Mind Tricks (12 page)

In the real world, sex for mere
recreation wasn’t for her. Her gift made it too unpredictable and sometimes
straight-out too scary.

Gift? Ha. A gift would be turning
her psychic powers off—maybe for good. But as far as she knew, that wasn’t an
option. So she’d have to keep a leash on her attraction to Jake.

This evening, at this
business dinner
, there would be 1) no
touching, 2) a sharp reduction in fantasizing on her part, and 3) a demeanor of
professionalism at all times.

Hauling Brutus outside to an empty
kennel with an iron grip on his collar, Emma thoroughly hosed him down and then
toweled him off, rubbing him vigorously until he lay down on his stomach and
gave her a pitiable look. But as soon as she led him back into the kitchen, he
shook himself like a paint mixer and the pungent smell of wet dog filled the
room. Lovely.

She pulled a mop out of the little
utility closet to give the floor a quick swipe. A six-pack of bottled beer,
tucked deep in the closet corner and covered with a thin blanket of dust,
caught her eye. Tugging the bottles out into the open, she brushed them off and
shoved them into the fridge.

Did she have time to change her
pants? She’d worn boots while washing Brutus, but a fair amount of soap and
dirt and water clung to her jeans. But if she changed clothes, would Jake think
she was changing for him?

What she really wanted to do was
jump in the shower. But if she was agonizing over what he’d think if she put on
new jeans, there was no way she’d shampoo her hair. Or be caught with just a
towel—or less—on when Jake returned with the pizza.

A knock on the back door made her
spin around, her wet jeans clinging clammily to her legs. There was Jake, a
pizza balanced on one palm and a grocery bag clutched in his other hand. The
smell of pepperoni danced into her nostrils as she opened the door. God, she
was suddenly starving. Too bad the guy holding the pizza was looking even more
delicious than the food. Craving vibrated inside her like a tuning fork. Down,
girl!

“Do you want me to wow you with my
pizza-eating abilities in here, or do you want to eat somewhere else?” Jake
asked, dropping the grocery bag on the table and kicking the door shut behind
him.

“This is where I always eat, so
here’s good.”

“I have a dining room in my house,
but I can’t remember the last time I ate there.” He made a face. “Take-out at
my office desk, leftovers in front of the TV, or business dinners tend to be
what I do.”

See? He was thinking of this as a
business dinner, too. She’d been silly to work herself up over it.

“So this is a nice change,” he
said, flipping open the pizza box.

Or maybe not so silly.

A small rectangle of paper sailed
off the table and onto the floor, and he bent over to pick it up. When he
straightened, the openness in his expression had slammed shut, and his dark
eyes were flat. “Get some interesting visitors today?”

He dropped Detective Cooperman’s
business card on the table with a disdainful flick of his wrist.

Crud. She should have mentioned
that to him at once, but Brutus’s escape and the resulting chaos had pushed it
into a corner of her mind. Not quite sure what to say now, she handed him a
plate. “Want a beer?”

He tilted his head toward the
grocery bag. “I have a few in there, nice and cold.”

She snapped the caps off a pair of
bottles and handed him one. Their fingers brushed as he took the beer, and
though she managed to keep his thoughts out of her head, she couldn’t stop the
sensual shudder that rippled down her spine at the contact.

But he didn’t seem to be thinking
about steamy sex or chilled beer. “When did Cooperman show up?”

Emma dropped into a seat and lifted
a slice of pizza onto her plate, but suddenly she didn’t feel hungry anymore.
“An hour or so ago. I must’ve made it onto their radar after our lunch at the
Waterview today.”

He didn’t say anything. Just sat
there, jaw hard, breathing deeply. Then he pushed back his chair, its feet
scraping the tile floor, and stood. “I’ll go.”

A very chivalrous reaction, but it
was a bit illogical. “Why? Because the police came to talk to me? They must be
talking to everyone you know.” She pointed at the chair. “Sit. You can’t undo
anything that’s happened today. So why not enjoy the pizza?”

Jake stared in the direction of the
front door as if he could see through the house walls. “Because the police
might be out there right now, watching us.” Agitated, he started to pace.

“Yes, but watching what? Your
helping me find a dog in the woods? Your getting a pizza for us? There’s
nothing suspicious for them to see.”

“My just being here is suspicious.”
He ran a hand through his dark hair and gave it a hard tug. “God, I’ve been
such an idiot by getting you involved with me.”

Enough with the dramatics. “We’re
not involved.”

Jake stepped close, and she had to
tilt her head back to keep her eyes on him. “We are now.” And he cupped her
chin and kissed her.

…Emma…

She pushed away his thoughts
crowding her and concentrated on his mouth—his lips tugging at hers, the
friction of his tongue, the addictive taste…

But it was an awkward position,
with her in the chair and him looming above her, and she broke off the kiss only
long enough to stand.

Forget business. She knew when to
give up pretending.

“Let’s give that another try,” she
said breathlessly. She stepped close and could see the stubble on his chin, the
creases around his eyes, and a few winks of silver darting through his dark
hair.

But he slid back. “An hour ago, I
would have taken you up on your offer. But the police—” He gestured toward the
road. “I’ve got to go.”

“We don’t even know that they’re
there,” Emma pointed out.

But his mouth was pressed into a
stubborn line that she’d seen every so often on Mickey’s face when he was at
his most unmovable.

Damn it. He wasn’t going to kiss
her and leave, was he? She almost wished she hadn’t been kissed at all and
could still pretend that the attraction buzzing between them was all in her
head.

She flipped the lid closed over the
rapidly cooling pizza and gave the box a little push in Jake’s direction.
“Here.”

He shook his head. “No, keep it. I
owe you.”

“I don’t
want
you to owe me.” What she wanted was him to stop being so
self-sacrificing and kiss her again.

Unless…maybe he’d just remembered
that she was a wacko pet psychic. And realized he didn’t want to kiss her.
Maybe this excuse about the police was simply an excuse to leave.

Outside, visible through the window
over the kitchen sink, headlights slid over the tree trunks turning inky in the
dusk. Someone had just turned into the driveway.

Well. Maybe Jake wasn’t
overreacting—or making excuses—after all.

Rubbing away sudden goose bumps,
Emma hurried into the dining room, remembering at the last second to shove
Brutus back into the kitchen. She left the dining room light off and lifted the
curtain away from the window facing the drive.

The car was now backing out into
the street. Not a patrol car, though—she could see that, at least.

“Just someone who was lost,” she
told Jake as she reentered the kitchen.

“Not a police car?”

“No.”

He thought a moment. “Could’ve been
unmarked.”

Frustration swirled beneath her
skin. “I’m not even sure the county
has
an unmarked police car.”

“You think I’m being paranoid.” He
aimed a ghost of a smile at her. “But you know the saying. Just ’cause you’re
paranoid doesn’t mean they aren’t after you.” His smile flickered out. “I
should have realized that you’d become a target of the police if I spent time
with you.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m a target—”

“They think I killed Ginny, Emma.”
He said it calmly, as if he were discussing the possibility of rain instead of
sun tomorrow, but his eyes were wild.

That shut her up. Because Cooperman
did think that Jake did it. She’d seen it in the detective’s head.

“And they’re going to do their very
damn best to prove it,” he continued in that same relentlessly calm voice,
“even if it means that more innocent people get screwed over. I—“ His voice hit
an edge, and he stopped to swallow. “I don’t know what happened the night Ginny
was killed. I didn’t kill her—I’m positive about that. But I don’t know if I
could have somehow saved her. I can’t let you be the next person who gets hurt
because of me.”

He looked so isolated. She reached
out for him, but he took another step away, this time toward the back door.

“I’ve got to go.” And he
disappeared into the Maine night.

• •

Emma had just wrapped the remaining
pizza slices in foil and tucked them in the fridge when the phone rang.

Finally. Jake had come to his
senses.

Streaking across the room, she
lifted the receiver before the first ring died away. “Hello?”

“Emma, it’s Jennie.”

So much for psychic intuition. Any
other day she would’ve been thrilled to talk to her sister in Michigan. Tonight
disappointment speared through her chest. “Oh. Hey. What’s up?”

“The usual. I have four more days
of peace before Jeff gets let out of school, if you define
peace
as scrambling after two-year-old twins all day long.”

“I don’t.”

“No, me neither, during my sane
moments. But those are few and far between.”

“How’s Harry?” Emma grabbed one of
the beers Jake had brought and then left behind. If she couldn’t talk to Jake,
at least she could drink his beer. Until this murder investigation cleared him,
it seemed like this was as close as she was going to get to him.

“The same. Some of his buddies are
trying to convince him to a kids’ soccer team in the fall—mainly so one of them
doesn’t have to, I think. He’s been holding out so far, but I caught him
teaching Jeff how to dribble in the backyard today, so it’s possible he’s
caving in. Oh, and his brother—the single one, who’d missed our wedding—still
wants to meet you. Are you coming here for Thanksgiving this year?”

“Whoa—that’s four months away.”

“But you know airfares. Every
moment you wait, they get higher. Anyway, think about it. Unless you’ve met
someone interesting in Maine…finally?”

Interesting
was an understatement. But she didn’t know how to explain whatever it was between
her and Jake. After all, an hour ago the man had kissed her and then promptly
left.
Aggravating
might be a better
description of him. Or
attractive as hell
.
And
under suspicion of murder
.

So she dodged the question. “Are
you saying that I can come to Thanksgiving only if I promise to meet Harry’s
brother?”

“No, of course not.”

A pause. Emma tried to shove a
question about Jennie’s twins into the brief silence, but Jennie repeated, “So,
have
you met someone interesting?”

“Well…maybe.”

“Ha! I knew I was supposed to call
you tonight. Perhaps I have some of my own psychic powers after all. Spill it.
How did you meet?”

“At a party.” A party that had
taken place months ago. Jake’s appearance at dawn on her doorstep after being
questioned all night by the police didn’t need to be mentioned, did it? That
would open a nasty, squiggly can of worms. Better to cut the subject short.
“But, Jennie, nothing’s going on. We went out for lunch, but he canceled our
dinner date without setting up a new one.” That was the truth—more or less.

“Jerk.”

“Well, it’s not really his fault,”
she found herself saying. “Things are complicated for him right now.”

Her sister snorted. “How? Is he
married?”

“Hey! Give me some credit.”

“All right, all right. Sheesh. Is
he as gorgeous as that guy you pointed out on the street when I visited you
last summer, or does he look like one of your rugged lobstermen, all squint
lines and weathered cheeks?”

Oh, crud. The guy she’d pointed out
had been Jake, exiting a coffee shop downtown with a steaming cup in his hand.
“Um, equally gorgeous. It’s him,” she confessed and then had to yank the phone
away from her ear when Jennie let out a dramatic squeal.

“Lordy, lordy. Whew, he was hot
stuff. Definitely will keep you warm during those long Maine winters. What was
his name again?”

“He canceled dinner. It’s not going
anywhere, so—”

“Jake Cart. No, Jake Vant. And he
builds wooden boats, right?”

Had she babbled her head off about
Jake just at the sight of him? “It doesn’t matter, because it’s not working
out.” Especially since he was so determined not to see her. “But other exciting
things are going on. I’m boarding a crazy dog, Brutus, and he—”

“Aha! I Googled him and found a
photo from some newspaper. Ooh, nice.” A scrabbling noise came, like Jennie had
put her hand over the receiver, but Emma could still hear her sister call to
her husband, “Harry, come look at the guy Emma’s seeing. Or was seeing. She’s
not making a whole lot of sense.”

Were her dates so rare that the
whole family had to celebrate them? Well, maybe. Well, yes. “Anyway,” Emma
continued desperately, “Brutus the dog is staying in the house with me because
I can’t trust him to stay in the kennel. Or on the leash line. Still, I think—”

There was muttering in the
background on the other end, and Emma shut up to listen. Only a few words came
through clearly.
Murder
was one of
them.

She took another gulp of beer. She
could either hang up now and not answer the phone for the next few days, or she
could weather the storm. She gripped the phone tighter and waited.