Touch and Go

  She wished she felt calm. But being out with Patrick, so close to him in such a tiny boat, was entirely too distracting. She watched the muscles flex in his arms as he drove the boat over the surface of the crystal-blue water. After a few moments of enjoying the view—both of Patrick and the water itself—Carrie closed her eyes to feel the refreshing breeze on her face.

  She hoped very much this assignment would go off without a hitch—or damage to any more objects around her. And she wanted to find out what Patrick was hiding. It really wasn’t fair that he seemed to know all of her secrets and she knew next to nothing about his.

  PATRICK WATCHED HIS BEAUTIFUL partner as she soaked up the sun, her eyes closed, face raised to the sky, and he took the opportunity to let his gaze leisurely travel the length of her body, unable to keep the arousal from stirring inside him. The dream last night kept him from focusing entirely on business when Carrie was around, and he ached to touch her. Too bad that wasn’t an option for him.

  Today she wore a short-sleeved white blouse under her life jacket. Casual, but still more professional than the bikini top from yesterday.

  He did like that unprofessional bikini top a great deal.

  When his slow and appreciative examination reached her face he realized her cinnamon-colored eyes had opened again and she was looking directly at him.

  “Yes?” she said.

  He cleared his throat, hoping to cover the fact he’d been ogling every inch of her beautiful body. “So, have you finished investigating me yet?”

  “The investigation has only just begun, Mr. McKay.”

  His shoulders tensed. “Good luck with that.”

  “I do have a theory, though.”

  His brows drew together. “A theory, huh?”

  “Yup.”

  “What’s your theory?”

  “I’m thinking your problem might have a lot to do with your ex.”

  “My ex?”

  “The woman you were engaged to when we first met. You’re not seeing her anymore. No wedding ring. No recent girlfriends—”

  “Asking around about my social life, are you?” A smile played at his lips.

  “Don’t let it go to your head. Anyway, I figure you’ve got some major intimacy issues going on right now.”

  Intimacy issues.

  Julia came to his mind then, his beautiful ex-fiancée who’d grown more and more distant after he’d landed in the wheelchair. At the beginning of his recovery, he’d been forced to use a catheter that had made him very self-conscious about any attempted intimacy. Because of this, it was possible he’d pushed Julia away. In fact, he was quite certain of it.

  Luckily for Julia, she’d moved on to bigger and better things.

  “So is that what happened?” Carrie asked. “Your heart was broken and you don’t want to let yourself get close to anyone again?”

  He tried not to smile at her lousy theory. It was a whole lot safer than the truth.

  He sighed and tried to look pensive. “You figured me out. My soul is wounded from a bad breakup.”

  She studied him. “No, that’s not it. I thought it was a possibility, but please. I don’t buy it. You wouldn’t let any woman get under your skin that much.”

  “I guess that depends on the woman.” He watched her guardedly. He’d only touched Carrie a couple of times and she was already under his skin.

  The boat brushed up against the dock alongside a few other craft of various sizes. They’d arrived at the island.

  Patrick tied up at the dock and climbed out using the wooden ladder built into the side. His first impulse was to offer her his hand to help her after she’d shrugged out of her life jacket, but that wasn’t an option. She didn’t seem to mind. She made her way up the ladder and along the dock to a gravel road that followed the shore line.

  Not far from the dock, two bikini-clad girls lay on colorful towels on a small white sand beach. The island was two miles in diameter, with lush green vegetation, including tall coconut palm trees that stretched up into the bright blue sky. A small flock of flamingos waded near the shore line, and an iguana eyed them from his perch on a fallen tree trunk next to the road.

  “So where are we going?” she asked.

  He looked at the map drawn on a piece of lined notebook paper. It was crude and Will could never claim artistic talent, but it was sufficient. “The pet cemetery.”

  “Alert Stephen King.” She glanced at the small, colorful beach houses as they began to walk along the road. A couple of people sitting out front of one waved to them as they passed by. “So people live here?”

  “A couple dozen locals according to Will, plus there are a few time shares.”

  A half-mile walk and they reached the pet cemetery. It wasn’t all that grand, but there was a plaque on the gate identifying it. A couple dozen small gravestones for beloved pets adorned the enclosed grassy area, which was shaded by several palm trees.

  “It should be right here,” Patrick said, pointing at the ground, where a small patch looked as if it had recently been dug up.

  She grimaced. “Do you think he’s right about this being a pissed off goddess we’re dealing with?”

  She sounded uncertain and it made him want to put her mind at ease and take the worried look out of those beautiful brown eyes. “Honestly? No. I get a gut feeling that there’s something else at work here. I’m sure if Erzulie really exists, she’d have better things to do with her power than use it to curse Will’s resort. But the amulet itself might be cursed and that’s what we’re going to determine today.”

  She put her hands on her hips. “Then I guess you should probably start digging.”

  He grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”

  There was a small shovel leaning against a green shed to his left. He grabbed it and went to work.

  CARRIE HAD TO SAY SHE was enjoying the view.

  Patrick’s biceps flexed as he dug at the loose ground. She liked the line of his back and the way his black pants fit his ass. His short-sleeved shirt stretched tight across his chest and broad shoulders. He wiped the back of his hand across his forehead. He looked like an athlete, strong and sexy, and he made her shiver even though it was hot outside. She was mesmerized by every move he made.

  “I have it,” he said after a moment.

  The show was over before it had barely begun. She was disappointed by that. She could have watched him all day.

  “Okay,” she said, holding her breath, not knowing what to expect. “Let’s see it.”

  “Here’s the amulet.” He pulled an object free from the loose earth and stood up.

  “That’s it?” Carrie asked. It was a small, the size of her thumb. On closer inspection she saw that it was a red stone with a surprisingly detailed carving of a woman’s figure.

  Patrick nodded and held it in the palm of his hand. “This is where Will said he buried it.”

  “Do you feel any, uh, power coming off it?” She figured a magical amulet should give off some sort of aura. She, however, felt nothing at all, apart from her inner stirrings at being only an arm’s reach away from the untouchable Patrick.

  “My empathic ability doesn’t extend to inanimate objects.”

  “But can you tell if it’s real or not?”

  He shook his head. “Not at first glance. I’ll have to take it back to the resort and inspect it more closely.”

  The next moment, a couple of men entered the small cemetery and Carrie turned to look at them.

  “What’s that you have?” one asked. He had pale blond hair and a sunburn on his cheeks.

  Patrick closed his fist over the amulet. “Just something I found.”

  “Are you digging around in the graves here looking for treasure?”

  Patrick exchanged a look with Carrie and she could see a shadow of warning cross his features. These men did not look like they were out for a casual morning walk, nor did they look like they lived on the island. Carrie didn’t have to be empathic to feel the dangerous vibe coming from
them. It made her tense.

  “It’s nothing,” Patrick said. “Really. And this is a pet cemetery, so grave robbing is rather unlikely.”

  The blond’s partner, a dark-haired man, nodded at the amulet hidden in Patrick’s hand. “If it’s nothing, you may as well give it to us.”

  “Pardon me?” Patrick said.

  “And while you’re at it, why don’t you go ahead and give us your wallets, too? And any other valuables you have on you.” He grinned. “Thanks so much for your cooperation.”

  If Carrie had thought she was only feeling paranoid before, his words confirmed they were in deep trouble.

  Patrick curled his other hand into a tight fist. “Why don’t you leave us the hell alone and we won’t have any trouble here?”

  “I don’t like that plan,” the blond said. “I like ours much better.”

  A breath caught in Carrie’s chest as his companion pulled a knife out of a sheath on his belt. Patrick made to move in front of her, but the thug grabbed her arm and pulled her against him so quickly, all she could do was gasp with surprise. She struggled but the man’s grip was painfully strong.

  “Hand it over. Wouldn’t want anything to happen to your pretty little girlfriend, would you?”

  She felt the edge of the sharp blade lightly trace over her throat.

  “Let her go now,” Patrick snapped. “You do not want to mess with her.”

  “Wrong. I do. And I want your money. Come on, tourists like you two usually have lots of cash on you. Do it and no one gets hurt. Give us a problem and, well, there might be some blood.”

  His grip tightened on Carrie. When Patrick said not to mess with her she thought he was going to beat the crap out of them and save her like a knight in shining armor. By the look on his face, it was possible. But that wasn’t what he’d meant.

  He had a good idea what could happen if her emotions got riled up. And they were plenty riled.

  “Let go of me right now or else,” she warned, feeling the psychic energy course through her, along with a mix of fear and panic.

  “Or else what?” he said mockingly.

  One of the gravestones five feet away unearthed itself and flew toward Carrie as if she were magnetized. It hit the mugger hard enough on his shoulder that she heard something crack—possibly a bone. He yelped in pain and let go of her. Another gravestone broke loose and headed for the other mugger. Letting out a pained grunt, he tried to deflect the blow.

  “You’re a witch,” he said, fear naked in his voice. “Aren’t you?”

  She glared at them. “Sure. I’m a witch. And I’m going to turn the two of you into toads if you don’t leave us the hell alone.”

  That was all it took. They both turned on their heels and ran away. She finally let out the breath she’d been holding, wishing she could control her telekinesis better, but happy that everything seemed to work out perfectly this time. Her heart hammered in her chest.

  “Bastards probably go island to island looking for marks.” Patrick touched her arm. “You okay?”

  She turned toward him and her eyes widened. “Oh, shit! Watch out!”

  Another gravestone was headed straight for them. Patrick pushed her out of the way, but it hit him in the head and knocked him to the ground. The amulet flew out of his hand and fell to the dirt beside him.

  “Patrick!” He was unconscious, and there was a red mark on his temple. She was fine with causing pain to the muggers—that had been self-defense, after all—but the last thing she wanted was to hurt anyone else, especially not Patrick. She stroked his hair off his forehead. “I’m so sorry!”

  “He can’t hear you at the moment,” a voice said.

  Carrie looked up, shocked to see a woman in the graveyard. She hadn’t noticed anyone approach after the muggers took off.

  “He’s hurt,” she said, her voice tight. “He needs help.”

  “Don’t worry yourself, child. He’ll be jus’ fine.”

  The woman was stunningly beautiful and dressed in a cream and blue dress that set off her flawless dark skin perfectly. Her black hair was braided into hundreds of tiny plaits. She wore red shoes that laced up her legs right to her knees and her fingers were full of rings set with multicolored jewels that glinted in the sunlight. She spoke in a smooth, lilting Caribbean accent.

  “Who are you?” Carrie asked cautiously.

  “I’m Erzulie, of course.” She nudged the amulet with the tip of her shoe. “Looks like you summoned me. I hope you had a very good reason.”

  8

  “I—I DIDN’T SUMMON YOU.” The attractive dark-haired human female looked at Erzulie with wide brown eyes.

  “What is your name, child?” Erzulie asked.

  “Carrie. Carrie Stanfield. And I’m sorry. We really didn’t mean to disturb you.”

  Yet another interruption for no good reason. Did no one in the human world care about Erzulie’s rest?

  The goddess concentrated for a moment as her gaze swept the woman. “You are very powerful, yes?”

  Carrie looked confused for a moment. “Oh, you mean my telekinesis? Yeah, it’s powerful. But—” she looked down at the unconscious man at her feet and there was deep worry in her eyes “—but I can’t control it. I hurt Patrick. It’s all my fault.”

  Aside from fear and guilt, Erzulie could easily sense the barely contained desire this woman felt for the sleeping man, whose head currently rested next to Bobbo, a pet turtle’s handmade gravestone.

  “Yes, I feel it. Your power is like a storm brewin’ inside of you. It is very similar to the passion you feel for this man.”

  Carrie’s attention snapped to Erzulie. “Excuse me?”

  Erzulie sighed. She did try to be patient with humans. Sometimes it was difficult. “Your desire to touch him, to have him touch you—it swirls and rages within you. Within both of you. I feel it.”

  The woman’s eyebrows rose and her cheeks flamed to the color of a flamingo. “I…I, uh…”

  “Why have you not made love yet when it is obvious you want him—that you have wanted him for a very long time? Why do you deny yourself the pleasure when pleasure is all that matters? This is a storm that is meant to be surrendered to, not controlled.”

  She smiled widely as the woman gaped at her. Some humans were taken aback by her bluntness. Some humans refused to deny their most primal urges when sex and love were the most important thing in life. They made life. They were life. One denied this at one’s own peril.

  “You look uncertain, child.” Erzulie touched the woman’s chin. “But I can only be awakened by those who deeply need me. Some I can help. Some I cannot.”

  “Really, we didn’t mean to summon you.”

  “Believe that if you must.” Erzulie squatted down next to the man and grasped his face in her hand and squeezed. He opened his green eyes and she spoke directly to him. “I am Erzulie and I am feeling generous today. Use my gift well, child, and do not take it for granted. Consider yourself blessed by my divine generosity.”

  The man frowned, then fell back into his slumber. But the goddess had had enough time to adequately search his mind for the information she needed.

  She smiled. They did not mean to summon her? She found that very difficult to believe. The last man who had summoned her had done so purposefully and shamelessly, but Erzulie could not help him in the way he wanted. His grief, while palpable and powerful, was unfixable by anything but time and patience.

  But these two—Erzulie eyed each of them in turn—they were very much alive. And they were wasting precious time with unimportant issues that kept them from being in each other’s arms.

  Patrick and Carrie desired each other. They dreamed of each other. They were fascinated by each other. This was more than simple lust. Erzulie felt it keenly. The storm that brewed between them thickened with each moment that passed. One day soon, their passion would be too much to contain and the skies of desire would open up.

  One day this would happen. But Erzulie was not known for
her patience.

  “I will help you,” the goddess said sweetly.

  “Help us?” Carrie’s voice held wariness. “How?”

  “Do you know why he is reluctan’ to touch you, child?”

  The woman’s eyes widened again. “Does it have something to do with his psychic ability?”

  She smiled. “It does.”

  “I knew it.”

  It would be much too easy to tell this woman the entire truth. But the man held his secret for a reason and it was not up to Erzulie to reveal all.

  “It hurts him to use it,” Carrie said, a crease between her eyebrows. “So he tries not to use it at all.”

  “Yes.”

  Humans made choices and they had to deal with the consequences. At least, until they made new choices. This foolish man had chosen to fix a rather large problem with a much too easy solution. Human males like him were enjoyable to look at, but incredibly narrow-minded. It was not the least bit unusual.

  Carrie’s expression shadowed with concern. “His ability must have changed when he got better from his injury.”

  Erzulie glanced at his healing charm. “It did indeed.”

  “Is there anything I can do to help him?”

  “Do you truly wish to help him, child?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I—because I don’t want him to be in pain.”

  “You care about him.”

  “Yes.” The woman didn’t hesitate with her honest answer. Erzulie could ask for nothing more than that.

  The goddess regarded the woman for a long moment, reading her darkest desire and truest wish until Carrie flinched under the close scrutiny. Then Erzulie fished beneath the neckline of her own dress and pulled out a small golden ring. “Wear this.”

  Carrie took it from her. “What is it?”

  “It will help him.”

  Carrie hesitated for a moment before slipping it onto her right middle finger.

  “That gift was for him. Now for you, child…” Erzulie cocked her head and studied the woman. “Give me your hand.”