by Susan Shay
“Better take it easy on that. Even homemade wine can make you drunk, and that’s the first step to alcoholism,” Vernon murmured in his gravelly voice.
What was wrong with the man? Had his mother imbibed when she was pregnant with him and killed too many of his brain cells? Or maybe she’d been married to an alcoholic, so she’d impressed the need for sobriety on him as a young child. Whatever the reason, he certainly looked at the world differently than most. And diametrically opposed to the way Miriam wanted to see it.
“Well, this will be my last,” she said, trying to explain without saying too much. “I’m leaving right after we’re through eating.”
Vernon stared at her, his drooping eyes wrinkling all around. “Where’re you going?”
Not ready to tell anyone, Miriam tilted her head. “Oh, I’ve got a date, sort of. Just a friend thing, you know.”
Miss Marcie nodded sharply. “Well, you’d better watch it, missy. Single young women, especially widows and divorcees, are targets for men. They all think you’re starved for sex.” On the last word, she dropped her voice to a whisper.
Trying not to laugh, Miriam swallowed hard. “Oh, Miss Marcie, I don’t think I have to worry—”
“Marcie is giving you some good advice. Listen to her.”
Vernon was using his holy voice again, so rather than argue or explain, Miriam simply nodded. “All right, I will. Thank you, Miss Marcie.”
Cassie strained to listen past Mack’s story about a Thanksgiving food fight at his school one year so she could tell why Miriam was frowning, but it was impossible. Miriam’s first Thanksgiving without Steve had to be hard. If only she could have sat near her, Cassie knew she could have kept Miriam smiling more than she had.
When Miriam finally quit moving her dessert around her plate and set down her fork, she caught Cassie with her gaze. “Can I see you in the kitchen for a moment?”
Nodding, Cassie got up and followed her friend into the still warm kitchen.
Once they were there, Miriam hesitated as if she didn’t know what to say. “I, uh, have to meet someone in a few moments. Would you mind doing the dishes if I can get Keegan to help you?”
Cassie tried to think of a way to protect herself from the man who’d started taking up too much time in her thoughts. “I don’t mind doing them at all. Keegan doesn’t have to help.”
Miriam laughed. “Right. And if you do them alone, you might be finished in time for Christmas. Then again, you might not. Besides, I don’t think Keegan would mind. He never did when we were kids.”
“You don’t think Keegan would mind what?” he asked from the door.
Eyes wide, Miriam took an audible breath. “Helping Cassie with the dishes. I...have somewhere I have to be.”
His smile was slow, starting from slightly pursed lips, then spreading across his face until even his eyes were grinning. “No, ma’am. If this means you’re going to start dating someone, I don’t mind helping with the dishes at all.”
“Good. Thanks.” Without meeting Cassie’s gaze, Miriam hurried across the room, picked up her purse, and headed out the door.
Keegan’s smile faded as he lifted one eyebrow. “She’s sure in a hurry. Who’s she going to meet?”
Cassie shook her head as her stomach knotted with worry. “I have no idea. I thought maybe you’d know.”
“Nope. I’m only her brother. Most of the time lately, she doesn’t tell me any more than necessary.” He met her look then, letting his warm gaze slide slowly down her body, as he filled her with heat. “I didn’t get a chance to mention earlier that you look hot today. I like you in red.”
She glanced at her shirt and matching trousers, made in varying shades of rust. “Thank you. You look pretty cool yourself.” At least the words hadn’t stuck in her throat, as she’d been afraid they might.
“Of course, by the time we’re finished sloshing sudsy water over all those dishes, we might have to remove some of our fine rags.” He teasingly wagged his eyebrows. “Ever tried skinny scrubbing? Washing the dishes...stark?”
After forcing air into her lungs, she checked Keegan’s eyes to see if he was teasing. Like a moth to a flame, with the only possible outcome disaster, he drew her. Maybe she shouldn’t have agreed to stay and help him. Not only did she shrink from what she would learn about him if they had an intimate interlude, but from all indication, he would probably use their time together as part of his next debunking article.
How sad to lose her heart and her anonymity because she wasn’t strong enough to keep her distance.
She forced a light tone. “There’s not a lot of sudsy water sloshing going on when you have two professional-sized dishwashers in a kitchen. All we have to do is load them and turn them on.” His mouth flattened with disappointment as she pointed toward the matching appliances. “But you never know. We might have to slosh sudsy water on a few pots and pans.”
One corner of his mouth lifted. “Think Mack will let us finish the open bottle of wine while we slave away?
“He’s awfully sweet. It wouldn’t surprise me if he left us that bottle and the unopened one as well.”
Just then, the door swung open and Mack ambled into the room. “Can I trust you two with this wine? I would like my bottles back, but I’d really appreciate it if you saw to the rest.”
A startled look flashed across Keegan’s face, but was quickly replaced with a lifted brow. “We’ll do our duty, sir.”
Mack set the bottles on the island, then rested a hand on Keegan’s shoulder. “I thought I could count on you.” His eyes glittering, he stroked her cheek with his free hand, and she knew he was close to tears.
But the worst part was, she knew why. She reminded him of his daughter who’d died, even though she looked nothing like the woman, and their ages had been vastly different.
The kitchen erupted as the others brought in dirty dishes and leftover food, while Mack slipped out the door. Keegan was quiet as Miss Marcie bullied and bossed the others for a few moments, then he turned toward the sink with a brush against her hip. “So, how’d you do that?” he murmured.
Unsure what he was talking about, she frowned. “Excuse me?”
His jaw hardened as he stared out the window into the alley, as if he was enjoying the waning light. “You and Mack set that up so you could get to me, didn’t you? What was the signal? Hell, the timing was too perfect for it to have been dumb luck.”
“You’re asking if I signaled him to leave us the wine—both bottles—just so I could convince you of...what? That I can read minds? Divine the future?” Disappointment weighed her heart, making it ache. “I don’t do that, Keegan.”
Forgetting all pretense of watching out the window, he glared at her. “Then how did you know what he’d do?”
Maybe this was a time when she could help him learn something about her world. Or at least a little about being open to new ideas. “I didn’t know. You did. Remember?”
He looked stunned. “Me? What are you talking about? I just thought we might talk him out of the opened wine. I didn’t know he was going to leave any—or that he would leave the full bottle.”
“It’s hard to understand, but everyone has a little bit of psychic ability,” she answered gently. “You’ve heard of a mother who somehow knows when her child is lost, or a husband who suddenly knows his wife has been hurt or killed. Natural psychic ability. Everyone has it.”
Skepticism burned in his face, then he laughed. “And I suppose you’ll to tell me next that when you know a place where you’ve never been before, it’s natural psychic ability, too?”
“Deja vu has been explained as psychic ability at times, but...” She shrugged, unable to explain something she hadn’t looked into and had little interest in.
“Well, are you two going to get these dishes washed, or just wait for the food to dry up and blow off?” Miss Marcie crabbed from just behind them.
Keegan slowly turned to look at the old woman. Mischief sparkling in his eyes, he
relaxed against the cabinet next to the sink and crossed his ankles as if he was going to stay there awhile. “Well, Miss Marcie, I was waiting for you to leave before I got started. When I was at my folks’ cult, I found out the only spiritual way to do dishes is in the nude, and I didn’t want to embarrass you. But if you don’t mind...” As he talked, he slipped off his jacket, tossed it on the back of a nearby chair, then unbuttoned his cuffs and started on the front of his shirt.
At Miss Ruthy’s chuckle, Miss Marcie frowned harder than ever. “You know, Keegan, I don’t believe you’ll ever grow up.” With a sniff she turned on her heel, stomped over to Miss Ruthy, and shoved her out the door.
Soon Al and Clell, the sweet old men who often played chess at the store, wandered in to express their appreciation for the meal. Then Vernon stumped in. “I wanted to thank you for blessing us with that dinner. Good evening, y’all.”
“The leftovers will be here in the fridge, if you want anything later,” Cassie called after him. “Remind Mack, okay?”
With a nod, Vernon pushed out the door. She and Keegan were alone, and she was just a bit nervous. If she hadn’t told him about that day in the cave, she could relax. But now she couldn’t even remember exactly what she’d said. It had been as if she was watching the memory, and her mouth had gone on automatic pilot.
After a moment, he opened a cabinet door and pulled out a pair of glasses with hand-painted flowers on them, then poured them both some wine and handed her one. “Here’s to new friends and old traditions,” he said gravely.
“If that stuff you told Miss Marcie is an old tradition in your family, then I’ll just toast new friends.” She hoped he didn’t think she was flirting. Because she wasn’t. Really.
He drank deeply of the wine. “I was just trying to find a way to keep her from staying so she could tell us how to do this. You know Miss Marcie. She thinks the earth wouldn’t know which way to turn if she wasn’t here to give it directions.”
She took a small sip, then setting the glass next to the sink, opened the first dishwasher. “So you really have no idea who your sister’s new friend is?”
“No. I was hoping you’d know.” He motioned toward her glass, then took a drink from his. “What’s wrong? Don’t you like Mack’s wine?”
Feeling her cheeks tingle as blood rushed to them, she glanced at him, then quickly away. “I really don’t drink very often, so I thought I should take it easy. I wouldn’t want to drink too much and act like a fool.”
All teasing left his face as sincerity radiated through. “Listen, you don’t have to worry about acting like a fool. When you’re with me, you’re safe.”
He turned his back to pick up a stack of plates and quietly murmured, “As safe as you want to be.”
For the first time in her memory, she believed she really was safe—or as safe as possible with another human being in the room. Not knowing and not caring how long that secure feeling would last, she picked up her glass and drained the wine.
Trust. Something she rarely gave, but for today, for this moment, she would believe in him. He poured the rest of the wine into her glass, then opened the other bottle and filled his. She couldn’t stop the slow smile that pulled at her lips while she lifted her gaze to watch him. The muscles playing beneath his still-crisp shirt mesmerized her. Unable to turn away, she forced herself to pick up her glass and take another sip. Although she hated to stop watching him, she had to start filling the dishwasher. If they didn’t begin, they truly wouldn’t finish.
Before long both machines were running and the countertops cleared. He cocked an eyebrow. “Well, sugar, it looks as if there won’t be any skinny scrubbing today. Sucks, doesn’t it?”
“We still have this half-bottle of wine to finish.” Surprised at her own boldness, she swallowed hard and wished her pounding heart would slow.
“Why don’t we take it into the community room?”
Relieved by his eager suggestion, she nodded as he picked up his glass. Catching the bottle in his other hand, he followed her into the now empty big room. Realizing that if she sat on the couch, he would feel obliged to sit near her, she took one of the arm chairs.
With a knowing smile, he sat in the matching chair. “So, Cassie, where is Rainbow Falls?”
Her heart sank as she realized he’d paid close attention to the story of her memory—and now wanted her to continue. Because he wanted to know more about her, or to trap her? She took a fortifying breath, then quietly blew it out. “Near my hometown of Shawnee Mission, Kansas.”
As if they were new friends, just getting to know one another, he nodded. “Did you enjoy growing up there?”
She shrugged. “I suppose so. Did you enjoy growing up here in Stone Hill?”
Tipping back his head, he laughed as if she’d told a joke.
The room dimmed as her fingers and toes tingled, then her heart slowed to a lethargic beat. She was certain he was speaking, but she couldn’t see his mouth for the dark fog, and she couldn’t hear his words for the buzzing in her ears.
Then a voice came to her as clearly as if it had spoken there in the room. Dammit! Help me. Someone, help me! Please.
Chapter Eight
“I think I’ve had enough to drink.” Cassie’s words echoed back to her through the mist. She closed her eyes and took a long breath, hoping the air would clear so she could again see the light she knew must be in the room.
“My God, Cassie. Are you going to be sick?” Keegan’s unexpected touch on her hand sent an explosion through her mind, as if someone popped an enormous flashbulb in her face. Although she jerked away from his touch, she still knew what was on his mind. He wanted her...physically.
She knew by the unexpected feeling between her legs, the throbbing, hardening, and aching of a body part that women didn’t possess. She knew by her craving to close her lips over his, then slide her tongue into his mouth and taste him. She knew by her yearning to glide her arms slowly around him, fit her hands to his hips and pull him so close their fit was tight and—
After forcing herself upright in the chair, she pushed to her feet. How could she sit safely with Keegan, voyeuristically enjoying his emotions, when someone’s life was in danger? What kind of person was she?
He set both their glasses next to the bottle on the table. “Are you going to be sick?”
Yes, I’m sick. Sick of the world and its atrocities. Sick of seeing the ugly little secrets in other people’s minds. Sick of wondering why so little in this world is good. Sick to death of knowing the things I know, not being able to do anything to change them, fix them, make them right. And I’m damned sick of this darkness all around me.
But instead of answering, she bit her lip. She’d make it bleed before she’d tell him more about her gift. She couldn’t tell him what she’d heard when all he wanted was to profit by exposing her weakness to the world, then call her a fraud.
He was the one person she knew who was strong enough, yet sensitive enough, to actually be some help, and he was off limits. Untouchable. Unreachable.
Clenching her teeth, she murmured, “I’ll be fine.”
“At least let me walk you home.” With a concerned frown, he moved close to her. Afraid he would touch her again, she sidled away.
He could think what he wanted about her, but he couldn’t lay a hand on her again. Not tonight. Firming her jaw, she started for the door with him close behind. When he stopped to turn off the lights and lock the door, she kept going, hoping he would get the idea that she didn’t want him around. She couldn’t want him to walk with her through the brisk fall air to the main part of the building. Couldn’t want him to climb the stairs with her, unlock her door for her, kiss her goodnight.
She couldn’t—wouldn’t—want it. But a still small voice buried deep in her heart kept pleading, Couldn’t I be normal for just this one night?
Keegan glanced after Cassie as she rushed toward the main building. Hell, she wasn’t the first person to be nauseated from having too m
uch wine. If she’d told him she wasn’t used to drinking, he wouldn’t have encouraged her to keep up with him. So why was she practically running away?
Inwardly he groaned as he realized that she was probably going to vomit. Was she embarrassed to puke in front of him? As if he hadn’t blown chow plenty of times in his illustrious life? It wasn’t the nicest way to start a relationship, but it had happened to him before. Shoe splatter was anything but pleasant, but at least it was washable.
He jogged a few steps to catch up. “Slow down, Cassie. You’ll feel better.”
The look that flashed across her face was more than surprise, it ranked right up there with astonished. What kind of guys had she known in the past, if they’d hit the road when she wasn’t feeling well? Mentally, he shrugged. No way he was going to bail. He was a better man than that.
Yeah, he was better than that, wasn’t he? He’d hold her head while she tossed her cookies, then take notes to use against her in case she screwed up with her story about being a psychic. So why did he feel like such a jerk? What was different this time? Nothing! He’d always lived by the three C’s when doing an investigation—civility, consideration, and courtesy.
He’d never hidden from Cassie what he did for a living or the fact that he was good at it. So why did he feel this time as if he was the bad guy? Because the people he’d investigated had never before been women. And they’d never before been as sexy as hell. And they’d never before touched him deep down inside, where over the years, practically nothing survived.
After entering the house, he followed her to the stairs, where she turned to look at him. “I’ll be fine. Goodnight.”
“My Aunt Hattie taught me a long time ago that a gentleman sees a lady to her door. Not to the street in front of the house or the sidewalk or even to the bottom of the stairs. She had a very strict rule that I had to go all the way...to the door, that is.” He gave her his easiest smile, but from the unchanging look on her face, it had no effect on her.
She lifted her hand, he thought to touch him, but instead she wavered a moment, then gripped the banister. “I honestly don’t need you—”
