Audrey could only agree with that. The current owners of the Whitcomb place were miles and miles away in Palm Springs; whatever she and Michael were doing here, it shouldn’t touch them. Or at least, she hoped it wouldn’t. She asked Michael as much, and he nodded.
“I talked to them this afternoon, let them know we were still on track to have the problem resolved in the next couple of days. As far as I could tell, they were fine — they’ve been playing golf and swimming, going for hikes. The evil living in their house hasn’t followed them.”
No, because it had decided to latch on to her, for whatever reason. Was it that the demons had somehow been able to sense her burgeoning psychic powers, and were trying to scare her off before she had time to let them fully develop? Did they somehow see her as a threat?
Audrey found that hard to believe, but then again, she didn’t know much about demons’ thought processes. And she really didn’t want to know.
“Well, that’s good,” she said as she broke off a piece of naan and dipped it in korma sauce. “I guess they didn’t live there long enough for it to really get its hooks into them.”
“No, apparently not.” Michael was quiet for a moment, although he didn’t seem interested in his food or his wine. Instead, he was looking up at the stained-glass windows in the dining room’s east wall, expression abstracted. Was he thinking about the McGraths, hoping he could make good on his promise to return their house to them in the near future?
Audrey thought of something then she’d been meaning to ask him, something which had occurred to her as she was watching TV that afternoon. “I know there isn’t much we can do about my house until we’re done at the Whitcomb mansion, but I realized that we never checked on my car when we were at my house. Do you think we could go look tomorrow, see if it’s okay?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Audrey, there’s a very good chance that they trashed your car, too.”
“Maybe. Or maybe not. It’s very possible they were focused on just the house. The garage is detached — you have to walk down the driveway to get to it.”
Again, he was quiet. “It’s possible it was left alone. We can go look, if it’s that important.”
“It is. I mean….” She let the words trail off because she had to stop and ponder why this was so important to her. “I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, because you’ve made a lot of effort to keep me safe, but I’d just feel better if I had my car back. Even if I’m only driving it here once we’ve made sure it’s okay.”
“I understand. You need some autonomy. Although you know I’ll make sure you have someplace to stay while your house is being worked on.”
Meaning, she guessed, that he didn’t want her here as a house guest of indeterminate duration any more than she wanted to be one. And really, a lot of the work would go on in the background while she was off on location, chasing down demons in Aspen or Santa Barbara or wherever Michael and Colin determined would make the most interesting shows.
Rather than go into any of that, however, Audrey only said a heartfelt “thank you,” and returned her attention to her plate. The rest of dinner was somewhat subdued, and the two of them finished and took their plates into the kitchen in silence.
Once they were done with clean-up, however, Michael turned toward her and said, “I’d like to try another little psychic test with you, if you don’t mind.”
She wouldn’t say she was exactly relaxed, but she did feel a slight detachment from the day’s worries, thanks to the two glasses of wine she’d drunk. “I’m not sure I’m in the best shape for reading cards,” she told him.
“That’s not what I had in mind. More a little…psychometry.”
Psychometry, the practice of being able to get impressions about a person or event by touching an item associated with that particular individual or happening. Audrey certainly had never shown any talent for it, but, as the little card-reading session earlier had proved, she wasn’t exactly the best judge of her own abilities.
“Sure,” she said, hoping she didn’t sound quite as reluctant as she felt. An impulse prompted her to add, “But can I ask you something first?”
“Of course,” he replied, although his posture suddenly seemed wary, as though he didn’t quite trust her to ask something he could answer.
All their talk about psychic powers had reminded Audrey of her conversation with Rosemary McGuire, how she’d argued with Michael about the origins of her family’s powers. “I guess I’m trying to figure out how my suddenly getting psychic abilities works with your theory that humans aren’t really psychic, that our powers come from someplace outside ourselves.”
He shook his head. His expression was more resigned than annoyed. “Rosemary McGuire told you that, didn’t she?”
“Well, yes.”
“I’m afraid she misunderstood what I was saying. My contention was simply that humanity’s psychic powers may very well have come from outside sources — otherworldly entities, so to speak.”
Audrey couldn’t help raising an eyebrow at him. “What, you mean like aliens?”
Now he did smile. “No, more like fae or djinn or angels.”
“Oh, that’s all.” She supposed that once you were willing to believe in demons, then it wasn’t too much of a stretch to include all sorts of other supernatural beings.
Then again, “believe” wasn’t probably the correct word to use when you were confronted by the reality of demons on a daily basis.
“Yes, that’s all,” he said. “It would help to explain why strong psychic powers tend to run in families. So actually, what I was saying only supported what Rosemary believed about the psychic powers she and her sisters inherited. But that’s what happens when you walk into the middle of a lecture and don’t try to figure out the context.”
About all Audrey could do was shrug. She liked Rosemary, but she could also see how the psychic might have misconstrued what Michael was saying, especially when she was already predisposed to dislike him. And while Audrey wanted to ask whether psychic talents ran in his family, she knew he’d probably shut her down and not give her a straight answer. Better to leave it alone. “I understand,” she said. “Thanks for explaining the situation.”
He nodded, and they went into the living room, where he asked her to sit down on the couch. She did as requested, then waited as he went to retrieve a book from one of the bookcases that lined the walls. It was clearly an old volume, with its cracked leather binding and worn gold leaf on the spine. She could just barely make out the title.
“Treasure Island?” she said, looking up at him.
“It’s not the book that’s important. It’s who it belonged to.”
All right, then. Audrey let Michael place the book in her hands, and then she held it with one palm pressed against the front cover and the other flat against the back. Since she wasn’t sure what to do, she closed her eyes, thinking that might aid her concentration. For a minute or two, she really didn’t see anything. Even so, she was acutely aware of him standing next to the couch, of the clock ticking on the mantel, of the various sighs and creaks of the old house as it settled in for the night.
And then it was as if a brightness grew behind her eyelids, like the sun coming up, even though she knew that wouldn’t happen for another ten hours or so. She saw a big, spreading tree, and a stream that meandered beneath it. The tree’s leaves were a bright, fresh green, and the sun was warm overhead. Late spring, or early summer. Audrey didn’t think the scene displayed behind her closed eyelids was anywhere in California, although she couldn’t really say why she had that particular impression.
A woman was sitting on a fallen log next to the stream, the book open in her lap. She was older, probably in her late sixties or early seventies, but her spine was straight as she sat on the log, and the hands that turned the pages didn’t shake at all. A mild breeze ruffled her snowy hair, pulling a few strands loose from the ponytail she wore low on her neck, letting them drift around her face, delicate and
pale as spiderwebs.
Then the scene faded, and Audrey opened her eyes and blinked up at Michael.
“What did you see?” he asked.
She described the woman and the fallen log, the luxuriant tree — oak? — and the feeling of peace that had lain as thick over the tableau as the golden sunlight slanting through the leaves. Michael nodded, satisfaction clear in his expression…but also something Audrey might have described as fear, if she didn’t think that emotion sounded far too melodramatic for the situation.
“Who is she?” she asked.
“My great-grandmother,” he replied. “This book was hers. She died when I was barely more than a toddler, so I don’t remember her very well. But I remember that spot by the stream, because my mother said it was her grandmother’s favorite place to go and read, to steal a few minutes for herself.”
“Where is it?” Audrey asked, even though she had a feeling he wouldn’t tell her. Providing a location connected to his family would have been giving her far too much information.
“That doesn’t matter,” he replied, confirming her suspicions. “What matters is that you were able to see the exact location where this book was read, and were able to accurately describe my great-grandmother. There’s no way you could have known any of that, except by touching this book.”
“Especially since you don’t have any family pictures here,” she pointed out. “Why?”
“Because I choose not to,” he said smoothly. “Not everyone wants to be reminded of their childhood.”
“But you gave me this book as a test.”
“I needed an object whose provenance was known. That’s all.”
Audrey pursed her lips in annoyance but didn’t bother to reply. It was painfully obvious that Michael would only give her the information he wanted to pass along, and nothing else. Why should she bother to keep beating her head against that brick wall?
Because she wanted him to open up to her. She wanted him to treat her differently from the casual acquaintances who knew so little about him. She wanted…she really wasn’t sure if she was ready to acknowledge what she really wanted from him.
Still in silence, she got up from the couch. She handed the book back to Michael and said, “I’m getting tired. I think I’ll go to bed now — we have a big day tomorrow.”
“You’re upset with me.”
“No,” she replied, even though of course she was. Although maybe “upset” was too strong a word. Frustrated, definitely. Speaking calmly, she went on, “You made it clear to me earlier that you don’t like to talk about your personal life. I need to respect that. You don’t owe me any answers.”
“Maybe not, but….” Whatever he’d meant to say, he apparently had decided against it, because his lips pressed together, as though he needed that physical barrier to prevent the words from slipping out. Then he said, “You’re right, though — we do have a big day tomorrow. We should both get some sleep. I’ll walk you upstairs.”
Audrey wanted to protest that she didn’t need a guide, but then she decided it was better to go with the flow. Suddenly, she was very tired, and she didn’t see the point in wasting her dwindling energy on useless arguments.
The two of them went upstairs, where she paused in front of the open door to her room. Before she could say good night, however, Michael spoke again.
“You know you’re a very extraordinary woman, don’t you?”
He was standing very close. Possibly too close, but Audrey found she didn’t mind. Maybe she should have minded. There might have been a moment when she could have stepped inside her room, made a quick comment about seeing him in the morning. Whatever that moment was, or could have been, it was lost soon enough, because Michael took another step toward her. Now he was only inches away, those odd, gold-flecked gray eyes focused on her face.
Voice a murmur, he said, “You can tell me to stop.”
She knew she should. She knew what was going to come next. But all she could feel was a terrible, aching need, body and soul telling her something her mind had wanted to ignore.
All she could do was shake her head. Not telling him to stop, as he’d said, but letting him know that she didn’t want to say those words.
She didn’t want him to stop.
And then he was bending toward her, and she felt as if she was falling into those eyes as his mouth touched hers. In that instant, the need within her seemed to flare with a terrible fire, wanting even more than this kiss, wanting him so badly that the strength of her desire shocked her. Had she ever felt this way with anyone else?
She didn’t think so, but right then she also wasn’t quite capable of rational thought. All she knew was that kissing Michael Covenant felt more right than anything else she’d ever done, even though she knew deep down that they should not be doing this. Not when they were working together. Not when he was being so secretive about his past.
Despite all those thoughts raging through her head, he was the one to end the kiss, not Audrey. He lifted his mouth from hers and took a step backward, then said, “I shouldn’t have done that.”
Somehow, she managed a shaky laugh. “It wasn’t as though I tried to stop you.”
“No, but….” One hand went up to push his hair back from his face, and she noticed how he didn’t quite want to meet her eyes. “It was unprofessional.”
“Technically, you’re not my boss, Michael. Colin is.”
“True. Even so….”
Audrey put a hand on his arm. It was the first time she’d really touched him like that, and she could feel the strength in those muscles, how solid and firm his body was. Once again, desire flared in her, but she did her best to push it away. “You gave me a chance to stop you. I didn’t. That should tell you something.” She paused before adding, “Let’s just leave it there for now. After tomorrow…after we’re done with the Whitcomb house…then we can try to figure out what we’re doing. Okay?”
“Okay.” He slipped his arm from under her hand, but only so he could wrap his fingers around hers. They were warm and strong, just like him. “Sleep well, Audrey.”
He bent and kissed her again, but gently this time, just a brush of his lips against hers. Then he released her hand and turned and walked quickly down the hall, as if he didn’t quite trust himself to stay in check if he didn’t put some distance between the two of them.
She could relate.
After pulling in a breath, Audrey went into the guest room and shut the door. Her body was still thrumming from his touch, his kiss.
Just when I thought my life couldn’t get any more complicated….
Chapter 12
Audrey had worried that she might toss and turn half the night, fretting about the kisses she and Michael had shared and what she was supposed to do about them, but apparently she was tired enough that her subconscious decided to back off for the night and let her sleep. And that was exactly what she did, so soundly that it was a little after eight o’clock when she woke up.
Eight. Yikes. Good thing they didn’t have an early call time this morning.
No sign of Michael when she cracked the door and looked out into the hallway, so she hurriedly got her things together and slipped into the guest bath, then showered and washed her hair. Blow-drying it afterward took up an appreciable chunk of time, enough that it was nearly nine o’clock when she finally went downstairs.
He was sitting at the little table for two in the kitchen, reading something on his phone. A mug of coffee sat in front of him. As soon as Audrey entered the room, he put down the phone and looked over at her. No smile, though; his gaze was troubled. Clearly, he was still worried about the change in their relationship.
So was she, but she didn’t want to let that get in the way of what needed to get done today. Trying to sound casual, she asked, “Is there any coffee left?”
“Yes. It’s sitting on the warmer.”
She smiled at him by way of thank-you, then went to get a mug from the spot where several hung on a rack on
the wall next to the coffeemaker. Pouring herself coffee and doctoring it with the little bit of sugar she allowed herself didn’t take much time. When she was done, she came over and sat down in the empty chair at the bistro table.
“Any updates on the shoot today?” she asked.
A look of relief passed over his features. In the bright morning sunlight coming through the window, Audrey could see faint shadows under his eyes. Apparently, he hadn’t passed as peaceful a night as she had.
“No,” he replied. “That is, Colin sent me a text saying we were all still meeting at the property at four, so nothing has changed.”
“But we’re still going to check on my car this morning.”
“I told you we would,” he said. “We can go after we have breakfast.”
“We should eat in Glendora,” she suggested. “There’s a restaurant called Flappy Jack’s that has great breakfasts.”
“Sure.” He drank the remainder of the coffee in his mug, then put it back down on the table.
“There’s still some left in the carafe, if you want it,” she said.
“No, I’m fine.” Michael gave her a lopsided smile. “This is awkward, isn’t it?”
“Maybe a little,” she replied. “But that’s okay. Really, like I said last night, we can figure out this…whatever it is between us…later on. Today we have a job to do.”
“You’re right, of course. Business as usual.” From the way his gaze shifted away from hers, however, Audrey had the impression he wasn’t sure whether they’d be able to pull off the whole casual thing with any real success. Maybe, maybe not. Even as self-conscious as she currently felt around Michael, she could also sense the energy flaring between them, the way she had to fight to keep herself from getting up, going over, and kissing him again…if for no other reason than to prove the connection they’d experienced was real, wasn’t something conjured out of that bottle of wine they’d shared.
Unquiet Souls Page 17