by Meg Allison
“My mother freaked out, naturally. Dad seemed to be more confused than anything. But Mom dealt with it head-on. She tried school psychiatrists; the local Catholic priest; even some herbalist crap. When that all failed, she reverted to Shinto and brought in the big guns.”
“How old were you?”
“Six? Seven? I’m not exactly sure.”
“It must have been terrifying.”
“A little, yes. Those purification rituals could be scary as hell to a little kid—for years the sound of rushing water sent me into panic mode.” He laughed. “But it worked. Likely because of the intense fear it all evoked. I managed to block the visions and most of the automatic drawings. Those I couldn’t block, I quickly learned to hide. I figured what my mother didn’t know wouldn’t turn my life upside down.”
“Where was your father in all this?”
He looked away then, unable to bear the sympathy in her green eyes. “He pretty much stayed out of the way and let her do what she wanted. I guess Dad figured whatever didn’t kill me would make me stronger. Demented didn’t bother him.”
“Maybe he just wasn’t sure what to do,” she offered. Anger welled up inside him. How dare she defend the man? She hadn’t been there, couldn’t possibly know what it had been like.
Nathan took a deep breath and slowly released it. No, she couldn’t really understand. She’d grown up in a loud and large but normal family. He shouldn’t get mad at her for trying to help, for being sympathetic.
“Hey, they’re getting ready to close,” she interjected. He glanced around the room, noting one busboy sweeping up while another hovered nearby, patiently waiting for them to vacate the table.
Nathan glanced at his watch and grimaced. “Damn, I’m sorry, Samantha. I didn’t realize how late it was.”
“Neither did I,” she replied with a small smile. “Must be the good company and interesting conversation.”
He studied her face for a long moment, amazed at the way she looked at him. What did the light in those eyes mean? The question that lingered there unspoken? He realized he didn’t want the night to end. He wanted to keep her nearby and continue their banter, including the digs and light-hearted arguing. It made him feel alive. Vibrant. Happy. He hadn’t felt any of that in a very long time.
“The company makes all the difference,” he agreed and waved for the waiter. “Could we get the check, please?”
“No need, sir,” the man said. “Detective Bays took care of everything when he left earlier.”
Surprise and annoyance followed in close succession. “Thank you,” he responded, then looked at Samantha. “He didn’t have to do that. Or is it compensation for the interrogation?”
Her eyes narrowed as the warmth there frosted over. Damn. He’d said the wrong thing. Again. After a moment, she seemed to forgive him and a chuckle replaced the lecture he had thought was coming.
“If you think that was an interrogation, I hope you never meet my other brothers,” she told him. “You’d be confessing every sin you’ve ever committed and even those you just day-dreamed about.”
He frowned. “Priests?”
“No, they’re all cops, or used to be.”
“Tell me about them.”
“Well, of course you know Adam and Liam. Eric is the second oldest—he runs his own personal security company, but he used to be on the police force in Atlanta, narcotics division. Dylan is a sheriff in a small town in West Virginia and Ted, the youngest, is a private investigator. He used to work for Savannah PD.”
“Wow, so if I get a parking ticket you’d be the best friend to have, huh?”
She smiled slightly and he was assured his latest blunder had been forgiven. She was a lot easier than any other woman he’d ever met. Then he looked into her eyes and forgot what he’d been about to say. His stomach clenched.
What kind of power did this woman have?
“Maybe we could stop somewhere for a drink,” she suggested. “We could talk some more.”
His face must have clearly shown his surprise because she immediately blushed. Would she blush like that if he kissed her? Touched her soft, bare skin? His gaze wandered to her cleavage and he couldn’t help but wonder if she was that same honey-freckled ivory from head to foot?
Nathan sat upright and shook his head, fighting to gain control of his senses. Making a pass at the sister of five cops—or former cops—was about as senseless as a man could get. Particularly when one of them half-suspected he might be in league with a serial killer.
He swallowed. “Sure, sounds good. Did you have someplace in mind?”
“Yes, actually, there’s a great place on River Street—The Blue Moon. They usually have good music and the crowd isn’t too young.”
“Too young?” He laughed. “I thought there was no such thing as too young. Kind of like being too rich or too skinny.”
“I mean most of the college crowd hang at the Goth and jazz bars downtown. I’d prefer to enjoy my drink without a chugging contest going on at the next table.”
“What? Aren’t us older guys allowed to chug a pint now and then?”
Her smile sent a jolt of heat through his veins. “Oh, yes, I can see why you and Liam are friends.”
“Oh, not Liam. He’s as straight arrow as they come.”
She snorted. “Um, sure, let’s go with that. But don’t try to lie to me, Nathan. I can spot a liar a mile away.”
Somehow, he believed her. “Don’t try to con me, Ms. Bays,” he teased anyway.
Then he narrowed his gaze at her, studying her features carefully. Soon he forgot all about their little game as very unfamiliar feelings began to churn in his gut. He wiped his mouth with the cloth napkin. When he looked up, she was staring. Her gaze jumped from his and she pushed her chair back.
“Well, let’s go,” she said. “One drink and then it’s home for me. I have an early day tomorrow.”
“Are you sure you want a drink?” he asked as he stood. Part of him hoped she’d change her mind while the other, more carnal side of him kicked him in the ass. Why the hell was he giving her the chance to back out?
She smiled and his pulse began to race again.
“Yes, I’m sure.”
* * ‡ * *
Chapter Three
Two hours later, he followed her directions through town. It had only been one drink but they both nursed them as if it might be their last. Something between them had changed. He wasn’t sure what it was, exactly, but knew it had something to do with his admissions about his so-called gift and hers regarding her dreams. Whatever the reason, the tension between them had thinned and somehow twisted into something with an edge of carnal. Now he didn’t want the evening to end, and he thought she felt the same way.
When they finally reached her house, his inner gentleman was going another round with the lusty bastard that wanted to get it on with the gorgeous redhead—consequences be damned. He clenched his jaw as he parked. By the time he got out of the car and walked around to her side, the leering jerk within was momentarily caged. Nathan found her waiting on the sidewalk.
“You’re not letting me show my best manners,” he chided softly.
“Oh?”
“I was going to open the car door for you.”
Realization swept across her pretty face. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m not used to chivalry. With my brothers, I’m lucky not to have doors slam in my face half the time.” Her laughter melted his last bit of resistance.
He took a step back. This would require hours of self-discipline to put the wall back up. He shouldn’t start thinking about her as anything other than a colleague or the sister of one of his best friends. He needed to get his peculiar gift under control before he could even think about starting a relationship with anyone.
But those eyes…those beautiful green eyes filled with laughter, filled with warmth, drew him onward. Every yearning love song he’d ever heard suddenly made perfect sense. Every jumbled, corny poem he’d been forced to read in high school and college
suddenly became crystal clear. Metaphor upon metaphor clicked into place.
Samantha turned and walked up the sidewalk to a heavy iron gate set off center in a high fence encased in thick green vines. The latch clanged loudly in the still night. Apparently, her internal organs weren’t on the same ride as his. She didn’t seem to have a clue about what he was feeling or thinking. Just as well. The last time he’d made a complete fool of himself over a woman he had spent a year of his life in sheer hell. He’d sworn to never let himself fall hard and fast again.
He followed her down the narrow garden path. A sense of almost claustrophobic solitude wrapped around him among the towering oaks, thick bushes and overgrown flowerbeds. As they neared the side stoop, she stopped and opened her handbag. Her hand disappeared into its depths as she rummaged for something. Probably her keys.
“Ah, here they are,” she said with a note of triumph. They jangled merrily as she held them up, eyes shining in the yellow light hung above the door. Then she froze, smile still in place as the keys dangled, a silent bell between them.
Heat spiraled around them like a dust devil, and for a moment he could barely breathe, let alone speak. Then Nathan found himself moving toward her, all his reasons for staying distant a wisp of smoke in the cool autumn breeze.
“What did you dream?” he asked softly.
She bit her bottom lip. “Dream?”
“You dreamt about me,” he reminded her. “I want to know what happened between us in those dreams.”
She looked away, but he couldn’t let her escape that easily. He reached out to grasp her chin gently and lifted her face. Her eyelids fluttered closed then opened. She shook her head slightly.
“I don’t remember,” she whispered.
“Liar.” He moved closer until there was no room for light between them. She couldn’t avoid his gaze at this distance—just as he couldn’t avoid the heat of her body.
“Please, I can’t. It’s too…”
“Too…what?”
Then he felt more than heard her sigh. It was quiet, soft, like the last bit of resistance fading away.
“Every time…they’re all the same,” she said. “I’m in a large, empty room. You—” she hesitated, “Or a man who looks like you enters. We know each other. He’s smiling. He’s happy to see me. He kisses me…touches me…then we fall onto a bed together,” she cleared her throat softly, “And our clothes disappear.”
Nathan closed his eyes and swallowed. He let himself enjoy the tingling sensation in his gut and the clench of muscles in his groin. He opened his eyes.
“What next, Samantha?”
Her tongue flicked out to wet her soft red lips. Nathan swallowed a moan.
“Then we start to make love. It’s so real. I can feel his hands, his mouth on my body.”
He tried to consciously slow his breathing—to steady the pace of his heart—but her words sent an erotic flood of images through his mind. Heat and need followed in close succession, sending blood straight to his cock. He shifted slightly, fighting to ignore the pressure in his groin. But it was almost impossible with her standing so close knowing she was thinking about those dreams, thinking about him…or the man conjured in his image.
“Are we good together?” he asked as he brushed his lips over the skin beneath her ear.
“I don’t know. I always wake up before.”
“Before?”
Her cheeks flushed. “Before we actually get down to business. We’ve never, um, consummated our relationship in my dreams.”
“It must be a little frustrating for you.” Nathan lifted his other hand and touched her face. Her lips parted, breath fanning his skin. “You are so beautiful,” he murmured. “So alive. So real. It’s been a long time since I’ve spent this much time with a woman.” He forced away the images of the dead women he drew and fought to stay with the living, breathing woman before him.
Her gaze softened. “Why do you think you draw them?”
“Who?” he asked as he absently traced the edge of her jaw with his thumb.
“The women…the murder victims. Why do you draw them?”
He dropped his hand and stepped back. A bucket of ice water wouldn’t have been any more effective. He ran a hand through his hair. He needed a cut.
“Nathan?”
“Because they call to me,” he blurted. “They need my help. They need this man punished before he kills again. I can’t help but draw them. I can’t stop it.”
Her eyes widened. “Will he kill again?”
“Yes,” he said. “I’m almost sure he will. I can’t see his face when I draw, but he’s there, somehow. I feel his rage—his compulsion. It’s like he can’t stop even if he wants to, and neither can I. I feel desperation when I’m drawing. The fear—his, theirs. I feel his hate.”
God, even now it was strong. Even now he could feel the remnant of those horrible, violent emotions. He wanted the other feelings back: the lust, the desire. He wanted to surround himself with her warmth, her scent, until he forgot all the rest.
“I don’t want to talk about them,” he jerked toward her, his body a marionette without strings. “Not now. Not tonight.”
His hands sought out her skin as if they had a will of their own. He watched her face, her eyes as he touched her arms. She was soft and cool like clean sheets on a winter’s evening. Sheets he would warm with his body.
“You’re cold,” he realized as the goose bumps rose on her skin.
“No, not really.” The husky note to her voice made his blood simmer. Yes, she was affected, too. She only managed to hide it better.
“Samantha…” He moved closer and she backed up until she was sandwiched between him and the front door. He leaned in to brush his lips across her cheek. “I want you.”
“I know. But this isn’t a good idea.”
“No, it’s not.” He brushed his cheek against hers. So soft…
“I won’t go to bed with you.”
“I was thinking the door would work,” he teased as he nibbled a trail along her jaw.
She slapped his shoulder lightly. “Don’t be crude.”
“I’m sorry.” He kissed the tip of her nose, avoiding her soft, full mouth. He’d be lost if he tasted her lips. “You bring out the animal in me.”
She sighed. “I shouldn’t have told you about the dreams.”
“Why not?”
“That’s the only reason you want me. I told you about them and you started thinking about having sex with me. You’ve convinced yourself that you want me.”
“Interesting theory, but no. I thought of making love to you hours before you told me about the dreams.”
She frowned but seemed to relax a little against him. “When?”
“During dinner, the first time your eyes flashed at me like a lightning storm. I wondered if I could make you really hot from head to foot. Make your body burn for me.”
Her cheek warmed beneath his wandering mouth. “That’s not fair.”
It was his turn to frown. He pulled back and looked down into her eyes. “What’s not fair?”
“You have all the power,” she said. “You read me like a book and know exactly what to do and say.”
He lifted her chin with his fingertips. “I would never manipulate you for sex. If all I need is a little release, I’ll find a willing partner. I don’t go around tricking beautiful women into giving themselves to me. I prefer open, honest relationships.”
She actually looked surprised. “You think I’m beautiful?”
“Hell, yes.” He shook his head. If he lived forever he would never figure out women. “Any man with a pulse would. Didn’t anyone ever tell you that before?”
She relaxed even more, her body touched his from chest to hip. His blood headed south. “Yes, but not too many lately. Besides, I’ve never quite trusted men who tell me how gorgeous I am.”
“Gorgeous?” He almost choked on the word. “Don’t blame you. Any man who uses that word regularly is probably g
ay. If he’s gay and calling you ‘gorgeous’, then he’s trying to get to one of your brothers through you. You should be cautious, unless one of your brothers might be interested?”
“No, they’re all straight.” She stared at him for a moment then laughed. “The way your mind works.” She sighed and placed her hands on his chest as if to push him away. Instead, her fingers curled around the collar of his shirt. “Somehow, I believe you. I believe everything you tell me, everything you say.” She shook her head even as her fingers played with the buttons. “This is all too surreal, Nathan. We just met and yet I feel like I’ve known you for months. But we can’t have sex…against the door, in a bed or anywhere else for that matter.”
He pressed his lips to her forehead. “Technically, we can, but we shouldn’t.”
One corner of her mouth turned up. “Semantics.”
“True, and yes, this is too fast.” When he looked into her eyes he wasn’t sure which of them felt more regret. “Will you be okay?”
“Of course,” she said. “I’m used to being the good girl. A nice warm shower and a pint of chocolate chip ice cream will work wonders.”
“Well then, sweet dreams, my good girl.”
He took her hand in his and brought it to his lips. He lingered for a moment, breathing in the scent emanating from her pulse. Her skin smelled sweet and sugary like cookies fresh from the oven. Nathan realized he had one hellacious sweet tooth.
He dropped her hand and took a hasty step back. “Have breakfast with me tomorrow?”
“Breakfast?” She laughed again. “Are you crazy? I don’t do breakfast.”
“Okay then, how about lunch?”
She tilted her head to one side, a smile playing on her tempting mouth. “Okay, that works. But I have a meeting at nine and probably won’t be free until at least one.”
“Good, I’ll pick you up.”
“No—”
“Yes,” he insisted and backed down the stone step. “Tomorrow…your office at one.”
“Where are we going?”
“Anywhere you’d like,” he said. “Just as long as we can eat and talk.”
“All right, but—”
