by Jayne Castle
The driver spoke from the front of the vehicle. “Ready, Miss Morgan?”
“Yes, thank you, Bill,” Ella said.
Bill pressed a button. The glass privacy screen slid into place behind the driver’s seat. The passenger compartment was transformed into an even more intimate chamber. It seemed to Rafe that the heat in the atmosphere climbed another degree or two. The energy swirling in the back of the limo wasn’t coming just from his fevered aura, he thought. Ella was running a little hot, too.
She was the picture of a powerful talent who was also a cool, self-confident professional, but he was pretty sure that she was aware that they were striking sparks off each other.
“Thank you for being on time,” she said. “When he picked me up, Bill told me that traffic was bad this evening. It will take a little longer than usual to get to the college.”
“No problem,” Rafe said. “I’m good about being on time. One of my virtues. Possibly my only virtue.”
She smiled at the weak joke, gave him an appraising look, and nodded once in approval. “I see the concierge came through.”
“The tux was delivered to the hotel about forty-five minutes ago.”
“I’m surprised a rented tuxedo fits so well.”
It was his turn to be amused. “It fits because it’s not rented.”
That got a reaction. She stared at him, mouth open in shock.
“You bought a new tux?” she managed. “Just for tonight?”
“Don’t worry about the tux. I can afford it.”
“I’m sure you can. That’s not the point. You don’t even know the people we’ll be meeting this evening. You’ll never see any of them again. Buying a tux was a complete waste of money.”
“Okay, worry about the price of the tux if you really want to, but I’m not.”
“Okay.” She took a breath and let it out with control. “It’s just that it seems rather extreme to invest in some obviously very expensive formal attire—”
“Would you mind if we changed the subject?” he asked gently.
“Sorry,” she said stiffly. There was a beat of silence. She cleared her throat. “You look very nice.”
“So do you,” he said, keeping his tone equally polite.
“Thank you.”
She was still radiating tension but at least she was no longer carrying on about the damn tux. She sat in the shadows on the far side of the seat, giving him plenty of space. Her whiskey-gold hair was no longer in a severe bun the way it had been that afternoon. It was still up but now it was in a twist that was secured by an amber-studded clip. A few tendrils had escaped confinement, falling around her neck in a charming, sultry, subtly sexy manner. He did not know if the effect was intentional or if she had been in a hurry when she did her hair. Whatever the case, the style certainly worked for him. It was all he could do not to lean over and kiss the back of her neck.
Her shoulders were draped in a soft, dark wrap. He could not be sure of the color—black, or maybe a midnight blue. The hem of a slim skirt in the same color hit at a discreet yet sexy place a couple of inches above her knees. High-heeled sandals framed dainty ankles and elegantly arched feet.
The thought that his charged reaction to her might be a weird side effect of the fever crossed his mind but he decided to ignore it. He had too many other problems to worry about. Besides, the realization that he was alone in the back of a limo with the most interesting woman he had encountered in a very long time, maybe in forever, was too good to mess up with overthinking. So what if she was running Alien weapons on the side and had used her talent to steal a valuable antique. No one was perfect.
Maybe he really was losing it because of the fever, but at that particular moment he did not give a damn.
“Where’s Lorelei?” he asked.
Ella seemed to relax a little at the question. “Out. She frequently disappears at night. I think she goes hunting with her dust bunny pals. I’ve concluded that I probably don’t want to know all the details.”
“So she stuck around after you rescued her buddies from Vickary’s little shop?”
“That evening Lorelei appeared on my balcony. We’ve been pals ever since.”
“Okay, that answers that question.”
She smiled, coldly amused. “What you really want to know is how I managed the move from my first low-rent office space to the sixteenth floor of the Crystal Center.”
“That would be interesting,” he conceded.
“I thought so. The answer is that Lorelei paid her bill. She brought me a chunk of very valuable ruby amber. A friend of mine who happens to be in the antiquities trade sold it for me. A collector paid a bundle for it.”
It was a good story, Rafe thought. And one that could never be easily proved or disproved. But he didn’t give a damn. Tonight he was prepared to accept it at face value. Ella could have told him that she had won the lottery or inherited a fortune and he would have been willing to accept the explanation. He was content to be in the car with her. At long last they were alone together. Except for the driver, Bill, of course. But Bill was minding his own business in the front compartment. With luck, traffic would be bad and it would take quite a while to get to the reception.
“Mind if I ask why you changed the name of your business to the Knightsbridge Dream Institute?” he asked.
“I thought it sounded more upmarket. Image is everything in my line.”
“Image is important to any business,” he said.
There was another short pause.
“Actually, there was another reason why I decided to rename my business,” Ella said after a moment.
“Yeah?”
“I was fairly certain that you would keep quiet about your theory concerning the exact nature of my talent.”
“Only fairly certain?”
“Well, it’s not like I knew you well enough to know if you could be trusted, now did I?”
He thought about that. “No, I guess not.”
“But even if you kept silent about your, uh, theory, I couldn’t be sure that you would be able to keep my name out of the investigation. Special Agent Joe Harding is a real glory hound. If he did figure out that I was there in Vickary’s underground shop that day, I don’t think he would have hesitated to blab that little fact to the media. I thought it would be wise to come up with a new name for the business.”
“The image thing.”
“Exactly.”
He settled back for the ride through the dark streets, savoring the invigorating energy of Ella’s aura and her scent. The combination was more effective than an energy pill.
He had been battling the low-level miasma of nagging exhaustion brought on by sleep-deprivation for the past three months. Most of the time he could hold the tide at bay with a judicious mix of psi, caffeine, and short catnaps, but every so often he was forced to give in to the demands of his body. Sleep—the deep kind—came with a high price tag these days. He had been pushing himself ever since he had been tasked with troubleshooting the Rainshadow job. The bill was going to come due and payable soon. When that happened he needed to be alone and in a secure environment, a place where he could be assured that no one would witness his descent into the hellish realm of fever nightmares.
Ella stirred a little in the seat, crossing her legs. “You kept my secret.”
“And you’re going to keep mine, aren’t you?”
“If you’re talking about that little heat issue you’ve got going on in your aura, of course. I’m a dream analyst, remember? I’m very good at keeping other people’s secrets.”
“Okay,” he said. “We’ve got a deal. We keep each other’s secret.”
She watched him intently for a while. “Something bad happened to you three months ago, didn’t it?”
“Yes,” he said.
“Care to talk about it?”
“No,” he said. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Chapter 9
Ella watched Wilson Parsons make his way
through the crowded reception hall. Everything inside her tensed in battle-ready preparation for what she knew would be an unpleasant encounter. She was reasonably certain that Wilson would not make a scene—like her he had his image to consider. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try to stir up trouble.
Earlier she had assured herself that attending the prestigious affair with Rafe by her side would enhance the Knightsbridge reputation. But now, with Wilson closing in, she was having misgivings. Wilson had not forgiven her for walking out on that last assignment. He had predicted doom and disaster for her if she dared to leave him. The fact that she was rapidly making her way up through the highly competitive ranks of dream analysts was probably not sitting well with him.
“Who’s this coming toward us?” Rafe asked in low tones. “He looks like he’s got an agenda with you right at the top.”
“That is very perceptive of you,” Ella said. “His name is Wilson Parsons and I’m quite certain that he has an agenda. But I think it’s very likely that you’re the one at the top, not me.”
“Wilson Parsons. Your old boss?”
“I see you’ve done a little research on me,” she said.
“I’ll bet you did some on me.”
“Okay, you’ve got me there. Although, in fairness, I couldn’t find much. Your family does a great job of maintaining a low profile.”
“All the Coppersmiths are good at keeping secrets. We’ve had some experience.”
“You’re not the only family with that sort of experience. There’s not much to tell you about Wilson Parsons. As you know, he was my former boss. Now he’s one of my competitors. Also, in my opinion, he is ethically challenged.”
“I see.”
The reception to honor the new head of the Dreamlight Research Department was at its peak. The low roar of voices raised in loud conversation reverberated in the high-ceilinged room. The hall was crammed with members of the faculty in their purple-and-green caps and gowns, and wealthy alumni dressed in formal black and white. In addition, Ella spotted the mayor and several other city officials as well as businesspeople such as Wilson and herself, who had connections to the department.
She was drinking sparkling water because she always stayed away from alcohol at social events that were business related. Rafe was also holding a glass of water. She wondered if that was because he was following her lead or if it had something to do with the psi-fever.
He was standing very close to her, so close that she was intensely aware of the controlled energy in his aura. He wore the tux—the original power suit—with cool authority. She remembered her sense of shock earlier when she had watched him emerge through the glass doors of the hotel lobby and walk toward the limo. The man who had been at ease in boots, denim, khaki, and leather in her office was clearly just as comfortable in formal black tie.
“Do you and Parsons have some serious personal history or was your relationship strictly business?” Rafe asked.
“Trust me, there was nothing of a personal nature between Wilson and me.”
“Got it.”
“Wilson Parsons took over the agency when his father died. I liked Mr. Parsons senior and enjoyed working for him. He always sent me out on interesting assignments. But the son is a very different proposition. I knew I would have to leave sooner or later, but when I walked out in the middle of an assignment Wilson was furious. He still is. If he can find a way to ruin my career, he’ll grab it. He never expected me to get this far, this fast, you see. He was sure I was doomed to run a low-rent storefront dream-psychic operation forever.”
“I assume you had your reasons for ditching that last case?”
“I certainly did. The client tried to rape me.”
Wilson was almost upon them. She turned up her brightest screw you, Wilson Parsons smile.
He was in his early thirties, tall, and endowed with the reassuring, square-jawed good looks that stopped just short of too handsome. There was a strong vibe in the atmosphere around him. Wilson might have some problems when it came to ethics, but there was no denying that he had some serious talent. Wilson’s abilities lay in the realm of marketing and sales. In Ella’s opinion he could probably sell cold, untuned amber to a ghost hunter.
“Ella,” Wilson said. “So good to see you.”
His tone was rich and plumy but there was icy assessment in his eyes. She was sure she knew exactly what he was thinking. He was wondering if she and Rafe had signed a contract or if there was still time for him to make a move.
He returned her polished smile with equal firepower and had the nerve to try to top it with an air kiss. She pivoted toward Rafe at the last instant as if oblivious of Wilson’s intent. The result was that Wilson found himself trying to kiss the glass of sparkling water in her hand.
“Have you met Rafe Coppersmith?” she asked. “Rafe, this is Wilson Parsons of the Wilson Parsons Talent Agency.”
Wilson recovered from the botched air kiss and extended his hand to Rafe.
“Pleased to meet you, Rafe,” he said. “Rumor has it that Coppersmith is looking for some highly specialized talent.”
The handshake between the two men was quick and minimal, the kind of handshake two fighters exchanged when they got into the ring.
“I was looking for some good talent,” Rafe said. He smiled at Ella. “Fortunately, I found it.”
“I see.” Wilson glanced at Ella. “You needed a mid-level dream analyst, then?”
“I needed someone exactly like Ella,” Rafe said. There was a mag-steel edge in his voice.
Wilson blinked and took what looked like an unconscious step back.
“I see,” he said. He did not look convinced but he did look a little more cautious.
“Rafe and I signed the contract this afternoon,” Ella said.
“Is that right?” Wilson raised his brows. “I’m surprised he had heard about your little one-person firm, Ella.”
She considered emptying her glass of sparkling water on his shoes but she managed to restrain herself.
“Knightsbridge may be small but our reputation is growing,” she said.
Wilson switched his attention to Rafe. “Your company is into mining. Mind if I ask why you need a dream analyst?”
“Coppersmith is involved in a wide variety of research projects.” Rafe smiled a thin blade of a smile. “We employ an equally wide variety of consultants.”
Wilson recovered quickly from the setback. He bestowed a patronizing grin on Ella.
“I understand that a contract with a company the size of Coppersmith is a big deal for a little operation like Knightsbridge,” he said. “If you find you’re in over your head, feel free to contact me. Wouldn’t be the first time Wilson Parsons has had to come to the rescue of one of our competitors.”
Ella gave him a bright, shiny smile. “You bet. If I need help, Wilson Parsons will definitely be on my call list.”
Wilson blinked a couple of times. He was obviously having trouble figuring out how to take her response. It finally must have dawned on him that she was being sarcastic.
“There’s Dr. Flanders,” he said, looking past Ella’s shoulder. “I need to have a word with him about his new dream research project. If you’ll excuse me?”
“Certainly,” Ella said.
“Remember, Parsons will be happy to step in if you find you need our insights,” Wilson said. But he was speaking to Rafe.
He melted into the crowd before Ella could respond. Rafe watched him go.
“What happened when you told Parsons that the client tried to rape you?” he asked.
His cold voice sent a chill through Ella.
“Wilson tried to convince me that it was my imagination. When that failed, he claimed that I had made a mistake in the course of the therapy.”
“In other words, the attempted assault was your fault.”
“Yes. That’s when I handed in my resignation.”
This was a dangerous topic, Ella thought. She needed to change the subject.
Luckily, a familiar face emerged from the crowd. “Good evening, Professor Suarez. Thank you so much for inviting me this evening.”
“Ella, dear, I’m so glad you could make it. And how many times must I tell you to call me Marlene?”
Marlene Suarez was a petite, silver-haired woman with a vivacious vibe and a sharp, analytical mind. She gave Rafe a speculative look.
“Who is your plus one this evening?” she said to Ella.
“I’d like you to meet Rafe Coppersmith,” Ella said. “Rafe, Marlene is a professor in the Dreamlight Research Department.”
“Coppersmith.” Marlene’s brows rose. “As in Coppersmith Mining?”
“That would be the family business,” Rafe said. “Technically speaking, I’m an outside consultant.”
Marlene chuckled and winked at Ella. “Congratulations, my dear. It’s about time you started dating again.”
Ella choked on the sip of sparkling water that she had just swallowed. She sputtered and coughed.
“Mr. Coppersmith is a client,” she wheezed.
Rafe gave her a couple of bracing slaps between her shoulder blades and smiled at Marlene.
“Ella and I are still in the getting-to-know-each-other phase of things,” he said.
Chapter 10
Forty minutes later Ella said her good-byes and walked out into the mist-bound night with Rafe.
A little buzz of energy tingled through her. She loved the streets of the Old Quarter after dark, especially when they were laced with fog. The lightly roiling mist was infused with the eerie green energy of the ruins, creating a fascinating chiaroscuro. She had always enjoyed the otherworldly atmosphere, but tonight the sensation was enhanced because of the man at her side.
It would have been a wonderful night for a stroll through the safe, gentrified streets of the Quarter with a real date, Ella thought. But Rafe was not a real date.
She was very aware of him at her side as they made their way through the well-tended gardens of the faculty club.
“You’re sure there’s nothing more I need to know about your relationship with Wilson Parsons?” Rafe asked.