Extrasensory (8 page)

Oh, please. Could I sound any more self-deprecating? Why don’t I hunch my shoulders and
peer up at him like a mouse? Get a grip, Mia.

He stood at the front of her desk, looming over her. “No. I don’t think Dr. Hunter is the person I want.”

She took another deep breath, unsettled by his nearness. “I’m sorry you wasted your time coming here when the director is gone but perhaps I can arrange a tour of the museum while you’re here?”

“I thought I just said the director’s not who I want.” A ghost of a smile drifted over his chiseled mouth. Something about the way his facial muscles moved told her he wasn’t a man who smiled a lot. “I would have suggested a cup of coffee but that seems to be a lethal weapon for you.”

“I’m so sorry.”
Don’t get flustered, Mia.
“You just startled me.” She looked at the business card. “What exactly is Phoenix?”

“An agency that takes care of things for people.”

Okay, that sounded ominous. And the man himself made her nervous enough that her insides were quaking. “I don’t think we have anything here that needs taking care of, so why are you here?”

Instead of answering her he inclined his head toward her bandaged hand. “I see you injured yourself.”

She waved it off, even though she’d been swallowing Acetaminophen at an alarming rate to dull the pain. Surely she was just being a baby about it, right? It was just a stupid cut. “Household accident. I think I’m genetically clumsy.”

“Now, why do I have a hard time believing that?” He lowered himself into the chair opposite her desk with panther-like grace, his rangy body dwarfing it. His gaze took in every inch of her that he could see, giving her the feeling she was being x-rayed.

I want to fuck you.

Mia shook. Had he really said that? Of course not. His actual words were, “I understand you’re the art historian for the museum.”

She frowned. Okay, he wasn’t leaving right away. He didn’t want a tour. If he hadn’t stepped out of her vision,
what was this all about?
“Yes. I do the research for all the exhibits and provide the material for the media kits and the brochures. Are you in the art business?”

“No, I’m not.”

Silence settled over them and he watched her, as if waiting for her to say something else.

She cleared her throat. “As I said, I don’t think there’s anything with our art that needs fixing, or I would have known about it.”

“Actually, I have very little to do with art except to appreciate both its value and its beauty.”

Like yours.

Okay, this was getting too weird even for her. She attempted to pull the frayed edges of the situation together.

“Then I can’t imagine what you’d want with me. Are you sure you didn’t get lost here? I’d be happy to show you to the correct person.”

“No. You’re the one I want.”

More silence. The butterflies were fluttering harder in her stomach. This wasn’t about sex, despite the voice in her head. Unexplained disappointment surged through her. Something was wrong here and she couldn’t figure out what. She wet her lips with the tip of her tongue.

“Well, that’s very flattering I’m sure but I have a great deal of work to do. Unless there’s something specific you want, I’ll have to be rude and ask you to leave.”

“Before I’ve even told you why I’m here?”

If he wasn’t here about art or the museum, then what… Mia tried to still the panic that slammed into her. Surely it couldn’t be the email. She was positive she’d covered her tracks. But his next words told her just how wrong she was.

“I understand you like to send anonymous emails,” he said at last.

Thunk!
The butterflies were replaced by the Radio City Rockettes doing a tap dance.

How could he have traced her? She’d been so careful building her protection. And no one had ever been able to get through the museum’s firewall before, giving her a sense of security when she sent her messages.

“In my job, yes. I exchange a lot of emails. And of course we use them for internal communications. But anonymous? I don’t think so.” She cleared her throat. “Why would you even think that?”

Say it,
she wanted to scream.
At least I’ll know I got through.

He leaned forward in the chair, elbows resting on his knees, his eyes impaling her.

“I think we can stop the cat and mouse game, Dr. Fleming. An email was sent Friday night to Carpenter Techtronics from your computer. I know it’s yours because I’ve checked all the others. Does anyone use it but you?”

Lie or tell the truth?
Pretend ignorance or get it out in the open? Come on, Mia, don’t be a
weak sister. Show him what you’re made of.

She let out a slow breath. “No. I’m the one who sent the email.”

“And also made two calls to make sure Mr. Carpenter got it?” She nodded.

“Thank you for telling me the truth and saving us both a lot of time and unpleasantness.”

”I’d like to know how you traced it back to me,” she asked. Where had she made a mistake?

“With some very sophisticated equipment. Look,” he told her, “I’m trying to be low-key here but if you have inside knowledge of something going on at his company, this would be a good time to tell me.”

She wet her lips again. “I don’t have knowledge. Exactly. At least, not the way you mean.”

All trace of humor and courtesy disappeared from his face. “I don’t really have time to play games here, Dr. Fleming. You obviously know something. Or are involved in it.

If you won’t tell me what you know, we may get to that unpleasantness I thought we were avoiding.”

She needed a sign. Something that told her he’d believe her crazy story. And not consider her the culprit. Sometimes a simple touch gave her the signal she needed.

Sometimes, although not always, she could “read” people this way and know if she was dealing with an enemy. “Would you do me a favor, Mr. Romeo? Shake hands with me?”

One eyebrow lifted. “Excuse me?”

“Just shake hands with me. Surely that won’t create a problem.” She waved her hands in the air. “It’s not as if I have a gun or anything.”

“Fine. If it will get me some answers.” He leaned across the desk and stretched out a hand, his face still implacable.

Mia steeled herself for his touch. This was the dangerous part in more ways than one. What if the image came back, right now, right here, sharp and vivid in her office?

What if her body responded the way it had the day before? It would take all her skills to get a sense of the flesh and blood man without revealing more than she wanted to.

When she clasped his hand, a sense of heat spread through her body as it had the day before. But now there was something else. Something that overrode it. The most amazing feeling of warmth. A sense of safety. The image of the nearly naked man tried to intrude but she concentrated on banishing it. But there was no hostility. Nothing for her to fear. She could tell him the truth. He was safe. Built of granite but safe.

“Do you know anything about psychic abilities?” she asked. “About precognition?” She waited for the skepticism and ridicule, bracing herself for a negative, derogatory reaction.

But he didn’t recoil or make a face as most people did. Or stare at her as if she had two heads. And what he said caught her off guard. “As a matter of fact, I do. Are you saying you have precognitive powers?”

God, did that mean he somehow knew about her vision of him? No, not possible.

Just not possible.

She bit her lower lip and nodded. “Most people think I’m some kind of a kook or a nut. I’ve tried to help the police before but sometimes I can’t interpret the images clearly enough and I’ve made…mistakes.”

“I can understand that. Your average bear has little knowledge of any kind of psychic powers. I think most people are even a little afraid of them.” She gave him a shaky smile. “You surprise me. I didn’t think a man like you would take psychic abilities seriously.”

He shifted in the chair, re-crossing his legs. “A man like me?”

“You look very pragmatic,” she told him, hoping she wasn’t putting her foot in her mouth. “Black and white. The hard evidence type. Parapsychology often requires taking things simply on faith.”

He studied her again as he had before. “I own a…security company called Phoenix.

One of my partners is a telepath. So is his wife. Their ability to communicate is the only thing that saved his life when he was captured in the Peruvian jungle.” He paused.

“Maybe I could tell you the story sometime.”

Electricity crackled in the air between them and Mia wondered if Dan Romeo felt it as she did. He gave no indication, simply sat in his loose-jointed but alert way in the chair opposite her. At least the fever in her body seemed to have subsided to a controllable temperature. She could feel herself relaxing as relief stole over her. Not only had she been nearly shocked out of her senses by his appearance but she’d also been sure that he’d think what she had to say was nonsense. Instead, however, he was waiting to hear her explanation. She wet her lips. “It certainly sounds like something I’d like to hear.”

Of course who knew if he’d be around longer than this meeting to tell her anything?

I’m going to fuck you.

Mia clenched her hands into fists and dug her nails into her palms. She stared at Dan, trying to read something, anything, into his expression. But there was nothing to give him away. If he was somehow sending her thoughts he didn’t show it. She had to get a grip here.

“Also, I happen to know the military has been experimenting with various Psi groups for years,” he went on. “So while others might blow this off, I take you very seriously.”

“Okay, that’s good. But let me just give you a little thumbnail here to flesh out whatever you might know.” She drew a breath and let it out. She didn’t like feeling off kilter. At least in this subject she was in control. Most of the time.

“Precognitive experiences occur most often in dreams,” she began. “But they can also occur in what’s called spontaneous waking visions flashing through the mind.

Some are also auditory but mine never have been.”

He listened carefully, his expression attentive. “Go on.”

“The difference between precognition and other Psi events like premonition is that precognition generally involves an explicit future event.”
Like having sex with you.
She gave him a wry smile. “Providing you can decipher the bits and pieces of the visions.

Premonition deals with the sense or feeling that something is going to happen but the event is non-specific. Like feeling someone is in danger but not knowing how or where.”

“I can relate to that.”

Her eyes widened. “You can? Don’t tell me you have psychic abilities too. That would be too much of a coincidence.”

He shook his head. “Not exactly. I was a Force Recon Marine. What you’re talking about, at least with premonition, is kind of like the gut feelings I’d get when we were on a mission and something bad was about to happen.”

She nodded. “Yes. A different type of internal sensing. Okay, then. If precognition is a glimpse of the true or real future, then the visions are events witnessed before the causes. It makes it difficult to get people to believe you don’t really have advance knowledge or an ulterior motive.”

“Which can lead to skeptics and questions from people like me,” he guessed. “I’m assuming this all started with a precognitive vision, so why don’t you tell me what it’s all about? Chase Carpenter is a good friend of mine. I was coming here today to help him with security for his big announcement and demonstration on Friday anyway.

When he got your email he called me, I jumped on our plane and arrived on the weekend.”

“You have your own plane?”
Close your mouth, Mia. So do many of your donors.

“It makes life easier.” His eyes studied her. “So here I am. Your story, Dr. Fleming?”

“I’d feel better if you called me Mia.”

And maybe put your arms around me and held me against that very attractive body of
yours.

Jesus, Mia. What is it with you? This is business. And he doesn’t look like a man who has
the word comfort in his vocabulary. Not to mention he’s a total stranger and came here to
investigate you.
Except, of course, for that very weird thing that happened the night before. And the voice that kept intruding into her head.

Watching him for any signs of doubt or disbelief, she gave him the short version of her personal history as it related to her gift. Then she launched into descriptions, in sequence, of the images relating to Carpenter and their new toy. Something, she couldn‘t say what, made her hold back the vision of the stabbing knife. Maybe he’d think it too absurd and discount everything else she had to say.

“I’m assuming someone’s going to try to steal it. Whatever
it
is. I wanted to warn Mr. Carpenter so he’d be prepared for whatever might happen.”

“Security is very tight around his little toy,” Romeo told her. “And it’s about to get even tighter. If anyone decides to try something they’ll be in for a big surprise.”

“I’m still shocked that you don’t think I’m crazy,” she told him. “Or making this up.

Usually when people hear what I have to say, they run in the opposite direction.”

“I know you’re surprised but no. Nothing like that. I actually believe you’re onto something we can’t afford to discard.”

She twisted her fingers together. “I have to be very careful of what my powers get me involved in because of the museum. Most people in this city don’t know my history.

If they thought a nut was part of the staff here, it could seriously affect our exhibits and contributions.”

“Don’t worry. No one will hear anything from me.” He stood up. “I’ve got to call Chase, figure out how to ease him into this explanation. He’s an engineer. If he can’t see it he doesn’t necessarily believe it.”

“That could be a problem,” she pointed out.

“I’ll handle it. I also need to contact my office and make some additional security plans, based on what you’ve told me. I thought we were all set but I can’t afford to take any chances. Not in this situation.” He paused. “But I’d like to take you to lunch, if you’re agreeable.”