Mystical Love (8 page)

“I doubt it,” she responded. “I don't hold a black belt in mouth karate the way he does.”

“All men are little boys and all little boys misbehave, my dear. Some more than others. Rather than losing your patience, it's best to just search out the reason for their naughtiness and act on that.”

Adrian thought that a truly revealing statement and wondered what Janice would do if she learned outright why he was being so naughty. He forestalled further thoughts on the subject as slim fingers reached out and around him in search of a plate. Her light touch on his shirt back sent his pulses skittering again. When she straightened from him, the smell of her fruity perfume remained, mingling with the smell of roast beef.

Adrian felt his knees start to buckle and quelled the tremor by moving back to the table. Once there, he attacked his mashed potatoes with grim ferocity. Who was she? A sorceress out to rend him apart? First in his dreams, now in the flesh. He loathed her. For smelling good, for looking good, for touching him and not seeing the result of that touch.

He speared a broccoli stalk and stole a peek at Janice through lowered lashes as she rejoined the group at the table. He'd make her pay! Pay for all the torturous wet dreams he had suffered through as a teen. He tossed the spear into his mouth, and then tasting its blandness, he reached for the saltshaker only to have his fingers collide with Janice's slender ones.

At the collision, their minds linked to an erotic image of wet-soaked thighs, rounded buttocks, and orgasmic rhythms. Caught off-guard by the unexpected mind meld, Adrian shut off the image, severing the shared link. He felt Janice's guard go up and knew she had been as disturbed by the vision as he had. Well, he didn't give a rat's ass. Let her stew. And as for his thoughts … so what if she had tapped into his mind at the link? He had tapped into hers as well. And he liked what he had discovered. She had come to Carrington House prepared to like him, but after his earlier rudeness, she had changed her mind. Now, she wished they had never met.

Delighted to be the cause of her discomfort, Adrian tossed down a slice of roast beef. If she thought she had seen him at his worst, she was mistaken. He could be much, much worse. And he would be. She didn't know it yet but her fortune cookie had just come up empty. His ribcage suddenly hitch-kicked and a staggering, sobering thought flashed through his brain. What if his fortune cookie had just come up empty, instead of hers?

FRIDAY — 7:00 PM

Janice took a last swallow of cheesecake and forced the creamy wedge to slide down her throat. Now, if only she could make it stay there. Sometime during the last ten minutes, her stomach had turned sour and she wished she had remembered to pack a box of Di-Gel tablets in her purse. How quickly things could change, she mused. Only a few hours ago she had been looking forward to this trip. Now, she wished she had never agreed to come. Damn Lloyd for putting her in this uncomfortable situation. And damn Bibi for not putting her foot down more forcefully about coming.

Irritated, she laid her fork down and opted for a sip of ice water. She savored the refreshing wetness as it cooled her parched throat. Along with her churning stomach, she had managed to develop a mouth as dry as dust. Was it her body's way of defending itself against the ego-bashing it was taking? Nothing had gone right since she entered the dining room. Now here she was, wishing more than anything she could cram a grocery bag over her head. Perhaps then Adrian Magus would leave her alone and find someone else to vent his acerbic wit on.

Janice listened for a moment as Muriel's melodic voice to her left regaled Lloyd with a new procedure in dream work discovered by a former college mate of theirs.

Listening to the cheerful give and take, Janice decided she was glad she had come to Carrington House after all. If she hadn't, she'd've never met the Grisombs. They were darlings, both of them. All during dinner, they had ordained themselves her guardian angels, one on either side of her. Their cheerful commentary served as a constant buffer to Adrian's caustic tongue. He insulted; they parried with a droll story or change of subject. Finally, seeing through their subterfuge — or growing tired, Janice couldn't be sure which — Adrian had given up his insults, leaving her to feel as if she been sucked into the eye of a hurricane and spewed out minus part of her senses.

Stealing a peek at the man across the table from her, Janice felt a pang of regret. Adrian was remarkably handsome, just as Bibi predicted she'd find him. She thought in another space and time, they might've been friends, perhaps even dated. But in this time and space, they were enemies. And she didn't know why. They had never met or corresponded. What had she done to make him hate her so?

“Penny for your thoughts, my dear.”

A warm hand descended upon hers and Janice turned to find herself under Muriel's interested scrutiny. Smiling, she squeezed Muriel's fingers and lowered her voice.

“I was thinking how well some people go together. You and Jasper. Ginger and Adrian.”

Muriel glanced down the table for a second and then back to her.

“Fate does indeed pair strange bedfellows. Perhaps we've misjudged Adrian, my dear. Cutting his thumb like that must've hurt like hell. Such an odd happening. It would make any of us a bear, I dare say.”

“Can't understand it,” Lloyd stated, joining their conversation. “He wasn't holding it tight. All of us could see that.”

“Perhaps there's a mischievous ghost in the chateau you've forgotten to tell us about,” Muriel commented cheerfully.

“I was telling Janice only a few hours ago, Carrington House has no ghosts,” Lloyd playfully chided. “And then this damn odd occurrence has to spring up. I don't suppose she'll believe anything I say about the house now.”

“Nonsense,” Muriel scoffed. “She's a perfectly rational young woman. I can't imagine her being ruffled by a ghost. Besides, if there are ghosts here, you really need to rout them out.”

“Better to leave them unknown,” Janice interjected, remembering her earlier conversation with Captain Bowers. She suppressed a shiver. She wanted to keep the conversation far away from talk of breaking glasses and restless ghosts. When the glass shattered, she had seen a vivid image of legs intertwined and two bodies consumed with naked desire. And when her fingers collided with Adrian's minutes later, the unexpected happened. She had tapped into his mind, sharing the same, mysterious, disturbing, erotic image with him, only hers seemed to be in more detail. He had shoved her prying mind from his, like a door slammed shut by a howling wind, and her guard went up instantly. Why was he afraid of the image?

Hearing her name spoken, Janice returned her thoughts to the present, realizing Ginger had just asked if she had any children.

“Yes, one. She's four. Her name's Sarah Anne.”

“And your husband? Is he psychic, too?”

“No, he wasn't. We're divorced now.”

“Does your daughter resemble you, Miss Kelly?” Adrian cut in abruptly, a bemused smile staining his lips.

“My sister says we're mirror images.”

“Lucky mirrors.”

Janice blushed at the unexpected compliment. Now, why had he said that? She had finally come to terms with his stinging wit and here he was saying something nice to her. She felt tears and turned away.
Get a grip, Janice.
Next, she'd be thinking his dislike is all an act — a continuation of his show. Ginger's voice came again, still curious.

“Does your daughter share your gift, Janice?”

“I'm afraid not.”

“You're sure?”

Amused chuckles emanated around the table and Adrian placed his hand on Ginger's forearm affectionately.

“She's sure, O'Toole.”

Ginger fiddled with her fork, and sensing her embarrassment, Janice sought to comfort her.

“I'm thrilled Sarah has no psychic abilities. Truly.”

“But why? It must be wonderful to know the future and your place in it.”

Muriel's hands glided through the air.

“Psychic gifts often ride the rails of opposites, my dear. Extreme pleasure or extreme pain.”

“Pain?”

“Psychic overload,” Jasper clarified. He removed his pipe for a moment. “The mental pain can be extraordinary.”

Lloyd nodded, dipping his head in Adrian's direction.

“Just ask Adrian there. He'll tell you about pain.”

All eyes swung to Adrian and Janice saw a tell-tale flush steal across his features. What had caused him to overload? A woman? He swiveled in his chair and Janice knew he wasn't going to answer. But then, to her amazement, he did.

“Iraq. Early days there.”

Shock flew through Janice. He had joined the service? She had heard of an occasional psychic doing so, but thought them daft to put themselves in such a vulnerable mental and emotional state. Somehow, she hadn't imagined Adrian would make a mistake as critical as that. She saw Ginger's fingers wrap around the plaid fabric of Adrian's sweater.

“That must've been hell, Adrian.”

He didn't answer and Janice was certain this time he wouldn't. Lloyd took up his tale.

“The best way to describe Adrian's suffering is to have you imagine a nightmare-filled sleep but you're awake. By the way, Adrian, did you ever meet that red-headed woman from your dreams?”

Adrian stiffened and his face shut down. Janice wondered why Lloyd's question should disturb him so. His shoulders lifted in a shrug of mock resignation.

“No, never did.” His voice trailed away and Janice knew he was lying. There was a long, brittle silence and then he sprang to his feet, pulling Ginger up and fastening his arm around her midriff.

“Would you mind, Lloyd, if Ginger and I took a peek at the solarium for a half hour or so?”

“Not at all. I'll show you.” Lloyd shot to his feet, pushing his chair back. He signaled to Janice and the Grisombs to stay put. “I'll get Adrian settled, then join you three for coffee.”

Janice nodded her agreement, along with the Grisombs. As the trio exited, she sighed at the sound of footsteps tapping on the wood oak floor, a great weight lifted from her shoulders. Her sigh was followed by a sudden drain of energy and she admitted to herself that the vibrations in the room had been more intense than she realized. Next to her, Muriel poured coffee into her cup from a colorful beaker.

“You're holding up very well, my dear,” she complimented.

Janice was surprised by her acute insight.

“Am I? I wanted nothing more than to find one of the bed sheets and cover my head. I've never been disliked on sight before. It's an unpleasant feeling. Very ego-deflating.”

Jasper's chair scraped closer to her and she heard his appreciative chuckle.

“Adrian doesn't dislike you, my dear. Quite the opposite.”

Janice felt Muriel peer around her shoulders as taken back as she by such a bald statement.

“Have you sensed something, Jasper?”

“Eavesdropping, I'm afraid, Muree. Been reading Adrian's mind quite clearly for the last ten minutes. He's confused, doesn't know what to do about Janice.”

“Do about me? Good Lord, what have I done to him? Have we met before?”

His denial was swift.

“Never. You've never met in person but he's seen you many times in his dreams.” Jasper leaned in closer and Janice found his voice alluring. “My dear, you are the red-headed woman Lloyd mentioned to him a few moments ago.”

“But he said he hadn't met her. You heard him.”

“Did you expect him to admit it in front of you? He's got more pride than that.”

Janice cradled her head in her palm for a moment. She let one fingernail draw empty circles on the tablecloth. What a mess! Jasper was actually making her feel sorry for Adrian, and he didn't deserve it. Not after the tongue-lashing he had bashed her with during dinner. Warm fingers closed over hers and stilled her lazy drawing on the tablecloth.

“I don't see how you can continue to dislike a man whose only desire at the moment is to make mad, passionate love to you,” Jasper said calmly.

“What!” The squeak was out before she could stop it. In her ears, Janice reheard Bibi's last whispered words as she boarded the plane: “Live a little, Jan, screw the gorgeous hunk.” She had bashed Bibi's arm hard then, and now she felt like doing the same to Jasper. Instead, she curled her hands into tight fists in her lap and wondered what excuse she could use to leave the room and seek sanctuary somewhere else in the house. To stay meant hearing more disturbing nonsense. She was hallucinating and the sooner she went to her room and pulled herself together the better. Popping up from her chair, she offered a weak apology.

“I need to find a restroom … ”

Alarmed, Muriel rose from her chair, her hand floating to Janice's arm.

“I'm sorry, my dear. I should've warned you that Jasper's telepathy is exceptional. Obviously, he has upset you. He'll stop now.”

Janice's fingers fluttered to her neck. Why was she being such a killjoy? She knew in her heart Jasper hadn't meant any harm. He couldn't help being a telepath any more than she could stop her own visions. Sighing, she sent Jasper an apologetic glance. He rose quickly, offering his own apology.

“My dear, I had no idea I'd upset you. I only thought if you knew that Adrian's as confused as you about the glass incident, you'd feel better. Like him better.”

“What does the glass shattering have to do with it? It was just an accident, wasn't it?”

His eyebrows creased to a frown and when he spoke again, his voice was almost a murmur.

“Keep asking myself that very question and can't get an answer. Keep getting blocked out.” He leaned toward Janice and in a level voice asked politely. “How good of a psychic are you, Janice? Can you mind link with another person easily?”