Patrick leaned back in his chair. “You’d be good there, you know.”
“Would I? Did you read that, too?”
He kept his hands on his side of the table, on either side of the place mat. It was easier to concentrate now that the thought of being totally skin to skin with Patrick McKay was no longer a possibility. And damn it, she felt disappointed about that. She couldn’t help it. A lot of things she wanted in life were positioned just out of her reach. Patrick was the most recent example.
“Yes, I read it. You’re meant to be an investigator—whether it’s journalism or something else. You’re analytical, you’re naturally curious, you’re levelheaded—well, most of the time.” He smiled.
She felt heat flood her cheeks again. “You make it sound like you know me.”
“I think I do.”
It was well past time that she gained full control over this conversation again. “Let me tell you one thing, Patrick. I am a good investigator, but I won’t ever be working at PARA. I’m a writer, not a psychic. And as far as I’m concerned, I’m done with this topic of conversation.”
The light above them flickered violently until it finally went out completely.
She looked up at it. “And I didn’t do that.”
“I think you’d best be careful of elevated emotions in the future. It makes the TK go a little crazy if you don’t have a firm grasp of it.” He reached into his pocket and produced a business card. “Here’s my number at the office. Whenever you need me, just call. I’d be glad to help you.”
She picked up the card and pointed it at him. “I won’t need it. Now let’s get back to these questions because I have to be somewhere else soon.”
“No you don’t.”
She hissed out a breath. “That is really annoying.”
He grinned. “Sorry. Okay, ask your questions, Carrie. I’m all yours.”
No, he wasn’t. But that was okay. She was only interested in the next hour. After that, she’d probably never see the gorgeous and engaged empath Patrick McKay again.
She had to admit that the thought was disappointing.
2
TWO YEARS SURE COULD change a lot of things—personally and professionally.
Carrie pulled her jacket tighter around her, ignoring the winter chill in the air and the snow falling around her. She stared up at the tall glass front doors of the Paranormal Assessment and Recovery Agency a moment before entering the building’s front lobby.
Well, here I am.
She’d kept Patrick McKay’s business card safely tucked away in her wallet all this time, taking it out every now and then to look at his name, title, phone number and email address. He’d somehow managed to frequently work his way into her hottest dreams after spending only one hour in her company. But dreams weren’t reality and she was more than aware of that.
Her normal life was just that—normal. She still wrote articles for the Mystic Medallion. The profile on Patrick had garnered rave reviews from readers who loved finding out more about all things supernatural. A year ago, she’d rented an apartment in New York to try her hand at big city living and bigger writing gigs.
It had gone well, or it was starting to when disaster struck and Patrick’s “read” on her proved only too true.
Six months ago, on Carrie’s twenty-ninth birthday, her telekinesis arrived in full force. Bam. Or, rather, splat. The cake her then-boyfriend had bought for her flew across the room and straight into his face when she learned from a friend that he’d cheated on her. Things had been crazy ever since. The control she’d valued since leaving home at eighteen and putting herself through college by working two jobs was gone.
Telekinesis was real. Forget about flickering lights in restaurants, she was now a full-out safety hazard. A jinx. A walking natural disaster.
That should be her byline—Carrie Stanfield: Natural Disaster.
She believed in psychics without question now. In fact, as she reflected back on her life, there’d been signs she was a telekinetic since she was a kid. Little things. Doors slamming shut when there wasn’t a breeze. A boy in Grade Six who’d picked on her losing his balance and falling headfirst into a swimming pool. The windshield of her father’s car cracking down the middle as he drove away, leaving her mom for another woman.
It was different now. Worse. Her emotions played a huge part with the crazy happenings. She knew she needed help mastering her new and unwanted abilities.
And she just happened to have the business card, tucked away safely in her wallet, of someone who’d promised to help. Someone who’d said she would make a great agent for PARA due to her journalism background and her natural curiosity.
Two weeks ago, she’d summoned enough courage to finally call Patrick to explain her situation. True to his word, he told her to immediately move back to Mystic Ridge and start work at PARA, where he’d personally help her master her telekinesis.
She was so grateful she’d nearly cried right then and there. She could investigate paranormal phenomena. Sure she could. And in return she’d get her life back under control. It sounded like a fair deal to her. An opportunity that sounded too good to be true.
Plus, she’d get to see Patrick again. The idea thrilled her more than she’d like to admit, even though she knew his fiancée of two years ago was probably his wife now.
I’ll lust after him at a safe distance, she thought.
Still, even solid in her knowledge that he was off the menu, she felt her heart thudding wildly as she waited for him in PARA’s lobby at promptly one o’clock this Monday afternoon. Today her new life would begin.
And then she saw him get out of the elevator at the far end of the lobby with a brunette woman. They begin walking toward her. He was just as she’d remembered—tall and lean, mid-thirties, with hair the color of dark golden sand and eyes the color of an emerald-green ocean. He wore a crisp white shirt that fit his top half perfectly and slate-gray pants that fit his bottom half perfectly.
Over the past two years she’d hoped that it was just her imagination that had made her remember this electric attraction to him. It wasn’t. She felt it now as keenly as she had the first time she’d seen him.
Two years, too many erotic dreams to count, and she knew she wanted Patrick McKay to make wild love to her.
The light above her head didn’t flicker this time. It shattered, raining tiny pieces of glass down just in front of where she stood on the ceramic tiled floor.
She winced. One look at Patrick was enough to spike her emotions enough for her telekinesis to create a minidisaster. Great second impression.
He stopped walking and looked up at the broken light, then down at her.
He raised an eyebrow. “That was definitely you this time, wasn’t it?”
She grimaced. “Guilty as charged.”
“Welcome to PARA, Carrie,” he said.
“Thanks. I’m—I can’t tell you how glad I am that you’ve agreed to work with me.”
“Mastering TK is a challenge, but I think you’ll be up to it if you’re willing to work hard.”
She glanced down at his left hand, surprised not to see a gold wedding ring there. Her eyes flicked back to his. “I’m a hard worker.”
“I’ve asked that you be temporarily assigned as my partner so I can work personally with you.”
She couldn’t