She swore under her breath. Did he have a gift of his own, then? Most mundanes were lucky to catch tiny snatches of her vision flow. Nobody saw the whole unedited show inside her skull. She leaned forward. Has anyone ever told you youre empathic?
He frowned. As in the woo-woo kind? An empath?
She smiled broadly. That, or merely that you have a talent for picking up on other peoples emotions.
He leaned back hard in his chair. Im a He broke off and started again. I have some experience in watching other peoples body language. Reading facial expressions. But that doesnt make me some kind of psychic.
He said the word as if it were filthy. A momentary knife of pain twisted in her gut. No. It was all right. She wasnt part of that world anymore. He could despise it and not despise the most important piece of her.
Are you a cop? she blurted.
No, he answered promptly.
He wasnt an FBI agent, was he? That would be disastrous. Hed be an easy phone call away from talking to the feds shed worked with in the Northeast, finding kidnapping victims and murder victims over the years. Heck, he would probably already know some guys out of the Boston office.
Are you FBI? she asked reluctantly.
Nope.
Thank goodness. But then her confusion returned, bigger than before. Then how did you know how to drop Julio G., and how did you know all that stuff you told me to do on the phone last night? And now that I think about it, you came into the store at the same time as the police. How did they let you do that?
I got to your place first. They just followed me in.
She sensed evasion in his voice. And the other stuff? About how I should hide and defend myself from an intruder in my house. How did you know about all that?
He grinned at her. Easy. I watch a lot of cop shows on TV.
That was totally more evasion. She started to challenge him but was interrupted by the arrival of their breakfast. The food was beyond delicious, and she dug in with gusto.
Eventually Max said, Tell me more about your aunt. I gather she was some sort of psychic? Whats up with that? That stuffs not real, is it?
Shed had this argument so many times over the years that shed long ago learned just not to go there in conversation. I am no scientific authority and cant comment on that one way or another. Each person sees and believes whatever they want to regarding psychic phenomena. As for my aunt, most people who knew her believed she was not only psychic but very psychic.
And you? Do you believe that?
She shrugged noncommittally. She knew some stuff that was awfully hard to explain any other way.
Theres always an explanation. Scientists can always successfully debunk anyone who claims to be psychic.
She stared at him intently, willing him to understand. Many people use mundane skills to pass themselves off as psychics. The technique is generally referred to as cold reading. I do think that some people who actually cold read believe themselves to be genuinely psychic. In point of fact, theyre picking up on subtle body language signals from their subjects.
Like your aunt?
He sounded as if he was trying to make a joke, but she answered seriously. Most people who saw her in action believed she had a genuine gift. Its not possible to cold read the future, but she could predict it spot-on. She could give uncannily accurate readings to people shed never met, over the phone, in a different part of the country from her. And she never did it as a parlor trick or for financial gain.
To his credit, Max didnt make any snarky comments. He actually seemed to take her at her word when she claimed her aunt had possessed out-of-the-ordinary skills. At least he didnt disbelieve her outright. That was more than she could have asked from him.
If youre not psychic, he remarked lightly, then I guess youre simply a spectacular kisser.
She shot him a damning look. You dont believe that.
I dunno. That was a pretty hot kiss you laid on me. Perhaps we ought to try it again and see if the same thing happens.
Were in a restaurant, sitting in front of the window on a crowded street!
All those folks out there have seen kissing before.
Im still hungry, she declared, her stomach doing flip-flops at the idea of kissing him again. And this time when she wasnt scared out of her mind.
Afraid to kiss me? he teased her.
You have a sister, dont you? she accused.
He glanced at her a shade too quickly. Did your psychic powers tell you that?
No. That annoying big-brother tone you just took with me told me, she retorted.
Grinning, he lifted his orange juice to her. Touché.
An urge filled her to know this man, to understand what made him tick, to know how hed become the confident, self-contained man seated before her today. Tell me the three most important things that have ever happened to you, she asked impulsively.
You first, he returned.
Fair enough. She thought for a moment. In no particular order, the circumstances of my conception
He interrupted her. Elaborate on that.
My mother was drugged and raped at a party when she was nineteen. Her attacker was never caught. I was the result of that event. But it means I never knew my birth father. She added reluctantly, And it means my mother was plagued by conflicted feelings about me and my existence throughout my entire upbringing.
Which was the understatement of the century. No matter how hard her mother had wanted to love her, some part of her had never been able to break through the trauma of the rape to truly, unconditionally love Lissa. Her mothers head was willing to love, but her heart was not entirely.
Max looked as though his mental wheels were turning a hundred miles an hour, and she continued hastily before he could ask her any more probing questions about that exceedingly unpleasant detail about her past.
Number two most important life eventinheriting the shop from my aunt. It gave me an excuse to move across the country and start a new life.
Why didnt you just sell the shop and stay where you were? That building has great bones and is in a neighborhood thats gentrifying fast. You could turn a nice profit if you sold it.
I needed the new start more than I needed the money.
Why?
She was careful not to even think about her real reasons for the abrupt move, lest they show on her face and Captain Perceptive Pants pick up on them. My life wasnt heading the direction I wanted it to in Vermont.
And what direction would that be?
She shrugged. The normal one. A decent living, some friends, a nice guy. Maybe settling down someday. Suddenly panicked that he would think she was making a pass at him, she added in desperation, You know. The whole 2.1 kids, dog and a Volvo station wagon routine.
He smiled gently at her attempt at humor. And the third most important thing to happen to you?
Im still waiting for it. She wasnt about to admit that meeting him was rapidly climbing its way onto the list. And she bloody well wasnt confessing that talking with dead people was the real third thing on her list. Okay, your turn, she blurted.
His facial expression went stone cold, locked and barred, no entrance. When he spoke, it was with great reluctance. My parents divorce changed the course of my life. My father tried to steal my loyalty away from my mother, and the result was that he and I spent a lot of time together when I was a kid. He tried to teach me to be like him.
His facial expression went stone cold, locked and barred, no entrance. When he spoke, it was with great reluctance. My parents divorce changed the course of my life. My father tried to steal my loyalty away from my mother, and the result was that he and I spent a lot of time together when I was a kid. He tried to teach me to be like him.
She sensed darkness in that statement. Were she still a practicing psychic and he a client seeking a reading, she would dive into that darkness and explore it, but she was not and he was not. Did your father succeed in making you like him? she asked quietly.
Thats an excellent question.
Good grief. Wave upon wave of darkness shrouded that answer. Clearly Max was deeply conflicted about his father and not at all enamored at the idea of being like him. She noted that he declined to answer her. He continued with his list.
The car accident that almost killed my mom and little sister was the second big milestone. It left my mother paralyzed from the neck down. I had to move back home from college and care for her around the clock for four years until she died of complications.
Oh, Max. Im so sorry.
He shrugged casually, but she didnt have to be psychic to feel the pain in the gesture.
And the third event?
He opened his mouth. Started to say something but stopped. A voice in her head filled in his unspoken words. Meeting you. Was that for real, or was that just her own desires whispering what she wanted to hear?
My work, I suppose.
And what exactly is it that you do?
Im a finder. I locate things for people with a lot of money burning a hole in their pockets. Art, antiques, furniture, information, you name it. I make connections and fulfill wishes.
Interesting. Tell me more about yourself, Max.
Nope.
She blinked, startled at the bluntness of his reply. He sounded like he meant it, too. Gonna make me discover more the hard way, huh? Pass me your hand, palm up.
Smirking, he held his hand out to her. She studied the lines on his hand for a long moment. Oh, dear. There was much more than just a split family in his childhood and the tragic loss of his mother. Suffering. Loneliness. Hatred. Hatred? That was interesting.
His money line was strong. However, his love line was all but nonexistent. She saw a radical life change in his near future. Love was possible, but at great personal cost. And where his passion mound should be, there was only a hard callus at the base of his thumb. She knew from entirely mundane means, namely, working with the FBI for the past decade, that it meant he shot handguns on a regular basis. The irony of a callus over his heart line was impossible to miss, however.
See anything interesting? he finally asked.
I see lots of interesting things. That doesnt mean I plan to share any of them with you.
Hey! he protested.
I thought we already established that all that psychic mumbo jumbo is pure poppycock, she declared.
She was saved by the arrival of breakfast dessert crepes, which were as scrumptious as they sounded. She and Max dived in to the clotted-cream-and-strawberry-filled confections in companionable silence for the most part. And what conversation there was stayed safely on small talk.
She was stuffed when Max finally held her chair for her to stand up. She was going to have to diet for a week to work off that meal. But it had been worth it to get to know Max a little more.
He drove her back to the shop and dropped her off, and she commenced the tedious process of cleaning up after the damage done by what must have been baseball bats or steel pipes. The vandal or vandals had been thorough. Even the walls had gaping holes in them.
Once the debris was swept into a single pile, she began the even more tedious process of inventorying everything that remained and then guessing at what had been broken based on the bits she sifted through. If only she knew the inventory better. She was sure to forget something, and without a list of merchandise made by her aunt, she was bound to lose a fortune in any insurance claim she filed.
Where had Max run off to, anyway? Hopefully, their conversation over breakfast hadnt scared him. Shed gotten the impression that he liked kissing her nearly as much as she liked kissing him. But hed driven away from the shop a couple of hours ago like the devil himself had lit a fire under him. Like things were moving too fast for him. Like shed spooked him.