To Touch a Thief (An Everly Gray Novella)

by Charles, L. j.

  Jayne spun to follow his gaze.

  Everly Gray stood at the bar.

  THREE

  Everly Gray

  I pushed open the door to my favorite restaurant, visions of cannoli swimming on my taste buds. I shot a quick glance over the tables and…oh, damn it. Way to mess up my dream of nibbling on the delectable dessert.

  Jayne Hunt stood and straightened her skirt, then stepped to the side, revealing Mitch. My Mitch. Guilt colored his expression, and her arrogant Jayne persona had seeped into the restaurant from every one of her pristine pores. It was enough to put me off cannoli for a long while.

  You will not touch her, Everly. You will not shake her hand, pretend to fall and latch onto her arm with your fingers, nor will you drag her kicking and screaming away from Mitch. She’s his sister.

  “Damn it all to blue bloody hell.”

  The bartender’s eyes twinkled. “Something I can help you with Ms. Everly?”

  “Um, maybe. How long have Mitch and his sister been here?”

  “’Bout forty-five minutes. She’s a looker, that one. Cold as ice, though.” He turned to grab a box from the shelf behind the bar. “Here’s your cannoli.”

  “Thanks. She’s not really cold, just alone.” I heaved a sigh. I really had to be nicer to Jayne. My fingers had brushed against her enough times in the past few months to pick up the insecurity that raged underneath her prissy attitude. And they’d showed me enough about her relationship with her parents that I understood where it came from. I hadn’t shared the images with Mitch. Too much like trespassing, especially since Jayne didn’t believe I had ESP fingertips. Sometimes she pretended to believe, but I figured it was only to pacify Mitch.

  Jayne moved away from their table, a few steps closer to me. She probably planned to sneak out the side door and avoid me, but it backfired. The shift in her location coincided perfectly with a brief lull in the restaurant din, making it possible for her words to carry in the fragrant air. “I’ll leave it to you to persuade Everly to do the right thing.”

  My heart stumbled, skipped a beat. I’d seen her arrest on the news, but knew it was bogus, because, seriously, Jayne? Was she trying to drag Mitch and me into her web of deceit?

  I focused on his mouth. “You owe me big for this one, Jayne.” At least I thought that was what he said. Damn, but this situation tempted me to chase after Jayne and touch her.

  The bartender nudged the white bakery box in my direction. “Go talk to your man. See what’s up.”

  “Yeah. Heading that way. Thanks for holding the cannoli for me.”

  I plastered a smile on my face and slalomed my way between tables until I reached Mitch.

  He scraped his chair back and then pulled me into a hug, being careful not to crush the box. “You got cannoli in there, Sunshine. I can smell it. So, that means we’re having dessert tonight, right?”

  I brushed my lips across his cheek. “It was supposed to be a surprise.” I sat, not trusting my legs to support me. “I didn’t know you were having dinner with Jayne.”

  “Neither did I. Last minute deal after I bailed her out of jail.” He didn’t look at me, not even a glance.

  My fingers itched to touch him.

  A server sidled over and handed me a napkin-wrapped roll of silverware and a menu. “Can I bring you something to drink?”

  I handed back the menu. “A glass of the house pinot noir, please. I’ll share his dinner.”

  The server headed for the bar, and Mitch slid his plate of sausage ragout toward me with a grin. “Pretty sure of yourself.”

  “Yup. What’d Jayne want?” I unwrapped my silverware and forked a bite of his favorite pasta dish into my mouth. Delectable spices held my complete attention, until he sidestepped the question.

  “Uh.” He stuffed a bite of sausage in his mouth.

  My stomach clenched. I put my fork down and reached for him, but he caught my wrist before my fingers made contact. “I want to tell you. Talk to you, but not here. Then you can touch me and check out the images. Okay?”

  A shiver rippled around my heart, but his voice was sincere and his gaze didn’t waver. “Yeah. Fine.” I tucked my trepidation aside and dug into the ragout. No point going toe-to-toe on an empty stomach with whatever trouble Jayne created. Especially since she was using Mitch as her spokesman.

  I curled my bare toes against the cold terra cotta tiles. I really had to buy a throw rug for in front of the kitchen sink or I’d develop a permanent crick in my feet. And I needed to stop ignoring Mitch’s plea that I help Jayne and give him a straight answer—even though he wasn’t going to like it.

  “I don’t do séances, Mitch. I mean, seriously, I don’t do séances.” I arranged the cannoli on a plate and put it on the kitchen table with a stack of napkins. Staring into his eyes, I tried to determine what he was really thinking, and damn if the usual chocolate brown shade hadn’t turned into the solid, dark variety. Not good.

  “It’s a fundraiser for cats, Sunshine. And your touch thing would give you an advantage.” He rubbed the back of my hand with gentle, soothing strokes.

  “No.” I pulled my hand away. “Yeesh. What could you possibly be thinking? I have enough trouble managing my life with the things my fingertips get into on an ordinary day. Why would I open myself to a séance? And a public one at that?”

  “Well…”

  I flipped my hair out of my face. “You’ve totally lost your mind if you think I’m going to start communing with the dead.”

  He paled. “You can’t really do that, right? Commune with the dead?”

  “Noo-ooo. Of course not. I cannot be-lieve you asked me that.” Drat. I was protesting too much, and still I couldn’t stop the words. “If I could chat up the dead, I’d be talking to my parents all the time. And you know that doesn’t happen.”

  I’d told him the truth and he must have believed me, because the tic in his jaw muscle stopped spasming. So why were the creepy-crawlies dancing over my skin?

  He pulled me down on his lap. “This is some kind of psychic fair to raise money for cats that need homes, El. No one thinks you’ll really be talking to dead people. Everyone who attends will know it’s a charity event, not a real séance.” He ran his hand around the back of his neck, a sure sign that he didn’t want to be having this conversation and was probably not telling me the whole truth.

  I licked a tasty bit of cannoli from my lips, my mind searching for a way to reason with Mitch.

  “The Mitch I know and love tries to keep me out of trouble. What’s with you and this cat thing? Do you even like cats? And Jayne was arrested. There’s something off about that whole thing. She’s not the type, and as soon as I get my fingers on her…”

  Mitch shifted in his chair, toyed with the cup of cinnamon coffee sitting in front of him. “Jayne—”

  Cold, hard fear knotted in my stomach. “Hates me. Hell, she’s probably setting me up to take the fall for her fake felony.”

  Mitch scrubbed his hands down his face, a pitiful attempt to hide the guilt.

  I jumped up. “She is. She’s setting me up. And you’re letting her? Helping her?”

  “She and Parker have set everyone up. They have some half-ass plan to identify the thief. My dumbass sister put her career on the line for this. She’s usually not this crazy stupid.”

  “You’re worried about her.” I stuffed half a cannoli in my mouth to keep from saying anything else. Jayne wasn’t my best topic for polite conversation.

  “Yeah. I’m worried. The séance is part of a psychic fair that will supposedly flush out the thieving bastard. And there was something about lusting after—”

  I laughed so hard, cannoli blew over the kitchen table. “You’re blushing. Your sister is old enough to have sex, you know.”

  He scowled.

  I did my best to ignore it. “I’m thinking you’d better start from the beginning. She invited you to dinner…”

  “Yeah. I’m a sucker for Italian. You know that.”
/>   “Uh-huh.”

  Mitch’s cell rang, cutting through our conversation. He raised his eyebrows at me, and when I nodded, answered the call.

  I ambled to the sink, filled the dishpan with soapy water, and did my best not to eavesdrop. Or maybe it was my best to eavesdrop.

  “Hey, Sis.” Mitch’s voice sounded over the running water. “Yeah. She’s washing dishes. Hang on.”

  I shut off the water, threw a glare at Mitch, and reached for a towel. “She hates me,” I mouthed to Mitch.

  When I reached for his cell phone, he tucked it behind his back. “Be nice,” he warned, then handed me the phone.

  “Hey, Jayne. How’re things?”

  I listened to her, barely hearing the words because I wanted to focus on her tone while she lied her way through a fake explanation of the situation. Kind of like subliminal listening, which gave me plenty of freedom to twist the dishtowel into a nice, snug rope that was perfect for snapping against Mitch’s delectable backside.

  He started to step out of the line of fire, then held his ground with hands on his hips and batted his eyelashes at me. I tucked the phone between my ear and shoulder, and then flicked his belly with a satisfying smack, grinned at my target, and went back to listening.

  “Un-huh. So, basically what you’re saying is that I’m the only crazy person you know. Just because I pick up stuff about people and things doesn’t mean I’m nutty enough to try and commune with the dead.”

  My voice had reached an uncomfortable decibel level, and Mitch snagged his phone from my hand. “She’ll do it, Jayne,” he said, wrapping his arm around me and nuzzling my neck. “Yeah. I’m sure. Later.”

  He clicked the phone off and tossed it on the counter, then turned me into his body and offered his hand for my touch. “I know you don’t want to do this, but you’re the only one with enough experience to pull it off.”

  My fingertips touched his skin, and images flooded my mind from his dinner with Jayne. I plopped down in the nearest chair. “Okay I get it, but I want to hear the details from you.”

  He backed up to the counter and hiked himself up. Strategic advantage maybe. Or not. His grin showed off the dimple in his cheek, the one that made my knees weak. My crossed arms and failed attempt at a steely expression didn’t seem to intimidate him in the least.

  “Sorry. I am taking this seriously. It’s just that—”

  I interrupted him. “You know I’m a marshmallow.”

  “No. I know you’ll want to sink your teeth into this one.”

  “Oh?” My curiosity sprang to life, tantalizing and tingly. I was born with a case of stubborn curiosity that got me into trouble on a regular basis. And it looked like Jayne’s request might be more fun than I originally thought. I banished the hope. This was Jayne, after all.

  Mitch shrugged. “That’s for her to tell you. But trust me. You want to do this.”

  “Nope. Don’t want to do it. I will, but nothing short of murder would make me want to…” I stopped short. “Wait a sec. Is there a homicide involved? That wasn’t in the images I picked up when I touched you.”

  He slid off the counter and crossed to me, his stocking feet making wispy sounds against the tile floor. “No, Sunshine. I’ve given up finding bodies and hope to hell you have too. I’m planning to stick with photography. Less mess.”

  “A girl can hope.”

  He opened his mouth, and I quickly covered his lips with my hand. “My bad. It isn’t that I’m in favor of murder, but I do like to turn my fingers loose on unsuspecting killers.”

  After planting a soft kiss against my palm, he moved my hand aside. “So Chief Hayes mentioned last time I saw him. There’s some potential criminal activity here, but not of the fatal variety.”

  A sigh built from deep in my chest, and I blew it out with a whoosh. “Give me the details. Maybe it’s time for me to touch something criminally interesting that doesn’t involve a DB.”

  “Jayne can fill you in on the basics, but probably can’t say much about specifics. Forensic accountants have the same confidentiality issues that you do with your personal coaching gig.”

  Curiosity and anticipation took over my brain. “You’re right. I want to do this. It’ll be a challenge to work around Jayne and figure out what’s going on. When’s the séance scheduled?”

  “Don’t know. Soon, I think. But there’s more.”

  He ducked his head, and for a minute I caught a glimpse of what he was like as a little boy. Cute, but unnerving.

  “Hmm. So, spill.”

  “Uh, the guy Jayne is lusting after…”

  I nodded, then filled the empty space created by Mitch’s sudden silence. “Considering her personality, I can see that lust would be a rare occurrence. But why is this important?”

  Mitch ran both hands through his hair, leaving it a tousled mess. No way could I resist following the track of his fingers with my own. The silky curls were slick and smooth against my palm. Images danced across my internal monitor, but I ignored them in favor of enjoying the sensation of touching him. I so loved this man. Even if he did have a wacky sister.

  “Parker Steele.” Mitch’s words were strangled, barely coherent.

  “The CEO of Steele Management? That Parker Steele? He and Jayne are an item? Well, damn.”

  Mitch jerked away from my touch. “You know Steele?”

  “Yes, but not well. Our parents were friends. Parker and I were thrown together when my parents dragged me along to various fundraisers, and I spent a few weeks one summer at Parker’s house.”

  I snagged the nearest chair with my foot, pulled it away from the table, and sat. “But wait. Prim, proper, never wrinkled Jayne is involved with Parker? Are you sure about that? And she’s in lust? You know, Mitch, the tabloids haven’t shown him with a woman, not ever. I figured he was probably gay.”

  FOUR

  Jayne Hunt and Parker Steele

  The insistent ringing of the phone greeted Jayne as she strolled into her office at Steele Management. She successfully juggled the handset and her briefcase while shrugging out of her black trench coat. “Yes, Parker?”

  The rrrriikk, squeak of his chair sounded from down the hall—a sure sign he’d leaned too far back and probably had an annoyingly smug expression on his face. She’d almost be willing to bet on it, considering their game of who-gets-to-work-first.

  “My office, when you can grab a minute.”

  Oh, yeah. Definitely smug. Laughter lingered behind his words.

  Try as she might, Jayne hadn’t once beat Parker into work. It annoyed her to no end. “Five minutes,” she said into the receiver and disconnected.

  She crept down the hall on tiptoes and peeked around his office door. A slow smile spread over his generous lips—the only soft thing about him. He glanced up to find her standing in front of him and checked his watch. “Two minutes. I’m impressed.”

  Jayne slid into a chair across from him, her iPad open, fingers poised over the keypad. “Good morning.”

  “Close the damn iPad and talk to me.”

  She flipped the faux leather cover over the keypad. “No definite leads yet. The fundraiser is our best bet.”

  “Did you secure that woman to lead the séance?”

  “Yes. Her name is Everly Gray and—”

  “Everly? I haven’t heard that name since I was a kid.”

  Irritation skittered along Jayne’s nerves, and she jumped up, pacing the area in front of Parker’s desk. She’d mentioned a stupid, unusual name, and he was reacting like a delinquent schoolboy. “You know Everly Gray?” She barely kept her tone even.

  Parker picked up a pencil, twirled it through his fingers. “Grew up with her, in a way. Figures she’d be into séances. Always was a strange kid. And all that red hair…”

  “Focus, and preferably not on Ms. Gray.”

  He dropped the pencil and captured her gaze, his silver-gray eyes turning the shimmering color of a rainy day. In one swift move, he closed in on her, the he
at from his body making her heart ache with need. Damn, but her traitorous body reacted to this man so fast.

  “Are you jealous, Jayne?” The black of his pupils ate the silver of his gaze as it skimmed over her body, undressing her. He ran his finger along the edge of her pink lace camisole. “Nice. And just so there’s no mistake. You’re the one I want.”

  Heat rose in her cheeks, and she moistened her suddenly sensitive lips with the tip of her tongue.

  “Careful, or I’ll take that as an invitation.”

  She bit her tongue, and pulled a stack of envelopes from under the iPad. “The invitations. For your signature.” Her voice wobbled. She needed to put some space between them, and stepped away until the delicate skin on the back of her knees hit the sofa. The smooth leather was cool, inviting. She sucked in a breath. This was not the time to indulge in an office romp. Not until she completed the audit and the thief had been caught.

  Parker stepped back, leafing through the envelopes. “The séance should clear all of these donors.”

  “And if not?” she asked, perching on the edge of the sofa.

  “I trust we’ll find the bastard eventually, but I’d like to save us both some time and get this put to bed as quickly as possible.”

  Bed. She shook the thought from her brain and stood, brushing against him. “Parker?”

  “Um-hmm,” he murmured, his gaze lingering on the deep vee of her jacket.

  She’d spent ten minutes in front of the bathroom mirror getting exactly one half inch of the pink lace to show. It was paying off.

  The telltale warmth of desire crept into her cheeks for a second time as the tip of his finger dipped into the vee. She fought the need to move into his touch and focused on her precarious position with law enforcement. “How much of our plan do you want me to share with Everly?”

  His eyes came up to meet her gaze. “None of it. The less she knows, the less chance for mistakes.”

  “You’re betting a lot on her psychic talent,” Jayne said, a wry skepticism in both her tone and her expression.