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
