Mind Tricks (11 page)

A bit of yellow on the front
doorstep caught his eye as he passed. He grabbed the scrap of paper.
J— Out catching the dog. Call me: 679-3303.

Smiling, Jake dialed Emma’s number.

“Hello?” She sounded breathless.

“Hi, it’s Jake. Where are you?”

“Somewhere behind Mickey’s house.
Brutus rigged another escape. Listen, I have to find this stupid dog, and I
don’t know how long it’s going to take. Do you want to wait for me, or put this
off until tomorrow?”

“I’m here. I might as well help
look for him.”

“That’s nice of you, but—” She
yelped. “Damn it, I just stepped in a little creek that popped out of nowhere.”

“Ah. I know where you are. Stay
alongside the creek and start walking back toward your house. I’ll meet you in
less than three minutes.”

Jake pocketed his phone. Should he
offer to take Cynthia with him? Nah.

He plunged into the woods, angling
toward the small stream that he and his brothers used to play in when they were
kids. Branches tugged at his hair and brambles grabbed his ankles. If he was
going to start a list on how best to ruin dress pants, breaking a trail through
the woods would be on it. He didn’t mind ruining the pants. But he hated
shopping.

Emma’s voice bulleted through the
trees. “Brutus! Here, boy. Dinnertime!”

Good—she was close. He changed
direction slightly and found her fifteen seconds later, tromping along the
creek with a scowl on her face.

“Have you seen him?” she demanded.
When he shook his head, she growled. “Crazy dog.”

“Exciting afternoon?” Jake asked,
falling into step beside her as best he could while thrashing through
undergrowth. It was hot and humid under the trees, and mosquitoes began to
dive-bomb him.

“Too exciting.” She banged a spoon
against a metal dog dish in her hand. “Here, Brutus!”

“Are all your dogs this much
trouble?”

“Thank God, no.” She looked at him
for the first time, really, since he’d come upon her. His heart rate picked up.
Was she going to say anything about him kissing her? No, probably not. It had
been a quick peck, after all, not a full-on, tongue-tangling kiss. Still, her
face looked a little pink—though that might’ve been merely an effect of the
setting sun poking red-gold beams through the trees.

“Your pants are going to get
ruined,” she said.

Ah, well. So much for hoping she
had the hots for him. “Hey, a dog is lost. More important than pants.”

“I’d characterize him as ‘on the
lam’ rather than ‘lost.’”

“Still, it’s getting dark. And I’m
hungry. Do you want to order pizza as soon as we get the beast back into his
lair?” Two meals together in one day. They were practically dating.

“Pizza—perfect. Ian will love it,
too.”

Ian hadn’t even crossed his mind.
“Uh, sure.” In for a penny… “Cynthia’s here, as well. Think she wants pizza?”
Maybe that invitation would encourage Emma to see him as generous.

Surprising him, Emma made a face.

Jake laughed. “Cynthia’s not your
favorite person?”

“Ian likes her, so she must have
some good qualities. But they are remarkably well hidden. Plus—” She stopped.

He had a feeling her knew what was
coming. “Plus…what?”

“Um, I don’t think she likes you
very much.”

“Then why are we sharing our pizza
with her?”

“It was your idea, not mine. But we
can’t invite Ian and not invite her. So…so, I guess Ian’s on his own for dinner
tonight,” Emma concluded.

Good. But he tried to mask his
satisfaction as he said, “Maybe he and Cynthia already have plans.”

Emma didn’t answer, banging on the
dish again. “Brutus!” Then she lifted her head sharply. “He can see us.”

“What?” Jake did a three-sixty but
didn’t see any sign of the dog. “How do you know that?” Ah. Her so-called
animal empathy. He grimaced. He liked her better when she wasn’t faking psychic
powers.

“Brutus,” she called again.

A crashing noise off to the left
and then a flash of black through the trees.

Lucky guess? Or maybe her eyesight
was better than his, and she’d seen Brutus before delivering her dramatic line.

Or…maybe she was the only genuine
pet psychic on the planet. The odds were astronomical—actually, it was
ridiculous to even contemplate—but the possibility was becoming easier to
swallow than the thought that she was a scammer or a kook.

Emma started to pick up speed,
angling through the woods
away
from
the dog.

Jake didn’t move to follow her.
“Shouldn’t we go after him?”

“Dogs like to chase things. So he’s
going to get excited by our running and he’s going chase us—back to my house.
Understand?”

Jake could see Brutus clearly now.
He was thirty yards away at most. “I think I can grab—”

Jogging back toward him, Emma
juggled the dish and spoon into one hand. “Come on!”

And she reached out her bare hand
and seized his.

• •

…I
can grab him—I know it…None of this chasing crap…though I’d like to chase Emma,
preferably naked around her bed…

Whoa—too much information! Or maybe
not enough. What was he planning on doing when he caught her?

“I really think I can grab him,”
Jake said.

Grab
me,
she almost said. A memory stopped her. In college, she’d accidentally
intercepted a similar thought from a guy in her biology class. She’d acted on
it, but he’d been so startled by her aggressiveness that he’d practically run
away.

There was a difference between
fantasizing and planning a seduction. Which was Jake doing?

She could touch him again and find
out. Apparently her telepathy was now working on him again…

No. Each time she read someone, she
risked exposure.

“Don’t grab him. Run with me.”
Keeping her hands to herself this time, she scrambled through the woods,
heading toward her backyard. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Brutus loping
along behind them, tongue hanging out on the side, goofy dog grin on his ugly
face. Ha! It was working.

Unable to help herself, she glanced
at Jake, promptly tripped over a tree root she’d been too distracted to notice,
and had to do some fancy footwork to regain her balance. Jake—slick devil—took
her hand and urged her on.

…get
some beer with the pizza. Girl needs to loosen up…

Oh, she wanted to listen. She
really did. But too many friendships, romantic relationships, and lives had
been ruined by her telepathy.

With effort, she put up a wall and
blocked the rush of his thoughts. Tough to do, especially while sprinting
through the woods, but she managed.

They stumbled out into her
backyard, Brutus only a few yards behind, and Emma veered for the house.

“Now what’s the plan?” Jake panted.

“Let’s lead Brutus straight
inside.”

Jake risked a glance over his
shoulder. “You sure? That’s one muddy dog.”

“Good point. Can you run ahead and
shut all the doors that lead out of the kitchen? I’ll keep him occupied while
you do that, then bring him in.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.”

She released Jake’s
hand—reluctantly, she had to admit. She’d forgotten the addictiveness of the
sheer sensation of skin gliding against skin, pulses pounding together. The
little hum fluttering along her veins vanished as soon as their palms lost
contact, making her feel like she’d gone from being pleasantly buzzed to
stone-cold sober in a bare second.

Her reluctance to let go must have
shown, for Jake ducked his head and gave her a grin—one that invited her to
share in the joke of their shared attraction. Then he put on a burst of speed,
leaving her behind.

It took a few seconds, but she
mentally found her balance again. Keeping one eye on Brutus, she began to run a
zigzag pattern across the yard, trying to hold the dog’s attention while Jake
dealt with the kitchen.

Jake waved from the back door. She
picked up her pace and straightened her course. Brutus, his panting audible in
the day’s deepening glide toward twilight, followed her closely, tight on her
heels as she charged into the kitchen. And then they were in, Jake clicking the
door shut behind them.

Brutus danced around, tail flapping
like a flag, as if running away was no big deal. Who knew? Maybe for him it
wasn’t. Maybe his owners spent half their waking hours chasing him, which was
why they’d needed a forty-day vacation on another continent. She was going to
have to talk to them on their return about their responsibility to inform her
of Brutus’s bad habits.

Emma dropped the dog bowl and spoon
on the table, causing Brutus to dance even more madly around the kitchen. “If
you think you’re getting fed right away, think again,” she informed him as she
dialed Ian’s cell phone. “I have him,” she said when Ian answered.

“Oh, good. I wasn’t having any
luck.” A pause. “Cynthia called and said that Jake Vant is there.”

“Right—he is.” And where was
Cynthia? Emma craned her neck to look out the window over the sink and into the
backyard, but didn’t see her.

“Uh, Cynthia and I were going to
grab some Thai food in Camden tonight. Want to come along?”

Oh, Ian. Her tall, skinny, and
awkward white knight trying to save her from Jake’s presence.

“That’s really nice of you, Ian,
but I have to pass. Jake came over to look at the kennel’s numbers and give me
ideas on how to convince the bank that we can expand to a new location.” A new
location that Ian would be in charge of.

“Really? Okay, that’s cool.”

He was so clearly relieved that
Jake was there for business reasons, Emma almost laughed. As she hung up, she
glanced at Jake sitting at the kitchen table and scratching the dog’s head.
Based on what she’d glimpsed when they’d touched hands, Jake wasn’t entirely
focused on business.

Chasing her around the bed. Whew.
She could feel her skin heat.

She should have shaved her legs
today. Or yesterday.

Wait—for all she knew, he was here with
only the intention of consuming some pizza and giving her help on her business
expansion while he indulged in some typical male fantasies. Not to play sultan
to her as harem girl.

She squinted, trying to imagine
Jake bare-chested and in long, flowing trousers. No, with a sheet wrapped low
around his waist and loosening as he rose from his seat at the table and strode
toward her—

“Hey,” Cynthia said behind her,
making her jump.

Naturally, Brutus dashed for the
newly opened door to the hallway, leaving a spray of muddy footprints in his
wake. But Cynthia clued in and snapped the door shut, and Brutus skidded to a
halt, giving her an
I’m-so-oppressed
look before slinking back under the table to sulk.

“Hi,” Emma said to Cynthia, trying
not to appear thrown by the girl’s appearance in her house. She must have let
herself in after Jake had seen her in the backyard. Ugh. For some reason
Cynthia being in Emma’s house alone, without Ian or her there, itched at her
like a new mosquito bite.

She tried to ignore it and be
pleasant. This was her partner’s girlfriend, after all. “I just spoke to Ian,”
Emma said to Cynthia. “He should be back in a few minutes. So, how’s the
packing going?”

“About the same as when you asked
me yesterday.”

God, she was an unpleasant girl.

Ian appeared at the back door,
breathless, face red. He was doing a pretty good job of ignoring that Jake was
even in the room. “Hey, Emma, can I head out now, or do you want me to clean up
Brutus first?”

“Ian…” Cynthia settled her hands on
her hips. “If we’re late for dinner, we might miss the movie.”

Spend another fifteen minutes in
cranky Cynthia’s company, or wash the dog herself? No contest. “Don’t worry about
it. I’ll deal with Brutus,” Emma told Ian.

“Okay, great.” Ian started to
leave, but ingrained politeness finally overcame his distrust of Jake. “Uh,
bye, Mr. Vant.” Then Ian and Cynthia were out the door, Cynthia muttering
something under her breath to her boyfriend that Emma was glad that she
couldn’t make out.

Jake grinned at her. “Alone at
last.”

Her stomach did a loop-de-loop.
Wonderful. Her hormones had decided that they were going to be in charge. Emma
fought to subdue them. “Why don’t you get pizza, and I’ll clean up Brutus while
you’re gone.” The big dog had already tracked acres of mud around the small
kitchen, and he had a beady eye on the living room door, as if planning to
spread disaster farther and wider. She needed to get him washed before he did
more damage.

Plus, she needed a few minutes
without the potent distraction of Jake so that she could pull herself together.
A business relationship. That’s all they had. And she didn’t date men who
thought her a con artist.

Right?

“Is there anything you don’t like
on a pizza?” he asked, hand on the back doorknob.

Not one to miss an opportunity to
escape, Brutus lifted his head. Sighing, Emma reached down and threaded her
hand through his collar. “Only a pineapple and anchovies combination.”

“Easy enough.” Giving a little
grin, he left. Moments later, she heard his car start up and pull out of the
driveway, the engine fading into the chattering of lusty crickets.

Lusty
crickets?
She had sex on the brain.

Before she made a fool of herself
and tried to jump his bones, she needed to remind herself of two things. One:
He thought she scammed people for a living. How lasting could her attraction
really be to a man who thought her barely better than a criminal? And two: For
her, sex encompassed a multitude of complications beyond what most women dealt
with.

For her, sex would never be normal.

Simply touching hands let through a
trickle of thoughts if she wasn’t careful. Sex—with hot skin laid against hot
skin—opened the water main all the way, the man’s thoughts crashing through her
in a tidal wave. In the half dozen of times she’d tried it, she’d barely been
able to preserve her sense of self, she’d been so deeply subsumed by her
partner’s feelings. She’d never been swept away, but what would happen if some
day she couldn’t hold on? Would her own mind get ripped away? Would she go
crazy? Go comatose?