Through Her Eyes (Mind's Eye Book 4)

by Deborah Camp

  “Levi, stop.” She felt her cheeks pink up as embarrassment engulfed her. Embarrassment and, yeah, pleasure.

  “Tell me something. When did you first feel that you weren’t pretty and that you’d be better off hiding in the shadows? I know you remember.”

  She unfolded her arms and stretched them out in front her, lacing her fingers. How could she shake him off this subject? Because she really didn’t want to talk about this. “Are you Dr. Wolfe now?”

  “I’m Levi, your lover, and I’m interested. Talk to me.”

  She bit her lower lip as her thoughts tumbled over little obstacles in her life that had caused edges, sharp points, and fractured pieces. He wouldn’t leave this alone. She’d have to say something. “Ummm . . . well, I suppose.” She swallowed. The truth loomed in her mind, but was hard to voice. “My sister was very popular.” Her arm muscles weakened and she let her hands fall into her lap. A ray of sunlight found the blue gems surrounding the diamond in her engagement ring and made them sparkle outrageously. “From the time Sadie was sixteen and allowed to date, she went out every Friday and Saturday night. Every single Friday and Saturday!”

  He arched a brow and she couldn’t tell if he was impressed or amused.

  “And it wasn’t because she was easy. She wasn’t. Sadie wasn’t a slut. She was just very popular. She’s pretty and she has such an outgoing, fun personality. Everyone wanted to be her friend. They still do!”

  “And what does that have to do with you?” he asked, almost in a whisper.

  She stared at him a moment, confused. Wasn’t it obvious? Guess not. “I couldn’t compete.”

  “It was a competition? The Tuckers weren’t allowed to have two pretty daughters?”

  Trudy swatted at him. “That’s not what I . . . Sadie is much prettier and I was always, you know, weird.”

  “Sadie is not prettier. She is pretty in a different way. She has bigger boobs, but shorter legs than you. Her figure is more voluptuous. Yours is rounded but slimmer. On the fuckable scale, you’re almost even. Personally, I think you edge her out because your longer, shapely legs are made to wrap around a man’s waist. Sadie does have a nice rack, but—.”

  “Levi, please! You’re talking about my sister.”

  “Yeah, so? Sadie is more outgoing, but you’re smarter. Much smarter. That, Ms. Tucker, is sexy. If she made you feel inadequate, it’s because you allowed it.”

  “Right. It’s all me. All my fault.”

  “You think it was Sadie’s fault that you felt less attractive?”

  “No.” She tossed him a glare. God, she hated it when he tried to psychoanalyze her! Propelling herself from the chair, she gathered the paper bowls and plates. “We should discuss the séance instead of this crap.” His chuckle made her glare at him again. “That’s right. I’m not enjoying this.”

  “Now you know how I feel when you interrogate me.”

  “I don’t—.” She snapped her teeth together, cutting off that untruth. She did play Twenty Questions with him too much. But he was such a closed book! And she wanted to know the answers to the questions he didn’t want asked. She jutted one hip and gave him a questioning look. “Can we talk about the séance?”

  He shrugged. “Sure.”

  “Jewel Chambers will want you to connect with a departed relative.”

  “Yes, and I’ll play along, but I’ll give some information that will stir things up.”

  She took the trash inside and dropped it the kitchen waste can. “Like what?” she asked when Levi sauntered in.

  “Oh, like cautioning her to be careful who she allows to be around her because someone close to her is duplicitous.”

  “You’re not really going to communicate with the deceased then, are you?”

  He wrinkled his nose. “Some, but not much.”

  “I’m kind of nervous about this whole thing. Do you think Forté will see through our séance smokescreen?”

  Levi reached out and hooked an arm around her waist, pulling her close to him. He nuzzled her ear, sending shivers down her neck and across her shoulder. “I think he already has.”

  She drew back from him. “You do?”

  He nodded. “Pretty certain he’s onto us. You smell like peaches and chili.”

  “But . . . how . . . what’s the point of—.” His lips found hers, shutting off the questions. His hands roamed up and down her back and hips. Trudy inched away, breaking the kiss. “The séance. We’re discussing it.”

  “We’re done with that. We don’t want to overthink it. Just let me take the lead and you watch with those gorgeous green eyes of yours. File it all away – every move, every nuance, every word. Then we’ll pick it all apart and find what we need.”

  “That’s your plan, is it?”

  He kissed her cheek and nodded, his lips slipping up and down her skin as his fingers slipped up under her shirt. The tip of his tongue teased the corner of her mouth. A groan worked its way up his throat. She gripped handfuls of his hair and arched her body against him as her mouth melted against his. His tongue made suggestive promises with hers until she was breathless and a little dizzy.

  His hands fell away and he took a step back from her. His eyes held dark fire. “Take it off, Trudy. Take it all off.”

  A hot shiver coursed through her. God, when he used that voice . . . that scratchy, rough-edged voice. Everything in her wanted to obey – wanted him. He smiled wickedly before she whipped her shirt up over her head and tossed it onto the floor. Her bra followed. His smile changed from wicked to wanton. He cupped one of her breasts in his hand and dragged his thumb over her hardening nipple, then bent his head and took the other one into his mouth, sucking hard. A jolt of intense pleasure blazed through her, zipping from her breasts to her belly. She tipped back her head and gathered handfuls of his hair. He bit down lightly on her nipple as he slid her leggings and panties down, down, down. His lips moved down her body, leaving quick, open-mouthed kisses.

  “Now for dessert . . .” His lips and tongue claimed her. White-hot light blinded her and, just like that, she was lost to him.

  Chapter 10

  Jewel Forté Chambers lived in a home that epitomized “old money.” Majestically white with tall front porch pillars and jet black hurricane shutters, it crowned a gentle swell of land in a part of New Orleans selected by the wealthy. Judges, doctors, university deans, and oil barons lived in the estates that fronted St. Charles Street where horses and buggies used to travel.

  Inside, a sweeping staircase commanded Trudy’s attention, making her think of scenes from Gone with the Wind. On either side of the staircase, double doors stood open to a study/library on the right and a front parlor on the left. The parlor was where Trudy and Levi were taken by the butler and where Jewel Chambers joined them a few minutes later in a sweep of violet taffeta and silver lace. The air around her shimmered with notes of jasmine and vanilla. Her white-blond hair was swept up in a stylish tumble and false eyelashes fluttered over her faded blue eyes.

  “Mr. Wolfe! Ms. Tucker! Oh, it’s so very good to meet you in person!” Her voice was whispery, not unlike that of Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis, and she spoke in a gush of excitement. “I’m Jewel Forté Chambers. It’s wonderful to have you in my home.” She extended her veined hand and her cheeks pinked up when Levi bent to kiss the back of it.

  “Mrs. Chambers, the pleasure is ours. You are most kind to offer us your hospitality. It’s not every day that we’re received by such a gracious hostess and in such a grand home.”

  Unable to top that and not even interested in trying, Trudy also shook the woman’s hand. “Nice to meet you. Your home is lovely.”

  Jewel glanced around as if to confirm Trudy’s assessment. “Thank you. It’s very old. It was built in 1858 by Colonel Anson Staghorne for his wife Elaine Piedmont of the Virginia Piedmonts.” She turned back to Trudy and her eyes crinkled at the corners when she smiled. Taking a small step back, she admired Trudy’s gray wool skirt with bow trim at the waist
and yellow silk, off-the-shoulder blouse. “What a pretty thing, you are! That deep red hair and green eyes! Enchanting. Like a forest nymph!”

  A laugh of astonishment escaped before Trudy could squelch it. “I . . . I’ve never been called that before.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” Levi said with a grin, looking dapper in all black – suit, shirt, and tie. “You have an imaginative and accurate eye, Mrs. Chambers.”

  “Thank you.” She looked well pleased with his compliment. “Please, do call me Jewel. I hope we can become friends.”

  “I hope for the same, but that means you must call me Levi.”

  “And I’m Trudy.”

  Jewel beamed and tucked her clasped hands beneath her chin in a spurt of delight. “Why, isn’t that fine! I feel like we’re already confidants!” The doorbell bonged and her eyes rounded. “Did I tell you that I invited a couple of my good friends to our little soirée?”

  “You did mention it,” Levi said.

  “That’s them.” She stepped around Levi and motioned for her newly arrived guests to join them. “Come in! Come in! Levi Wolfe and Trudy Tucker, allow me to introduce two of my dearest friends – Elsa Jenkins and Carin Barnard.”

  Elsa, sixtyish, sporting a stylish raven black wig and penciled on eyebrows, shook hands with them, giving both Trudy and Levi an uninhibited once- and twice-over. Trudy pegged her as someone who had been burned more than once by shifty mediums. Carin, in her late fifties or early sixties with a sleek brown haircut reminiscent of Sassoon and glinting brown eyes, was the opposite. All bubbly and brimming with curiosity.

  “This is so exciting,” Carin said, her eyes almost feverish. “I told Elsa on the way here that I haven’t been this keyed up since we went to see Hamilton on Broadway!”

  “And that certainly didn’t live up to its reputation,” Elsa drawled in a voice that dipped to baritone and brushed up against bass. “I hope you two fair better. I dozed off in the last half hour of that boring atrocity.”

  “I adored it,” Carin said, her eyes twinkling. “It was so current, so progressive!”

  “And so hard to understand when people talk faster than the average New Yorker.” Elsa tipped up her nose to deliver a sniff of contempt. “Please don’t pretend that you understood more than a word out of every dozen or so, Carin. We all know you’re about as ‘hip’ as a cassette tape.”

  Jewel cleared her throat. “Shall we be seated? I thought we could sit around this table.” She looked toward the doorway where the butler waited for instructions. “Ronald, please fetch my brother and you can have Imogene bring in the refreshments now, too.”

  Jewel motioned for them to take seats around a black marble topped table. Trudy was sandwiched between Carin and Elsa at Levi’s left. Jewel sat at Levi’s right and an empty space was across from him. The man who would fill that space with his wheelchair rolled into the room.

  “Ah, there you are, dear brother.” Jewel’s hands fluttered like birds as she motioned him toward the table. “Take your place beside me. This is Levi Wolfe and Trudy Tucker. Allow me to introduce you to my brother Dr. Desmond Forté.”

  It was as if an electrical charge exploded in the room, sending sparks of awareness through Trudy. She couldn’t take her eyes off the man as his round-eyed gaze went first to Levi and then slowly panned to her. He tilted his head ever so slightly and regarded her with a small smile poking at the corners of his mouth. She felt like a specimen – an amusing one, at that. In person, he was more commanding, even in a wheelchair. His brown hair was cut close to his head and he was bald on top. Photochromic lensed glasses lent a brownish shadow to his brown eyes – eyes that seemed to find everything interesting and notable. He was dressed in black suit pants, black leather loafers, no socks, a white shirt with black pin stripes, and a gray scarf knotted around his thick neck. His hands were wide, his fingers short, his nails manicured.

  “The mediums from Atlanta,” he said in a soft, almost musical voice. He maneuvered his chair into the space beside Jewel. Levi stood and offered his hand in greeting. Desmond stared at Levi’s hand for a few ticks of the grandfather clock before he slowly accepted it into his own for a firm shake. “Monsieur Wolfe.”

  “Monsieur Forté.”

  “We’re going by first names tonight, Dessie,” Jewel said. “It’s Levi and Trudy.”

  Her brother smiled and slowly released Levi’s hand. “Did you pick up anything interesting, Levi?” It was as if he tasted Levi’s name while he spoke it. “You do profess to be a practitioner of psychometry, don’t you?”

  Levi’s eyes narrowed fractionally. “I do, but one doesn’t need to be clairvoyant to know that you’re an interesting person.”

  A few moments sizzled between the two men like fireworks. Trudy intervened, half-standing and leaning toward Forté to shake his hand. He smiled, meeting her gaze, and holding her hand instead of shaking it.

  “Charmed.”

  “Doesn’t she look like a forest nymph, Dessie?”

  That tilt of his head again. “How astute of you, dear sister. She does, indeed. A forest nymph who can tiptoe around in one’s mind. That’s your claim to fame, if I’m not mistaken.”

  Trudy stared pointedly at their clasped hands, then met his gaze again with an arch of her brows. He got the message and released her. “I make no claims and I seek no fame.” She sat back down and was relieved that her voice emerged steady since her nerves were quivering. Desmond Forté gave her the heebie-jeebies.

  “You have her confused with me,” Levi said with a chuckle, drawing attention back to him. “I’m the shameless braggart who seeks fame and fortune. Wait. Is that accurate? I mean, it’s not bragging if it’s all factual, right?”

  Jewel and Carin chuckled at his little joke, but Forté barely glanced at Levi, giving Trudy the impression that he was ignoring him on purpose – to rile him. They all took their seats and the excitement brimming from Jewel and Carin was almost contagious. Almost. Elsa’s face was set in deep lines of skepticism and “Dessie” still seemed amused by the situation.

  “Does anyone have any special requests?” Jewel asked, glancing around the table. “If not, then I would request—.”

  “I do, I do!” Carin raised her hand and bounced in her chair. “My mother! I would love to talk to her again. I’ve brought one of her lacy handkerchiefs. She passed more than twelve years ago and I miss her every, single day.”

  “I’m sure you do,” Trudy said, smiling at the sweet-faced woman.

  “But does she miss you?” Desmond Forté asked, smooth as a knife blade. “That’s the real question.”

  Jewel twittered nervously and Elsa surveyed Desmond as if he were a lemon she’d just bitten into. Carin batted her lashes in distress as her eyes glimmered with moisture. Trudy winced, feeling empathy for her. She offered another smile and Carin returned it.

  “I think Levi should contact someone famous,” Jewel piped up. “Like . . . oh, let me see . . . Winston Churchill or Abraham Lincoln. Wouldn’t that be fascinating?”

  “Or Elvis and Marilyn Monroe,” Desmond chimed in. “They seem to make an appearance at nearly every séance worth its fairy dust and unicorn glitter.”

  “You have a healthy skepticism for this,” Trudy said, unable to hold her tongue a moment longer. He was so damned smug!

  “Not at all, my dear Trudy.” Desmond’s brown eyes widened and he placed a hand over his shirtfront in the vicinity of where his heart should reside. “I’m merely repeating what I’ve heard and experienced. This isn’t my first rodeo, you know. Jewel is a devotee of fortune tellers and other seers.”

  “What was your mother’s name, Carin?” Levi asked, reaching for the hanky she clutched.

  Trudy glanced at him, noting the rock hardness of his jawline. Yep. He was pissed. The others probably had no idea, but she was getting used to his telltale signs. The rock-solid jaw. Eyes glittering with pinpoints of light. They were sure signs that he was fuming. Yet, his husky voice was level and pleasan
t and his smile warm and embracing. He was a consummate showman.

  “Eliza.” Carin gave him her mother’s handkerchief and bounced in her chair again. “Eliza Elizabeth Warner.”

  “A lovely name.” Levi drew in a deep breath, his fingertips caressing the lacy-edged linen. “Shall we begin?”

  “Should we join hands?” Jewel asked.

  Levi shook his head. “Not necessary. Just give me a few moments while I concentrate on calling forth Carin’s mother.” He closed his eyes slowly, and as requested, all chatter stopped.

  Trudy kept her eyes focused on Levi, while being hyper aware of Desmond Forté’s unwavering gaze on her. From her peripheral vision, she knew he was smiling at her, his eyes twinkling as he tapped the fingers of his left hand on his chair arm. After almost a minute, Levi’s chin hitched up a little and his ebony lashes fluttered before lifting. He stared above their heads, but his eyes were unfocused and she knew he didn’t even see anything. He was looking at someone not meant for their eyes. Only for his.

  “I have her,” he said, almost in a whisper.

  Carin clapped her hands over her mouth and issued a little squeak of delight. The other two women leaned forward ever so slightly as if they were pins being pulled toward Levi’s magnetism. Desmond’s smile became a smirk directed at Trudy.

  “Do tell her howdy doody from me,” Desmond said.

  Levi’s brows inched closer together. “She sends love to you, Carin, and says she likes the yellow mums you put on her grave last fall. Those were her favorite.”

  “Oh!” Carin’s eyes overflowed with tears.

  “And she thinks the Katherine Bernhardt painting you purchased and hung in the foyer last week is ghastly. Her word for it, not mine.”

  Carin giggled. “Mother never was a fan of modern art.”

  “She has several people with her. One of them is an older man and he is stepping forward.”

  “My father!” Carin said, barely able to contain her excitement.

  Levi shook his head. “No. He’s telling me his name now . . .” He furrowed his brow and squeezed his eyes shut. “Louder, please. I can’t make out . . . okay.” He opened his eyes again, now looking at the handkerchief he held. “Lyle?”