Nathan's Vow (2 page)

"A private investigator gave
me your name."

She sighed and shook her head. 
"Then he can find someone else who does my kind of work."

"It's difficult to find a
reputable psychic," Nathan almost growled as his frustration became
evident.

Worry stabbed Gillian. 
"Sh..."  All she needed was her co-workers knowing. 

Nathan lifted his hands in
exasperation and in a loud whisper asked, "Why is it so all-fired
important for no one to know what you do?"

Anger bubbled up inside her because
this man knew nothing about the hundreds of letters she received each year, the
sleepless nights, the burden of parents and brothers and sisters and children
depending on her to find someone they loved, or someone who was missing.  What
irritated her the most were those who wanted a plan for the future without
formulating it themselves.  "If they knew what I was able to do, most
women in this salon would want a reading.  They'd line up for hours waiting
with bated breath for me to tell them their future.  And if I couldn't tell
them anything, they'd say I'm a fraud.  My gift creates a three-ring circus,
Mr. Bradley.  No, thank you."

Harriet came in from the front
desk.  "A walk-in for nails is waiting, Gillian.  How's your
schedule?"

Gillian accepted fate's offer of a
neat, non-confrontational way to end this encounter.  "Tell her to come
in.  I don't have another appointment until four.  If it's all right with you,
I'll take my supper break at five."

"No problem."  Harriet's
interest in Nathan was obvious as she gave him a wink and returned to the front
room.

He faced Gillian.  "I'd like
to continue our discussion."

"There's nothing more to say. 
I have to get back to work and I'm sure you do, too.  Call your P.I.  He'll
find someone else."

The look the man gave Gillian was
not resigned.  If anything, it was more determined than ever.  But he didn't
argue.  "I'll call my P.I.  But I'll be talking to you again.  Soon."

With a lift of his brow and a wave
of his hand, he was gone.

Gillian first felt relief, then a
strange sense of loss.  But she was used to feelings and images not clicking. 
Eventually they became part of a bigger picture, and then she'd understand. But
there was no bigger picture where Nathan Bradley was concerned.  There was no
picture at all.

#

The instant Gillian stepped outside
of the Hair Happening, she saw him.  He stood beside a gray Mercedes in the
parking lot. She should have realized this man wouldn't give up so easily. 
Ducking back into the salon was an option.  So was ignoring him as she walked
to the enchilada and chili stand across the parking lot of the strip shopping
center.  But she had the feeling when she returned, he'd still be waiting, and
not quite so patiently.

A group of teenagers on
roller-blades skated by, one of them holding a miniature schnauzer on a leash. 
She smiled at the sight, something she'd probably never see in Deep River.  But her smile slipped as she spotted the handsome, very sexy man walking
toward her, and an excited little shiver zipped up her spine.  At least
six-two, lean and fit, with long legs that quickly covered the distance between
them, he was the type of man who could attract a roomful of women without
trying.  It wasn't only his looks but his confidence, his dominating male
presence.

When he stood before her, he asked,
"Can I buy you supper?"

"If I hadn't mentioned my
break, you would have waited till I quit for the day.  Right?"

"Yes."

"Mr. Bradley..."

"Nathan.  You have to eat
supper. I have to eat supper.  Is  there any reason we shouldn't talk while we
do?"

"You have an ulterior motive. 
This won't be much of a break for me."

"It's not an ulterior motive
because you know what I want."

"Obviously, I need to watch
what I say with you," she murmured.

The corners of his mouth twitched
up.  "Is that a yes or no?"

"If I say no, you'll be back. 
Let's get this over with."

The curve of his lips turned into a
frown, indicating he was uncomfortable with her frankness.  Gillian's gaze
wanted to linger on those lips.  They were full enough to be sensual, narrow
enough to enhance the handsome aesthetics of his face.  She could imagine one
of his kisses--dominating, forceful, passion-filled.

The image startled her.  She hadn't
thought about kissing a man in over a year--since Brian had decided to
reconcile with his ex-wife.  She'd not only lost Brian but his son, too.  At
the time she'd thought her heart would break.  But she'd buried herself in her
work until she'd realized she no longer had a life outside of her work.  Not
eating, not sleeping, working twenty hours a day was a one-way road to
disaster.  Thank goodness she'd recognized her destructive direction in time.

"I don't know what you have in
mind," she said, "but the chili and enchiladas are good at that stand
over there."

Nathan perused the truck/restaurant
set-up near an island with palm trees and benches.  "I haven't had an
enchilada in..."  He shrugged.  "Too long."

They walked side by side for a few
moments, Nathan slowing his stride to Gillian's.  The breeze ruffled his hair,
making him look less formal and imposing.  She thought he'd start making his
case for her help, but he didn't.

His arm brushed hers, his suitcoat
rough against her skin.  "Have you always done manicures for a
living?"

She registered the texture of the
material, the strength of his arm, and her heart jumped at the contact.  Managing
a smile, she responded, "Would you believe I have a degree in
business?"

"Neither seems appropriate for
a psychic."

Her smile faded.  "And what
does?  Theater arts?"

He stopped and faced her. 
"Okay.  I stuck my foot in it.  I didn't mean to insult you.  But all this
is strange to me.  I'm a logical man.  I make decisions and judgments from
facts.  I've always thought psychics were frauds.  But my private investigator
told me about crimes you've solved and people you've found.  Even if I don't
believe in it or understand it, what you do works."

"I don't understand it,
either," she said quietly.

Nathan had been fascinated by the
woman since he'd set his eyes on her.  Looking at her now, her soft, long hair,
those wonderful brown eyes, her slender curves wrapped in a pink cullotte dress
with a white collar and lapels, his muscles tightened and he felt pangs of
arousal.

Crazy.  That usually didn't happen
simply from looking.

Her soft voice, her calm wonder,
urged him to step closer, to find out more about her.  "Tell me about it. 
Were you born with this ability?"

She shook her head and pointed to
the supper truck.  They began walking again.  "I don't think I was born
with it.  If I was, I didn't know it until I was ten.  I was sitting on a dock
fishing and a storm came up.  The thunder and lightning hit fast.  The next
thing I knew I was lying flat on the dock, the rain pouring down on me.  My
head hurt and I was shaking all over.  Mom found me that way, took me home, and
put me to bed.  We thought that was the end of it."

His P.I. had told Nathan that
Gillian was from Indiana and had lived there all her life.  She traveled often
but had never moved from the town where she'd grown up.  L.A. must be quite a
change for her.  "When did you realize something was different?"

"A few days later.  Aunt Flora
came to visit.  When she hugged me, I saw this picture of her sitting at her
kitchen table crying.  I didn't understand it.  Later, I overheard my aunt and
my mother talking.  My cousin had dropped out of high school and my aunt was
terribly upset."

"And there was no way you
could have known that."

"No."

"Did you tell your mom?"

"No. I was afraid of the
pictures when they came and uncomfortable with the feelings.  I kept it a
secret until I was sixteen."

They reached the vending stand. 
Gillian ordered chili and cornbread while Nathan asked for an enchilada.  She
opened her purse, but he closed his hand over hers.  Her skin was soft and warm
and a jolt of desire more powerful than before stabbed him.  "I've got it,"
he said, unable to keep the husky rasp from his voice.

Her gaze met his.  The sparks of
gold in the brown told him his touch affected her as much as hers affected
him.  She pulled away, and he let go.

Gillian busied herself pulling
napkins from the holder while Nathan paid for and carried their plates to a
bench.  Picking up their sodas, she joined him.  She'd no sooner settled on the
bench with her soda by her shoe and the cup of chili with a wedge of cornbread
perched on the edge in her hand when the schnauzer she'd seen earlier ran over
to her and jumped up and down, finally landing with her paws on Gillian's
knees.

Gillian laughed and held her dish a
little higher, out of the dog's reach.  "You might want supper, but I'm
not sure you should have this."

One of the roller-bladers came
skating over, his helmet under his arm, a leash dangling from his hand. 
"Sorry if she's botherin' you.  She begs from everybody."

The boy was about twelve.  His
spiked brown hair was matted down from his helmet, his snapping brown eyes
sparkled with amusement.  Gillian asked him, "Can she have a bite?"

He grinned.  "If you wanna
give it to her."

Gillian tried to tear off a piece
of the cornbread, but it slid into the chili.  Nathan grabbed the dish and held
it for her.  Smiling her thanks, she took the small bite from the wedge and let
the dog lick it from her hand.  The schnauzer gulped it down and looked up at
her for more.  Laughing again, Gillian scratched the pet behind her ears. 
"I should have known that little bit wouldn't be enough."

As she touched the dog and rubbed
her rough coat, Gillian felt her gaze pulled to the teenager again.  He and the
dog were connected by a strong bond of affection.  A surge of energy made her
fingers tingle and she automatically closed her eyes for a moment.  A clear
picture of a dark-haired woman on a porch came into focus.  The woman was
worried.  Gillian had the distinct impression she was the boy's mother.

Opening her eyes, Gillian cast a
wary look at Nathan.  He was watching her closely.  Should she say something to
the boy about his mother?  If she did, Nathan would know what had happened. 
Why had this vision come now?  Since she'd left Indiana, she'd felt normal--no
pictures, no knowledge she shouldn't have.

Gillian looked at the boy, knowing
she couldn't let the woman in her mind's eye suffer unnecessarily.  "I
think your dog wants a full-course meal."

"What time is it?" he
asked with a nod at Gillian's watch.

"Five-thirty."

"Geez.  I was supposed to be
home an hour ago.  Mom's gonna be..."  He stopped with a shrug as if a boy
his age shouldn't worry about adult authority.  Snapping the leash onto the
dog's collar, he gave it a gentle tug.  "C'mon, Peanut.  We'll get us both
some supper."  He smiled at Gillian and skated over to his friends, who
sat on the curb sipping sodas.

Nathan handed Gillian her plate. 
"What happened?"

"You saw what happened.  I
gave the dog a snack."

"When you touched the dog, you
closed your eyes."

The man was too observant. 
"The boy's mother was worried about him."

"You felt that?"

"I saw that.  She was standing
on the porch waiting for him."

"You got that from petting the
dog?" Nathan asked, astonished.

She'd faced expressions like his
many times in the past.  "Mr. Bradley..."

"Nathan," he reminded
her. 

Calling him by his first name
seemed too familiar.  She already knew she could be attracted to him. 
"This 'talent' I have isn't something I can turn off and on like a light
switch.  It's more unpredictable than the weather or earthquakes."

"You made him realize she was
worried without saying it, without telling him you knew."

"That was easiest."

Nathan finished his enchilada and
took a swig of soda before he spoke again.  "My ex-wife took my daughters
out of the country six months ago.  I can't find them. My P.I. can't find
them.  Will you take my case?"

Chapter
Two

When Gillian's gaze met Nathan's,
the emotional and physical tug she felt toward him was so strong that she had
to fight to keep her body from leaning closer to his.  A voice inside her
screamed,
You deserve a life of your own. 
Yet her heart whispered back
,
He's hurting.  If you can help him, you'll take away his pain
.

"I'll pay you.  Whatever you
ask," he added gruffly.

Sometimes Gillian wished life were
black and white, that her answer could depend merely on an economic need.  She
thought of the people she'd helped and those with whom she hadn't met success. 
It had nothing to do with their ability to pay.

So she answered, "I'm not
interested in your money."

"That's what my P.I. told me
you'd say, but I didn't believe him."

"Believe him."  She took
another bite of chili, although her appetite had disappeared as soon as she'd
seen Nathan Bradley in the parking lot.

"What can I say to make you
take this case?  Just imagine, Gillian, if you had daughters and they
disappeared."

The sound of her name on his lips
created a turmoil inside her that led her to straighten her shoulders and sit
up stiffer on the bench.  "You're trying to manipulate me, Mr. Bradley. 
It won't work."

His blue eyes had swept over her
many times since their encounter in the beauty salon, each time making her more
aware she was a woman and he was a very sexy man.  But this time as he
appraised her, she felt his respect.