by Treva Harte
*I'm sorry, Cassie. Not this time. I can't let you. You may not realize what would happen but you wouldn't want to get caught.*
"Can I go home long enough to pack some things?" Cassie tried not to sound as hopeless as she felt.
"I think we'll be safe enough to do that. It'll take a while to trace you to there."
Not just her car, then. She'd had a feeling that was what he had meant before but had hoped she was wrong. It was her house, too. Her identity. Everything she'd built up after almost losing them all so many years ago.
"Cassie, for God's sake, don't cry. I'll fix it. I promise."
"Some things can't be fixed. Not a second time."
She was going to cry in another minute. He knew it. He could hear it. He had no idea what you were supposed to do when that happened. He hated for women to cry. Nothing made him feel more helpless.
He opened his mouth to babble out anything to stop the tears that would come next but what came out instead was "Maybe you need to talk about that."
*No. Please. I didn't mean that. If we start talking you'll cry for sure.*
He heard Cassie hiccup out a laugh instead.
"You need to work on your sincerity around me, Wynn."
"No. It's OK. I mean, it isn't great if you want to talk about what's bothering you, but it's OK. I can handle that. Tell me."
"How about if I promise not to cry? I don't really like telling people usually, but I'd like to tell you."
Cassie wasn't even sure why. She never told people about her past if they didn't already know. And the only people from her past that she still talked to were in her family. They certainly didn't make her feel any better about what had happened when they discussed things. But she knew Wynn would be different.
"Sure."
"Try to sound just the slightest bit enthusiastic, Wynn."
"Right."
They exited the Metro and, once they got to the sidewalk, Wynn raised his hand. A taxi stopped and opened the door. Taxis never stopped that quickly for Cassie when she tried that.
Cassie looked at Wynn. She knew why. She was going to tell him because she would have to trust him with her life. He might as well know what her life had been like.
"See, I wasn't always a cleaning person. A really sought-after, well-paid cleaning person, might I add."
"I've had to pay you. I know that."
Cassie gave that hiccupping laugh again.
"In my previous life I was a lawyer. A trial lawyer. My career in litigation didn't last long, but it sure was memorable. I got a job with a big firm right after law school. That was impressive. My dad and my stepmom were bragging about me for the first time in their lives. I knew I was going to be a real hot shot. I got my car with my first paycheck. That was just going to be the beginning. My second and third paycheck went for a deposit on a fancy condo. But I wasn't going to stop there. I was willing to put in the sixty-hour work weeks—shoot, the seventy-hour work weeks. I was going to make partner."
"Impressive."
"I thought so. Except that I hated it. Somewhere around then my mom died. Maybe that contributed to the problem. Her death made me think more about what I really wanted. She had never followed the crowd in her life. I never figured out why she was ever interested in Dad. Well, anyhow. She told me I was more like her than I knew. Did I tell you she went and lived on a commune for a while when I was a baby?"
"I could see you doing that."
"Yeah? I never thought that was like me at all. That's OK. Once Dad married Tash and the commune folded, I got sent to a boarding school in New England to be shaped up. 'Polished' is how Tash phrased it. That wasn't me, either. To make a long story a little shorter, I disagreed with Mom and what she thought I wanted out of life. We drifted apart while I went to college and she got married to some hippie leftover. She'd always said I'd hate law school and lawyering when Dad told me to go for it. Then she died. I wasn't even there. I was working on a trial."
"That must've been hard."
Cassie nodded. But she wasn't done yet. He might as well know the part that would really make him wonder about her. After all, he had to trust her with his life, too.
"Soon after that I began to forget things. Where I put depositions, phone calls...deadlines. Deadlines aren't the best things to forget when you're the most junior associate in the firm. I just couldn't keep my mind on what needed doing. I'd blank out. My stepmother said I had a nervous breakdown. Maybe I did. Or maybe I'm just a flake."
*I didn't mean the word that way.*
*Yes, you did.*
*Well, I don't think that way about you now.*
"Anyhow, I ended up taking a leave of absence from the firm. A leave of absence that has lasted until today, by the way."
"You were stressed."
*I was scared, miserable, confused, always doing the wrong thing, alone, drinking a little more than I should, sleeping less than I should, unsure of what to do about anything...*
"Yeah. Stressed. I decided I wasn't going to ever be that stressed again. Cleaning houses isn't too stressful. I used to envy my cleaning lady when I was at the firm. She could come and go when she wanted. So I decided to become her. After my up-and-coming fiancé moved out I sold the condo, got my stepmother to swallow her pride and recommend me to a few people and—here I am. But I always remember to write everything down that I need to do. Just in case I start losing it again."
Cassie wondered what Wynn would say to that. All of it. Everything she hadn't talked about for years.
"You seem to be happy now."
"Happier. Yeah. I'm happier. At least no one tells me what to do. I'm sick of that. I let my dad tell me, then the partners tell me. Now I do what I want. I've learned to manage on my own, without help, and that means I'm never going to need to conform to anyone's rules and expectations again."
"I can understand that."
He kept staring at her. Cassie couldn't tell what he was thinking right now. Then he smiled.
"Tell me some lawyer words."
"Huh?"
"You don't look like a lawyer. You don't sound like a lawyer."
"I have a perfectly good diploma hanging on my bedroom wall at home to prove it!" Cassie retorted, trying not to smile. "Mmm. Res ipsa loquitur. Pro se. Jurisprudence."
"Sounds like dirty talk to me."
"The bills can get obscene when you have to use too many of those words in one brief."
Cassie was laughing with Wynn when the cab stopped. Cassie blinked and stopped laughing. She'd forgotten until now but they were at her home. The place that wouldn't be her home for much longer.
"I don't want to go in." Cassie made a decision. "It'll hurt too much. I've been so proud of this damn place. Of everything I managed to get after deciding not to be a lawyer. I'm afraid I'm a little too—too attached."
"Do you want me to go and fetch you some things?" Wynn's voice was very gentle. She nodded. "You can stay outside. Driver, wait here for just a few minutes. I'll be out shortly."
Wynn returned with two bags. He tossed one her way and had the driver go back to the Metro.
As the taxi let them off at the station and drove away, Cassie looked at him. They were on their own now, just the two of them.
"All right. Now what?"
"We're going to the airport."
Cassie felt totally confused.
"Where are we flying to?"
Wynn looked the least bit impatient with her question, as if she should know the answer already.
"We aren't. I'm going to charge two tickets to Miami on my credit card. Then we're borrowing a friend's credit card and renting a car."
"But—I'm not following. We're not going to drive to Miami, I take it? And what kind of friend just loans you a credit card?"
He looked at her again. Even though he said nothing, she could tell he was impatient. She'd just made another stupid comment? This was starting to feel like the first year of law school when she gradually began to believe she didn't know anything
.
"That was a euphemism, Cassie. There is no friend. I have a charge card with another name on it. I rarely use that card but I don't know of any rental agency that just takes cash. We'll look like we're flying to Florida. But we're going...someplace else."
"Jesus, you know a lot of tricky moves. You seem really used to a life on the run."
He could lie and he could run away. She'd seen him do that. Why did she think she could trust him with her life? You shouldn't go around blindly trusting guys just because they were great kissers and they made you feel like you wanted to jump their bones. Or just because sometimes they looked so alone and you knew how that felt.
Oh God. And you couldn't think about those things in case they were listening in when you thought it.
Wynn gave her an odd look before he replied to what she had said.
"I told you my childhood wasn't conventional. Maybe I should be clearer. Da was a con man. I know a lot of tricky moves, Cassie. Well, don't stand there and stare at me like you're half-witted. Come on then. It's time for me to show you a few of those tricks."
Chapter Eight
"The Bide-A-Wee Hotel?" Cassie couldn't stop chortling. "I can't believe I'm actually staying at a place that really calls itself that."
She wasn't even totally sure what state they were in. Wynn had just shrugged when she asked and told her it was probably better if she didn't know. He was just driving randomly-if he didn't know, no one would.
"Get used to life on the wild side with me, Cassidy Majors. This is only the beginning."
Cassie looked at the air conditioning unit in the window that had kicked on with a roar of sound but very little cool air to show for its efforts. She could see Wynn was silently studying the dust on the bureau.
"Yeah. I can tell life as I know it will never be the same again." Cassie's laughter stopped.
That wasn't much of a joke after all.
Wynn switched on the one dim working lamp near the twin beds. He sat on one of the beds. Wynn wasn't laughing either. He was staring at her.
All of a sudden her mouth felt dry.
"Cassidy?"
No one ever called her that.
"What, Wynn?" She tried to sound casual.
She didn't feel casual.
Everything she had been trying to ignore was bubbling up. They were in a motel room together. Just one room. Now that could mean nothing. They could be just buddies who happened to be sharing a room. There were double beds in the place.
On the other hand it meant something to her. Wynn wasn't just the guy with an aura, just her mind-talking buddy in telepathy. There was a definite physical side to him. Oh shoot, he was the sexiest guy she'd ever met. Cassie wasn't sure why but she'd given up trying to figure out why. Obviously tall, thin, spooky guys with intense stares and slow smiles turned her on.
She might as well admit that she wanted to have more than a telepathic link with him. What she couldn't figure out was why she was suddenly getting the feeling he was interested in her, too. She hadn't ever felt that before.
Cassie looked at the two beds and then looked away. What would he say if she just told him she wanted more from him? That she'd like to go to bed with him? Before he'd probably have just laughed or stared. She thought. Now she wasn't sure.
Wynn couldn't help looking at Cassie. He tried to play it cool, but he couldn't. She puzzled the hell out of him. He almost thought she was interested in—well, she seemed interested in him.
She was oddly appealing, sure, but he'd been interested in women before. He could get them too, sometimes, especially if he let himself peek into their minds.
The problem was he had no confidence in actually keeping a woman interested. They didn't know about his gift, but something about him was different. Sooner or later they began to retreat from him. They always did. He wished he knew how the difference showed so that he could camouflage it more, make himself fit in better, but he never had.
Usually that difference kept women away from him unless he made a real effort to be with them. Usually that effort wasn't worth it.
But Cassie kept thinking he was sexy without him even trying to interest her. He had actually doubted his—her—thoughts at first. But she kept thinking it. She was still thinking it now. He didn't know why she believed he was some kind of stud, but he finally gave in and admitted to himself that he desperately wanted to live up to her expectations.
"Wynn?" She spoke it aloud this time. Oh God, he could tell he was making her nervous now. "What do you want?"
And he could smell her. In this small room he couldn't escape. Wynn wasn't sure he'd ever been this near, this long to a woman in his whole adult life unless he was there for sex. He knew he couldn't remember ever before noticing what a woman smelled like. Not even when he was there for sex. He couldn't describe Cassie's scent but by now her perfume made him hard.
He imagined her clothing littering the room, him touching them and smelling them, and he swallowed. How could he stand being in a motel room without trying to sleep with her? By now he could tell when she was close to him, just from her scent.
Bloody hell, all his senses told him when she was around and the whole thing drove him crazy. Everything about her drove him crazy.
Whether he failed her or not, he had to try.
*I want more from you, too. I'd really like to go to bed with you. No. That's not right. I'm dying to go to bed with you, Cassie.*
* * * * *
"Johanna."
The voice was familiar even though it had been a very long time since she'd heard it.
"Is something wrong?" she asked, uneasily.
Emmanuel never called anyone. She certainly never expected he would call her.
And then she felt it again. That tug at her subconscious. She had almost forgotten the feel of what Emmanuel was able to do.
Back at the Institute he had become amazingly good at entering her mind. But she had developed some skill at realizing when he did it. He must be doing it again. There was no reason for her to remember any of this otherwise—
"Oh, yes. Yes, I did mention to Lida about a patient who had some compulsion that made the poor woman think she had to talk about Lida to someone.. . Well, she didn't get as far as saying why she needed to talk to Lida. I suppose she could have heard a voice. Often such people do."
But Emmanuel wasn't through. Johanna could feel her mind moving to another subject she would never think about ordinarily.
"Yes, I remember the other boy though I didn't work as closely with him as I did with you," Johanna told him, as calmly as she could.
His ability still made her hands sweat. His powers could make her nervous and awe-struck at the same time.
"You two were the only ones we felt truly certain had telepathic abilities. No, the name wasn't Wynn. But that does sound familiar-Let me think."
She scowled and felt a sudden surge of impatience smash at her brain.
"Wait, I said. Please. It's been years...it was a Welsh name. Owen. Owen Powell."
"Owen. Wynn. Of course." Emmanuel's voice was deeper now, more mature. But it had always had that seductively hypnotic quality to it. "Thank you, Johanna. As always, you've been a tremendous help."
"Of course I am. After all, I introduced you to Lida, didn't I?" She suddenly had a desperate need to remind him how much he did owe to her. She should be worth something to him. "I warned you when the Institute planned to run those tests on you and the other boy. That Owen."
"You've always been my very favorite psychiatrist, Dr. Blessingham."
"And you were always my favorite patient."
She almost hung up and then heard herself forced into saying, "The woman who came to my office? Oh yes, I'm sure of her name. Majors. Her name was Majors."
"Ah. The woman Jock told me about was also named Majors. Yes." Emmanuel sounded faintly gratified. "Thank you, Johanna. Thank you very much. You've been far more helpful than anyone else around me. You know, I'm sorry you decided not to join my gr
oup. You could have proven to be remarkably useful."
"I didn't decide not to. You told me I wasn't welcome!" Johanna Blessingham protested.
She remembered how it hurt that she been excluded. If it had been anyone but Lida and Emmanuel she would have been angry at them.
"How foolish of me."
Johanna smiled at the next questioning thought that slid into her mind. He just couldn't help thinking that.
"Of course not. I never studied the other boy much since we tried to keep the two of you separate up until that last study but of course you had the better telepathic abilities."
And the telephone clicked shut. Johanna blinked in confusion.
Long ago memories of a beautiful young man swirled in her mind...she had embarrassed herself by the way she thought about him and then realized he could read her mind...of course nothing could come of it since he had been her patient...Then her mind went blank.
She stared at the telephone. She wasn't quite sure. Had someone just called?
* * * * *
"Cassie?" Wynn moved a little closer to her. "We're going to be together-closely together-for the foreseeable future. I don't want to make you uncomfortable but I've been thinking about you. You and me. A lot."
"But you don't like me!" Cassie had to point that out. "I'm a flake, remember?"
"No. I'm a jerk. You don't like me. Remember? You told me that you didn't. Back at your house when I broke in."
"I don't remember." Cassie wasn't sure she could remember anything at all. And the idea of her ever telling Wynn she didn't like him didn't make sense. Not any more.
Wynn took a step closer to her and stretched out his hands.
Cassie looked down and then, tentatively, put her hands in his. The surge of feeling almost knocked her over. Damn, he was good at giving her overwhelming emotions. Not panic this time. She sorted it out—he projected lust, tenderness, a little fear.
Fear? Why was he afraid? She was afraid. He was Mr. Masculine Sexiness personified. Why should he be afraid of her?
*Because you know me better than anyone in the world does, Cassie. I'm afraid you won't like what you get with me.*