Devlin let the boat fall off to catch more of the evening breeze. Even under just the mainsail, she moved beautifully.
“You’re not invited,” he called back over his shoulder. Then he glanced at Isobel, clearly asking if she was okay with that.
She resisted the urge to look over her shoulder. Instead, she opened up her feelings and sensed what lay behind her.
Michelle’s helpless frustration. Anton, Jesse, and Ricardo were inside the houseboat somewhere. By their interest and general satisfaction, they were probably still looking over the pair of Red 8K movie cameras that had been delivered this afternoon.
Ricardo changed in an instant to sharp concern. Michelle had probably just called for his help telepathically.
Hannah was aware of events, and seemed quite neutral. She wasn’t feeling any threat, but she’d also had the most opportunity to assess Devlin.
Interestingly, Katie’s emotion was on the order of “You go, girl!” Seemed like good advice, so that was the one she chose to follow.
Isobel returned her attention to Devlin. “I’d never think to argue with the captain on his own boat.”
“Someone trained you right, Belle.”
“My mama done brought me up right proper, Captain Beast,” she gave it all the twang she could muster.
“I dunno ’bout that. Deep-fried shepherd’s pie, really?” His laugh was surprisingly soft. A warm chuckle that made her feel included rather than seventh wheel to her team of friends.
There was a proximity gone bad. As a team, they’d taken out a Mexican drug lord, rescued an ambassador from incarceration in the Congo, and stymied an attack on international undersea cables. As their latest mission into Indonesia had proven, the team had become a powerful, cohesive unit that could indeed find creative solutions not available to any ungifted group.
The problem was that they were also her circle of friends. There was no question that every last one of them saw her as Isobel, not as the Hollywood star. But they also saw her as fragile and in desperate need of protection from the outside world.
“Why do couples always think being single means there’s something wrong with you?”
Again that chuckle, “Damned if I know, Belle, but they sure as hell do, don’t they? Last buddy who tried to ‘fix’ me might have caught my fist with his face. Like tying himself down with a built, low-life bitch made him somehow better than he’d never really been.”
“Then why were you friends?”
“Did I say friends? Buddy, which is a long way from friend. He was good with engines, at least until he started preaching from the holy-shit sanctity of the couple choir.”
“You don’t think much of marriage?” She tried to feel if he was serious or just yanking her chain, but there was nothing there to feel.
“Do you?” His face said he was serious.
She thought about her friends back on the houseboat. They weren’t just couples; they were life partners. Even without the gifts that had brought them together, they made authentic couples. She’d felt their breathtaking connections at two weddings and an engagement party. There was no doubting the depth and truth of those emotions.
Devlin eased them up to a dock without her noticing. With the smoothness of long experience, he had the boat tied up and the sail down without her thinking to lift a finger.
What were the depth and truth of Devlin’s emotions?
“They’ll recognize me.”
“Screw ’em!” Devlin had no problem taking someone down if they got obnoxious.
“I find that an acceptable approach,” Isobel clambered out of the boat. Except she didn’t clamber, she glided with a light step.
“You’re trained.”
“It’s called being an actress.”
He grabbed her wrist to inspect her hand for calluses, but she snapped it free with an easy twist. He caught the instinctive punch from her other fist, only inches from his solar plexus. Trained in more than acting.
“I’m sorry. You just surprised me,” Isobel eased back.
He let go of her carefully. “Remind me to wake you from a safe distance.”
“I’ve never taken down a man I was sleeping with.”
Devlin really didn’t need that image after a long day with her and went for the distraction of food.
“They’ve got nice sit-down service inside, or fish and chips out here on the barge.” Ivar’s dock was attached to an old barge covered with picnic tables. The restaurant and outdoor service sat on the shore across the gangway.
“Fish and chips.”
“My kind of woman. They’ve also got fried clams, salmon—”
“Fish and chips. Chowder. Lemonade if they have it.” She glanced around and pointed at the table in the corner that overlooked the water. “I’ll be there.”
“You be okay on your own?”
“I’m a big girl, Devlin. I can hold down a table on my own for a few minutes. Lots of people around.” Yet, even as she crossed to the table, she was accosted for a selfie.
He was amused to notice that, despite the exhausting day, her smile appeared genuine for the photo.
By the time he was back with the tray of food, she’d reached the far corner of the barge and was staring distractedly down the lake. Her smile was different than the million-watters she’d flashed earlier. This was about her and her alone. It took her from Hollywood stunner to drop-dead beautiful. Gorgeous was too rough a word for such a look.
“Hey, Belle,” he called softly to warn her of his approach.
“Hey, Beast.” That happy smile didn’t fade as he set down the tray and they began divvying out all the little paper trays and cups of food.
“Looking pretty damn pleased there, Belle.”
“Do you know the last time I sat completely alone somewhere and just watched the sunset?”
“No,” he burned his fingers on a piece of fish, but didn’t really care as he dredged it in tartar sauce.
“Neither do I.” Her tone was more wistful than sad. Isobel might have an angry temper, but sadness didn’t seem to be high on her list of emotions.
“This was a gift. Thank you.”
“Sure. By the way, you owe me twelve-fifty.”
It earned him the laugh he’d been looking for. “It seems like I left my purse at home when a dragon swept me away.”
“Seems like.” He looked down at the boat floating below them. “I’ll have to remember that she has superpowers.”
“Of course she does. She’s a dragon.”
…and the memory came back. At Merchants Cafe he’d asked Isobel about her superpowers.
She’d flinched.
Then his chair had shattered.
No, it had sounded as if it had shattered. Completely distracting him from Isobel’s reaction.
But his reaction hadn’t surprised Hannah, giving her plenty of warning to pull Isobel clear of the spilled drink.
And all of those odd noises distracting passers-by throughout the afternoon.
“Hey,” he aimed a French fry at Isobel. “What’s up with that shit Hannah does?”
And Isobel’s expression went perfectly neutral. “What shit?”
If he hadn’t just spent the entire day with her, watching that face, he’d have thought she truly didn’t understand. The casual tone, even mimicking his own cadence. The consummate actress had just slid into place. But because the woman he was getting to know wasn’t there anymore, it was a massive red flag.
Devlin waved his French fry at her in a way to say he wasn’t buying it for a second, then ate it.
“And I’m not buying that she had some weird audio broadcast device that I’ve never heard of, or you would have said that right away instead of going all actress-mask-blank on me.”
She waited a moment longer, then sighed.
Now came the evasion.
Chapter 9
“I’m not used to having people be able to read me so well.” And Isobel didn’t like it. Her emotional shield had
been built right along with her emotion-sensing ability. For survival. She’d practiced until she could layer any emotion on the outside, no matter what she was feeling inside. It was a very useful skill.
This time Devlin waved a chowder spoon at her in a circular motion to keep going.
“What do you feel—right now?” she asked.
“You’re evading the topic.”
“No, I’m asking seriously. What do you feel? Do you sense the people around you, and what they’re feeling?”
His narrow-eyed squint said the answer was no. Which still left him a complete puzzle to her.
That meant she’d have to explain. And when she explained, his reaction was going to be all too predictable: disgust or horror.
“Can’t we just leave it alone?”
He started to gesture again—
“Enough with the damn waving things at me.”
“Ah, that fine Latina temper raises its hoary head once more from the depths.”
“Go jump in a lake, Devlin Jones. Oh look, here’s one right here. Go!”
“I’ll give you three-to-two odds over the Kraken.”
She gave him the finger.
He laughed, but set aside his spoon, folding his hands on the table like a contrite schoolboy, one with really powerful hands. Only surprise had let her twist her wrist free from his earlier grip. The casual power he’d used to block one of her better punches at his solar plexus had been…humbling. She’d always thought she could take care of herself.
“I take it that your answer is we can’t just forget this.”
He started to shake his head, caught himself with a quick smile, and spoke, “That would be a no.”
“Have you ever met someone with special abilities?”
“Well, there was this girl back in high school who was so double-jointed that she—”
“Please don’t finish that sentence.”
“You asked,” he began eating again.
“Damn it, Devlin, I don’t want to spoil this. I was enjoying myself.”
“Me, too. You’re a very enjoyable woman to be around when you’re not being pissy.”
“When I’m not…” Isobel stopped before the words strangled her. “You’re the one who’s making me that way. You’re just trying to make me crazy.”
“What are you talking about?”
She waved her hand up and down between them like a mime feeling a wall. “I can’t feel you.”
“We aren’t touching.”
“Not what I mean. I mean that I can’t feel your emotions.”
“And you can feel others’?”
With no way out of it, she nodded. “Always.”
“Huh,” he took another bite of fish before responding. “So you can sense anyone’s feelings?”
“Whenever I want to. Except for you.”
“And Hannah can project sounds. What about the others?”
She could only stare at him.
“Pretty damned obvious once I spotted it. That Ricardo guy, your brother, arguing with the redhead in the bathroom. Never said a word out loud, but she was definitely going after him in some way I couldn’t hear.”
“They’re telepathic. Only with each other.” And she still couldn’t read his reaction. It certainly wasn’t any of the ones that she’d expected.
“The others?” Because it explained a whole lot of the dynamics Devlin had been seeing, if they were all gifted. He tried not to think of how impossible that was.
“Jesse is a sound amplifier for his wife. Hannah can only make little sounds.”
“What? Together they can make sonic booms?”
Her steady stare stated that as fact.
“Shit! And the last two?” The big black guy and the cute English chick.
“He can see distant places without going there himself. She can feel where a person has been. Four are former military, one is a paramedic, and Katie is a highly-trained wilderness tracker.”
“What about Jennie?”
“She’s a friend from college.”
Devlin liked that bit of loyalty. “What hold does that redhead have on you?”
“Michelle was my roommate all through college. It was ten more years before she discovered her gift and saved my brother’s life with it.”
“Okay.” He didn’t have any brothers or sisters, but he’d bet that connection ran deep for someone like Isobel. He’d have to cut Michelle more slack in the future. Kind of explained why she was so protective of Isobel too.
“Okay?”
“What—you were expecting me to freak out?”
At her cautious nod, he could only smile.
“I’ve seen plenty of strange shit in this world. The way I figure it, until someone proves that there isn’t a dragon flying around, why not? So you really can feel others’ emotions? What’s that like?”
“It’s…like a window. I can see what someone’s really like. Which has been very useful in my career. I avoided the whole casting couch creep show, because I could sense it long before it got that far.”
“Show me.”
“I’m not a circus act,” she snarled just as nasty as a lion pissed at the guy with the chair. Hard to blame her.
Devlin shook his head. “Not asking you to be. You’re just stretching my potential belief in the possibility of real dragons pretty far. If not for Hannah cracking my chair to distract me from asking about your superpowers, I’d probably have long since dismissed it, and you.”
Isobel sighed again, but that sharp mind of hers didn’t take long to reach the decision.
Even though he was watching her closely, he couldn’t see any shift or change.
“There’s a man behind me. Very guilty. Affair kind of guilt with lust and a need to hide mixed in. The woman with him is very pleased.”
“Classic gold-digger type,” he looked over her shoulder. They weren’t age split, guy seeking bimbette, but she was very well tended.
“She’s also disappointed.”
“To be eating fried fish out on a barge because he’s afraid of being seen with her.”
Isobel’s shrug was expressive. “A young couple, somewhere off to my right. The fear is pretty high, but the anticipation is higher.”
“Necking. Two women. Got their hands all over each other.”
“They haven’t had sex yet, but will tonight unless something goes wrong. Both young enough to be incredibly worried about it. Maybe it’s their first time being ‘out’ with another woman. And yes, I knew they were women.”
“That’s a slick trick, Belle.” He’d never have believed it if her descriptions hadn’t been so perfect. And two women, two men, what did he care? The ones who shared his bed had breasts and no dangling paraphernalia between their legs. Someone had other choices? No skin off his back, though he’d never understood why a guy would want anything else than a woman.
“Slick maybe, but I can’t read you at all. You could be a serial killer and I couldn’t tell.”
“Serial sailor, never happier than when I’m on a boat. Can’t say as I much kill things outside the bug category.” It was a relief that Isobel couldn’t read him. Those teenagers definitely had the right idea. Right now, he was thinking about how he could get her the couple hundred feet across the cut to his place.
“What are you looking at over there?” She turned to look toward his place. Woman didn’t miss much whether or not she could feel him.
He pointed. “See the two big sailboats in front of the brown house? Third slip is mine. I have the dock-level apartment.”
She studied him over the last of her chocolate chip cookie.
“The answer’s no,” he just wanted to be clear on that. Now that he’d had a moment to think about it, it was definitely no.
Isobel arched one of those eyebrows at him.
“I’m not interested in being the plaything for you doing a little slumming while you happen to be filming out of town.” Which made him an idiot. She had the best body of any actress
he would’ve ever been with. And he liked her, which would be an unusual bonus.
“I don’t do slumming, Devlin. I choose lovers, and I don’t do so often. So don’t get your hopes up.”
And why did he find that disappointing to more than just his libido?
“Yet,” she dazzled him with that killer smile that was all her and no actress—then the damn woman stole half of his as yet untouched cookie.
Chapter 10
“You like him, don’t you?” Michelle was the only one waiting for her, again. This time she was awake, sitting on the dock with her feet dangling in the water.
Devlin, being a wise man, had dropped Isobel off and departed with a wave but not a word. She tried to catch a glimpse of the boat’s name, but the stern sloped steeply and there wasn’t quite enough light to see. She still didn’t quite believe him about the boat’s name.
She sat on the dock beside Michelle, but only her toes reached the cool water. Again she envied her best friend for those mile-long legs.
“And you still can’t read him?”
“No. But he’s smart. He spotted Hannah running an auditory protection detail for me when I messed up.”
“Weird.”
“I know.”
“No,” Michelle wrapped a friendly arm around her waist. “It’s weird for you to mess up. Me, I’m always putting my foot in it, but not you. What’s up with that?”
She didn’t know.
Shadow Force: Psi had been a thing for less than a year. And even now it was only just starting to find its feet. She’d certainly never set out to be the team’s leader.
“How did I end up in charge of this motley crew anyway?”
“We had a secret vote. None of us wanted the job so we foisted it off on you.”
At this point Isobel wouldn’t be surprised.
“Man, you are in a weirdo headspace if you bought that line, Isobel. Of course you’re in charge. Do you think one of us goofballs would have a cat’s chance in a roomful of coyotes of pulling this off?”
“My brother—”
“Ricardo doesn’t speak enough to be in charge of anything except a combat unit. I love him to death, but I wouldn’t mind someone who spoke his thoughts at least on occasion. Thank God, he’s incredible at demonstrating how he feels about me. He’s really amazing in bed.”
At the Clearest Sensation Page 6
