Heart and Soul

By Karen Michelle Nutt

80s rock star, Haley Rose, and her boyfriend went missing without a trace on October 31, 1988, and were eventually presumed dead. Three decades later, thirty-year-old, Rowan Beckett, recalls things only Haley Rose would know, and she can belt out songs in the same unique fashion. However, Rowan couldn't be the missing rock star since Haley would now be in her fifties. Could Haley Rose have come back reincarnated as Rowan Beckett? Or is Rowan as delusional as her family suspects?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Karen Michelle Nutt
• Release date: Jul 25, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463060056

Karen Michelle Nutt

My name is Karen Michelle Nutt and I’m an author of paranormal tales, writing for The Wild Rose Press, Highland Press, Prairie Rose Publications, and Twin Star Books.Time Travels have been a passion of mine. I have always been intrigued with the possibility of being able to reach back in time and change the past. Common sense says influencing the past isn’t impossible, but I can’t help but wonder: What if I can?Fallen Angels, vampires and shape shifters embrace my darker side where their worlds intertwine with ours.Whether your reading fancy is paranormal, historical or time travel, all my stories capture the rich array of emotions that accompany the most fabulous human phenomena—falling in love.

Book preview

Chapter One

Roll with It

Maverick Sullivan owned the Heart and Soul, a coffeehouse located in Los Angeles County, where cover bands and local talents flocked for a chance to be the headliner at the small intimate venue. Every Friday and Saturday nights, the sound of music poured out of the backroom like a siren's call. The close-up and personal setting for the audience provided an experience not soon forgotten either, and the fact Maverick served coffee, tea, and appetizers was also a new reality for most who liked their rock 'n' roll served with alcohol and a side of drugs.

Last call, Maverick shouted over the din of conversation, which meant order your specialty coffees to go. Heart and Soul was closing in twenty minutes. The collective ahs of disappointment sounded like a choir warming up for their next song. Gotta call it a night sometime, he said with a grin. I need my beauty sleep.

You're too dang pretty already, Joni Lee said from the back table and turned and grinned at her two friends Ben and Rafe, who were in the band that played tonight. She was a twenty-four-year-old blonde, who had big green eyes and a dimple in her right cheek that winked into existence when she smiled.

At thirty years old, Maverick managed to stay fit and trim. He ran five miles every morning, and he kept the junk food at a minimum. Pretty, you say? he shouted back then gave the women one of his heart-stopping smiles or so his fans told him when he used to play bass in the popular band, Roadside Reapers. God, was it already five years ago since he called it quits with them? I was going for ruggedly handsome. He flipped his dark strands away from his face.

It's those eyes of his, Joni said with a sigh. They're framed with those dark thick lashes that any woman would kill for.

I know I would, Katie Copland said as she walked over to stand beside him. Her job consisted of serving the patrons their meals and drinks while he operated the coffee bar. She celebrated her thirty-sixth birthday last week by chopping off her long dark locks for a sportier short-hair look. It made her light brown eyes really pop. She was perky and fun, and the best employee he could ask for. She was loyal to a fault, never late for work, and she knew how to handle herself with finesse. Some people are just born pretty, she added and gave him a wink.

The patrons chuckled, and he shook his head as he strode over to the end of the bar where George Herman had planted himself after the band had played. The man was in his early seventies with gray hair that he kept neat and trimmed. Deep lines etched his face as if the man had a hard life. He never said much and kept to himself. He'd come by to listen to the bands and place an order for a cup of black coffee. Maybe he'd add a grilled cheese sandwich and a slice of pie to change it up, but nothing else. Do you want another coffee to go, Mr. Herman?

He shook his head as he replied, I'm done for tonight. He stood with a grimace as if his limbs had become stiff from sitting too long. He reached for his wallet on the bar and opened it. Keep the change. He placed his money down, and it covered more than enough of his bill and then some. I'll see you tomorrow, George said as he turned and headed for the door.

He's gotta be the saddest man alive, Katie said as she saddled up beside him and placed a tray down on the bar. I wonder what his story is.

Maverick glanced at her with a frown. However, before he could ask her what she meant by her statement of the guy; his attention was drawn to the door where George was holding it open for a young woman.

They're closing, George told her.

I know, but I just need a moment with the owner.

It's all right, George, he called to him, we're not closed yet.

George nodded and made his way outside once the woman had crossed the threshold. As she drew closer, Maverick took in her features all at once – dark straight hair, smooth peach skin, dark lashes, and rosy lips meant for kissing. The woman wasn't a local, and yet there was something oddly familiar about her, but he couldn't put his finger on it. His gaze slid down to what she wore–black jacket over a white t-shirt and blue jeans that were molded to her curves. His gaze slid to her face again. Five foot two/ eyes of blue, he murmured. The song just popped into his head for some odd reason, and he cleared his throat.

Did you say something? the woman asked as she reached the bar.

Uh...no. You said you needed to speak with the owner.

Yes. Does that happen to be you?

He nodded. Maverick Sullivan. He held out his hand, which she gripped firmly, her small hand feeling comfortable in his palm.

Rowan Beckett. I'm here about the job and the apartment.

Rowan Beckett, he repeated the name then realized why it had sounded familiar to him. I didn't expect you until Wednesday morning. He'd never met Rowan in person, only spoke to her briefly on the phone. For some reason, he thought Rowan would be older, but if he were to guess, he'd say she was about his age or maybe a few years younger.

My lease was up yesterday, and I was packed. Her slim shoulders lifted in a shrug. I should have called and given you a warning I would be here sooner. If it's a problem, I'll check into a hotel.

Rowan had been the first one to call him about the manager position that opened up. His previous manager had moved back to South Carolina to be closer to his daughter, who had just had a baby. Rowan's resume had been impressive, and he needed a manager pronto since he had the Merry Mayhem Christmas shindig just around the corner. Tryouts were already scheduled for next week.

No, it isn't a problem, he told her. The apartment is ready to go. Let me close up shop, and I'll show it to you, then tomorrow we can go over what your job will entail.

That will be great. Her lips curved, and it took all his will power to tear his gaze away from her dazzling smile. However, meeting her eyes proved just as mesmerizing until Katie nudged him, breaking the spell. Katie's pursed lips and raised eyebrow all but scolded him to stop ogling the new manager. He didn't know what was wrong with him. He never felt an attraction toward a woman as intensely as he reacted to Rowan just now. It was like the air had been sucked out of the room, and she was his lifeline. If he glanced away, he'd perish. No, that wasn't entirely it. If he even blinked, he feared she'd cease to exist.

Would you like a cup of coffee while you wait? Katie thankfully spoke up, drawing Rowan's concerned expression away from him and his weird-ass meltdown.

Tea if you have it, Rowan replied.

Coming right up, he blurted out a little too loudly, but it finally snapped him out of his bizarre trance. He hurried away or rather sprinted if truth be told. He needed to gather his composure, or Rowan would surely hightail it right out of here with the wrong impression of him, and he'd be out a manager. Worse, he would never have a chance to grasp why he wanted to know all there was to know about her.

Was it hot in here? Shit, he was sweating. Anxiety would do that to a man, but what was he so anxious about?

By the time he returned with the tea, he would have thought Katie and Rowan were friends catching up on old times. Rowan was telling Katie about how she carved giant pumpkins last Halloween to look like Frankenstein's Monster and the other to look like Dracula.

Earl Grey latte with a splash of vanilla, he announced his arrival and slid the cup toward her on the bar.

Rowan's face paled, and she stared at the cup as if he handed her some exotic concoction, she should be wary of sipping.

Is something wrong? he asked, concerned over her odd reaction toward a cup of tea.

She finally met his gaze, her big blue eyes wide and curious. How did you know this was the way I take my tea?

Chapter Two

I Love a Rainy Night

Rowan waited for Maverick to answer, but her question seemed to have stumped him into silence. How did he know she liked Earl Grey lattes with just a splash of vanilla? There were a million other ways she could have taken her tea. She could have liked herbal tea concoctions or green tea with lemon, but no, he had brewed her an Earl Grey latte.

Before Maverick had to muster some sort of answer, a ginger-haired man sporting a white apron, standing at the doorway–to what she assumed was the kitchen–called out to Maverick, drawing his attention away. I'm going out back to throw out the trash, the ginger-haired man told him. Do you want me to dump the boxes by the door, too?

Maverick glanced at Rowan with an apologetic shrug, I'll be right back. Rowan had the oddest feeling he strode away so he didn't have to answer her question. She glanced at her cup a second time but then indulged in the black tea flavored with bergamot. The added vanilla flavor gave it a sweet taste.

Looks like you needed that cup of tea, Katie said with a hesitant smile, but her gaze followed her boss as he made his way toward the kitchen.

It was a long drive from San Francisco, and it's nice just to relax. Rowan sighed into her cup.

Katie glanced at her again and patted her hand. "Well, you do that, hon. As for me, I need to start clearing the tables, or we'll never close tonight. She strode around the bar and headed to the back of the room. At one of the tables, a woman and two men stopped her. Rowan couldn't hear what they were saying, but Katie's rich laugh reached her ears. The three each gave Katie a hug before they headed for the front door, and she then took care of the cups and plates on the table. Rowan had the feeling this place didn't just serve tea and coffee but also dished out a good dose of friendship as well. She reached for her teacup and sat back to wait for Maverick to be free from his duties.

Thirty minutes later, the man locked the front door behind the last patron and turned the sign in the window to state they were officially closed for the night. Katie donned her black and white plaid coat she had behind the bar with her purse and car keys. Forecast says rain, she told them. I'm looking forward to it. Welcome to the family, Rowan, she added as she headed to the back of the coffeehouse with Maverick following behind her. She couldn't see them, but she heard Maverick and Katie exchange a goodnight and a second later a soft click, which she could only assume was a door being closed. Maverick returned, and she couldn't help but notice what a ruggedly handsome figure he portrayed. His gaze met hers, and for a scant few seconds, the silence seemed to take up space between them, like a barrier neither one of them could cross, and if she glanced away, the wall would separate them forever. She felt a moment of panic, but Maverick spoke, and the unsettling awkwardness disappeared.

The employees usually park in the back, he explained with a jerk of his thumb behind him.

I'll make sure to park there tomorrow.

He nodded. Ready to see your new home?

She stood from the stool and followed Maverick outside, where he locked the door behind them. They headed around the corner of the brick building to the stairs leading to the second level. He had said the apartment was close by. She hadn't expected it to be above the coffeehouse.

There were two apartments; it appeared, and she could only assume he lived next door. If she remembered right, he had said he lived in the same complex. He placed the key in the lock and turned the knob. Upon entering, his hand reached for the switch on the wall to the left of him. In seconds, the room illuminated in a warm glow that came from the hanging lamp next to the sofa.

Luckily the place had come furnished, which proved a blessing since her previous place of residence had been, too. Never big on knickknacks or frivolous items that collected dust on a mantle, all her worldly possessions fit in the trunk of her car.

This is the living room, he said as he played tour guide. Fresh paint and disinfectant, and some kind of fragrant carpet cleaner scented the air, indicating the place had recently been given a makeover to welcome a new tenant.

The bathroom is here. He continued the tour, flipping on lights as he went. And the bedroom is across the way.

At the mention of that particular room, her mind went where it had no business treading, but who could really blame her? Maverick was a looker, to say the least, with his perfect hair, eyes that spoke of mischief, lips that confirmed it, and not to mention his athletic physique—with muscular arms wedged into a black t-shirt and his bum in those jeans was a dose of sexy no woman in her right mind could ignore. She shook her head. She really needed to get a grip.

As if he sensed her staring, he turned toward her and met her gaze with an arched brow. Then she realized he must have asked her something, but she had no idea what. Heat rose from her neck to her cheeks like a fever out of control, making her wish she could fan herself. Instead, she quickly stepped around his tall frame to peek inside the room and hoped her awkward silence wouldn't come off as too weird. A musky, woodsy scent hit her nostrils like a phantom tease. Damn, did he have to smell good on top of everything else? Scrutinizing the room, her eyes spotted the queen-size bed with a blue and white comforter. She chewed her lower lip to stifle the sigh as images of rolling around on the spacious surface with the man behind her played havoc with her libido. Stop it, she mentally chastised herself. This was her boss, for goodness sake, and she was in no way interested in starting a relationship with him or anyone else for that matter when she had something much more important to tend to first.

She shifted her gaze to take in the rest of the room—from the matching end tables to the four-drawer, pine dresser. The window on the far wall was adorned with dark blue curtains tied back to reveal the white blinds nestled behind them, hiding the view she might have to the outside world. However, a framed oil painting, depicting a winter forest of snow, but for one autumn tree that stood as a focal point with amber leaves falling silently to blanket the ground, hung on the wall next to it. It communicated loneliness, and at the same time, a quiet beauty she couldn't ignore. Definitely not a bad thing to see the moment her eyes blinked into awareness after a good night's slumber.

The sheets are new.

With a start, her focus riveted to Maverick, and all thoughts of the lonely autumn tree slipped her mind.

Just in case you were wondering, he said with an awkward cadence lacing his words. Anyhow, that's the bedroom. He turned away and headed back down the hall as if escape was in order. Could it be possible he'd been doing a little daydreaming about her, too?

She found him in the kitchen, the nook separating them like a barrier she should never cross, and yet her mind found a way. Thoughts of red wine, her hands on his bare chest, and stolen kisses... Who was she kidding? She'd give those away for free.

There are plates and cups in the cupboard. His voice, though deep and melodic, evaporated the vision of pleasure like mist in the morning breeze. She shifted her weight uncomfortably and tucked an imaginary hair behind her ear, wishing a cold wind would touch her heated flesh, but no windows were propped open, and the central air didn't seem to be working.

The coffeepot on the counter and the refrigerator are both in good condition, he finished as he turned to face her, his gaze meeting hers expectantly, his eyes smoldering depths of green like the clear waters of Malta. She blinked and blinked again to force the erotic images from her mind. He was going to believe her unhinged if she kept this up.

Everything looks great, she voiced lamely and glanced away as if she were checking out the apartment further. At least the farce seemed to deafen the awkward silence, and she was able to regroup. The apartment wasn't a large place or fancy, but she didn't need much. Never had.

I could help you bring up your things, he offered.

I'll manage, but thanks, she voiced hastily.

Silence loomed again.

Okay, then. He handed her the keys to the place. I'll see you in the morning.

Sounds like a plan, she told him as they both took the steps toward the front door. With his hand still on the doorknob, he turned to face her. His eyes searched hers – for God knew what – but she didn't mind his curiosity. She waited patiently, if not a bit breathless for him to formulate the question he seemed intent on asking her with the utmost care.

"So, how