by Marie Harte
She’d grown more beautiful, were that possible, in the years since he’d last seen her. At fifteen, she’d been sweet, innocent and adorable. He’d been with her for two years and had seen her mature into a lovely young woman. On the outside, at least.
But now, ten years later, at twenty-seven, she was simply stunning. Those big blue eyes looked impossibly innocent in her heart-shaped face. Cropped black hair showed the fragile lines of her neck and chin. She was both lovely and vulnerable as her full lower lip quivered, and damn if he didn’t want to hug her tight and protect her from the world.
No, I’m not that stupid. Not again.
He took a few steps back, needing to maintain his distance. To come any closer might put Jurek and Max in real danger, since he felt hot enough to blast through the room—a loss of control he hadn’t experienced in ages. He could feel the energy building inside him, aching to be set free. His confusion and anger grew, and he worked to contain them. “What the hell, Jurek?”
Jurek glanced from J.D. to Remy and his eyes narrowed. “Ah. It’s her, isn’t it?”
J.D. glared at Max, then back at Remy again, unable to look away from her for long. What the hell was she doing here, in this office? Then he put the pieces together. Remy. Max’s IT rep. It fit all too well.
“Elizabeth Remington Sinclair.” Unable to stop himself, he approached her. “Do you know who she is?” he asked Max, his voice hoarse with contempt.
Jurek placed a hand on J.D.’s arm—to calm him or stop him, J.D. couldn’t say. He shrugged it off.
“Let him go, Jurek,” Remy said in a soft voice. So sweet sounding, yet so contemptuous underneath. She obviously knew Jurek.
J.D. cared less about their byplay than about the emotions passing over her traitorous face. He felt too much sensation, like a live wire exposed to the elements, as all the pain and fear and fury from that day so long ago raced back, sizzling in his blood.
“I know who she is,” Max answered quietly. “So does Jurek. The question is, who is she to you?” Max motioned subtly for Remy to stay still when she would have moved away.
J.D. saw the motion, and the room literally crackled. Blue sparks danced in the air.
Jurek calmly folded his arms and watched the scene unfold. J.D. had the insane urge to laugh. Nothing, not even Jurek’s normally easygoing computer whiz having a nervous breakdown, could shake his boss’s cool resolve.
“Let me tell you who she is.” He took a deep breath and strove for control. He moved another few steps back from her, glad when Max and Jurek finally showed some sense by stepping clear of them.
The last time he’d seen Remy, she’d been staring down at him through a wall of Plexiglas after literally setting him on fire. “She’s a liar, a user and an unfeeling snitch out for number one—herself,” he said concisely, not to be misunderstood. “She’s probably a plant for the ISPP. No doubt, right now she’s planning the capture of just about everyone working for you, Max.”
Love in Electric Blue
RetroCog: Excerpt
For more psychic romantic suspense, check out the PowerUp! series
“Enjoy your stay.” Lara nodded to the elderly couple and locked their credit card receipt in the old-fashioned register. The nine-room inn, once an infamous saloon and brothel, now boasted polished pinewood floors, comfortable southwestern décor intermixed with nineteenth-century antiques, and the modern conveniences of air-conditioning, spa bathrooms, and a state-of-the-art kitchen Lara used to its fullest. Nine rooms of rental bliss for those who wanted the real Southwestern atmosphere of a brothel done in tasteful hues and tacky tassels. Lara had loved the place the minute she’d laid eyes on it six months ago.
And if she had her way, she’d own it in a few short years.
She watched a couple people relax in the formal living room while their newest guests went upstairs. To both her relief and suspicion, the voice in her head remained quiet. So far, so good. That made two weeks of relative peace.
“Not bad,” Frank said from directly behind her, making her jump. He chuckled. “I am the king of stealth.”
“And a pain in my ass.” She grinned along with him. Lara didn’t take to people, but from day one, something between her and Frank had clicked. Before she could start a volley of verbal abuse that would be sure to take them past their daily insults into truly raunchy rhetoric, a man entered the inn.
Everything around Lara came to a complete halt.
Hello, handsome. About time you arrived.
Lara winced. Oh hell. The voice had returned with a vengeance.
“Honey, I have this one.” Frank preened as he slicked back his shoulder-length dark hair, which emphasized his good looks.
Lara ignored the husky voice clucking in her mind. It really had been a stretch to think she could outrun her past. Especially with all the ghost stories in Brownville. Doing her best to compose herself, she donned the veil of normalcy she’d worked most her life to perfect and huffed, “No way he’s gay.”
“Sexuality has nothing to do with this. It’s all about charm. Just watch me work my magic.”
“Please. Even you can’t turn a straight man gay within five seconds of meeting him. You’re not that good.”
Frank snickered. “But I’d love to try. Come on, Lara, get your head out of the gutter. I’m not after sex.”
“Yet.”
He ignored her. “Ten bucks says I can finagle dinner with tall, dark, and handsome. A friendly face to show him around town; that’s all. Sex on the first date is too tacky, anyway. I’m not that easy.”
Yes, he was. Used to Frank’s amusing arrogance, Lara nodded. “You’re on.”
Frank approached the stranger with his typical swagger, one of youth and confidence that never failed to attract attention from both men and women, regardless of their orientation. With bright blue eyes, a trim frame, and a sunny disposition, Frank could charm the scales off a snake. In a town that welcomed temperamental artists of all sizes, shapes, and sexualities, her part-time coworker fit in perfectly. Frank Hanover — popular figure on the art scene and her right-hand man when it came to running the inn.
He rarely struck out when presented with a potential bedmate, and as Lara watched from her position behind a section of the inn’s original bar, she couldn’t help feeling a tingle of disappointment. The stranger took Frank’s hand in a firm grip and seemed to hold it a minute longer than he had to. Just more proof that all the good ones were taken.
She and Frank had the same taste in men. Tall, rugged, and intense. The stranger had shaggy brown hair flecked with gold and paired with light brown eyes that looked closer to... green when he turned his head and the light hit him just right. He had an arresting face, one more interesting than classically handsome. Intelligence shone in his eyes set beneath dark brows that angled in confusion at something Frank said.
Lara couldn’t help noticing the man’s broad shoulders even under the long tan field coat he wore. Oh, and what nice thighs he had. She felt like the big bad wolf angling for a tender morsel and chuckled at the image. Her inner voice chuckled with her, and that quickly, her amusement fled.
At the sound of her laughter, the man looked over Frank’s shoulder and met her gaze.
His eyes widened as if he recognized her in some way. But Lara would never forget a man like him. It wasn’t his looks so much as his presence. He screamed intensity just by standing there. Frank walked with him toward Lara, and she did her best not to smirk at her friend’s barely disguised disappointment.
The stranger looked even taller up close.
They stared at one another, but he didn’t speak. She added silent to her tall, dark, and handsome description.
“Welcome to the Lady Fine Inn.” She wished she didn’t sound so breathless. “I’m Lara, the manager, and I see you already met Frank.”
“I just got into town. Do you have any rooms available?” His voice rushed over her like liquid heat, and to her embarrassment, Lara felt her body respond
.
RetroCog
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