Jamie (15 page)

He felt alone—just as he should.

Locating his favorite boulder, he sat down, his hands flattened out on either side on the hard, cold surface. The scents of damp earth and moss and evergreens filled his lungs with each deep breath. Wind blew his hair in his face, and he hunched his shoulders against the chill.

That's when the warning hit him.

Jamie stilled, sifting through the battle of emotions to grasp the darkest, the one most menacing. As it drifted in and out, too unclear for him to perceive, he tried to absorb it. Confusing bits and pieces came to him, but they didn't meld together for an adequate view of the threat.

Jamie concentrated harder, focusing. Images of a woman flitted by, haloed by doubt, the face indistinguishable. Faith? Or someone else?

He saw Scott and Alyx, and with impatience he pushed their images aside. Those two would forever clash wills, and Jamie wasn't about to be enmeshed in their scorching romance. In the end, just knowing what he did of human nature, Jamie trusted that they'd work things out with no interference from him.

Narrowing his focus, Jamie contemplated the face he'd seen—and to his surprise, Cory intruded.

The little girl just popped in, not the threat, but instead the exact opposite. Darkness faded away, replaced by soft lights and powder scents and an aura of gentleness.

Without knowing why, Jamie held his breath, going immobile. Even his heart seemed to stutter to a standstill. The image of the child shone as crisp and clear as reality. Big, solemn eyes stared at him from a small, sweet face surrounded by dark curls. Her hand reached out, so tiny, so soft—and Jamie could almost swear she touched him.

Suddenly his heart began to punch with near violence, but not from dread. Some tremendous, choking sentiment swelled inside his chest. He couldn't call it pain, but considered it far from comfortable—and yet, he didn't want it to go away. He clung to it, to her, soaking in the sensation, embracing it with all his might.

His hands shook and his throat closed up and his vision blurred, making him blink hard.

Something wet and warm tickled his face, sliding down his cheekbone to the corner of his mouth. He tasted salt.

Jerking hard, appalled, confused, and humiliated, Jamie swiped at his face with both hands. Jesus. He had no reason to get sappy. He stared out at the dark, surrounding woods, dripping with rain, crawling with nocturnal activity. He was as alone as ever.

But ... the little girl was there too, still somehow a part of him. She
saw
him, just as he saw her.

And her rosebud mouth lifted in a gentle smile of amusement.

Because she'd surprised him? Or because she'd seen his reaction?

Jamie's face burned, his jaw clenched, and that made her laugh, a slight, giggling sound that sank into him and chased away the embarrassment. Bemused by such a strange turn, he shook his head.
Unbelievable.

Then it struck Jamie: he'd often told people things, first Joe and Luna, then the others. Incredible,
unbelievable
things—that he'd nonetheless expected them to believe.

On faith.

A brief chuckle took Jamie by surprise. It was rusty and surreal, echoing down the mountain with an eerie resonance. Because the sound had come from him, he froze in shock, clamping his mouth shut to guard against any other outbursts. At the same time, his mind buzzed with possibilities.

Cory had sent him his own Faith. That sounded ridiculously poetic, but Jamie believed it as surely as he believed the little girl wanted him to understand, to trust. The same way he'd expected others to trust.

While considering the ramifications of that, the most profound thing occurred to him.

It was possible that the closer he got to a person, the better he understood them. When emotionally connected, reading thoughts became as easy as snapping his fingers.

Could it be that caring for someone didn't disable his ability? Could it be that it ...
enhanced it?

Jamie thought back on the various occasions when he'd known things about Joe, Bryan, Bruce, even Clint. He thought about the women, how he'd always been aware of what they wanted and needed. He thought of Alyx and how easily he'd deciphered her every thought during her visit.

Even though he cared greatly for her.

Or was he mixing the natural ability of an astute man with his extraordinary ability to filter the thoughts of others? He'd often seen Joe intuitively know what would happen in certain circumstances. Scott did the same, except around Alyx. Scott was too emotionally involved with Alyx to make sound judgments every time.

Could the same be true for him?

Jesus, it was all confusing.

Slowly reclining onto the boulder and stacking his hands behind his head, Jamie stared up at the blackness that went on forever. He forgot about the cold, damp air, about the chill seeping into his spine and the possibility of more rain.

Going back in time, he sorted through old truths to make better sense of them.

Sex had never been just sex for Jamie. His awareness of a woman, of her every thought and sensation, had made it impossible to remain detached during physical contact. For that reason, he hadn't gotten physically involved very often.

With Delayna ... She had claimed genuine affection for him. He'd
felt
her caring, especially when making love to her, when her heartbeat matched his own and her nails stung his shoulders. She'd been open and honest, holding him tight, finding her pleasure in an explosive orgasm that triggered his own. Her feelings, both physical and emotional, had been like a warm blanket around him.

Yet supposedly she'd lied—or had she? Professor Kline had wanted him confused and hurt, disoriented. How else could he study the impact of those reactions on Jamie's psychic ability?

What if Kline had lied, instead of Delayna? What if Delayna had just gone along with the ruse for some reason? Maybe Kline had even forced her to play along.

God knew, Kline had enjoyed manipulating people.

Jamie chewed that over, his head pounding with the conflicting ideas, not happy with any conclusion except that he needed the truth for the same reasons Kline had: the truth would shed light on the extent of his skill and anything that hindered it.

One thing was certain—he did care about everyone in Visitation. It pained him greatly when he thought they were in danger. He'd do just about anything to keep them safe.

But did he need to isolate himself to ensure he could help?

Oddly enough, when Jamie thought of Delayna now, he felt only regret. Days, hours, even minutes ago, memories of her would have sliced into him with the savagery of a butcher knife. But that had changed.

Everything had changed.

What hurt now was the idea of his own gullibility. His own foolishness. Like any other man, Jamie had his pride, and allowing Delayna or Kline—or both—to use him struck deep at the core of his masculine ego.

Could he possibly have let the professor dupe him with words, with emotion, to the point that he believed a bastard like Kline instead of trusting himself?

It'd mean he had to accept his own weaknesses, and that wasn't easy for Jamie. He'd always considered himself strong enough to go it alone, to close himself off from everyone. Strong enough that he didn't need anyone else in his life.

He honestly didn't know if he had it within him to reverse everything now, to open himself to a normal existence.

As he thought it, Cory materialized again, reprimanding him with a teasing look far too old for her years. Jamie took in the twinkle in her dark eyes, the dimple in her pale cheek, and the way her small pink mouth fought a grin.

He forgot about his pride and loneliness.

The little imp was pleased with herself, and for whatever reason, that pleased Jamie.

He searched for any threat toward Cory, but found none. He wasn't sure what to make of that. Did Cory have some odd notion of protecting him? Did she worry for him because Faith worried?

That idea didn't sit right. He'd already decided to guard himself against Faith until he figured out what impact she'd have on him.

But Cory . . . she was different, in some way familiar, and strangely connected. They shared an ability that few could ever claim, which provided unique possibilities. While Jamie viewed her, she viewed him, as if they stood face-to-face. He'd never encountered that before. It was almost the same as having her next to him.

Closing his eyes, Jamie gave her a message. Support. Understanding. And reassurance.

If she would only trust him with the details, he'd do anything necessary to keep her safe.

In return, he got a hug, a child's hug so real, so warm and tight and precious, that he couldn't swallow past the lump in his throat, and his eyes burned with moisture again.

Then Cory began fading away.

Confident that she'd return, knowing he'd eventually meet her face-to-face, Jamie watched her go. Someday they would share experiences; he would teach her all that he'd learned through the years, things that didn't apply to anyone else he knew. Maybe that's all Cory really wanted or needed from him. Maybe the threat he'd sensed in town had nothing to do with her or with him.

The mournful howl of a coyote lulled Jamie, and he relaxed, soaking in the night and the new sensation of hopefulness after so many years of desolation.

He'd return to Faith. Later.

For now, he wanted to consider things. He needed time to acclimate himself to his newfound realities, to plan his next move. To anticipate all the things he might be free to do.

Like smiling.

Chapter Eight

Becky drove close to a mile before pulling her Porsche to the side of the road and turning off the headlights. Again, she tried her cell phone—and finally got a signal.

“Cursed mountains.” She waited while the phone rang, keeping her gaze on the rearview mirror, knowing the deputy would be along soon. “Answer, damn you.”

“Yeah?” came Doug's sleepy voice.

“About time.” Rushing so she wouldn't be caught, Becky said, “Listen up. I think we finally got a lucky break. ”

“You think?”

“Hey, I'm not psychic, but I don't believe in coincidence either.” Laughing at the inside joke, Becky took another cautious peek in the rearview mirror. “I saw a woman pulled over on the side of the road. She had mud clear up to her knees, and her clothes were soaked.”

“Faith Owen?”

“No, someone else. But she'd been poking around up the mountains.”

Bewildered, Doug said, “So?”

Sighing, Becky rubbed her forehead. Doug could be such an idiot. “It's been raining like hell. Why else would a woman be climbing up a mountain, unless it was to visit someone?”

Awe colored his tone. “You're talking about Creed?”

If she didn't need Doug for backup, she'd have dumped his sorry ass long ago. “Yes, I'm talking about Creed.”

“But ... he's supposed to be a loner, right? Why would he be having visitors?”

“I have no idea why a woman would visit him. But where else would a loner live in this stupid Podunk town, than up in the mountains somewhere? That'd make sense. He sure as hell isn't anywhere else in Visitation. I know because I've been checking. But I lost Faith's trail here, and I know she was going to him.”

“No, you assume she was going to him.”

Becky shook her head. “We missed her by mere hours. She left in a hurry. Where else would she be going?”

“I don't know.”

Ignoring him, Becky continued to think out loud. “She'll want Creed to help her protect the kid.” Anger burned in her throat, and she murmured, “This is going to work out even better.”

“If Creed's as good as you say, he'll be on to us before we even have a chance to act.”

“Leave Creed to me.”

But still, Doug fretted. “He's probably not going to be too fond of gaining the limelight again.”

Spineless wimp.
“Listen up, Doug. This is my big chance. It's your big chance. And you promised to help.”

“But—”

“But nothing. You're in too deep to pull back now. We're close. So damn close to having it all. For once, show some guts, will you?”

Her insult angered him. Becky heard the chill in his voice when he said, “Did you happen to ask the woman why she was there? Maybe she has nothing to do with Creed.”

“Of course I didn't ask. That might've tipped my hand. Right now, they just think I'm a tourist here on vacation.”

“They?” he asked with rising alarm.

With a mental shrug, Becky admitted, “She had a rather hunky deputy with her.”

“Oh God.” He started breathing hard. “This keeps getting worse and worse. Hell, before you know it, the whole damn town will be involved.”

His cowardice set her temper on edge. “Not likely. As you said, he's a loner. No one will even know we're near him.”

“Except the deputy, who's already seen you poking around.”

“I didn't poke around, I asked for directions. Don't worry about the deputy. I'll handle him.”

“Yeah, I just bet you will.”

Becky smiled, confident that Scott Royal would be no problem whatsoever. She'd always had stunning success with men. “This is going to be a piece of cake.”

“I don't know—”

“I know.”
She laughed, then decided it was time to go. “Get yourself down here. I've got everything planned out.” She gave directions, telling him where they'd meet, reminding him to be discreet so no one would notice him. “Creed will be off that mountain by the end of the week, Faith and the kid with him. Then we'll finally get everything we need. No one will even know what's going on—until it's too late.”

 

 

Faith woke with a start that had her gasping aloud. Even before she sat upright in bed, her mind centered on Jamie. Had he ever come back in?

A glance at the window showed the gray tinge of approaching dawn. Damn, she'd slept through the night when she'd only meant to close her eyes a few minutes.

Tossing back the covers, she climbed out of Jamie's warm bed with barely a squeak of the mattress. Shivers raced up her spine, and she wrapped her arms around herself. For hours and hours, she'd lain awake, waiting for him, worrying, wishing she had even a modicum of psychic ability so she could connect with him, somehow bring him home where he belonged. With her. And with Cory.

But she'd had only the empty cabin and the sounds of the surrounding mountain to fill the void he'd left. The radio annoyed her, she wasn't hungry anymore, and with nothing else to do, she'd gone to Jamie's bed and curled up with her own misery.

Why had she rushed things? Just because she'd always cared for Jamie didn't mean he'd return that sentiment in less than two days' time.

Praying she'd find him below, Faith hurried to the ladder and peered down. Too many shadows lurked in the room below for her to see clearly. Taking care this time so she wouldn't fall and cause herself yet more injuries, she climbed down.

Just as she got both feet on the solid floor, the sound of even breathing reached her ears, and she froze, staring wide-eyed toward the couch. Yep, a body was there—a tall, lean body—stretched out end to end.

As Faith crept closer, her eyes adjusted so that she could see more than just indistinct forms. On his back, one muscled arm over his head, the other resting over his abdomen, Jamie slept. He wore unsnapped jeans, a dark T-shirt, and socks.

He looked so ... beautiful to her. So incredible. Yet even in sleep, he wasn't entirely at peace. There was a tense set to him, an air of readiness—

Eyes still closed, he murmured, “Your idea of beauty is questionable.”

“Ack!”

Faith lurched back so fast, she almost fell on her butt. In a flash, Jamie reached out and snagged her wrist, helping her to regain her balance.

Heart pounding wildly, Faith accused, “You're playing possum!”

Very slowly, still holding her arm, Jamie sat up. “And you're as clumsy as ever.” His eyes glittered with no sign of sleepiness. “Don't you have enough bruises already?”

“Yes, I do.” Faith snatched her arm away from him and every awful, worried, sympathetic, and tearful thing she'd suffered the night before vanished. Propping her hands on her hips, she glared at him. “Just where the hell were you all night, Jamie Creed?”

Jamie cocked a brow, but ruined the effect by saying around a wide yawn, “I was out.”

“I don't owe you any explanations, Faith.” As he spoke, he stretched elaborately. Muscles flexed and contracted, and a funny tingle started in the pit of Faith's belly.

Crossing her arms under her breasts, she centered her mind and tried not to stare. “Do you have any idea how worried I was?”

“Worried enough to pass out in my bed and not stir so much as an eyelash when I came in?”

Her mouth opened, but nothing came out. She snapped it shut and glowered, thankful that the dark room kept him from seeing her blush. “I can't help it that I'm a sound sleeper. But
before
I fell asleep, believe me, Jamie, I was plenty worried.”

“You have no reason to act like a betrayed wife.”

Faith gasped, and more heat rushed to her face.

As if he hadn't just insulted her, he tipped his head. “Did you know you snore?”

Her mouth fell open again.

“Not that I mind so much.” Jamie rose to his feet, towering over her, smelling warm and male, and so damn sexy.

Faith forgot to breathe when he stepped close and, with one finger, eased her jaw closed. “It was actually kind of cute.”

He tapped the tip of her nose, then gave her his back as he walked into the bathroom and shut the door.

Faith stared after him, dumbfounded over all the ways he seemed different this morning. More relaxed. Even good-humored.

It was so
un-
Jamielike.

Just what the heck had gone on in those woods last night?

Turning, she dropped onto the couch—and the scented warmth left behind from his body immediately surrounded her. Oh God. The man was a walking furnace. Realizing how cool the cabin had gotten during the night, Faith drew up her feet and snuggled into the couch cushions, trying to decide what to do next.

The toilet flushed, water ran, and a few minutes later Jamie reappeared. “It's all yours,” he said on his way to the kitchen. “I'll put on the coffee.”

Dumbfounded by his laid-back manner, Faith watched him, squinting a little when he flipped on the kitchen light. He opened the canister of coffee, and the delicious aroma of fresh-ground beans wafted to her.

Inhaling, Faith said, “You sure know the way to a woman's heart.”

Jamie stilled before glancing at her over his broad shoulder. His bold gaze moved over her, turning her insides to mush. “That's good to know, Faith.” Then he went back to making coffee.

Good to know?
Slapping both hands to her cheeks, Faith tried to think, but after that look, all she could do was shiver. Deciding retreat might be the better option, she tottered into the bathroom. She took her time, washing her face, cleaning her teeth, combing her hair. It didn't help. A year wouldn't help her to figure out Jamie Creed and his odd mood swings.

By the time she emerged, the coffee had finished brewing. Jamie had already poured her a steaming cup and had fetched his flannel shirt for her to use as a housecoat again. He set the coffee on the table and looked at her, waiting.

When she just stood outside the bathroom door, staring at him in indecision, he pulled out the chair at the kitchen table. “Come here, Faith.”

Her eyes nearly crossed. How did Jamie make such a simple, polite, even considerate request sound so ... sexual?

His eyes never leaving her face, Jamie patted the chair with encouragement. “Sit. Give your leg a rest.”

Or had he? Maybe she had herself and her lack of sexual experience to blame. Maybe she heard innuendos that didn't exist. Maybe—

“Does your leg hurt?” Jamie dropped his compelling gaze to her lower body, and slowly tracked it back up to her face. Lifting a brow, he asked, “Do you need me to carry you?”

Lord help her.
Forcing her feet into motion, Faith said, “No. I'm fine now.” She hurried to the table. Like a true gentleman, Jamie helped her to slip on the flannel shirt and then held her chair as she seated herself.

Her butt had just settled on the wooden seat when Jamie said, “Let me see.”

She paused with the coffee cup halfway to her mouth. “See what?”

“Your leg.”

“Oh. Oh, no, really. It's fine.” Faith continued to protest, but it did her no good.

Kneeling down, Jamie tossed up the hem of her gown as if he had the right, as if seeing her leg meant nothing, as if—

“I'm concerned?” Jamie shook his head, and his warm fingers curled around her ankle so she couldn't bolt away. “Relax, Faith. I won't strip you naked.” Their gazes met, and he murmured, “Again.”

Faith gulped at the visual suggestion and the heated look in his eyes. Lord help her, Jamie was in a strange mood.

He shoved the gown all the way up to her hip, but she slapped it back down until only her thigh showed. Determined not to complain, she sat rigid in the chair.

“Don't be a martyr, Faith. Silence doesn't suit you.” His rough fingertips glided gently over her skin. “How bad does it hurt?”

She drew a steadying breath that didn't help one iota. Everything they'd done the night before remained fresh in her mind, and being touched by Jamie now erased the time they'd spent apart.

“I . . . I should confess that I bruise easily.”

“Is that right?” Jamie still touched her, so she could only nod an affirmative.

His hands fell away and he stood, but stayed close to her chair. The fly of his rumpled jeans was eye level, which meant Faith kept her gaze glued to her coffee cup so her thoughts wouldn't shatter.

“The slightest bumps bruise me. It did hurt when I fell,” she assured him. “I wasn't lying about that. And I didn't know how badly it might be injured. But today it's only a little sore and stiff. No big deal.”

Jamie's hand cupped the back of her head, and he smoothed her hair. “I suppose I'll have to take your word for it, won't I?”

Now why did
that
sound so momentous, as if it held secret meaning?

His hand moved around to her chin, and he turned her face up to his. Snared in his gaze, Faith was unable to look away.

“I have to take off for a while today.”

Her heart rocketed into her throat. “No!”

“Shhh.” Again, he smoothed over her hair, then tunneled his fingers in close to her scalp, gently massaging. “I'm going into town, Faith. It'll be okay. I should be back before dinnertime.”

“Jamie, no.” Faith tried to stand, but Jamie pressed her shoulders, keeping her in the chair.