by Desiree Holt
“I think you should go home and relax with your fiancée. Before I leave here, I’ll have four extra men surrounding Oscar, plus a television monitoring system. That’s in addition to the biometric system we set up for you. He’ll be perfectly safe for the weekend.”
“But—”
“Trust me on this, okay? This is what I do.”
Reluctantly Chase shut down his computer and locked his desk. “My future’s in your hands, Romeo. Just so you know that.”
“Got it. Now let’s go.”
As they headed for the elevator, Dan was already calling his office again and handing out orders.
Chapter Five
Mia spent the weekend in a frenzy of anxiety. She left the envelope with the printout on Carpenter Techtronics on her kitchen counter, rubbing her hand over it frequently, hoping to call forth another image. But as if Fate was playing games with her, her mind remained blank. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to touch the kitchen knife repeatedly but again nothing resulted from it.
“Damn it,” she screamed, kicking at a kitchen chair and shouting into the air. “When I want you to leave me alone, you drive me crazy. When I want your help, you leave me alone. No wonder people think I’m nuts. I must be for sure.”
The cut on her hand didn’t help either, throbbing most of the time and serving as a constant reminder of her frustration. She cleaned it and applied ointment twice more. Then, after rewrapping it, stuffed ice cubes in a plastic bag and held it over the wound until the cold hurt worse than the cut.
Her sleep, what she got of it, was broken and uneven. Images from past visions invaded her dreams, bombarding her senses and confusing her brain. She found herself waking frequently and afraid to let sleep return.
At least her mystery man hadn’t made another appearance. Maybe her sense receptors had just been out of whack. Maybe her brain cells were getting fried. Maybe, maybe, maybe. She almost found herself waiting for him to materialize in front of her eyes, then mentally kicked herself for anticipating it.
Pathetic, Mia. Get a real date.
She was exhausted by the time Monday morning came around. Listlessly she dressed for work, picking up her newspapers before she left the house. She stuck them in the car with her briefcase, determined to wait until she got to her office to see if there was any new mention of Chase Techtronics or its possible new project. She stopped in the little employee kitchenette to get a cup of coffee. Then, settling herself at her desk, juggling everything with her good hand, she opened the paper to the business section and began scanning the articles.
“Looking for something special?”
She hadn’t heard the man come in and his voice startled her so. When she looked up she jerked her hand so hard she knocked over her coffee. It spilled onto her desk and dripped onto her skirt.
It was him! The man from her visions. But who was he? And what was he doing in her office?
“I’m sorry.” His voice was deep and rich, like warm, thick honey. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Mia closed her eyes and counted to ten, hoping he’d disappear.
“Miss Fleming?” She opened her eyes. He was still there. “Here, let me help you with that.”
He grabbed a handful of tissues from the box on her desk and began mopping the liquid. Mia was frozen in place, unable to make herself move. How was this possible? How in the freakin’ hell was this possible?
He stopped, his hands full of soggy tissues. “Are you okay? You seem a little…out of it?”
Out of it? Mia thought that was one way of putting it.
“W-Who are you?” She couldn’t seem to stop looking at him. Was he real or another vision that had popped into her brain?
Like that man, he was well over six feet. Instead of the revealing boxers he wore a well-cut gray sports jacket and black slacks that looked as if they’d been custom-made for him. The lean body beneath the fabric was the same, though, what she could see of it, giving the impression it was all hard muscle. The same thick black hair now brushed the top of his black silk turtleneck. Dark eyes like onyx, fringed by thick lashes, were the centerpiece of a face with an olive complexion, high cheekbones and a classic nose.
And a hard look about his face that made a stone wall look soft.
Mia felt as if she’d been punched in the stomach. Sexuality radiated from the man, an invisible heat that made her mouth dry and her pulse speed up.
I want to fuck you.
She dropped the files she’d been gathering out of the way, shock radiating through her. Had he really said that out loud or had she just imagined it? That damnable pulse at the core of her pussy was beating like a tom-tom and her skin felt too hot and too tight.
She’d have to get to the ladies’ room and a sink full of water to repair the damage from the coffee. And cool down her blood. Luckily her computer sat on a side extension so the coffee didn’t get to it.
Taking a deep breath she forced herself to look at him. “I’m fine, sorry, you just startled me.”
He handed her a business card. It carried the symbol of the phoenix rising from the ashes and beneath the graphic his name—Dante “Dan” Romeo.
She set the card on the corner of her desk. “Give me a minute to clean up this mess, Mr. Romeo. Then you can tell me what you want.”
“Here. I’ll give you a hand.”
Mia wasn’t sure she could stand him touching her, and was very careful to avoid contact while they disposed of the debris. When she’d tossed the tissues and wet papers in the trash, she sat back down at her desk, trying to compose herself. But when she looked at him again an arrow of heat pierced through her. His presence filled the room with an overwhelming sense of power that made the air vibrate.
Get real, Mia. You’re not the type of person who falls in lust with a total stranger like this. Especially this type of man.
Oh, no? her other self said. What about the vision? What about what happened yesterday?
She managed to pull herself together, trying to ignore the coffee stains on her gray skirt, checking to see that nothing had splashed on her tweed jacket, willing herself to keep it together. Ha!
“I don’t recall having any appointments today.” She hoped she sounded cool and professional. “May I help you?”
“You can if you’re Mia Fleming.” He was still looking at her strangely. “And, that is, if you’re all right.”
The timbre of the deep voice made her shiver and butterflies began a dance in her stomach. Impossible that he could be looking for her. She was used to strangers in the museum but not to having them rattle her like this. Besides, men like him never wandered into her corner of the museum. Or any corner, for that matter, except for special events. And they certainly never came deliberately looking for her.
Unless they show up in one of my visions.
Mia took a deep breath, centering herself and trying her best to focus. Breathing, however, was difficult. This man seemed to take up all the air in the room.
“I’m Dr. Fleming.” She hoped her voice sounded at least close to normal. “Is there something I can do for you? If you want to discuss an exhibit or an event, Dr. Hunter is the person you want to see but I’m afraid you’re out of luck. He’s away until this evening.”
Oh, please. Could I sound any more self-deprecating? Why don’t I hunch my shoulders and peer up at him like a mouse? Get a grip, Mia.
He stood at the front of her desk, looming over her. “No. I don’t think Dr. Hunter is the person I want.”
She took another deep breath, unsettled by his nearness. “I’m sorry you wasted your time coming here when the director is gone but perhaps I can arrange a tour of the museum while you’re here?”
“I thought I just said the director’s not who I want.” A ghost of a smile drifted over his chiseled mouth. Something about the way his facial muscles moved told her he wasn’t a man who smiled a lot. “I would have suggested a cup of coffee but that seems to be a lethal weapon for you.”
“I’m so sorry.” Don’t get flustered, Mia. “You just startled me.” She looked at the business card. “What exactly is Phoenix?”
“An agency that takes care of things for people.”
Okay, that sounded ominous. And the man himself made her nervous enough that her insides were quaking. “I don’t think we have anything here that needs taking care of, so why are you here?”
Instead of answering her he inclined his head toward her bandaged hand. “I see you injured yourself.”
She waved it off, even though she’d been swallowing Acetaminophen at an alarming rate to dull the pain. Surely she was just being a baby about it, right? It was just a stupid cut. “Household accident. I think I’m genetically clumsy.”
“Now, why do I have a hard time believing that?” He lowered himself into the chair opposite her desk with panther-like grace, his rangy body dwarfing it. His gaze took in every inch of her that he could see, giving her the feeling she was being x-rayed.
I want to fuck you.
Mia shook. Had he really said that? Of course not. His actual words were, “I understand you’re the art historian for the museum.”
She frowned. Okay, he wasn’t leaving right away. He didn’t want a tour. If he hadn’t stepped out of her vision, what was this all about? “Yes. I do the research for all the exhibits and provide the material for the media kits and the brochures. Are you in the art business?”
“No, I’m not.”
Silence settled over them and he watched her, as if waiting for her to say something else.
She cleared her throat. “As I said, I don’t think there’s anything with our art that needs fixing, or I would have known about it.”
“Actually, I have very little to do with art except to appreciate both its value and its beauty.”
Like yours.
Okay, this was getting too weird even for her. She attempted to pull the frayed edges of the situation together.
“Then I can’t imagine what you’d want with me. Are you sure you didn’t get lost here? I’d be happy to show you to the correct person.”
“No. You’re the one I want.”
More silence. The butterflies were fluttering harder in her stomach. This wasn’t about sex, despite the voice in her head. Unexplained disappointment surged through her. Something was wrong here and she couldn’t figure out what. She wet her lips with the tip of her tongue.
“Well, that’s very flattering I’m sure but I have a great deal of work to do. Unless there’s something specific you want, I’ll have to be rude and ask you to leave.”
“Before I’ve even told you why I’m here?”
If he wasn’t here about art or the museum, then what… Mia tried to still the panic that slammed into her. Surely it couldn’t be the email. She was positive she’d covered her tracks. But his next words told her just how wrong she was.
“I understand you like to send anonymous emails,” he said at last.
Thunk! The butterflies were replaced by the Radio City Rockettes doing a tap dance. How could he have traced her? She’d been so careful building her protection. And no one had ever been able to get through the museum’s firewall before, giving her a sense of security when she sent her messages.
“In my job, yes. I exchange a lot of emails. And of course we use them for internal communications. But anonymous? I don’t think so.” She cleared her throat. “Why would you even think that?”
Say it, she wanted to scream. At least I’ll know I got through.
He leaned forward in the chair, elbows resting on his knees, his eyes impaling her. “I think we can stop the cat and mouse game, Dr. Fleming. An email was sent Friday night to Carpenter Techtronics from your computer. I know it’s yours because I’ve checked all the others. Does anyone use it but you?”
Lie or tell the truth? Pretend ignorance or get it out in the open? Come on, Mia, don’t be a weak sister. Show him what you’re made of.
She let out a slow breath. “No. I’m the one who sent the email.”
“And also made two calls to make sure Mr. Carpenter got it?”
She nodded.
“Thank you for telling me the truth and saving us both a lot of time and unpleasantness.”
”I’d like to know how you traced it back to me,” she asked. Where had she made a mistake?
“With some very sophisticated equipment. Look,” he told her, “I’m trying to be low-key here but if you have inside knowledge of something going on at his company, this would be a good time to tell me.”
She wet her lips again. “I don’t have knowledge. Exactly. At least, not the way you mean.”
All trace of humor and courtesy disappeared from his face. “I don’t really have time to play games here, Dr. Fleming. You obviously know something. Or are involved in it. If you won’t tell me what you know, we may get to that unpleasantness I thought we were avoiding.”
She needed a sign. Something that told her he’d believe her crazy story. And not consider her the culprit. Sometimes a simple touch gave her the signal she needed. Sometimes, although not always, she could “read” people this way and know if she was dealing with an enemy. “Would you do me a favor, Mr. Romeo? Shake hands with me?”
One eyebrow lifted. “Excuse me?”
“Just shake hands with me. Surely that won’t create a problem.” She waved her hands in the air. “It’s not as if I have a gun or anything.”
“Fine. If it will get me some answers.” He leaned across the desk and stretched out a hand, his face still implacable.
Mia steeled herself for his touch. This was the dangerous part in more ways than one. What if the image came back, right now, right here, sharp and vivid in her office? What if her body responded the way it had the day before? It would take all her skills to get a sense of the flesh and blood man without revealing more than she wanted to.
When she clasped his hand, a sense of heat spread through her body as it had the day before. But now there was something else. Something that overrode it. The most amazing feeling of warmth. A sense of safety. The image of the nearly naked man tried to intrude but she concentrated on banishing it. But there was no hostility. Nothing for her to fear. She could tell him the truth. He was safe. Built of granite but safe.
“Do you know anything about psychic abilities?” she asked. “About precognition?”
She waited for the skepticism and ridicule, bracing herself for a negative, derogatory reaction.
But he didn’t recoil or make a face as most people did. Or stare at her as if she had two heads. And what he said caught her off guard. “As a matter of fact, I do. Are you saying you have precognitive powers?”
God, did that mean he somehow knew about her vision of him? No, not possible. Just not possible.
She bit her lower lip and nodded. “Most people think I’m some kind of a kook or a nut. I’ve tried to help the police before but sometimes I can’t interpret the images clearly enough and I’ve made…mistakes.”
“I can understand that. Your average bear has little knowledge of any kind of psychic powers. I think most people are even a little afraid of them.”
She gave him a shaky smile. “You surprise me. I didn’t think a man like you would take psychic abilities seriously.”
He shifted in the chair, re-crossing his legs. “A man like me?”
“You look very pragmatic,” she told him, hoping she wasn’t putting her foot in her mouth. “Black and white. The hard evidence type. Parapsychology often requires taking things simply on faith.”
He studied her again as he had before. “I own a…security company called Phoenix. One of my partners is a telepath. So is his wife. Their ability to communicate is the only thing that saved his life when he was captured in the Peruvian jungle.” He paused. “Maybe I could tell you the story sometime.”
Electricity crackled in the air between them and Mia wondered if Dan Romeo felt it as she did. He gave no indication, simply sat in his loose-jointed but alert way in the
chair opposite her. At least the fever in her body seemed to have subsided to a controllable temperature. She could feel herself relaxing as relief stole over her. Not only had she been nearly shocked out of her senses by his appearance but she’d also been sure that he’d think what she had to say was nonsense. Instead, however, he was waiting to hear her explanation. She wet her lips. “It certainly sounds like something I’d like to hear.”
Of course who knew if he’d be around longer than this meeting to tell her anything?
I’m going to fuck you.
Mia clenched her hands into fists and dug her nails into her palms. She stared at Dan, trying to read something, anything, into his expression. But there was nothing to give him away. If he was somehow sending her thoughts he didn’t show it. She had to get a grip here.
“Also, I happen to know the military has been experimenting with various Psi groups for years,” he went on. “So while others might blow this off, I take you very seriously.”
“Okay, that’s good. But let me just give you a little thumbnail here to flesh out whatever you might know.” She drew a breath and let it out. She didn’t like feeling off kilter. At least in this subject she was in control. Most of the time.
“Precognitive experiences occur most often in dreams,” she began. “But they can also occur in what’s called spontaneous waking visions flashing through the mind. Some are also auditory but mine never have been.”
He listened carefully, his expression attentive. “Go on.”
“The difference between precognition and other Psi events like premonition is that precognition generally involves an explicit future event.” Like having sex with you. She gave him a wry smile. “Providing you can decipher the bits and pieces of the visions. Premonition deals with the sense or feeling that something is going to happen but the event is non-specific. Like feeling someone is in danger but not knowing how or where.”
“I can relate to that.”
Her eyes widened. “You can? Don’t tell me you have psychic abilities too. That would be too much of a coincidence.”