Touch and Go

“I didn’t say I didn’t believe you, but it’s very unusual. I’ve never, in all my time at PARA, come across anything like this before. I typically deal with curses and enchantments cast by magic-using humans, not…goddesses.”

Will looked at Carrie hopefully.

She shrugged. “Patrick’s the expert here. I’m new at this.”

His shoulders slumped. “Well, that’s just great.”

“But…” she began. “Why would a—a goddess of love and…uh…”

“Sex,” Patrick said.

The sound of that particular word leaving Patrick’s very enticing lips caused a pleasant but unexpected shiver to run down her spine—similar to the one she felt every time he said her name. The sensuous reaction was instant.

She cleared her throat, feeling warmer all of a sudden, wishing she wasn’t wearing a long-sleeved shirt. She’d have to take a swim in the pool later to cool herself off.

“Why would a goddess of love and sex want to curse your property?”

“Because I pissed her off.”

“You pissed off a goddess.”

He nodded gravely. “When Violet passed away I was out of my mind with grief—I just couldn’t accept she was gone. I acquired the amulet from a museum auction—had to mortgage the resort since it was a huge amount of money—I was told to hold the amulet and think very hard about what I wanted in order to summon Erzulie. So I did. I wanted to see if she could…” His voice trailed off.

“Could what?” Carrie prompted after a moment, disturbed that Will’s expression had grown strained.

“Could bring Violet back to life.” His eyes were glossy now. He rubbed the back of his hand over his forehead. “Anyway, little did I know, she hates being woken by humans and our petty little problems. She refused to help me. After that, everything went to hell. Not only was I in debt thanks to buying the amulet, but the property’s now cursed. I can’t pay the bills and I’m going to lose the resort. The Loa Loa has already made me an offer. They want to expand. But I—I just can’t give up that easily. So I called your agency hoping like hell you could help me.”

Carrie glanced at Patrick. There was genuine concern on his face for their grief-filled client. One thing she knew for sure about Patrick, he sympathized with people in distress. She was the perfect example. Will’s pain had reached him. It had reached her, as well.

“Of course we’ll help you,” he said after a moment.

Her heart warmed and she was relieved he wasn’t going to argue about it.

Will nodded. “If there’s anyone in the world who can get to the bottom of this I know it’s you, Patrick. Your reputation precedes you. That’s why I asked for you specifically.”

Patrick smiled. His lips were a major distraction for Carrie, especially after the mention of sex. “We’ll try our best to find out what’s causing your problems—whether it’s really a curse or something else entirely.”

“Good. Thank you.”

“Where is the amulet?” Patrick asked.

“A couple miles from here on the west island. It’s a tourist trap only accessible by private boat, lots of great photo ops. I buried it there hoping to be rid of it once and for all, but it didn’t make a damn difference—the damage was already done. My boats are both in the shop, but they’ll be back tomorrow so you can head over.”

“Sounds fine.”

Will glanced at Carrie and smiled. “Till then, why don’t you two have some fun here at the resort? I’ll give you a honeymoon suite with a heart-shaped hot tub. It’s way classier than it sounds, I assure you.”

Carrie shifted in her seat, feeling a line of perspiration slide down her spine. Great. Now she had a very clear image in her head of a wet, naked Patrick rising out of a steamy tub, the hot water trickling down his chest, over his flat stomach, and down to his—

Suddenly, the coffee mug on Will’s desk shot off the side and crashed to the floor.

She froze. Oops.

Will frowned as he looked at the broken glass. “That’s odd. Is there a breeze in here?”

Carrie cleared her throat and looked away.

“Carrie is my business partner only,” Patrick said, not acknowledging the most recent telekinetic accident. “We’ll require separate rooms. In fact, I’d like our rooms on separate floors, if possible.”

“If you insist. This place has four full floors to play with.” He sighed. “The Loa Loa has twenty-five.”

Carrie eyed Patrick with surprise. Separate floors? She knew he didn’t want to touch anyone, her included, but that was a bit excessive.

Then again, maybe he was just scared he’d get hit by an unidentified flying object if he were too close. She couldn’t say she blamed him.

Damned breakable coffee mugs.

She remembered her mother switching to plastic travel mugs for her coffee since regular ones had a mysterious habit of breaking. Carrie was dismayed to realize that probably had been her fault.

Will went to see that their bags were taken to their rooms. Patrick’s arms were still tightly crossed as Carrie got up from her chair. She studied his body language, her gaze moving over him and ending at his green eyes.

“What is it?” he asked, watching her carefully.

“I’m just trying to figure you out, that’s all.”

He was quiet for a moment. “There’s nothing to figure out. With me, what you see is what you get.”

“Sure it is.”

His poker face gave her no clues about what his problem might be. “Settle in, freshen up, and meet me by the pool in an hour. We may as well use the extra time we’ve been given to do some telekinetic exercises.” He raised an eyebrow, and she had a momentary glimpse of the warm humor she remembered once seeing in his eyes. He drew closer to her, so close that for half a second she actually thought he’d brush up against her. “So there are no more accidents involving glassware.”

Her face flushed at that and she chose not to comment. Instead her attention moved over his face to his throat. He’d undone the first couple of buttons on his black shirt, showing off a tantalizing glimpse of his toned upper chest. “What’s that?”

“What?”

“That.” She pointed at the small, crudely engraved tarnished silver disk that he wore on a thin black leather strip. “Doesn’t really suit you.”

He brushed his fingertips over it. “That’s why I wear it under my clothes.”

“What is it?”

“Just something I picked up.”

“It looks Egyptian. Are those hieroglyphics?” At his raised eyebrow, she added, “I took Egyptology as an elective in college.”

He covered the pendant with his hand, then did up a button so it was hidden again. “Like I said, meet me by the pool in an hour if you want to practice. If not, I’ll catch up with you later.”

It looked as if she’d hit a sore spot by questioning him about that pendant. Interesting. “No, I’ll be there. Practice makes perfect, after all.”

“We’ll get the amulet first thing tomorrow. If it really is a danger, I’ll destroy it here. Otherwise, I’ll take it back to PARA to go into the vault. We can be back in Mystic Ridge in forty-eight hours or less.”

“Barely enough time to get a good tan before we’re trudging through snow again.”

“Try to remember that this is a business trip, not a pleasure trip.” He blinked. “Why are you smiling at me?”

“You sound like a boss.”

“I’m not.”

“You used to be.”

He exhaled. “I used to be a lot of things.”

“I noticed you didn’t shake Will’s hand.”

He was silent for a moment. “What’s your point?”

“Just a bit strange, is all,” she said. He fisted both hands at his sides. “Why don’t you touch anyone anymore?”

“Because I choose not to.”

He was close enough that she could feel the heat from his body. If she wanted to touch him, all she’d have to do was reach forward and slide her hands over his chest. But she didn’t.

“Ever?” she asked.

“Rarely.”

“You touched me when I started last week. Am I special?”

He began to look vaguely amused by her onslaught of questions. “It was only a brief handshake. Don’t get too excited.”

Again her cheeks flushed. Patrick McKay was the first man capable of making her blush in years. “But you didn’t shake Will’s hand, and he’s a client. I’d think you’d make an exception for him, too.” She cocked her head as she studied his tense expression.

“What?” he asked warily.

“What would you do if I touched you right now? Right here?”

He held her gaze for a long moment. “Nothing. But I’d probably consider it very unprofessional behavior that you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself, Ms. Stanfield.”

She’d take his rebuff as a slap on the wrist if she didn’t see the heated look in his eyes. “Yes, sir.”

His jaw tensed. “Pool. One hour.”

“Okay.” As she turned and walked away, she realized she was smiling. After all, she did love a mystery.

And Patrick McKay was a tall, blond, handsome mystery she was determined to solve. Whether he liked it or not.

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