“What did you tell Elspeth Arkwell about me?” she asked bluntly.
Ahh. He was correct in his earlier assumption. “That you were no threat physically to her VIP guests.”
“And?”
“You lost your job because you were a whistleblower and now claim to be a psychic, medium and clairvoyant.”
Give the woman credit, she didn’t blink. “And?”
“Your real name is Shea Winters.”
“And?”
“Is there another ‘and’?”
Her eyes narrowed. “You told her I was a fake.”
“No.”
“Pull the other leg, its got bells on it.”
“Ding ding.”
“That’s not funny. And?”
“I give out facts, I don’t make assumptions.”
“You think I’m a fake.”
“No.”
“I never took you for a lair, Aaron.”
“I’m not. I don’t think you’re a fake.”
She scowled.
“I know you are,” he said calmly.
Another person might have tried to bluster their way out of it. She took the bull by the horns. “You can’t know that.”
He looked levelly at her.
“You can’t know what goes on in the spiritual world.” This time she took a sip of water, her gaze meeting his unwaveringly.
But that sip of water was a dead giveaway. She was biding her time, appearing earnest, those thick eyelashes sweeping down to slightly cover her eyes and lend her a slightly mysterious air.
Entertained, Aaron grinned.
Her eyes narrowed. “Are you laughing at me?”
“Yes.”
“Geez, don’t hold back.”
“I’m not. You asked, I answered.”
“Can’t you even pretend?”
“You don’t want me to pretend.”
“How would you know?”
“You’re a person who uses truth to her advantage.”
Sucking in a sharp breath, Shea straightened and shoved the bottle at him. “You arsehole.”
Rather than take the bottle, Aaron simply wrapped his hand around hers on the plastic and pushed it firmly back at her.
She tried to shove it back at him.
“Are we really going to fight over the bottle?” he drawled.
“I’ll shove it up your-”
“Please. I’m stronger than you.”
“You have to sleep sometime!”
“Going to astral travel?”
“You are such an ar-”
“I got the idea the first time you insinuated it.”
Going still, she glared up at him. “You’re really enjoying yourself, aren’t you?”
Surprisingly, yes, he was. There was something about her that tickled his fancy and appealed to him not only on a baser level, but a level he didn’t quite understand. And she brought out a lighter side to his nature, one he’d not indulged in overmuch.
“Let go,” she ordered sharply.
Okay, maybe he’d pushed things a little far, something he didn’t normally do. He’d have to muse over that little fact later.
He released her hand. “Just don’t make me walk funny.”
“Huh?”
“By attempting to do what you want with the water bottle.”
For several seconds she glared at him before rolling her eyes. “You’re an idiot.”
“But an honest one.”
That had her eyes snapping again.
“What I said is fact,” he continued. “You use the truth in your readings.”
Her expression was a little startled, which made him wonder, then he realised she’d mistaken his earlier words to mean the truth associated with her whistleblowing - and career-blowing - past.
Obviously recognising her mistake, she steered away from the past. “Are you saying you believe in me now? I find that hard to swallow.”
“I don’t believe in your psychic powers. You’re a fake in that department.” This time when she shoved the bottle at him, he simply took it. “Are you denying it?”
“I speak the truth,” she retorted. “I don’t distort it.”
Uh huh.
“You don’t know me,” she hissed. “To throw those kinds of assumptions around is so wrong!”
“It’s fact.”
Those plump lips tightened. “You are such a jerk. Why did I even bother to talk to you?”
“Because you wanted to know-”
“I know that!”
She whirled away, but rather than do as he expected - storm off home - she folded her arms, holding herself rigid as she stared down the driveway.
Placing the bottles of water on the bonnet, Aaron rested his palms on the bonnet each side of his thighs and waited. Something was on her mind, something she wanted to say, something frustrating her so much he could almost hear her teeth grinding.
The quiet of the early evening was falling, the sun dipping below the horizon, but it wasn’t yet dark. He liked the early evenings, the closing of a busy day, time to relax.
A full minute dragged past before she turned to face him. Her expression was troubled as she opened her mouth to say something, closed it again, studied his face and finally sighed. “Never mind.”
“Tell me.”
She shook her head. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll see you later.” With that she walked off.
Aaron watched her until she turned the corner of the driveway out of sight. He had to admit to feeling a little disappointed. She’d been about to reveal something important, it was evident in the way she’d taken so much time to think about it, fighting some kind of internal debate, but she’d had second thoughts.
He didn’t like that, didn’t like it at all. Why and what had she wanted to tell him? Her past, her reasons? He knew the facts, but now it wasn’t enough. He wanted to know what she had to say, what she’d thought, why she’d chosen this particular path.
Straightening, he gathered the bottles and pitched them into the bin beside the garage that protected the work cars. Whatever he felt, he wouldn’t force her. Information shared freely didn’t carry the same consequences as information forcibly taken. Getting into his car, he moved down the driveway. If he waited long enough she just might confide in him.
Pulling out onto the road, he glanced at the neighbouring building.
Correction, ‘The Mystic Room’. There was no way anyone could miss the perforated window decal stating the not-quite-so-subtle title with it’s spray of stars, moon, and silver clouds all done in a dark, numinous way to catch the eye of anyone even remotely interested in psychics.
Meaning to drive home, he found himself instead pulling into his father’s driveway. Getting out, he walked up the front steps and opened the door. “Dad?”
“In here, son.”
Walking down the hallway, Aaron felt the familiar comfort of being once more in his childhood home. He hadn’t lived in the big, old house with its old fashioned, dark furniture for quite a few years, but it still seemed to echo with the sound of young boys growing into teenagers, their shouts, tears, laughter, anger and happiness. Their mother might have died when Blue was only four, Luke six and Aaron thirteen, but they’d never missed out on love. Their father had loved them with all his heart and though mourning the loss of his beloved wife, he’d reared his sons with quiet, loving, patient and stern efficiency. They went to church every Sunday, school every week day, and on weekends they helped him around the house with chores and even with some of his work. Then, without a qualm, he’d taken on a wild, troubled and lost young nephew and a battered sister. Cousin Jason now worked for Wells Handyman and Building Services and was married to Izzy, Luke ran his own landscaping business and was engaged to Mikki, Blue was off somewhere in the Army, Aaron had his own security business and home, and Aunt Lora was dating a caring giant. A lot had happened and changed over the years, but home and Dad remained the same.
He was glad for that, glad that he could
come home knowing that his father would be either in the back office working, or sitting at the big table that once had their schoolbooks resting on it as they had moaned and groaned their way through Maths, English, Social Studies and other homework. Or rather, Luke had moaned and groaned, Blue had sweated it, and Aaron had stoically worked in silence. It was the same table at which Aaron had planned his business in-between working security.
As Aaron entered the kitchen, his gaze fell on Harris Wells sitting at the table, the big Bible at his elbow, a mug of hot tea steaming on the other side of the newspaper he was reading. It was another familiar sight.
“G’day, son.” Mr Wells nodded towards the old teapot sitting on the kitchen bench. “Cuppa?”
“Thanks.” Aaron poured a mug of black tea and sat down at the table. “How was work?”
“Busy. You?”
“Ditto.”
In companionable silence, they sat and sipped.
Finally, Aaron asked, “Where’s Aunt Lora?”
“Gone to the movies with Jim.”
“Think he’ll propose sometime?”
“If he does, we’ll have to resuscitate Jason.”
They both grinned.
“He just isn’t comfortable with the idea of his mother having a boyfriend, is he?”
“He’s trying. Gotta give the boy that.”
Leaning back in the chair, Aaron stretched out his legs, crossed his ankles, and folded his arms across his chest. “It’s been a year.”
“He’s protective of his mother.” Mr Wells turned a page. “When Jim proposes, Jason’ll be fine.”
Aaron nodded. Jason would do anything to keep his mother happy, and if that meant accepting her marrying Jim, he’d go along with it and smile. Painfully smile, true, but he’d smile and not say a word against it. He’d be pleasant to Jim as he always was, and he’d be happy for her. Jason and his mum had gone through some hard times and come out smiling after hard work and sheer guts.
Unbidden, his thoughts turned to Shea and Cole. They’d gone through some hard times and they’d come out the other side, too, but Shea’s chosen path was very different. It made him wonder, made him curious to know what she’d thought, the reasons for her choice.
Shaking his head, he stared at the mug of tea on the table. He’d never been one to be interested in other people’s business. Checking their backgrounds, their characters, was simply part of the job. He’d always done it then moved on, never thinking for too long about the reasons people did what they did mainly because he’d pretty much seen it all. In his line of work there were little surprises left. He’d seen the best and worse, absorbed it, studied people and their reactions and actions, and gained more experience than most people thought the boss of a security firm would obtain.
So it was a puzzle why he was thinking about Shea Winters, curious as to her actions and reactions. True, she was in an industry where it was easy to use truths and observation to make things sound plausible, but there was her past. The choices she’d made then proclaimed guts, nerve, and honesty, the results of which had pretty much hammered her into the ground. She’d gotten up and dusted herself off, but the chosen path of deceit was an odd one.
Or maybe not.
Taking a thoughtful sip of tea, Aaron narrowed his eyes. He wasn’t about to lie to himself - Shea Winters was a gorgeous mystery he’d like to unwrap, layer by delicious layer. He wanted to hear her explanation from her own lush lips, look into her eyes as she bared her soul to him, smooth his hand along her arm as she spoke in that honeyed voice, trace his mouth along that white throat as she tipped her head back and laughed that rich, deep, full laugh. Wanted to hear her whisper and moan as she arched beneath his questing hands-
“Want to talk about it?”
The words crashed through his steadily heating thoughts like a cold wave of water, making him blink as he realised his father was regarding him.
Aaron was astonished that he’d actually lost himself in sensual thoughts that he certainly had no business thinking while sitting at the same table as his father. And certainly had no reason to be thinking about a certain woman he’d only met a handful of times. No matter how interesting he found her. It just wasn’t his way. When a woman interested him, he checked her out to a certain extent - not a full-on background check, he wasn’t that rigid even if Luke did accuse him of having a stick up his bum at times and needed to loosen up - before approaching her calmly, dating for awhile to see if they were compatible, and, well…he’d not found a woman he’d been attracted to enough to continue past a short time of dating.
So why the hell was Shea Winters dominating his thoughts so much? That was the biggest puzzle. Why was he so attracted to her? A fake, no less?
Taking a deep breath, he refocussed to find his father watching him with the same steady regard Aaron gave to others. “I’m fine.”
Mr Wells just continued watching him.
“Really.” He shifted just a fraction in the chair.
Yes, his Dad still had the power to make him squirm. He was the only person in the world able to do that, much to Luke, Blue and Jason’s delight. Not that Aaron usually minded, but right now…
God, he was thinking some pretty hot and heavy thoughts while his father sat right there with the family Bible at his elbow and a direct pair of eyes that seemed to be boring into his brain and extracting information.
It was funny when Aaron did it to Luke, not so funny when Dad did it to Aaron.
“Seriously.” He raised the mug of tea, not revealing with even a wince that maybe he should have waited a few more minutes before swallowing the hot liquid.
“Uh huh.” Without looking at the newspaper, Mr Wells licked one calloused fingertip and flicked a page over.
“Just work. You know what it’s like.”
Mr Wells regarded him closely.
Aaron met his gaze levelly.
They looked at each other for a solid ten seconds before Mr Wells nodded. “You know I’m always here for you boys.”
“Yeah, Dad. Thanks.” Prudently, he switched the subject. “Did you get that contract from Boysens?”
“Signed, sealed and delivered.”
“Pretty big job.”
“Not as big as some jobs.”
The talk turned to general things, the evening passing pleasantly, thoughts of Shea disappearing.
He might have managed to push thoughts of her into the background, but when he awoke the next morning it was to have remnants of a disturbingly erotic dream of lush curves beneath his hands and a pair of whisky-coloured eyes looking up into his as he lost himself inside her. He also sported a pretty impressive hard-on that he had to deal with in the shower and which he’d never admit to a living soul. Especially Luke, who’d have laughed like a hyena right before liberally spreading the news amongst the family.
Going for a jog in the early morning dawn helped clear the cobwebs, pumping iron in the big shed he’d turned into a small gymnasium in the back yard helping dispel the last of the dream.
It was just that, he decided as he set the house alarm and locked the door, just a dream. She was pretty, interesting, and had dinged on his radar. She’d been in his thoughts and he was physically attracted to her. There was no mystery to the dream. He was a red-blooded man even though his brothers and cousin declared otherwise.
Using the key fob to unlock the car, he glanced over the roof to see Mrs Thorn’s ginger cat sitting on the fence gazing serenely at him.
Good grief. What was it with the ginger cats? He’d never even noticed Mrs Thorn’s moggie very much until Shea had made that absurd comment of a ginger cat crossing his path.
Shaking his head, Aaron got into the car. Just as he started it his mobile rang, Ben’s name coming up on the small screen. It wasn’t usual for his employees to call him when they knew he was coming in to work. “What’s wrong, Ben?”
“Someone just tried to hack into our system,” Ben replied.
Eyes narrowing, Aaron quickly
drew on the seatbelt. “And?”
“They couldn’t get past our defence system, of course.”
Aaron reversed out of the driveway. “You tracked them?”
“Oh yeah, we did.”
“I’ll meet Ryan and Kelly at the residence. What’s the address?”
“Ryan says you’ll want to come in first for this, boss.”
That was unusual, too. Any attempted breach was met with immediate shut-down of the hacker, there was no in-house meeting first. The message went out, the team tagged for take-down met with Aaron at the designated place. “Why?”
“Because you’ll want to handle this personally,” Ryan’s voice replaced Ben’s.
“Give me the details, Ryan. Now.”
Without hesitation Ryan gave him the address.
Well, well.
“Aaron?” Ben queried. “You want us to do anything after all?”
“No,” Aaron replied with icy control. “Ryan’s correct. I’m taking care of this. Personally.”
Chapter 4
“Will I win the lottery?”
Geez, how many times had she heard that question? Shea did a mental bridge-of-the-nose pinch and bowed her head slightly, turning the watch over in her fingers. The watch was fancy, the band expensive. In fact, the brand was not cheap. The dress Belinda wore was one Shea’d seen in a dress boutique at which she could only afford to window shop, and the high heels Belinda wore were a definite high-end brand name.
Belinda had money or a rich lover. Given that her ring finger was bare, that counted out a husband. A fiancée was also out seeing that she wore no engagement ring, so that didn’t really equate, either. Plus if she were wealthy already, she wouldn’t be so interested in winning the lotto.
Placing the watch down on the dark blue velvet table cloth that draped over the table, Shea smoothed her fingertips across the band, softening her voice to murmur in an appearance of translating a spiritual message. “I feel money, yes…”
Belinda’s face brightened.
“There’s money, but I don’t…” Frowning, Shea touched a fingertip to the watch face. “Spirit is showing me jewellery.”
The Wells Brothers: Aaron Page 8