by Rayna Vause
“Hey, it’s your boat. I’m just enjoying my little trip to luxury land.”
“Well, there are a number of things we can do. But you know what I really enjoy?”
Chris shook his head.
“Fishing.”
Chris burst out laughing. “You want to go fishing off the back of a yacht.”
“Why not?” Jack turned and headed to the stern.
Chris stared after him, smiling because he couldn’t think of a single reason, and followed.
“Have you done much fishing?” Jack stopped and got two simple rods and a tackle box from a cabinet that doubled as a bench seat on the diving platform. He also set up two chairs.
“Once, a long time ago.” Chris stayed back, well away from the edge of the boat. “On second thought, I’m not so sure this is a good idea.”
“It’s the best one I’ve had in a while.” Jack sat in one chair, set up the rod, and offered it to Chris. “Trust me. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Chris glanced from the water to Jack and back again.
“Do you want to do this on your own, or do you need a quick refresher?”
Taking a long, slow breath, Chris gave in and accepted the rod and claimed his seat. “I think I can handle this.” Mustering up a fifteen-year-old memory, he cast the line. He pulled back a bird’s nest of fishing line beyond hope of ever being righted.
“You know, it takes a great amount of skill to get the line tangled that badly.” Jack laughed and took the rod from him.
“Very funny.” He shot a side-eyed glance at Jack. “I guess I’m rustier than I thought.”
Jack chuckled as he reset Chris’s line. He handed it back to him. “Here, let me show you. Stand here.” Jack stepped behind Chris, his chest brushing Chris’s back. Jack’s rich, spicy scent surrounded Chris. He closed his eyes and breathed Jack in.
“You only want to flick your wrist slightly when you cast.”
“What?”
“Fishing? Remember?”
“Right.”
Jack slid his hand down Chris’s forearm to his wrist, leaving an electrified trail in its wake. Chris’s pulse rate picked up.
This is not good. I don’t have room for this right now. Everything inside him tingled. He coughed, attempting to regain a bit of composure.
“Ready?” Jack rasped, his breath warm on Chris’s ear.
He nodded, fighting the need to shiver, and together they sent the lure flying over the water. It landed with a small plop.
“I’ll—” Jack cleared his throat. “I’ll let you take it from here.”
“Th-Thanks.” He clasped the rod and reel to keep his hands from trembling. As he moved from the cocoon of Jack’s arms, their bodies brushed, sending one last streak of electricity down his arm. Even though they no longer touched, the air still crackled between them.
“How long since you last fished?”
Chris considered it. “I was twelve, I think. My mom and I were doing one of our mother/son getaways. We were both terrible fishermen, but we had a blast trying.” His expression grew distant as he lost himself in the happy memory.
“How’s she doing?”
“Pretty good. She’s mobile. She can sort of get around with a walker. She still has some weakness in her left side, but it’s getting better.”
“She still has a long road ahead of her, doesn’t she?”
“Yeah, but she’s stubborn. She’ll get there.”
“I hope she’s better soon.”
“Mom’s tough. She’s not going to let anything slow her down for long.”
“Is that why you needed a job so quickly? Your mom’s medical expenses? I can’t imagine that nightclub psychic was your first choice in occupation.”
“Got it in one. Mom has a lot of medical expenses, and Medicare only covers so much.”
“You were in computer programming before your mother’s illness, right?” Jack asked.
Chris tipped his head and blinked at Jack in surprise. “Yeah, sadly that career ended when my boss came to me with something stupid on a day when my brain-to-mouth filter was really on the blink.”
“Ever think of going back?”
“Maybe, but they’d have to offer me a package that at least matches, if not exceeds, what Angelica has offered me as ‘Christof the Great Psychic Wonder’ in her—your—club.” He paused to think. “Why? Want to offer me a position in Whitman IT? Have we circled back to that image thing again?”
Jack didn’t respond. Chris stared at his dormant fishing pole.
“Right.” Chris pressed his lips together, disappointment burning its way down the back of his throat. “Well, thanks for a great morning, but I need to run and check on Ma. Besides, I finally remember why I haven’t done this in fifteen years. Fishing is not my thing.”
“Chris, don’t go.” Jack checked his watch. “We’ve only been at this for ten minutes. Fishing takes time and persistence.”
“Unfortunately I was absent the day they handed out patience. Thank you for giving me a morning away from my troubles, but I do have to go. I’ll see you at the club later tonight?”
“I’ll be there.”
JACK sat on the couch in Angelica’s office and checked his cell phone for the third time in the last ten minutes. He’d told his sister to call him the minute she’d finished with the police, but he’d had no word yet. Stubborn. Always so stubborn. After getting the call from her early this morning, he’d rushed over, helped her lock down her house, and then brought her back to the hotel. He’d wanted to call the cops then and there, but she’d refused.
“What am I going to tell them, Jack? Some nut broke in, cleaned my closet, and left?”
As much as it galled him, she had a point. Still, he insisted that some sort of official report get made just in case. Two incidents in one night couldn’t be a coincidence, and he damn well wanted a paper trail started. Instead of agreeing with him as any normal person would, she cut a deal: she’d call Connor McCord, their friend on the police force, if Jack would meet with Chris for a reading. With a little luck, Connor would talk some sense into her and there’d be a forensics team on its way to her townhouse and the garage soon.
He suspected that’s why he hadn’t heard anything from her yet. He also had no doubt that she wanted to ensure he held up his end of the deal and he couldn’t blame her. Earlier today he might have tried to get out of it, but since spending time on his boat with Chris, nothing would keep him away. Something about Chris drew him. That hadn’t changed in all these years, but attraction wouldn’t make him a believer. Regardless, seeing Chris again would make it time well spent.
His morning with Chris left him more intrigued than he expected. He huffed out a quiet laugh. Under that layer of defensiveness lived a fun and interesting man. He should have taken the time to get to know him better before now. Sure, they’d shared an amazing moment together and he would have happily taken it much further than they had at the time, but the circumstances of that day had been unique. Still, he’d never quite been able to forget about it or him.
Every time Chris got near, something tugged in Jack. An electric attraction sizzled between them. Every day it got harder and harder to resist it. But Jack had a problem with anyone who would bilk people out of money by making up stories about their “future.” Someone able to do that had to be very calculating, in his book.
But not Chris. He didn’t fit that description at all. No, Chris Vincent was a beautiful mystery, one that, for some bizarre reason, Jack needed to solve.
He checked his phone when it chimed again. Bob Dooley. He needed to find this man a hobby. He clicked into the e-mail, and as expected, Bob once again complained about the presence of a psychic and the damage being associated with that type of a shady individual could do to the company. He deleted the message, hitting the screen harder than necessary, then mumbled to himself. “I’m getting really sick and tired of your shit.”
“Hey.”
Jack’s head
jerked up. Finding Chris in the doorway of Angelica’s office, he smiled.
“Hi. Come on in.” Jack offered him a seat.
Chris hesitated, then eased into the office and stood next to the large couch. He dressed casually in jeans and a T-shirt that molded to his body in all the right places.
That same spark from earlier ignited. Jack wanted to touch. Slide his hands over the firm, lean muscle hidden beneath cotton and denim.
Chris looked down at himself and back at Jack. “Do I have something on me?”
Jack clenched his fist, attempting to regain some sort of control over his wayward libido. “No, sorry. Please sit.” He rubbed his forehead and rolled his shoulders.
Chris claimed the chair farthest away from Jack.
“Look, I know Angie sprung this on you, so thanks for being a good sport. I also want to say thank you for this morning. It’s been a while since I’ve had a carefree, do-nothing couple of hours.”
“It was my pleasure. Before we go any further, I want you to know that this reading isn’t going to determine whether or not you keep your job.”
“Um, okay. Then why are you still going through with it?” Chris bit his lip.
“Let’s just say I’d like to satisfy my curiosity.”
“All right, maybe it would be best if we just got to the reading.”
Chris rose and repositioned two chairs in front of the window overlooking the club’s interior. “Come sit over here. It’s easier if we’re face-to-face.”
“So how does this work?” Jack went over and sat in the indicated seat.
Chris sat down and explained, “Usually, I take my client’s hand, then tell them to think of a question. But since this is about convincing you I’m legit, why don’t you think of an event from the past. Something only you would know about.”
Jack considered. “Okay, I’ve got something.” He held out his hand and waited.
Chris breathed long and slow, sliding his lightly calloused hands around Jack’s. The simple contact caused that low, simmering heat deep inside Jack to boil over. His heart beat faster. His breathing sped up. His gaze locked on Chris’s face. From the long dark lashes to the berry-pink lips, the man in front of him left him speechless.
A flush spread over Chris’s pale skin. His lips parted, letting heavy breaths escape.
Jack’s eyes followed the tip of Chris’s tongue as it moistened his full, pink lips. Jack stifled a groan and shifted in his chair.
Chris jerked back, eyes open wide, and a shocked neon-blue gaze locked with his.
Jack smirked. “Well?”
Chris flushed a deep shade of red and focused his gaze out the window. He refused to look at Jack. “I, um, I started out in the right spot, I think, but then the vision took a hard left.”
“Poor choice of words,” Jack muttered as he shifted again. “Why don’t you—” He cleared his throat. “—just tell me what you saw at the beginning? I have a pretty good idea of where you ended up.”
“I saw the first time you kissed a guy. You looked to be a junior or senior in high school. His name was Connor, right? You took your dad’s yacht out on the harbor. It was a sunny summer day. You were lying on the pad on the bow of the boat talking, radio on. Your eyes met, and you leaned in and laid one on him.”
Jack released Chris’s hands, then sat back in the chair.
“How’d I do?” Chris asked.
“Excellent. I can see why you’re rapidly becoming the hottest act in the club. But what about the rest? Whatever it is that you do, you’re very good at it.”
Chris scowled and went rigid in his seat. “What’s that’s supposed to mean?”
“It means you have a gift, but I’m not so sure if it’s psychic ability or excellent research skills.”
Chris shoved out of the chair and thrust his hands into his hair. “Are you kidding me? How in the world could I have known as much as I did about that kiss if I didn’t get it from you?”
“Maybe from Angie or Connor.”
Chris jammed his hands on his hips. “Angie and I don’t talk about you, and I’ve never even met Connor.” He shook his head. “Look, I’ve shown you what I can do. I have no other way of convincing you I’m not conning the customers. So unless you’ve changed your mind about letting me go, I’ve got to go get ready for my shift.”
Chris held his chin high and balled his hands into fists at his side. Fire flared in his gorgeous blue eyes.
“Chris, I—”
“I get it. Really. I’m just barely acceptable here in the club, because of its theme, but that’s where it ends. You’ll chock it up to fun and games, maybe assume I’m a mentalist. But you won’t accept that I can do what I actually say I can do. Is that why you acted like that kiss never happened all those years ago? Because I’ve got a little too much of what you think of as ‘inappropriate’ around the edges?”
“No. That’s not it at all.”
“Are you sure? If not, you put a hell of a lot of effort into forgetting one measly kiss.”
Jack’s mouth worked, but nothing came out. For the first time in his life Jack didn’t know what to do or say to make this better.
Chris snorted. “That’s what I thought.”
Jack reached out to Chris, but he backed away. “There was nothing measly about it. It affected me more than you can know.”
Chris snorted his disbelief.
“I mean it, but there was so much going on….” Jack shoved his hand in his hair. “Sit, please. Stay. Let’s talk about this.” Again Jack reached out, but Chris whipped up a hand to stop him.
“Don’t bother. I’ve got a job as long as your sister stays happy with me and my little section of the club keeps turning a profit. That’s fine. It’s fair enough.”
“Chris, come on. Talk to me. You’re taking this whole thing the wrong way.” Again, Jack held out a hand.
Chris glanced down at Jack’s hand, and then looked him in the eye, hurt and angry. He shook his head, whirled, and walked out. The door closed behind him with a soft click.
Jack walked to the window and stared after Chris. He paced over to Angelica’s desk, dragging a hand through his hair. Pressure built in his chest and worked its way up his throat. His hands balled into fists. He looked back toward Chris’s station, then he broke.
He grabbed a flower-shaped metal paperweight that sat on Angelica’s desk, sending it flying. It hit the floor with a less than satisfying thump.
“Way to go, Jack. You really fucked that up.” He scrubbed his hands over his face. He’d be smart to keep his distance from Chris Vincent. He’d been conned and stolen from before. Only a fool put himself in the same situation twice. For god’s sake, the man claims to see the future. Despite what Chris said during this reading, Jack still couldn’t be sure, couldn’t trust. But something about Chris tugged at him. Made him want in a way he never had before. Despite the logical reasons to cut all ties with him, his gut told him to dig deeper, to learn more, and to not let Chris get away from him again.
“LET me start by explaining how this works. I’m going to have you lay your hands flat on the table. I’ll lay my hand on top of yours, and through this connection, I’ll hopefully come to know what your question is and see if I can see any possible future outcomes. Okay?” Chris forced a smile and an upbeat tone as he did his job, although tonight he’d rather be anywhere but the club.
The excited young woman all but bounced in her seat as she nodded.
Chris kept his voice low and soothing as he progressed through the reading. “I want you to take a slow, deep breath, in and out, to release your nervousness. Now clear your mind of everything but your question.”
The woman closed her eyes and steadied her breathing.
“Do you have your question locked in your mind?”
Again, she nodded.
“I’m going to lay my hand on yours. Keep that question locked in your mind.”
Chris laid a hand on top of his client’s and focused. In his mind
he could see the woman before him in an office setting speaking to a man. It only took a moment to see exactly what she hoped for and the likely outcome. He broke the connection but kept his hand over hers.
“It’s not always easy to ask for what we want is it? Especially in the work environment.”
The woman gasped, her eyes flaring wide. “No, it’s not.”
“Your superiors know you’re smart and a hard worker. In fact, you did a hell of a job with the Forsythe campaign. Your efforts haven’t gone unnoticed. Talk to your supervisor about that promotion. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised by the response you get.”
“Oh my god! Thank you so much. You’re amazing!”
Chris smiled. “I think our time is just about up here. It’s been a pleasure to meet you.”
“You too!”
He rose and escorted her to the entrance back into the club. She rushed across the club to her friends. He shook his head and returned to his little workroom.
People’s reactions to readings fascinated him. It’s not like he gave her the promotion, maybe just the courage she needed to pursue it. Still, based on what he’d seen, she’d likely get it. He’d never quite understood why his mother chose to be an active psychic for a living, but doing it these past weeks, he’d begun to understand. He liked the thought that, in some small way, what he told people helped them. He also got a thrill watching the faces of skeptics when he told them something about themselves that no one else knew.
He went to the corner table and poured a glass of water. He took a sip and almost spit the water all over the wall when a voice sounded behind him.
“Another satisfied customer?”
“You really shouldn’t sneak up on people, especially people with water. You’re likely to get wet.” He swiped his fingers over the condensation collecting on the jug and flicked it at Angelica. Her trill of laughter filled the space as she claimed the guest chair.
“Learn any deep, dark secrets that you can share with a friend?”
“No. Psychic-client privilege. Everything I learn is confidential.”
She snorted. “That is not a thing. So how’d the meeting with Jack go?”