but she was still getting her bearings, readjusting to a more normal way of life.
Derek wanted to kick himself for acting like a youngster yet again and looked up at the clouds in the sky and figured it would soon start to rain. Damn, that would ruin the plan he'd come up with to casually walk back into the coffee shop, comment on what a lovely evening it was, and ask Misato and Vicki if they might care to watch the sunset with him over a glass of wine.
People generally believed that Derek was a ladies' man, but that wasn't how he saw himself. He was just a regular guy who loved to be with other ordinary people to chat about everyday things. True, he enjoyed the company of women, but who didn't?
Derek had also left his previous life years ago, hoping to live like an average human and maybe be lucky enough to find love. He'd been playing around with stocks and bonds since college when he realized he seemed to have a knack for business. One thing had led to another, and the comfortable financial base that resulted came as no surprise. He soon amassed a fortune.
But Derek had always been interested in photojournalism, the art of capturing the news in pictures. So he'd distanced himself from his obligations and commitments and began working as a photo stringer for Reuters and the Associated Press. In less than a year, Derek Reilly had become one of the most sought-after freelance photographers in the business. But he'd chosen to stick with a local wire service where he met Connor, a guy he had quickly recognized would be a friend for life.
His work was going great, his investments were doing well, and life was good.
Derek enjoyed casual dating, something he hadn't had the freedom to do back home. They were just casual dates, and he was starting to think that his background might be too complicated to explain to a prospective wife, though that was okay with him. It wasn't a major issue if he had to stay single; he'd just make it a rule to enjoy women as they came and went.
Or so he'd thought.
It had been love at first sight. He couldn't believe it, but Derek had not stopped thinking about Misato since he first saw her. He'd felt fireworks exploding in the pit of his stomach the moment those dark brown eyes looked into his own when she made his lattes. He tried to look as calm as he could, lazily strolling over to a table by the window, asking himself what the hell he was thinking. She was just a young girl with the sweetest accent. Hadn't he told himself that casual was the way to go? What did he think he was, a regular human being?
He was a werewolf, for cripes' sake.
A werewolf who had left his pack and lived as a normal human being for the past seven years. And he had vowed to stop his family tree from expanding.
But he couldn't get Misato off his mind.
So Derek continued to drink cup after cup after cup of coffee at Vicki's shop, sneaking out before, during, and after editorial meetings, lunch, edits, and as soon as he came back from assignments. He felt like a nervous high school nerd who was too shy to ask a girl to go to a school dance with him. What kind of billionaire acted like that? He asked himself.
"Argh!"
To hell with his rule. Sunset or not, he was going in there to ask her out.
He had no idea that Misato wasn't an average girl.