Running Hot (13 page)

For a few seconds he thought she was going to explode. But she made a face instead.

“Fine,” she said. “Be that way. I’m hungry. Let’s eat.”

She turned on her heel and took off very quickly, heading toward the entrance to the restaurant. He retaliated by playing the injured card, making a show of limping after her. By the time he reached the podium, the hostess was waiting with menus in her hand and pity in her eyes.

Grace glared. He smiled, satisfied with his petty revenge.

“That sort of behavior is called passive-aggressive,” she said when they were seated.

“I know.” He picked up the menu. “But it feels good. Look, I’ll try to answer your question but don’t blame me if things aren’t clear. It’s a very murky subject.”

She raised her brows. “I’m listening.”

“Manipulating sex energy is very complicated,” he began, assuming what he hoped was an air of scholarly authority.

“More complicated than tweaking other elements of an aura?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” she asked.

“How the hell should I know? Blame it on biology.” So much for sounding scholarly.

“You’re not getting off that easily.”

“For starters, I can’t work with what doesn’t exist,” he said.

“I beg your pardon?”

“If a woman isn’t already attracted to me, there’s no energy. I can’t create it out of thin air.”

“But what about her natural desire for sex? Couldn’t you just—” She made a little motion with one hand. “Enhance it a little? Put her in the mood?”

If only it were that simple.

“Maybe,” he said. “If she wasn’t concentrating on something else, like, say, painting or cooking or teaching a class in physics or listening to music.”

“Why would that be a problem?”

“Because sexual energy is a raw fuel that can be channeled into a lot of different engines or, in this case, passions. I might be able to heighten a woman’s sense of physical excitement under the right circumstances, but sadly, there’s no guarantee she would focus that excitement in my direction. She might decide that the guy she saw going down to the beach with a surfboard earlier in the afternoon looked a lot more interesting.”

Grace pursed her lips, thoughtful now. “But if she was interested in you in a casual way, could you intensify that interest?”

“Theoretically, maybe. But even if it were possible to get her into bed by fiddling around with her aura, what would be the point? The next morning she’d wonder what the hell she saw in me. That would not be good for the ego.”

“There are men who wouldn’t care at all about what the woman thought the next morning.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not one of them.”

“No,” she said, very serious, “you’re not.”

He frowned, unsure how to take that. “Even if there was no ego issue, there’s one other big reason why manipulating a woman’s aura in bed wouldn’t work well, at least not for long.”

“What’s that?”

“Viewing someone’s aura requires only a small amount of energy and effort. But take it from me, manipulating a person’s energy field requires enormous concentration and the maximum amount of power. The evening would be ruined for me because I’d have to work constantly every minute just to keep her interested on the psychic level. There wouldn’t be much left over to concentrate on the, uh, physical aspects of the situation.”

She tapped the menu lightly against the edge of the table. “I hadn’t thought about the heavy energy drain.”

“There’s no ducking the laws of physics.” He picked up his own menu. “Energy is energy. For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. If you use a lot of power, it takes time to recover.”

The waiter showed up with coffee, took their orders and left. Luther saw Grace glance at a nearby table. An oddly wistful look crossed her face before she turned back and picked up her coffee cup.

He looked at the table that had drawn her attention and saw a family of four. The attractive, stylishly dressed blond mother was several years younger than her silver-haired husband. There was a lively little boy of about five and a small blond princess who was probably seven.

He picked up his own cup. “Don’t know about you,” he said in low tones, “but when I was a kid, Granddad and I didn’t do vacations at ritzy hotels in Maui. Camping in a state park was about as fancy as it got.”

Her fingers tightened around the handle of the cup but the expression on her face remained perfectly neutral. “That situation isn’t as perfect as it looks. Second marriage for him. He’s got kids by his ex-wife who are now adults and are not thrilled about having a couple of half siblings.”

“Especially when it comes to sharing the trust funds and the inheritance?”

“The battle over the inheritance will be all the more bitter because the first family didn’t get what the second family is getting.”

He cocked a brow. “Lots of attention from a doting father who is enjoying a do-over?”

“Yes,” she said.

“What about her?”

Grace moved her hand in a dismissing gesture. “The usual story when a young woman marries a much older man. She’s in it for the money and the status. For now she’s satisfied with the bargain but one of these days, she’ll take a lover.”

“Are you guessing or can you really see those things in their auras?”

“I can’t see the precise details. There’s no such thing as true mind reading, you know that. But I can detect patterns and themes and chords in auras. My talent allows me to interpret those elements and make certain kinds of inferences. It’s an intuitive process.”

“No wonder Fallon finds you useful.” He contemplated the couple with the two kids. “But I don’t think you have to be psychic to figure out the dynamics in that family. Older man, beautiful young wife and very young children. It’s a common enough scenario.”

“True,” she agreed. “But I happen to be very good at this game. Want to try another table? One where the dynamics aren’t so obvious?”

“Game?”

She shrugged. “I invented it when I was a kid. I call it the There’s No Such Thing as a Perfect Family game. I’ve played it a lot over the years. Show me a family, any family, and I’ll tell you where the fault lines are.”

He whistled softly. “Wow. That’s cold.”

She flushed, embarrassed. “Yes, I suppose it does sound that way. It’s a self-defense mechanism, of course. When I was younger I didn’t have to feel so bad about not having a family of my own if I could look around and see all the tensions and problems in other people’s families. Somewhere along the line the game became a habit.”

“Damn. I think you’re even more cynical than I am.”

“Wouldn’t be hard.” Her eyes gleamed with sudden amusement. “You’re a genuine romantic.”

“How the hell can you say that?” It was his turn to be offended. “I haven’t got a romantic bone in my body. Just ask either of my exes.”

She gave him first a surprised and then a considering look. “Your exes didn’t know you very well, did they?”

They sure as hell didn’t know me the way you do after only one night, lady,
he thought. But he decided this was probably not a good time to say that out loud.

“According to them, I didn’t understand them,” he said instead. “They were right. The divorces were my fault.”

“Why do you say that?”

He shrugged. “Because it’s true. In hindsight, I think I scared both of them. Just took them a while to realize that they were scared. About a year in each case.”

“Were either of your wives sensitives?”

“No.”

She nodded sagely. “And you kept your little secret from them until after you were married, right?”

He felt himself redden. “Figured it would be easier to explain once they got to know me better. But it was the same pattern both times. Things started off with a bang and then went south. They would hear rumors about me from the spouses of some of the other people in the department. They asked questions. Each time I tried to ease into an explanation of how psychic talent works but that just made things worse. Eventually they decided that I wasn’t just weird, I was delusional. Possibly dangerous. They filed for divorce.”

“I think it was probably a little more complicated than that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Power of any kind is attractive at first. I’m sure each of your wives sensed your strength and found it exciting, even though they didn’t understand what it was that got their attention. But after a while they became uncomfortable because they intuitively knew that you were too strong for them. They probably began to feel intimidated, maybe a little overwhelmed, even though they could not explain why. The bottom line is that the balance of power was never even remotely equal. Unequal relationships are always treacherous.”

“Yeah? So what makes you so sure I’m a romantic?”

“It’s in your aura,” she said simply. “And in your career path, of course.”

“Of course?”

“You didn’t become a cop by accident, and it’s no coincidence that you work for J&J these days. You were born to protect and defend.”

“I’m also a bartender,” he said, wanting to challenge her. He wasn’t sure he liked being analyzed. In fact, he was very sure that he didn’t like it. “How does that fit into your little theory?”

“I don’t know yet but I’m sure it does, somehow. Tell me, did you ever think of trying arcanematch-dot-com?”

“No,” he said. “I’ve always heard that the Society’s matchmakers aren’t very good when it comes to matching exotics, especially when it comes to clients who lie about their Jones numbers. Too many unknowns and unpredictables. You?”

“No,” she said. She did not offer an explanation.

“Ever been married?” he pressed.

She shook her head again. “No.”

“Why not?”

She smiled sweetly. “Unlike you, I’m not a romantic.”

“Liar,” he said. “I think the reason you never married is because you’ve been waiting for Mr. Right.”

“Call me picky.”

THIRTEEN

The new arrivals began checking in early that afternoon. Luther sat beside Grace on the hotel’s wide, shaded veranda. To the left he could see the pool terrace and the beach beyond. To the right was an unobstructed view of the open-air lobby and the front desk. There were two glasses of iced tea on the small round table between the two rattan chairs. He had a copy of
The Wall Street Journal.
Grace appeared immersed in a paperback novel that she had brought with her. They both wore sunglasses.

He fine-tuned the pleasant little fantasy he had been concocting while he watched the bell staff unload an expensive set of golf clubs from the back of a limo van. The latest version of the fantasy involved Grace and himself on a Maui honeymoon that he, not J&J, had paid for. Also The Fantasy 2.0 did not include keeping an eye out for a psychic killer.

A man and a woman got out of the limo. They were greeted with orchid leis and escorted to the front desk by a member of the hotel staff. Automatically Luther looked at them with his other vision. The man was sending out the quick, green vibes indicative of a simmering irritation that could spill over into anger, given the right provocation.

“She’s a low-range intuitive talent,” Grace said without looking up from her book. “A three maybe. Strong enough to give her an edge when it comes to picking a husband who is as ambitious as she is. As far as she’s concerned, she’s made him what he is today.”

“Think she knows about the psychic side of her nature?”

“I doubt it. Not at that level. Like most women, she probably takes her intuition for granted.”

“What about the husband?”

Grace turned a page. “He’s annoyed.”

“Yeah, I got that. Probably a long flight with a few of the usual travel glitches. Anything else?”

“His wife holds the reins of power in the relationship. He knows she’s smarter than he is and that he needs her to climb the corporate ladder. But that just makes him all the more resentful. Based on that analysis, I’d guess he has a mistress who knows how to make him feel like the strong one.”

“You’re good, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” She turned a page. “That’s why Mr. Jones sent me on this mission.”

“I hate to shatter your image of yourself as a female James Bond but I’m not sure this trip to Maui rises to the level of a mission.”

“What would you call it?”

“A job.”

“I think I’ll stick with mission. Sounds more exciting.”

He nodded. “Things have certainly been exciting in the past twenty-four hours, I’ll give you that.”

Another limo arrived at the front of the hotel. More bags of golf clubs and what looked like diving gear were unloaded. Luther watched the bell staff spring into action. A sophisticated-looking man in his early forties got out. His companion was an attractive redhead of about the same age who looked like she spent a lot of time in spas and high-end hairstyling salons.

“I give the marriage six more months,” Grace said coolly. “He’s headed into a full-blown midlife crisis and wants a trophy wife to impress his friends.”

“Kids?”

Grace studied the couple for a moment. “Yes. I’m sure he’ll tell the children that it’s for the best.”

“You’re right,” he said. “You’re good at this game. Must get a little depressing at times, though.”

“I like to think of it as being realistic.”

He glanced at the cover of her book. The illustration showed the shadowed profile of a woman. She had a gun in her hand. The title was equally ominous.

“Looks like a murder mystery,” he said.

“Romantic-suspense,” she corrected.

“Meaning?”

“Meaning it’s got both romance and a couple of murders in it.”

“You like books like that?”

“Yes.”

He smiled. “Thought you said you weren’t a romantic.”

“I’m not.” She turned another page. “Doesn’t mean that I don’t like to read about romance.”

“What about the murders?”

“They get solved by clever sleuthing on the part of the hero and heroine. It’s very satisfying.”

“You know, in real life the motivation for murder is usually a lot more straightforward than it is in fiction,” he said. “Somebody gets pissed off, picks up the nearest gun and shoots the guy who pissed him off.”