Out of This World

by Jill Shalvis

  “Rach!”

  I whipped around in a circle, but I still couldn’t see him. “I’m here!” I yelled.

  “Rach?”

  He’d sounded so close a moment ago, but now—now he could have been calling to me from another country. Hell, another planet.

  “Rachel, where are you?”

  I circled again, panic racing up my spine, blocking my throat.

  Why couldn’t I see him?

  “Right here! Kel? Kel, I’m right here!”

  “Rachel!”

  It was like he couldn’t hear me, and the hair rose on the back of my neck, the way it did every time he forced me to go see whatever the latest horror flick was at the movies.

  There I’d spend the entire two hours with my face pressed into his neck, listening to him occasionally laugh softly at me, but he was still always there to comfort me.

  Damn it, I wanted his neck right now!

  And then I thought, to hell with the moratorium on running. It’s okay to be terrified bone-deep and to act on that terror. So I took off like a bat out of hell.

  Only I didn’t get very far before I was abruptly and rudely stopped cold by the loudest, most resounding, most terrifying CRACK I’d ever heard—

  And then nothing, as my world faded to black.

  Chapter 4

  I love good dreams, and I was in the middle of a doozy. I was hanging off the HOLLYWOOD sign painting a mural. It was a typical gorgeous Southern California day, not a cloud in the slightly pink, smog-tinged sky. The temp was in the upper eighties, of course. Perfect. And not a worry sat on my mind.

  Because in my pocket was a check for a cool mil, payment for said mural.

  A million dollars, all mine.

  Since I’d never had a savings account with more than even five hundred dollars in it, this fact kept blowing my mind. I wanted to help the poor; I wanted to stop world hunger; but a girl could do only so much on her own. So I kept thinking about the car I was going to buy, one that would run all the time and not stall in the rain or fail to hop to it when I stomped on the gas to try to get on the 405 in the mornings.

  Yeah, this was a good day.

  Below, holding and belaying my ropes, stood the gorgeous actor Josh Duhamel, and he kept smiling up at me.

  God, he was hot, and I smiled back.

  That’s when the dream shifted.

  Josh wasn’t smiling at me per se, but at the view up my dress. Odd, since I never wore dresses, but there I was, in a little gauzy number that revealed much more than I’d intended to reveal.

  Oh no. No, no, no…

  Yeah. I was wearing granny panties.

  Shit. Just my luck.

  Surreptitiously I looked down the bodice of my dress to make sure, and groaned. Yep, plain white grannies, the ones with the hole over the hip. I’d have thrown them away, but I had a tendency to forget to do laundry, so I’d always saved them for the day when I woke up to no panties in the drawer.

  Natch, today had been that day.

  Stupid. Hadn’t my mother drilled this one thing into me: Never ever wear underwear with holes because you never know when you’ll be in an accident and some cute ER doctor will see your holey panties and refuse to marry you.

  I should have just gone commando—

  Wait. This was a dream, which meant that, theoretically, I could be wearing anything I wanted. Anything at all.

  So I went shopping mentally and picked out a thong. A black lace thong…

  “Rachel?”

  Hmm. That didn’t sound like Josh’s voice. And his face was doing something funny now. Sort of smearing, changing…

  “Rachel!”

  Damn it, that wasn’t Josh’s voice at all, and I was no longer hanging off the HOLLYWOOD sign. I wasn’t sure where I was, to tell the truth, because everything was dark.

  Waaay too dark. My heart kicked into gear, because suddenly it was all coming back to me.

  Hellacious flight from L.A. Dropping the steak. B&B with the oddest staff members. And the coup de grâce: Girl Scout Cookies in the freezer.

  “Rachel! Jesus, where are you?”

  Yeah, there it was—everything I’d been through in the past twenty-four hours, including my most stupid move of walking into the woods by myself, then the sudden storm and—

  Another boom of thunder made me shudder. Had I really been hit by lightning?

  Since I could smell something burning—possibly me—I had to come to the conclusion that this was a definite possibility.

  Not good.

  Just in case it was gruesome, I kept my eyes tightly closed. I’d never been good with blood or guts, always being the one to faint in biology class when we’d had to dissect the poor little froggies.

  I could feel rain plopping down on my face—or, at least, I hoped it was rain and not someone slobbering over me.

  More smoke…

  Maybe it was my own blood I could feel on my face, and with some sort of morbid curiosity, I lifted my hand and touched my jaw, then cracked an eye to peek.

  Nope, not blood. Just rain. I closed my eye again, because somehow, ignorant bliss felt good for now.

  Guess my mom had been correct about that whole running-in-a-storm thing. And damn, you know I hated to admit that.

  “Rachel!”

  At the extreme worry in Kel’s voice, I forced myself to open my eyes again. I looked up at the individual raindrops falling through the sky in such a mesmerizing pattern, landing on my face. I could feel water from the wet ground soak into my clothes, and probably more than a few bugs along with it, and I knew.

  Somehow, in some way, I was different.

  I peered at the tree next to me. The trunk looked weird, and it took me a moment, but finally I understood why. I could see through it, past the layers and layers of natural wood to the myriad ants crawling inside, winding their way up—

  My heart kicked into gear really well on that, right up to heart-attack level, because it turned out I didn’t understand at all…

  Breath hitching in my chest, I shook my head, and looked up into the sky again. Oh good. Everything there looked normal. But then I focused and…no, not normal.

  Not even close.

  Already the odd and violent storm was moving on, those horrendous black and gray clouds vanishing before my very eyes. Now I could see the moon, and it looked funny. This was because I could see each and every crater on it—which, by the way, seemed like they might be fun to explore.

  One step for mankind and all that.

  “Christ, there you are.” Kellan dropped to his knees at my side and leaned over me. He had a smudge of dirt on his jaw, and his glasses hung from only one ear. His hair was plastered against his skull, his shirt saturated. In his hands he held what looked like a pen, but a beam of light came from it.

  The guy actually carried a flashlight on him.

  “What the hell happened?” he demanded. A few drops of water fell off the tip of his nose onto my face. “Why are you lying on the ground? Are you okay?”

  Was I okay? Hmm, wasn’t that the question of the hour? Trying to figure out that very thing, I looked back up into the sky, watching the raindrops coming down, one by one. Wow, it was really beautiful.

  Every part of everything around me seemed deeper, more colorful, richer…

  More intense.

  “Rach?” Kellan tossed aside his glasses and leaned over me, protecting me with his body, stroking my hair from my face. “You’re silent. You’re never silent.”

  A bird flew overhead, and when I concentrated on its body, its wings flapping, I found I could see its heart pumping, beating…

  Oh.

  My.

  God.

  “Rach.”

  “I think I broke a nail,” I whispered.

  He stared at me. “Tell me you’re kidding.”

  “I’m kidding.” I lifted my hand and studied my plain, trimmed-by-my-own-teeth nails.

  “You’re scaring me, Rach. Here, can you sit up?” He
took my hand to pull me upright, then steadied me, his hands firm on my upper arms. “Are you all right?”

  Without his lenses, his eyes were so clear and blue, I could have just looked at him all day long.

  Wow. Gorgeous.

  I wobbled, then set my head against his chest. Beneath the drenched shirt, his heart beat a bit fast but steadily, and he was warm, deliriously warm. Sturdy and solid and always-there Kel.

  He extended his arms, pushing me back, so he could peer into my face. Man, he was cute. I smiled up at him dreamily, thinking I’d no idea just how cute…and while thinking it, a shiver wracked me. Probably it was the cold, but it might have been the totally and completely inappropriate surge of lust I was experiencing.

  Kel kept his hands on me, drawing me back against his warm body, making me all the more aware of him, of his sweet but firm touch, of the strength that allowed him to easily take on my weight. I sighed in pleasure.

  “You’re scaring the shit out of me, Rach.”

  “Did you know you have the most amazing eyes?”

  They narrowed on me. “Huh?”

  “Seriously,” I said, reaching up, touching his face, which was wet from the rain. “I could drown in ’em. Anyone ever told you that?”

  “Uh, no. You’re the first. Hold on there, champ,” he said when I tried to get up, holding me down with a hand to the middle of my chest. “Don’t move.”

  Good idea, since everything had begun to swim. I put my hands to my head. “What happened to me?”

  “That’s what I was going to ask you.”

  He was so cute with all his worry that it made me smile. “Kel? How come we’ve never gone out?”

  “Out?”

  “Hooked up.”

  He went still, then lifted two fingers. “Okay, how many?” he demanded.

  “I’m fine,” I insisted.

  “I thought we were erasing that word from the English language.”

  I tried to stand up on my own. “Whoa.” I reached for him, because maybe I wasn’t so okay after all. “Hey, stop the world, would ya? I want to get off.”

  “You’re dizzy?” He gripped my shoulders. “What the hell happened? Did you fall?”

  I closed my eyes. But just like on the plane, that only made it worse, so I opened them again. I focused on a tree. Again, I saw right through the tree, as if I had X-ray vision, meaning I could still see the long line of carpenter ants making their way through the trunk. I followed their line down to the ground, where they emerged from a hole only a few inches from me.

  One crawled out near my foot, and I would have sworn on my own grave that it craned its neck and glared at me for being in its way. I stared at it, stunned. “Uh…Kellan?”

  “Jesus,” he breathed, and for a minute my heart surged, thinking he could see through stuff, too, but he shook his head and pointed at my clothes.

  They were smoking.

  “You were hit by lightning,” he said, and looked into my face. “My God. Are you okay?”

  His eyes still seemed luminous, and filled with far more worry than before. I dropped my gaze from his, and then gasped.

  Like with the moon, like with the tree, I could see through him. As in beneath his clothes.

  Um, yeah, I was definitely different.

  “I can’t believe it,” he said. “I mean, what are the chances?” Leaning in again, he began to run his hands over my limbs. Up my legs, over my hips, over my ribs—

  “What are you doing?”

  “Checking for broken bones,” he said tightly, mouth grim.

  “I didn’t have an accident.”

  “You were hit.” Beneath his shirt, his muscles rippled with every movement, and this mesmerized me. Muscles rippling? Kel?

  When had that happened?

  “Kel, I’m okay.” Okay enough to enjoy his hands on me…

  “If you’re okay, then why are you looking at me funny?”

  Because I just realized you have this hard chest and nicely chiseled abs, and you’re totally, completely ripped.

  Only two weeks ago, he’d come over to help me wash my car. This had, of course, involved a spirited water fight, and I’d been the victor, nailing him good with the hose from head to toe and back again. We’d laughed, and before going inside my apartment, he’d stripped off his shirt.

  I hadn’t nearly swallowed my tongue then. Not once.

  And yet now, staring at him, through his clothes, at his hard pecs, sinewy biceps and that yummy belly, I just wanted to lap him up, or swallow my own tongue.

  And then this.

  “I think,” I said slowly, “that I must’ve hit my head after all.”

  “Jesus, really?” He pulled me into his lap right there on the wet ground, slipping his hands beneath my hair, cupping my head, gently probing. “I don’t feel a lump. I think that’s bad. Look at me.”

  I didn’t want to, but I did. I looked back into those drown-in-me eyes. Then, because I couldn’t help myself, because they were such a gorgeous color, I sighed.

  “Hurting?” he asked.

  “Um…a little. But I’m okay. Really.” My clothes were indeed smoking, a disconcerting fact, let me tell you. “So how much electricity is in a lightning bolt anyway?”

  “Enough to fry a few brain cells.”

  I laughed, sounding a bit hysterical even to my own ears. So I’d fried a few brain cells. I had spares.

  I think.

  But how to explain that I could see right through everything? “Kel, can you—Now, I know this sounds weird, but just stick with me here…Can you see through me or anything?”

  “Okay, that’s it. Stay seated.” He took a good look at my pupils, pretty darn cute in his concern. “You do know who you are, right?”

  “Yep.” I noticed a scar low on his belly, and remembered his emergency appendectomy in high school. Then I struggled not to look lower…

  “And you know me,” he demanded. “Right? You know who I am?”

  “Double yep.”

  “What year is it?”

  “It’s 1605,” I quipped.

  “Not funny.”

  “Sorry.” I was trying really hard to control myself, and fight the overwhelming urge to peek below his scar. You know, south of the border.

  “Quick,” he said, obviously oblivious of my inner struggle. “What’s twelve times eight?”

  “Um…” Ah, hell. “You know I suck at math.”

  He sighed. “Two plus two, Rach. Try that one.”

  I batted my eyes. “I’m too cute to have to do math.”

  He just looked at me blandly.

  And I sighed. “Honestly, I’m okay.” Well, maybe not quite honestly, but how could I explain what I didn’t understand myself? To prove I was good, however, I had to stand up, which took more effort that I’d imagined, and I promptly staggered around like a drunk.

  “Damn it.” Kellan grabbed me, pulling me against the nice, warm, hard body I’d just discovered he had.

  I mean, who knew?

  “Kellan?”

  “Yeah?”

  My legs really were rubbery, so I wasn’t faking it when they gave way. Kellan’s arms tightened around me.

  “Mmm,” I murmured.

  He went still. “What was that?” he asked.

  Crap. Had I just moaned out loud? What was wrong with me? “Nothing.”

  “It was something.”

  “No, you must be hearing things.”

  “No, I—”

  “I didn’t say anything!” I said a bit too defensively, but the cold had seeped into my wet clothes, and I shivered. “Nothing at all.”

  “Fine.”

  “Fine.”

  I was trying to maintain here, but it wasn’t easy. In fact, wasn’t this why women were reputed to be from Pluto and men from Uranus? Or something like that? Not only did we speak different languages, we were different species all together.

  Then I realized he was still holding me, and my body was acting without my brain’s pe
rmission, doing as I’d wanted earlier, pressing my face into his neck.

  Oh, yeah, he smelled good and he knew how to give a good hug. I nestled in even closer.

  Now a groan escaped him, and a little shiver ran through my body at the sound. He pulled me in tighter, against his warm chest, his fingers moving through my hair, massaging my scalp in a melting, mesmerizing way.

  The guy had the gift of touch, there was no doubt. I just kept on burrowing, like the heat-seeking missile I’d become.

  “Rach?”

  “Yeah?”

  “What are you doing?” His voice was sort of husky and tight at the same time. Sexy.

  “Just…” Yeah, Rach, what are you doing? “Holding on.” I discovered I liked the feel of his skin against my lips when I talked, and as I thought this, that cute, erotic little sound escaped from him again. I don’t know why, but for some reason, it made me open my mouth and…okay, I bit him.

  “Ouch!” He pushed me back, gripping my arms as he stared down into my face. “What the hell was that?”

  “I don’t know.” I bit my lip. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did that.”

  He continued to hold me away from his body now, which was a shame, but it made me realize something. “Um, Kellan?” I stared at his shirt, at the smoke rising from it. “Don’t look now, but you’re smoking, too.”

  He looked at himself. A line furrowed between his eyes as he took it in. “Not smoke. Steam. I’m just drying is all.”

  “But—”

  “I’m fine.” He shook his head. “It’s you who’s a little off.”

  Yeah, go figure. I guess being struck by lightning did that to a person. I slapped at the smoke rising in little curls from his chest, his arms, his back, enjoying the contact a little too much. “Are you sure—”

  “Stop,” he said, catching my hands in his. “You’re wet, and starting to shake.”

  True enough. In fact, even my teeth had begun to rattle, hard enough that I worried the fillings would fall out.

  “Let’s just get you back and warm you up.”

  Actually, I had a much better thought about how to get warm, but if he’d gotten all prudish after just a bite to the neck, I could imagine what he’d say to my other, much more fun-sounding idea.

  So I kept it to myself.

  Darn it.