Out of Sight Out of Mind (Choc Lit)

by Wareham, Evonne

  ‘There has to be.’ Seized by his excitement she stretched forward, to put her hands over his. ‘You didn’t just drop into that alley, Jay. Someone has to know about you.’ She looked up into his face as his fingers twisted, gripping hers.

  A hot splinter of awareness ran up her arms.

  Jay’s mouth was so close. She could smell lemon soap and warm skin. There was shock and heat in his eyes. Her throat went tight. She pulled her hands away and sat back, heart pumping. Do something, say something, defuse this.

  ‘Ah—’

  ‘I …’ Their voices clashed. Jay stopped. ‘Go ahead.’

  ‘Uh – I was just going to ask if you wanted another coffee.’ That is so feeble.

  ‘I’ll get it.’ He uncoiled from the sofa.

  Madison’s throat went tight again as her eyes involuntarily travelled up that long, lean frame. This man was seriously built, seriously hot, and her banked-down hormones were rearing up and sniffing the breeze. Oh hell.

  ‘I can do it—’ She needed air. ‘Your shoulder—’

  ‘I’ll manage.’

  Unable to stop herself, she watched his rear as he headed to the kitchen. Muscles flexing under clinging denim. There was saliva pooling in her mouth now. When the door closed behind him she was on her feet and scrambling for the French windows, throwing them open and stepping out on to the balcony. Trembling, she inhaled starlit, frosty air, until her racing heart began to slow.

  In the kitchen, Jay primed the coffee machine with hands that weren’t quite steady. The ache in his shoulder as he swung round, too fast, to pick up the coffee, had him grinding his teeth. Grimly he focused on that, and not the heaviness low in his groin.

  He leaned wearily against the counter, good hand thrust into the pocket of his jeans, waiting for the machine to start to bubble. Ten seconds more and he would have been kissing Dr Albi. At least she’d had the good sense to pull away. She’d been excited, carried away by enthusiasm and he’d been—

  A goddamn idiot.

  He cringed as the alarm in her eyes replayed in his head. Christ – what was he doing? That woman was the only thing standing between him and the gutter, and all he could think to do was hit on her?

  It’s not just you. She felt it, too.

  He shook away the thought. This was down to him to fix, not her. Just because he hadn’t had a woman in – he didn’t know how long – didn’t mean he had to come on to the first one to show him a little kindness. More than a little.

  An ache that had nothing to do with desire spasmed in his gut. She was putting herself way out there. For him. Something that had crawled, stinking, out of an alley and into her life.

  This isn’t just one way. She wants to play with your mind. She wants you. Yeah, in her lab, not in her bed.

  The machine was letting off fragrant steam. Jay rammed his hand against the button and watched the dark brew gushing into the mugs. What the hell did he have to offer a woman like Madison Albi, except the chance to see inside his mind? She could have that and welcome. Everything else— He gritted his teeth. Everything else had to be battened down tight. Whatever the hell it took.

  When he walked back with the mugs, the room felt strangely cold. He must be imagining the drop in temperature, because of the chill emanating from Madison. She was sitting very straight on the sofa, with a pile of books in front of her, leafing through the top one. The briefest glance, as he put down the coffee, told him that they were all thick tomes on psychiatry and memory. He eased himself into the chair opposite her, looking at the formidable tower of learning. If he’d known anything about body language he’d have said that Dr Albi had constructed a very efficient barrier between them – a professional barrier. But what did he know? What do you know? Is there something there … He struggled for a second, trying to grasp a fugitive thought, but it was already gone. Chasing it gave him a crushing stab of pain behind the eyes. He closed them, waiting for the pain to fade. Easier to let it go. Probably nothing, anyway. Your head’s full of that.

  He sipped coffee he didn’t want, wondering if exhaustion would overcome caffeine or whether he’d be awake later, staring at the ceiling. The silence was getting strained. He could almost feel Madison’s brain skittering fruitlessly, trying to find a neutral topic; trying to get back into the casual ease of their discussion, before he’d blown it. Help her out here.

  ‘The brief for the private investigator—’ She jumped slightly at the sound of his voice, and something shrivelled inside him. He ploughed on. ‘If someone did create this barrier in my head and I am on the run – or been discarded – asking questions could stir things up.’

  Her chin came up. Was he imagining relief in her eyes?

  ‘If it does, we need to be prepared.’ She was thinking. He’d already noticed how her head tilted sideways when she was figuring something out. ‘It might be a good thing.’

  Or it might be bloody dangerous.

  Did he feel any danger? He stared at the back of his hands, concentrating inwards. Delving as deep as he could. And coming up with nothing but an unfocused sense of unease that might just be a reflection of his own panic.

  What do you know? The pain shimmered behind his eyes again. He jerked back to merciful awareness of his surroundings, before he could spiral down into the dark. Madison was running through the technicalities of a series of excursions into his mind. He tried to look as if he knew what she was talking about and found, after a few minutes, that he did – or at least that he could follow a lot of what she was saying. She was good at explaining and the warmth of her voice, as she became more involved in her subject, touched something inside him. Had he ever been able to talk like this about his work?

  There was only a swirling, fearful void when he tried to will himself to remember.

  ‘Do you have any questions?’ Madison was staring at him with a dent between her brows.

  ‘Mmm.’ Had he looked as if he was falling asleep? ‘The stuff you’re going to do at the lab? Who’s going to know? Your boss, your colleagues?’

  The frown had deepened. He could see her wondering why he’d asked that particular question.

  ‘I’ll need to register the programme, keep proper records,’ she said carefully.

  ‘But?’

  ‘But at this stage I’m not going to make a big production about what we’re trying to do,’ she admitted. ‘This is not a regular experiment. We’re off the map here. My official area of research is memory and communication, not amnesia.’ She shifted slightly in her seat, looking narrowly at him. ‘That bothers you, doesn’t it? The idea of a lot of people knowing about you?’

  ‘Yes. And before you ask, I don’t know why. Another pepperoni moment.’ He did though, kind of. That nagging sense of threat again, that isn’t based on anything. It’s just – there.

  ‘I don’t find it strange.’ She shrugged.

  ‘We both like secrets.’ He deliberately looked off, but kept her in view from the corner of his eye. Saw the small, betraying movement of her hands, up to the gold chain at her neck. One of her tells – a dead give-away for agitation. Some sort of devil made him want to dig.

  ‘The lab, where you work. Why does it exist?’

  ‘Research?’ she suggested dryly. ‘Like it says on the tin?’ She’d relaxed a little. Not the question she was expecting?

  ‘Who for? Who puts up the money?’

  She screwed up her mouth. ‘Some funds are from the government. We get money from charities and the lottery. A number of projects have private sponsors. The current director is a brilliant fundraiser. The lab is a very well-respected body, with a worldwide reputation – even if it is usually misinterpreted by the general public.’

  ‘Is that really a surprise?’

  ‘Of course not! It’s far more fun to imagine a lot of scary stuff. We’re just as guilty ou
rselves of making jokes about spooks. But the reality is often routine, even boring. We’re just a research facility, trying to find ways to help people.’

  When he met her stare, she stared right back.

  ‘No connection to the military then?’

  ‘No! Don’t start on the conspiracy theories. I couldn’t work for somewhere like that. And I’m not against defence – I just wouldn’t want to be part of it. My talent, gift – whatever you want to call it – wouldn’t lend itself to any kind of weapons use – it’s too diffuse, for which I am very grateful.’ From her expression, she still detected scepticism in his face. Which may be true. ‘If you think the lab is some sort of front for weapons development, then you’re wrong.’

  ‘Sure about that, are you?’

  The stiffening in her shoulders told him he’d annoyed her, but the smile she gave him was a work of art – cool poise, seasoned with just the right trace of scorn. Insider to outsider.

  ‘I’m sure. But then, I would say that, wouldn’t I?’

  ‘Of course you would.’ He held up a hand in surrender. Something inexplicable relaxed inside him when the hard-edged smile softened into a genuine grin.

  ‘You haven’t fallen amongst thieves. There’s nothing sinister in what we do,’ she promised. ‘I admit I don’t want to go public on what we’re doing, not yet.’ There was a flicker behind her eyes he couldn’t read. ‘When the time is right, yes – but not until then.’

  ‘Sounds good to me,’ he agreed, looking away, testing out what she’d said about the lab. Did he believe it? On the whole he thought he did – but he still had questions. Only they aren’t all about the lab.

  ‘How do you come to be working there?’ he asked abruptly. Something shifted in his chest. Wrong question. It should be – why are you working there?

  Madison looked surprised, but answered quite easily. ‘I was headhunted. Friend of a friend. You know the kind of thing. Or perhaps you don’t?’

  ‘I believe I’ve heard of the concept.’

  ‘But you wouldn’t know if you’ve ever seen it in action.’

  ‘Got it in one.’ The warmth was creeping back, but her eyes were wary. Cautiously he rested his forearm against the arm of his chair, mirroring Madison’s pose. ‘What exactly is the setup?’

  ‘The type of work we do, do you mean?’

  She lifted her head when he nodded and the long, exposed line of her throat scattered his thoughts every which way. Scrambling, he stifled the frisson of awareness. Hard. There was too much he needed to know. He pulled his mind back to what she was saying. It came reluctantly.

  ‘It’s based on the five senses,’ she said. ‘My area is sight – in my case second sight, which translates for me into mind reading, telepathy and studies relating to memory. Other sections are dealing with actual physical sight, and things like precognition. There are departments working on hearing, taste, touch and smell. We have people who are “noses”, like those who work in the perfume industry, others with a particularly acute sense of taste.’ On familiar ground, she’d relaxed. This was a well-rehearsed patter. ‘We research cases of heightened awareness and also levels of ability in the general population – how latent talents might be stimulated and applied, in a positive way.’

  ‘With success?’

  ‘Some. A number of my peers are working on some interesting research papers.’

  ‘And I’m going to be yours?’ Suddenly the hesitation about sharing with her colleagues fell into place.

  ‘Well …’ She caught his eye. ‘All right. I admit it may just have crossed my mind, for a second.’ She held up her hand, laughing, then her face changed. ‘Would you at least consider it?’

  ‘I think we need to know a little more about what we’re getting into first.’

  His stomach contracted as the eagerness went out of her eyes. She’d instantly mistaken his caution for reluctance. Oh blast.

  ‘Yes, of course.’ Head down, her voice was muffled. ‘I was getting ahead of myself.’ She looked at her watch. ‘Well, it’s getting late—’

  ‘And I should go.’ He knew he’d blown it. Again. The rapport between them was at an end. Since he couldn’t explain a sense of danger that he didn’t understand himself, there was nothing else to do but leave. He nodded towards the pile of books. ‘May I take a couple of those?’

  Surprise flashed in her eyes, quickly stifled. ‘Yes, of course. If you need anything else—’

  ‘I’ll let you know,’ he confirmed, as he hauled himself to his feet. ‘Thanks for everything.’

  She shook her head, without speaking.

  He turned towards the door ‘Don’t forget to lock up, after I’ve gone.’

  Madison pottered about the room, returning volumes to the shelves, and retrieving the incriminating blooper DVD from her bag, to store it inconspicuously amongst her reference material, while battling a sense of disquiet. She’d made a fool of herself. Twice. Once when she’d almost kissed Jay, or let him kiss her – she wasn’t sure which – and then again, over the loan of the books. She’d hidden her surprise fast, but not fast enough. Her cheeks burned. That had been – stupid – in the extreme. And hurtful. She knew Jay wasn’t the down-and-out she’d first taken him for. But even if he had been? Why shouldn’t he want to read up on something that might help him understand the position he was in? In his place, she’d want to do the same.

  Involuntarily she shivered as she thought of that place. Totally alone. She knew a bit about that – but she still had her friends, her home and her work. What did Jay have? Just her – a stranger, who wanted to turn him into a guinea pig for a research paper.

  The heat in her face went up another notch. Jay was an exciting opportunity, one that she’d found for herself, after years of searching. She knew, with a bedrock confidence that had nothing to do with pride, that she was the best person to help him, maybe the only person, given her experience with memory investigations. Was it so bad to want the credit for it, if and when it happened? She didn’t want to risk sharing him with anyone. But is that professional jealousy or something much more basic?

  Shying away from that disturbing thought, she moved restlessly to the window. The lights were coming on in the street below. She stared at the dark amber halo around each streetlight. The edgy feeling in the pit of her stomach wasn’t all to do with embarrassment. She leaned her forehead against the cool of the glass. Jay had asked questions. The rational part of her mind had no problem with that – curiosity was natural – but there was another part that wasn’t so comfortable.

  Now the euphoria was evaporating – she shrugged off the hormonal haze that seemed to want to take its place – her own ability to question was kicking in. Jay didn’t want people to know about him. Was that an understandable sense of uncertainty, given the vulnerability of his situation? Or was it something else entirely?

  Had it been too easy, the way Jay had accepted that she could read minds? The way he already seemed to have slid into her world? Was she letting her eagerness to work with the best subject she’d ever encountered override all her protective mechanisms? For a second she felt nauseous. She wanted to work with Jay. Needed to. She dug her fingers into the palms of her hands. Something had created that barrier in Jay’s mind. Whatever or whoever it was, it was unlikely to be good. His easy acceptance of her and the unknown source of his own power – the answers to both had to be lurking behind that barrier. Did she really want to go there? To an uncertain, dangerous place? Of course you do. You just have to be very, very careful.

  She straightened up. Getting a private investigator was a start. She needed some answers, too. She’d choose carefully and pay what was asked. If Jay was a con man, or some kind of spy, if he’d been sent to test her – she was going to know about it. If he was something worse …

  What?

  You just have to be ver
y, very careful.

  Jay lay in the dark, as expected, looking at the ceiling, willing his mind to behave. For over an hour he’d been trying to nail that persistent sense of menace, checking out whether it was real. The only result was the return of the nagging pain behind the eyes. He was stuck here, in the middle of the craziest of the crazy. Mind reading, for fuck’s sake! Mind reading! A long shiver ran over his skin. His whole life, his whole being was so screwed up, that felt like normal. And when he tried to sort out stuff, to make some sense of it – zap – knives behind the eyes.

  With a curse he levered himself off the bed, crossing to the sink for water and one of the painkillers he’d bought at the chemist. He looked down at the small white pill. He might have bought them, but it was Madison’s money. Everything he had he owed to the angel.

  The thought stung.

  The only repayment he had right now was blood, sweat and tears, and she could have those, any way she wanted. Have him – he shunted quickly past that image. Circumstances had thrown them into a weird intimacy. The last thing he wanted to do was frighten her. There was too much riding on it. She could use him for any number of research studies, if she could get his memory back – and if he could be sure that what they were doing was safe. Until he could, the fewer people who knew about him the better.

  He wandered back to the bed, feeling his eyelids getting heavy as the meds kicked in.

  He arranged himself on the mattress, his shoulder supported by a pillow, with the duvet drawn back over his good arm. The studio was well appointed and comfortable. He had everything he could possibly need, but the neutral décor of his surroundings had all the impersonality of a hotel room. Blank, just like he was. He tried, fruitlessly, to call up some familiar picture. Did he have a home, somewhere?

  Madison’s apartment was full of surprising pieces of her personality, books and CDs, candles, paintings on the walls from places she’d visited; not great art, but pictures that meant something to her. Like the Italian one at the lab. There’d been something there. Something connected to the missing lover? That was one private area he hadn’t trampled into. Madison had let him into her personal space, but she still had things that were hidden.