can’t find the potion bottle,” Emma explained. “That was one of the maids. They’re still cleaning up after the party last night. No bottle. No tote bag. Nothing.”
“That blows.”
“Tell me about it.”
“It’s not the end of the world. It happens. Jeez, Emma, old man Franklin hitting on you must have really messed up your head. You never forget stuff like this.”
Emma cringed. It was a pretty good excuse, she thought. She’d left the party after Xavier had groped her. That was all she’d told Charlotte. She hadn’t made one mention about seeing Ryan again. After all, it had been statuesque, blonde and beautiful Charlotte whom he’d dated before he was fired. And it had been Charlotte whom Emma had been painfully envious of for that very reason. However, Charlotte had gotten over Ryan’s betrayal much faster than Emma had.
The last thing she wanted Charlotte to know was that Emma had bumped into her former partner and had nearly screwed his brains out at a client’s home, thanks to a lust potion.
Talk about unprofessional. And embarrassing.
It was best she forget about it. She was still working on that.
It wasn’t as if she resented Charlotte for being tall and gorgeous. She liked her. A lot. In fact, they’d been roommates until only until a few months ago. Charlotte had worked for PARA a year now. She was only twentyfive. Her parents had money, a lot of it, but most of it had been lost in a bad economy and a Ponzi scheme, leaving Charlotte with no nest egg to speak of. She’d had to get a job to pay her bills instead of relying on Mom and Dad, so she’d jumped at the chance to make a living using her empathic ability.
The poor girl still didn’t know the value of a dollar. Emma had taken her under her wing and shown her the ropes of bargain hunting. Or she’d tried to, anyway. When you were born into money, it was difficult to make the transition to clipping coupons.
At least she was gorgeous. And she was dating a man who was crazy about her. Charlotte and Stephen had recently moved in together, actually. She’d be fine. Emma just worried about the people she cared about.
Charlotte had been put in charge of sorting through unsolved cases and she had a stack of file folders on her desk. Emma had glanced through them earlier. One was a known thorn in PARA’s side, an allegedly haunted hotel on the other side of Mystic Ridge. For years, agents had been unsuccessful at exorcising the ghost from the location—even proving there was even a ghost in residence seemed impossible.
If Emma messed up on any more assignments, she’d be demoted into working side by side with Charlotte on those cold cases. She wasn’t quite as fond of dusty and impossible-to-solve riddles as Charlotte seemed to be.
Agency manager Patrick McKay moved slowly toward her. Tall and attractive with a bright gold wedding ring on his left hand to show he’d recently returned from his honeymoon, he used a cane to walk these days as part of his recovery from a spinal injury. Otherwise he looked like someone who might climb mountains in his spare time.
“Any luck locating the bottle, Emma?” he asked.
She just shook her head, trying to ignore her feelings of guilt over her failure.
His lips thinned and his gaze grew concerned. “Everything okay, Emma? It’s not like you to forget something so important.”
“I’m fine. And I— I’m sorry, Patrick. I don’t know what happened.”
“Xavier Franklin hit on her and it messed her up,” Charlotte offered bluntly. “She shouldn’t have been sent to that dirty old man’s home all by herself. She’s lucky she got out of there at all.”
Patrick’s brows drew together. “Is that true?”
Emma tensed. “Yes, but I don’t want to make a big deal over it.”
“Franklin is a known womanizer, but I hoped his age might prohibit him from bothering my agents. Seems like I was wrong. I’m sorry you had to deal with that. And Charlotte’s right. You need a partner to prevent situations like this happening in the future. You’ll be able to do more field assignments than you have the last few months. I’m sure you’re sick of being stuck at your desk so much lately.”
“But—”
He raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”
Her shoulders sank. “That’s fine. Thanks.”
He watched her for a moment. “You’re sure everything’s fine, Emma? I sense that you’re troubled.”
Empaths. They were dangerous to be around. Especially really gifted ones like Patrick.
“I’m fine,” she said firmly.
“If you say so.”
“I do.”
She was. She was fine. And she held on to that thought for the rest of the day until it was time to go home. She had a date tonight and the least she could do would be to show up for it even though all she really wanted to do was go home and crawl into her bed.
But forgetting that potion bottle was unforgivable and unprofessional. It bothered her.
Emma exited the PARA head office and headed toward her car in the parking lot—a blue Toyota Camry that had been in the shop yesterday, which was why she’d had to take the bus to New York. She pushed her key into the lock, but then stopped. A shiver went through her and gathered low in her body. Her nipples tightened and strained against her white shirt.
She bit her bottom lip. Uh, oh.
Her cell phone vibrated. She grabbed for it and held it to her ear. “Yes?”
“Miss me?”
Her jaw clenched. “Ryan.”
“You recognize my voice.”
“Where are you? I know you’re here.”
“How do you know that?”
“I can feel you.”
“I’m flattered.”
“Where are you right now?”
“Behind you.”
She looked over her shoulder to see him leaning against a nearby car and her grip tightened on the phone. He removed his phone from his ear and tucked it into the pocket of his leather jacket.
“I just wanted to talk to you,” he said.
She pressed the Disconnect button on her phone and tossed it into her purse. Lust potions were very powerful, in case she had any question about that. She was the living proof that being within twenty feet of Ryan made her desperate for him.
She eyed him wearily. “Just leave me alone, Ryan. I have a date tonight and it’s definitely not with you.”
His gaze remained fixed on her. “I dreamed about you last night.”
“Good
