Through His Eyes (Mind's Eye Book 1)

by Deborah Camp

  “Share?” she asked, her head still buzzing. She was fairly certain that he kissed better than most men made love. “Do you have the right to make that demand?”

  He seemed confused, uncertain. “It’s never been an issue with me before. With others . . . well, I didn’t give a damn, but you—.” He shook his head and his mouth firmed in a line of determination. “If we take this further, I don’t want another man touching you.”

  The buzz was gone. She pulled herself up and felt her lips part in astonishment. “And what about you? How will that work for you? Will you tell every other woman to keep her hands off you? That you’re taken?” When he didn’t answer immediately, she knew she’d made him think, made him reassess his stipulation. “You’re not going to answer my question?”

  He drew in a deep breath and shut his eyes, suddenly looking defeated. “Look, just keep your phone ringer on and make sure you charge it every night.” His voice was hoarse. “I never again want to experience what I just went through during the past few hours. Never. Never again.” Then he turned away from her and pushed open the door.

  “That’s it?” she asked, making him pause in the doorway.

  “That’s it for now,” he rejoined. “I need to sleep.” He stepped out into the night and it swallowed him. “Lock this door behind me.” His voice floated into the RV, but Trudy stood still, irritation rising in her at his brusque command. “Now, Trudy. Lock it now.”

  She held her ground. “I’m waiting for a ‘please.’” Tense, stubborn seconds ticked by.

  “Oh, fuck it. Please.”

  She turned the knob on the door, sending the bolt home.

  ###

  An hour later, Trudy lay in bed with the cell phone and fought back another wave of remorse as she re-read his text bubbles.

  Bubble One. Hey, I’m back. Sorry. Doing that remote for Sissy’s show. What’s up, Buttercup?

  Bubble Two. Trudy? U there? Answer me.

  Bubble Three. If you can’t figure out how to text me back just e-mail me.

  Then she read his e-mails.

  #1. Dear Cell Phone Challenged; U need something? Want me to pick up something for dinner or have you already eaten?

  #2. Trudy, answer me, please.

  #3. Okay. I’ve waited ten minutes. Answer the e-mail or call me. Now.

  Then she listened to the phone messages. They were the most difficult for her to bear and they brought an ache to her heart.

  “Trudy, it’s Levi. Pick up. Tru, I’m not amused. Please . . . answer . . . your phone. Call me. Just hit the callback button. I’m sitting in my car on the side of the highway and I’m waiting, so hurry.”

  “Stop messing around with me and answer the fucking phone!”

  She squeezed her eyes shut, her heart constricting at the sound of worry and anger lacing through his voice. He had really been upset! She could imagine him sitting in his car, so mad at her that he was shaking.

  “When you get this message, call me. I don’t care what time it is or what the hell you’re doing. You call me. I’m driving ninety fucking miles an hour back to that fucking RV park because I’m scared shitless that something’s wrong . . . that something’s happened to you. Call me, goddamn it!”

  No more calls from him. His voice had been rife with panic on the last one. Ninety miles an hour! Jeez, he could have had an accident and . . . and . . . all because she had accidentally silenced her stupid phone.

  She turned on the bedside light and checked the phone to make absolutely sure that it was on and the ringer volume was turned up. It vibrated and played a few musical notes in her hand and she dropped it with a little squeal. Then she snatched it back up. A text! She had a text! She touched the screen and the text floated into view in a yellow bubble. It was from Levi.

  Turn off the light and go to sleep. Please.

  She looked around the room, half-expecting to see him standing near her. She texted back. Where are you?

  Bing! A new text. A new bubble.

  Cabin 4. I can see your light from my window. Go to sleep.

  She shook her head and typed, I thought you wanted to sleep.

  Bing! I do. Desperately. I’m waiting. Pretty please? Does that do it for you?

  Rolling toward the lamp, she switched off the light.

  Bing! The phone screen lit up with another bubble. Thank you. Sleep well.

  Trudy lay back in the bed and stared up at the ceiling. She had never in her life met or known such a man as Levi Wolfe. She wasn’t quite sure she had it in her to handle him. He was all fire and raging testosterones and smoldering sex!

  And he cared for her. He didn’t want her just for sex. She could see that stamped on his handsome face tonight and she could definitely hear it in his voice when he’d left those phone messages. She needed to give him some space and time to realize it for himself. When he did, he’d either run for the hills or run into her arms. Either way, she was in for it.

  Chapter Nine

  The next morning they drove into Key West and had breakfast at a diner near the police station. Looking across the table at Levi, Trudy sipped from a mug of hot coffee. It was delicious. Almost as delicious as the man sitting across from her. He finished off the last of the pancakes and sausage and sat back with a smile of satisfaction.

  “How’s the cabin? Comfy?”

  He made a face of resignation. “It will do.”

  “They have no kitchen. I don’t mind preparing meals for us. It’s a lot less expensive than going out or ordering in.”

  His gaze became speculative. “You know that I can afford to eat out? That my penny-pinching days are behind me?”

  How did she answer that? “Actually, I don’t know much about you at all. And that’s the way you like it, right? A man of mystery so that you can keep everyone at arm’s length?”

  One of his eyebrows lifted fractionally. “Nice little lecture. Can’t say that I enjoyed it . . . but . . .” He shrugged. “I’m well off. I have a successful company.”

  She drank some more of the coffee. If he was in the mood to talk about himself, she decided she’d better take advantage of it. “What kind of company?”

  “Real estate and construction, primarily.”

  “That’s nice.”

  “Nice,” he repeated with a scowl. “And I have my paranormal work and my books, but I couldn’t live as well on just those. Have you read my books?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “Just wondering.”

  The waitress filled their cups again and then laid the ticket on the table. Trudy reached for it, but Levi snatched it away, sending her a thunderous glare.

  “Why can’t I pay for our breakfast this time?” she asked.

  “Here’s the thing, Trudy. I’ll probably be picking up the bill and paying for things as we work together and I don’t want you pitching a fit every time I do. Your fits won’t prevent me from doing it.” He shrugged. “You’ll just piss me off and I’d much rather be in a good mood when I’m around you.”

  Oh, so that’s where this was going . . . She shook her head, not liking it one bit. “I want to pay my own way.”

  “So, you want to fight?”

  “No.”

  “Then . . . let . . . it . . . go,” he said, enunciating each word with force. “You can pay your way, but there will be times when I’ll pay for something for us and I don’t want to argue about it.”

  She puffed out a breath, hating his logic, and decided to change the subject since she wasn’t going to win this one. Besides, she liked the way he had said “for us.” He deserved a break. “I want to talk to you about last night.”

  His expression was suddenly guarded. “What about it?”

  “I read your e-mails and texts. I listened to your phone messages and I’m sorry for worrying you so. It wasn’t on purpose. I wouldn’t pull a trick like that. Do you believe me?”

  He looked out the diner window and she thought he might be embarrassed.

  “Yes,” he said, ti
ghtly.

  She let out a long sigh. “Good. Thank you.”

  “It’s not like me to become so unraveled,” he murmured, almost as if he’d forgotten she was sitting across from him. “It’s disturbing.”

  Now she was disturbing? She frowned, not liking that description.

  He leveled his navy blues on her again. “I want to discuss something with you.”

  “Oookay,” she said, drawing out the word.

  “I’m booked as a guest on the Lexie Patterson Show. How do you feel about that?”

  She set her jaw, but then forced herself to relax and answer breezily, “What? They’ve run out of baby daddies and paternity tests? Or is that the subject of the show you’re going to be on?” She widened her eyes in mock excitement.

  He smirked. “Ha. Ha.”

  “Are you going to talk about the case?”

  “I don’t think so. I imagine I will focus on answering questions from the audience. That’s what I usually do on that show. People ask me to help them with cold cases or to find their loved ones’ remains.”

  “Can you do that?” Trudy shoved aside the empty dishes. “Find bodies without touching something of theirs?”

  “Hardly ever, but on that show people bring items for me to hold. Scarves, necklaces, rings. Things like that. I can tell people where a murder took place and sometimes that helps them find the burial site.”

  “I can do that, too.”

  He gaze sharpened. “Oh? How does it work for you?”

  “I can sometimes get into the killer’s thoughts and he will tell me where he buried the victim.”

  “So, you can reach out to the perpetrator.”

  Trepidation skittered through her. “Not really,” she said, hedging. Rats! She wasn’t ready to talk about that. It was new to her, this ability, and she wasn’t sure she wanted anyone to know about it. But he was looking at her expectantly and she suspected that he wouldn’t let go of it. “Once I’m in contact, I can sometimes steer them to certain victims and get them to relive the murder. Then I can see the area or what they did with the body. I’ve only done it a couple of times.”

  He rested one arm across the back of the booth and spun the coffee mug around and around with his nimble fingers. “Quintara doesn’t know about this, does she?”

  Trudy looked at his smug expression. “I don’t . . .” She rounded her shoulders. Dread oozed through her. She could tell from the animated glint in his eyes that he was like a dog with a particularly juicy bone. “Maybe not.”

  “Why have you kept it from her?”

  “I haven’t. I just . . . I haven’t done it much and . . . it might be a fluke. I might not be able to do it again.”

  He leaned toward her to drive home his point. “You didn’t tell her because you didn’t want her to know that you can do yet one more amazing, astounding thing. You scare yourself, don’t you?”

  She tried to laugh, but the sound of it was about as genuine as his last name. “Don’t be silly.” She rested the flat of her hands on the table. “You should go on that TV show.”

  Giving her a knowing smile, he folded his arms on the table. “We’ll revisit this conversation later. I want to know more.”

  “How long will you be gone?” She stared at his lips and was transported to last night when he had obliterated Tom’s kiss and told her that he didn’t want to share her with any other men.

  “I’ll leave this afternoon on a four o’clock flight and return late tomorrow night, unless the airlines screw me over, and then it might be the next morning before I can get back here. The show is taped in Los Angeles.”

  “Go ahead, then.” She looked at his arms – tanned, muscle-defined, and covered in a dusting of dark hair. He must workout often, she thought, and then realized that he had no tattoos. How lovely that his body was unmarked by cartoons, icons, names of past loves or relatives, or snatches of lyrics or poems. God, she was tired of skin covered with strange images and cryptic messages.

  He angled a glance at her. “So you’re okay with me appearing on Lexi’s show?”

  Lexi, is it? Was he romancing Lexi, too? So many women, so little time, she chanted. No wonder he didn’t respond to her question about becoming a one-woman man. “If I told you I wasn’t okay with it, would you cancel?”

  “Yes.”

  She stared at him, wondering if he was pulling her leg. “You would not.”

  “Yes, I would. Is that what you want? You want me to cancel? Tell me now so that I can call Lexi and let her know. Her team will have to come up with another guest.”

  Studying his serious expression, she realized he was primed and ready to cancel on Lexi Patterson. “No, it’s okay,” she said, her voice coming out a little breathy because she was actually flabbergasted that he would do her bidding on this. “You should honor your commitment.”

  He studied her for a few moments and then nodded. “Good.” He leaned back in the banquette. “If that psycho gets into your head again, I want you to let me know immediately.”

  “I will.”

  “Immediately. Not an hour later . . . not the next day . . . not until we see each other again. Immediately.”

  “Okay, okay!” She scowled at him. “Don’t get your panties in a wad! It appears to be hard for you to comprehend, but you’re not my boss, so please don’t bark orders at me. If you’re leaving this afternoon, we should get going.”

  He gave her a wink. “Yes, ma’am.”

  ###

  They hit the jackpot on the third museum they visited. The moment Trudy walked inside, she knew she was in the right place. Instinctively, she grabbed Levi’s hand and pulled him with her to the correct gallery, standing with him before the paintings of the Madonna and Child.

  “This is it,” she whispered, glancing at him, then angling her head back a little when she found him looking at her with blatant admiration and . . . what? Affection?

  He tightened his fingers around her hand. “You have no idea how remarkable you are, do you?”

  Stunned into silence, she could only give a little shake of her head as her heart grew wings and flew up into her throat. He had no idea what it did to her when he said such things. He gave her hope – gave her foolish heart something to latch onto. Past his shoulder, she saw a museum guard and she gave a nod, signaling Levi to take a look for himself. He turned and they walked toward the uniformed woman.

  “Excuse me,” Trudy said, releasing Levi’s hand as she approached the stern-faced guard. “I’m Trudy Tucker and this is—.”

  “Ohmygosh!” The woman’s chocolate eyes widened and her dark face split in a huge grin. “You’re Levi Wolfe!”

  Levi hit her with his lopsided, drop-your-panties grin and she released a girlish giggle.

  “I’ve seen you on television. I love that Sissy Franklin show.” She glanced around and took a deep breath as if trying to control her enthusiasm. “I heard you were in Key West helping to find that serial killer. I just love you and all the cool stuff you do.”

  “Thank you,” Levi said, still slaying her with his smile. “I appreciate that. Maybe you can help us with our investigation.” He zeroed in on her name badge. “Ms. Talbert.”

  Her grin grew bigger. “I’ll try, but only if you call me Kenya and let me take a picture of you so I can prove to my friends that I met you.”

  “It will be my pleasure, Kenya, as long as you’re in the photo with me.”

  Watching the exchange, Trudy was impressed and chagrined all at once. The man was in his element and he was amazing. When he turned on the charm and that megawatt smile, he could pretty much have whatever he wanted. She cleared her throat to remind them that she hadn’t disappeared.

  “Kenya, were you working here Saturday?” Trudy asked.

  “No, I don’t work on weekends.” It was all Kenya could do to yank her gaze away from Levi for a few seconds to acknowledge Trudy.

  “Trudy is also a medium,” Levi said, turning his shining cobalt eyes on her before looki
ng at the grinning guard again. “Were any of the other guards here today working on Saturday?”

  “Uh . . . well, let me think.” Kenya directed her gaze to the ceiling for a few moments before latching onto Levi’s face again. “Yeah! Stan worked on Saturday. Want me to go get him for you?”

  “If you don’t mind . . .” Levi said.

  “I’ll be right back.” She reached out to touch his shoulder. “Don’t you go anywhere.”

  “I’m planted right here,” Levi assured her.

  As the guard hurried away, Trudy tilted her head and scrutinized the virile virtuoso before her. Feeling her regard, he glanced at her from the corner of his eye and then took a step back.

  “What?” he asked, innocently.

  “You really have learned to work it, haven’t you?”

  For a few moments, she thought he was going to continue the innocent act, but then all artifice fell away and self-contempt took its place – and that disturbed her more than his cocksure mannerisms. He made a dismissive, sweeping gesture that encompassed his face and body.

  “The package?” he asked with unconcealed disdain. “It gets me in places, around tough spots, and introduced to the ‘right’ people, but I know it for what it is.”

  “And that is?” she asked with a little shake of her head.

  “Attractive wrapping paper. Nobody really sees me.”

  She held his gaze for a moment as his words plunged into her heart and guilt tasted like bile on her tongue. She’d done that. She’d only seen his handsome face and fit body and had presumed to know him. But not anymore. Now she glimpsed his heart and feelings that ran deep and true.

  “I see you.” It was out before she was even aware she’d spoken. He had started to glance away from her, but his gaze swung back and locked on. The hard intensity in his eyes and on his face softened slowly and his lips parted. She saw his chest expand with a quick, full breath and she thought he was going to say something, but then the thump, thump, thump of advancing footsteps shattered the connection between them.