Touch and Go

She tried to smile. “Hope you’re not reading something horrible about me this time.”

“No…nothing like that.” His voice sounded strained and he let go of her and took a shaky step backward. “That’s more than enough.” He said it under his breath, more to himself than to her, then gingerly touched his temples as if he had a headache.

She watched him cautiously. “Is something wrong?”

“No, it’s—it’s nothing. Sorry, Carrie, we’ll have to catch up later. I need to go. Right now.” He turned and quickly walked out of the building, pushing through the glass doors without another word.

Carrie watched him leave, deep uncertainty filling her. She glanced at Amanda. “I have that effect on men lately. They run away from me as fast as they can.”

Amanda laughed. “I have trouble believing that.”

“So did I scare him away? That just seemed a little…odd.”

Amanda was quiet for a moment. “Come over here. Before I show you the rest of the office and introduce you to everyone, there’s something we have to talk about.”

Carrie followed her toward a black leather couch in the waiting area across from the reception desk. “That sounds ominous.”

“Don’t worry, it’s got very little to do with you. It’s all about Patrick. And since you’re going to be working one-on-one with him, you have a right to know.”

“Know what?”

Amanda sat down and crossed her legs, gazing out the glass doors in the general direction Patrick had departed. “He’s changed. He never used to be this way.”

“What way?”

She pressed her lips together for a moment. “Before, he was funny and great to be around. He was a good sounding board, gave terrific advice and was fair to every employee at PARA. If you had to think of the perfect boss, Patrick McKay would be it.”

“Sounds too good to be true,” Carrie said.

Amanda smiled. “He wasn’t perfect, but he was close.” Her pleasant expression faded, replaced with concern. “But then he changed. Some time ago, he covered for an agent on a case and ended up getting shoved down a flight of stairs by a poltergeist.”

Carrie gasped out loud. She’d been reading up on the paranormal world in preparation for her work at PARA and knew a poltergeist was a nasty supernatural force that enjoyed making trouble and throwing furniture around. “Was he…is he okay? I mean, he seems fine now, but…”

“No, he wasn’t okay. The accident put him into a wheelchair for ages. He was supposed to go to physiotherapy three times a week to get back on his feet, but he wasn’t very patient with it and started slacking off, then wondered why he wasn’t seeing any solid results. Then one day about four months ago, he started walking again like nothing happened.”

Carrie leaned back into the sofa. “Just like that?”

Amanda nodded. “It was a miracle. But being healed stripped away his previously great personality. He even took a demotion from agency manager to field agent, which is the main reason he’s able to partner with you. While they’re looking for a replacement manager he’s doing a bit of both jobs, although reluctantly. But now he’s guarded and private to a fault, and he doesn’t like being around other people. And he never touches anyone. The handshake with you is the first time I can remember seeing him touch anyone in recent memory.”

Carrie considered all of this. It didn’t make much sense to her. But maybe Patrick had some issues about being in a wheelchair that made intimacy difficult now. Or perhaps it was posttraumatic stress from the injury itself. “What about his wife?”

“Wife?”

“Last time I saw him he said he was engaged.”

Amanda pulled her cell phone out of the pocket of her dark blue suit jacket and glanced at the screen when it buzzed, then she tucked it away again. “He was. But they broke up shortly after he was injured. He hasn’t been seeing anyone since then. I figured he didn’t want to date while he was dealing with his injury, but now that he’s healed, I really don’t understand what’s going on with him, and he refuses to talk to anyone about it.”

Patrick looked exactly the same as the first time Carrie met him, but she had sensed something was different about him. Guarded was a good way to put it.

“Why are you telling me all of this?” she asked after a moment.

Amanda hesitated. “Because Patrick’s decided he wants to help you. That means you’re going to get a chance to spend a lot of time with him when he would normally keep to himself. It’s an opportunity I didn’t want to let pass.”

“An opportunity for what?”

“You’re a journalist, and from what I’ve heard, a damn good one. You investigate stories and get to the bottom of them.”

“This is true,” she said, not without a smidgen of pride. She had the shiny awards to prove it still boxed up from her move to her new apartment three miles from the PARA office building.

“I want you to find out what happened to Patrick and why he changed.”

Carrie studied Amanda’s serious expression. “You really care about him, don’t you?”

“He’s a good friend to me and my husband—or at least he used to be. He has a problem and he won’t confide in anyone. Sometimes an intervention is necessary.” She exhaled a little shakily. “So, will you help me?”

Two years ago Carrie had felt such a strong physical attraction to Patrick that she hadn’t been able to forget him. Now she had a chance to get to know him better, to work with him personally as he helped her learn how to control her telekinesis. She didn’t know much about him, really, except what Amanda had just told her.

But he’d offered his assistance without hesitation the first time they’d met. If she could help him in return, she would.

“Okay,” she said with a smile. “I’ll let you know what I find. Promise.”

If there was one thing Carrie loved, it was a mystery.

3

CARRIE STANFIELD WAS just as sexy as he remembered. Her hair was a little longer now, but otherwise she looked just the same as she had the last time he’d seen her. And touching her, feeling the warmth of her smooth skin against his after fantasizing about it all this time—

It had been worth it.

Patrick couldn’t believe he was actually shaking, and it had very little to do with the freezing cold temperature at the end of January. He stood next to his car in the parking lot after brushing the snow off his windshield and stared down at his trembling hands.

“Oh, come on,” he groaned. “Get control over yourself, will you?”

He was fine. Seriously. Just fine.

There was a time when Patrick could get a read on someone simply by being in the same room with them. It had been a very handy, very powerful tool he’d taken for granted. Back then, touching someone skin to skin helped hone in on certain feelings. He could tell, if he concentrated, when someone was lying. And sometimes he could even glean specific thoughts.

A powerful psychic ability like that had taken him to the top of PARA pretty damn fast, and it was a gift he’d had complete control over. He could turn it off if he didn’t want to be bombarded with details about another person’s life and turn it back on when he needed it again.

Then he’d had the accident. Thankfully, it hadn’t led to permanent paralysis, but spine injuries were a bitch to heal.

His fiancée, Julia, hadn’t stuck around very long once he’d landed in a wheelchair and had to start painful physio sessions. He wasn’t sure if she’d left because of his own miserable attitude at suddenly being physically challenged or that she simply didn’t want to be with him any longer. In any case, she’d broken up with him, returned the engagement ring and walked away. He heard she’d gotten married recently to a CEO in Los Angeles. The news hadn’t hurt half as much as he thought it would. Maybe they’d grown apart well before the accident and just hadn’t realized it, but his injury provided the perfect catalyst for Julia to make her life somewhere else. With someone else.

He preferred being alone, anyway. It was easier.

Being stuck in that wheelchair had been torture. He was used to being physically fit and completely independent. Working in an agency that dealt with enchanted objects on a daily basis could only lead to certain temptations. And he’d successfully been tempted by a healing charm a couple of agents had brought back from Egypt. Patrick began wearing the silver disc on a thin leather rope around his neck.

And it had worked like, well…a charm.

In a single day, the pain was gone and he was able to walk again as if the accident had never happened in the first place.

It was too good to be true.

Only, like many things that were too good to be true, his restored health had come at a price. Now he couldn’t get a read on someone simply by being in the same room. He had to actually touch them. That alone would have been fine. He’d have been willing to give up a fraction of his former power in order to recover from his injury in record time.

But now when he touched someone, he experienced their emotions and thoughts like a bone-crushing, mind-numbing wave that threatened his sanity and frequently gave him nosebleeds. The pain was too much for him to handle, and he had a high tolerance to begin with.

Sure, he could walk. Hell, he could run marathons like he used to—and he did take great joy in running five miles every morning at sunrise. But if he touched anyone, he was brought to his knees by the agonizing pain.

As a result, he didn’t touch anyone. Pain avoidance. Sanity preservation. He’d prefer his head not to explode. He needed it right where it was.

His BlackBerry, once a useful tool, had become his lifeline. He was never without it anymore. What information he used to get from touching someone, he now tried to get through the smart phone. He had a connection to the PARA database through it—a wealth of info about everything he needed to know. It wasn’t the same as before, of course, but he was adapting. It wasn’t as if he had much choice in the matter.

With his reduced capabilities, he’d known he couldn’t be the agency manager anymore, but PARA was his life. He wasn’t willing to simply walk away from it and start fresh elsewhere. He’d been asked to reconsider his decision, to be the boss again, but he wasn’t ready for that. Not now. Maybe never.

Not touching anyone had become second nature to him by now, but he knew it marked him as an outcast. His friends and coworkers were confused by his behavior, but he couldn’t tell them the truth. No one knew his secret. If news got out that he never tapped into his abilities anymore, he’d lose his credibility—and job.

Then along came Carrie Stanfield. She’d called him out of the blue a couple weeks ago, worried her telekinesis was completedly out of control. Telekinetics were rare and valuable—he knew this from years of managing psychics. He’d wanted her on staff two years ago when he’d sensed her burgeoning power. He hadn’t changed his mind about that. He’d hired her while he still had the authority to do so.

But she was going to be trouble.

The woman even looked like trouble with that long, sexy raven-colored hair and those cinnamon-colored eyes and lush pink mouth. A mouth that was a little too wide for her face, a feature that kept her from being just another generic and forgettable beauty.

There’d been something about her that day in the restaurant. It wasn’t an unusual situation. He’d been interviewed before, but his reaction to her had been out of the ordinary, to say the least.

Instant attraction. He’d never felt anything like it before. The only thing that held him back from doing anything about it—and, possibly, making love to her right then and there—was the fact they were in a public place and he was engaged to be married.

No woman, not even his ex-fiancée, had ever affected him so strongly. His cock hardened even now at the memory of her skin against his and the cautious desire he’d seen in her eyes. It was a mutual attraction and one that he’d sensed when he touched her. Carrie had wanted him.

No one but Patrick knew he’d kept the article she’d written in his top desk drawer just so he could look at her picture every now and then. He’d been convinced he’d never see her again.

And yet here she was. The brief handshake a few minutes ago had confirmed to him empathically that nothing had changed. She was still attracted to him after all this time.

But nothing could happen between them. A few seconds of the intensely pleasurable feel of her warm skin against his—a torturous tease for someone who’d been celibate for longer than he cared to admit—before his power kicked in, making his head feel ready to explode with agonizing pain. He couldn’t imagine what a more intimate exploration of her beautiful body would do to him. Just the thought of her naked flesh pressed firmly against his gave him a hard-on.

He’d empathically read something other than attraction from her today, though. She was scared. Nervous. Uncertain.

She hid it really well.

He wanted to help her. He could help her. He’d worked with dozens of telekinetics over the years. Carrie was just going to be a greater challenge for him. Their relationship would have to be hands-off—literally. Professional only. If anyone found out about his secret, his job was in jeopardy.

He could do both. He could help Carrie master her psychic abilities so she’d make a great addition to the PARA team, and he could keep his hands to himself.

When he felt better and less shaky, he got in his car and adjusted the mirror so he could look himself in the eye.

You can do this, he told himself. The pep talk didn’t help much.

Given enough time, Carrie would learn to keep her distance from him like everyone else at the office now did. Their first assignment together would take them to the Bahamas for a couple of days. It was to be a routine assessment and recovery of an allegedly magical object.

Business only.

This was how it had to be. There was no other choice.

He’d touched the beautiful Carrie Stanfield for the last time.

4

A SUB-ZERO, FROZEN landscape one day, palm trees and blue skies the next.

Carrie thought she might be able to get used to a job like this. She’d had no idea her first official assignment as a PARA agent would be a trip to the Bahamas, but she wasn’t going to complain. She just hoped and prayed that nothing would go wrong. Patrick seemed to have a lot more confidence in her ability to keep her telekinesis under control than she did.

A warm tropical breeze that held the barely-there scent of coconut suntan lotion wafted gently past her as she stepped from the taxi onto the pavement. The late afternoon sun was low in the sky, and she closed her eyes for a moment, letting her pale skin absorb the sunshine she’d been craving since winter hit New York State full-force in late November. The Vitamin D would do wonders for her.

She’d been concerned about the flight to the Bahamas—wouldn’t want to accidentally break a window at thirty thousand feet altitude the way she had with her father’s windshield—so she’d gotten a prescription for Xanax that pretty much knocked her out for the entire trip. She’d also stopped drinking coffee three days ago. Caffeine made her jittery.

She missed coffee.

She had packed a bathing suit for any off-time she’d get while down here. As they said, when in Rome… Or the Bahamas.

“You ready?”

The words jolted her out of the pleasurable moment and she opened her eyes. Patrick stood in front of her. He’d finished paying the taxi driver.

Her gaze swept the length of him, over the dark jeans and black button-down shirt that clung to his arms and chest. Her appreciation for what she saw stayed hidden behind her sunglasses. “Of course.”

This had been the way conversation had gone between them since landing at the Nassau International Airport an hour ago—short and to the point. She was almost used to it by now. Just as Amanda said, Patrick was not the same as he’d been the first time Carrie met him. He was more serious now, and kept to himself unless contact with other employees was unavoidable.

He’d spent a little time with her in the office the previous week, outlining her job responsibilities. Showing her files on past assignments. She’d studied them and learned. It amazed her to think it wasn’t so long ago that she hadn’t believed in the supernatural world at all. Now she was a part of it.

Patrick also gave her a stack of paperwork to read about telekinesis—he called it TK. She spoke to another telekinetic agent—one who worked at a branch of PARA in Texas. He’d given Carrie a half-hour talk that made her hope for the best.

Since she was a realist, however, she didn’t set her hopes too high.

Being close to Patrick made it difficult to concentrate. She hadn’t had enough time to figure out what he was hiding yet. They were rarely alone, and every time they were, he usually found a reason to leave after a few minutes.

She had to admit that she’d enjoyed reading all about the history of the agency and liked meeting everyone in the office. She hadn’t expected to feel so welcome—especially with her extremely conflicted feelings about her own psychic predicament. But everyone had been amazing and the job seemed both interesting and challenging.

Each case was like figuring out a mystery. That appealed to her. When she was a kid, she told everyone she was going to be a detective like the ones she watched on television. She devoured Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys novels. Something about solving a puzzle challenged her. She hadn’t become a detective, but some of her articles had required extra digging. Those were the ones she loved writing the most.

Patrick McKay was a puzzle for her to solve, no doubt about it. And it only made him more intriguing.

Occasionally, she’d look over at him and find that he was staring at her. Their eyes would meet and hold. And she felt it—there was heat between them. Moments like that didn’t last long. Patrick would turn away, leaving her hot and bothered and determined to get to the bottom of the enigma that he was.

Come what may, Carrie had one hell of an inconvenient crush on her handsome new partner and spent too much time fantasizing about tearing his clothes off and shamelessly having her way with him.

But that would require him to touch her. And for some reason he had issues with that. Since their strange handshake on her first day, they hadn’t had any physical contact. Nor had she seen him touch anyone else. She’d been watching.

He definitely had a secret, no doubt about it. The only question was—what was Patrick McKay hiding from everyone?

“This place is gorgeous,” she said, taking in the green grass, the red, orange and bright pink hibiscus flowers twice the size of her hand, and the Royal palms that lined the cobblestone driveway leading to the front doors of the Violet Shores Resort.

Patrick glanced down at his BlackBerry. That thing always seemed to be in his right hand, as if it were surgically attached to him. “The owner and his wife ran this place together, but she died a year ago and he’s stayed on by himself. It’s a couples resort—mostly honeymooners. Smaller than a lot of the other resorts in the area, but this is a nice piece of beachfront property that includes a small private island.”

Across the street was the Loa Loa, a five-star resort Carrie had read about in the in-flight magazine before she dozed off. It dwarfed this place, but didn’t hold a candle to the unobstructed ocean view that Violet Shores had.

“Welcome,” a voice said. Carrie turned to see a man approach. He was around thirty, attractive, with short light brown hair with sun-kissed highlights. He was dressed in a casual green golf shirt and tan pants that hung a bit loosely on his thin but athletic frame. “Thank you for coming. Patrick McKay, right?”

“That’s right. You’re William Crane?” Patrick glanced at the man’s outstretched hand, but didn’t make a move to shake it.

He smiled. “Guilty as charged.”

“Good to meet you.” Patrick nodded at her. “This is Carrie Stanfield, my partner.”

“Please call me Will.” He reached his hand out to take Carrie’s and she didn’t hesitate to shake it. Firmly.

It hadn’t escaped her notice that Patrick had blatantly refused to shake William’s hand. Then again, she hadn’t expected him to. Patrick glanced at her and their eyes met. She looked down at his hands, which he quickly slid into the front pockets of his jeans.

“Something wrong?” Patrick asked pointedly.

“No, of course not,” Carrie said. “You have a beautiful resort, Will.”

“Thank you.”

“Where did the name Violet Shores come from?”

“My wife’s name was Violet. I officially changed the name six months ago because when I’m here…she’s still with me.” Will’s smile faded at the edges. “Since she’s been…gone…times have been tough. Bookings are down. Way down. I’m desperate for a solution or I’m going to lose the place.”

Carrie couldn’t help but feel his grief, and her heart ached for this man she’d just met. She glanced around. Now that Will mentioned it, it was extremely quiet here. No cars other than their taxi had pulled up since they’d arrived. Considering the hotel was located in a popular area of Nassau, there should have been some activity.

“Where is everyone?” she asked.

“I have a few guests right now, but…well, come inside and I’ll tell you all about it.”

Will led the way and into the lobby, which had a shiny indigo teal tile floor. The skylight above showed a section of bright blue sky. A woman behind the main desk nodded at Will in greeting.

Doors to the left led to the pool and beach area, and a young, attractive couple walked through them into the lobby.

“I hate you!” the woman snarled. “I wish I’d never married you.”

“The feeling’s mutual,” the man snapped back. “Do you know how much that wedding cost?”

“I know because my parents paid for it. Your parents were too damn cheap to chip in on anything but the flowers.”

He glowered at her. “I should have hooked up with your roommate instead of you.”

“I knew you had the hots for her, you bastard!” She burst into tears and ran off toward the elevators and he stomped back out to the pool area.

A chill moved down Carrie’s arms after witnessing the squabble.

A couple of moments later, they arrived at Will’s office. “What you just saw out there is one of the many problems at Violet Shores right now.”

“A married couple arguing about their relationship.” Patrick crossed his arms. “Not all that unusual.”

“Yeah, but they only got married yesterday. Here, on the beach at sunset. They invited me as one of the witnesses, since they decided to elope. They were madly in love, no doubt about it—so much so that I envied their happiness. Now? I don’t know.” Will sighed. “And they’re not the first to have a falling out right after their vows. Almost every couple that stays here and is obviously in love leaves miserable and, uh, not in love. I assume other guests are repelled by the arguing and fighting and end up going across to the Loa Loa, hoping there are rooms available.”

“And you think this is a curse?” Carrie asked.

He spread his hands. “What else could it be?”

“You said you believe you’re in possession of a cursed amulet. It says here—” Patrick studied the small screen of his BlackBerry “—you’d give more details once we arrived.”

Carrie took a seat across from Will’s desk when he indicated that she should. Patrick remained standing.

“Yes.” Will lowered his voice to a whisper and looked around nervously. “It’s Erzulie.”

“Gesundheit,” Carrie said.

“No, I didn’t sneeze. That’s the name of—”

“The Caribbean goddess of love and sex,” Patrick finished.

Will nodded. “It’s all her fault.”

Patrick eyed his screen again for a long moment. “You think a mythical goddess cursed your resort.”

Will’s jaw set. “Yes, I do. And I’m surprised you sound so skeptical considering who you work for.”