Wish on the Moon (31 page)

"No problem." Harriet's interest in Nathan
was obvious as she gave him a wink and returned to the front
room.

He faced Gillian. "I'd like to continue our
discussion."

"There's nothing more to say. I have to get
back to work and I'm sure you do, too. Call your P.I. He'll find
someone else."

The look the man gave Gillian was not
resigned. If anything, it was more determined than ever. But he
didn't argue. "I'll call my P.I. But I'll be talking to you again.
Soon."

With a lift of his brow and a wave of his
hand, he was gone.

Gillian first felt relief, then a strange
sense of loss. But she was used to feelings and images not
clicking. Eventually they became part of a bigger picture, and then
she'd understand. But there was no bigger picture where Nathan
Bradley was concerned. There was no picture at all.

#

The instant Gillian stepped outside of the
Hair Happening, she saw him. He stood beside a gray Mercedes in the
parking lot. She should have realized this man wouldn't give up so
easily. Ducking back into the salon was an option. So was ignoring
him as she walked to the enchilada and chili stand across the
parking lot of the strip shopping center. But she had the feeling
when she returned, he'd still be waiting, and not quite so
patiently.

A group of teenagers on roller-blades skated
by, one of them holding a miniature schnauzer on a leash. She
smiled at the sight, something she'd probably never see in Deep
River. But her smile slipped as she spotted the handsome, very sexy
man walking toward her, and an excited little shiver zipped up her
spine. At least six-two, lean and fit, with long legs that quickly
covered the distance between them, he was the type of man who could
attract a roomful of women without trying. It wasn't only his looks
but his confidence, his dominating male presence.

When he stood before her, he asked, "Can I
buy you supper?"

"If I hadn't mentioned my break, you would
have waited till I quit for the day. Right?"

"Yes."

"Mr. Bradley..."

"Nathan. You have to eat supper. I have to
eat supper. Is there any reason we shouldn't talk while we do?"

"You have an ulterior motive. This won't be
much of a break for me."

"It's not an ulterior motive because you know
what I want."

"Obviously, I need to watch what I say with
you," she murmured.

The corners of his mouth twitched up. "Is
that a yes or no?"

"If I say no, you'll be back. Let's get this
over with."

The curve of his lips turned into a frown,
indicating he was uncomfortable with her frankness. Gillian's gaze
wanted to linger on those lips. They were full enough to be
sensual, narrow enough to enhance the handsome aesthetics of his
face. She could imagine one of his kisses--dominating, forceful,
passion-filled.

The image startled her. She hadn't thought
about kissing a man in over a year--since Brian had decided to
reconcile with his ex-wife. She'd not only lost Brian but his son,
too. At the time she'd thought her heart would break. But she'd
buried herself in her work until she'd realized she no longer had a
life outside of her work. Not eating, not sleeping, working twenty
hours a day was a one-way road to disaster. Thank goodness she'd
recognized her destructive direction in time.

"I don't know what you have in mind," she
said, "but the chili and enchiladas are good at that stand over
there."

Nathan perused the truck/restaurant set-up
near an island with palm trees and benches. "I haven't had an
enchilada in..." He shrugged. "Too long."

They walked side by side for a few moments,
Nathan slowing his stride to Gillian's. The breeze ruffled his
hair, making him look less formal and imposing. She thought he'd
start making his case for her help, but he didn't.

His arm brushed hers, his suitcoat rough
against her skin. "Have you always done manicures for a
living?"

She registered the texture of the material,
the strength of his arm, and her heart jumped at the contact.
Managing a smile, she responded, "Would you believe I have a degree
in business?"

"Neither seems appropriate for a
psychic."

Her smile faded. "And what does? Theater
arts?"

He stopped and faced her. "Okay. I stuck my
foot in it. I didn't mean to insult you. But all this is strange to
me. I'm a logical man. I make decisions and judgments from facts.
I've always thought psychics were frauds. But my private
investigator told me about crimes you've solved and people you've
found. Even if I don't believe in it or understand it, what you do
works."

"I don't understand it, either," she said
quietly.

Nathan had been fascinated by the woman since
he'd set his eyes on her. Looking at her now, her soft, long hair,
those wonderful brown eyes, her slender curves wrapped in a pink
cullotte dress with a white collar and lapels, his muscles
tightened and he felt pangs of arousal.

Crazy. That usually didn't happen simply from
looking.

Her soft voice, her calm wonder, urged him to
step closer, to find out more about her. "Tell me about it. Were
you born with this ability?"

She shook her head and pointed to the supper
truck. They began walking again. "I don't think I was born with it.
If I was, I didn't know it until I was ten. I was sitting on a dock
fishing and a storm came up. The thunder and lightning hit fast.
The next thing I knew I was lying flat on the dock, the rain
pouring down on me. My head hurt and I was shaking all over. Mom
found me that way, took me home, and put me to bed. We thought that
was the end of it."

His P.I. had told Nathan that Gillian was
from Indiana and had lived there all her life. She traveled often
but had never moved from the town where she'd grown up. L.A. must
be quite a change for her. "When did you realize something was
different?"

"A few days later. Aunt Flora came to visit.
When she hugged me, I saw this picture of her sitting at her
kitchen table crying. I didn't understand it. Later, I overheard my
aunt and my mother talking. My cousin had dropped out of high
school and my aunt was terribly upset."

"And there was no way you could have known
that."

"No."

"Did you tell your mom?"

"No. I was afraid of the pictures when they
came and uncomfortable with the feelings. I kept it a secret until
I was sixteen."

They reached the vending stand. Gillian
ordered chili and cornbread while Nathan asked for an enchilada.
She opened her purse, but he closed his hand over hers. Her skin
was soft and warm and a jolt of desire more powerful than before
stabbed him. "I've got it," he said, unable to keep the husky rasp
from his voice.

Her gaze met his. The sparks of gold in the
brown told him his touch affected her as much as hers affected him.
She pulled away, and he let go.

Gillian busied herself pulling napkins from
the holder while Nathan paid for and carried their plates to a
bench. Picking up their sodas, she joined him. She'd no sooner
settled on the bench with her soda by her shoe and the cup of chili
with a wedge of cornbread perched on the edge in her hand when the
schnauzer she'd seen earlier ran over to her and jumped up and
down, finally landing with her paws on Gillian's knees.

Gillian laughed and held her dish a little
higher, out of the dog's reach. "You might want supper, but I'm not
sure you should have this."

One of the roller-bladers came skating over,
his helmet under his arm, a leash dangling from his hand. "Sorry if
she's botherin' you. She begs from everybody."

The boy was about twelve. His spiked brown
hair was matted down from his helmet, his snapping brown eyes
sparkled with amusement. Gillian asked him, "Can she have a
bite?"

He grinned. "If you wanna give it to
her."

Gillian tried to tear off a piece of the
cornbread, but it slid into the chili. Nathan grabbed the dish and
held it for her. Smiling her thanks, she took the small bite from
the wedge and let the dog lick it from her hand. The schnauzer
gulped it down and looked up at her for more. Laughing again,
Gillian scratched the pet behind her ears. "I should have known
that little bit wouldn't be enough."

As she touched the dog and rubbed her rough
coat, Gillian felt her gaze pulled to the teenager again. He and
the dog were connected by a strong bond of affection. A surge of
energy made her fingers tingle and she automatically closed her
eyes for a moment. A clear picture of a dark-haired woman on a
porch came into focus. The woman was worried. Gillian had the
distinct impression she was the boy's mother.

Opening her eyes, Gillian cast a wary look at
Nathan. He was watching her closely. Should she say something to
the boy about his mother? If she did, Nathan would know what had
happened. Why had this vision come now? Since she'd left Indiana,
she'd felt normal--no pictures, no knowledge she shouldn't
have.

Gillian looked at the boy, knowing she
couldn't let the woman in her mind's eye suffer unnecessarily. "I
think your dog wants a full-course meal."

"What time is it?" he asked with a nod at
Gillian's watch.

"Five-thirty."

"Geez. I was supposed to be home an hour ago.
Mom's gonna be..." He stopped with a shrug as if a boy his age
shouldn't worry about adult authority. Snapping the leash onto the
dog's collar, he gave it a gentle tug. "C'mon, Peanut. We'll get us
both some supper." He smiled at Gillian and skated over to his
friends, who sat on the curb sipping sodas.

Nathan handed Gillian her plate. "What
happened?"

"You saw what happened. I gave the dog a
snack."

"When you touched the dog, you closed your
eyes."

The man was too observant. "The boy's mother
was worried about him."

"You felt that?"

"I saw that. She was standing on the porch
waiting for him."

"You got that from petting the dog?" Nathan
asked, astonished.

She'd faced expressions like his many times
in the past. "Mr. Bradley..."

"Nathan," he reminded her.

Calling him by his first name seemed too
familiar. She already knew she could be attracted to him. "This
'talent' I have isn't something I can turn off and on like a light
switch. It's more unpredictable than the weather or
earthquakes."

"You made him realize she was worried without
saying it, without telling him you knew."

"That was easiest."

Nathan finished his enchilada and took a swig
of soda before he spoke again. "My ex-wife took my daughters out of
the country six months ago. I can't find them. My P.I. can't find
them. Will you take my case?"

Excerpt from ALWAYS DEVOTED:

Chapter One

"What do you believe happened to your
sister?"

Emma Henderson felt her throat tighten and
she found swallowing difficult. She hated the glare of the
television lights and found her gaze swinging away from the camera
to offstage where Linc Granger stood. The successful TV producer,
who garnered high ratings with his specials, had convinced her this
interview might help find Paige. That was the only reason she'd
agreed to do it.

"I don't know what happened to Paige, Ms.
Kahill. She left one afternoon to drive to San Francisco for the
weekend and I haven't seen her since." Emma's voice cracked.

She almost felt Linc Granger take a step
forward. To do what? Stop the interview with journalist, Tessa
Kahill? To comfort her? To tell her everything was going to be okay
when she knew it wasn't?

"Her car was found on the shoulder of the
highway and she was missing. Can you tell me what your thoughts
were when you found out?" the world-renown journalist asked.

"I was stunned. I couldn't believe it. At
first we all thought she might have been kidnapped. But there was
no call...no note for ransom...nothing."

"You were on the police list of persons of
interest for a while, weren't you?"

"Tessa!" Linc Granger's deep voice rent the
air with authority. He told the technicians to cut and take five.
Then he strode up beside the interviewer.

His gaze connected to Emma's for a
heart-stopping moment.

She tore her eyes from his and took a deep
breath. She shouldn't have this reaction to him. He'd been
compassionate toward her, protective even, and she was grateful.
That's all there was to it.

But as Linc and the beautiful, curly-haired
interviewer argued over the questions for the remainder of the
interview to be aired later in the week, Emma knew she felt a spark
of something with Linc Granger she'd never felt with her late
husband Barrett.

After another minute or two of discussion,
Linc crossed over to her chair and towered over her. He raked his
hand through his dark brown hair, his green eyes turbulent. "Tessa
insists she has to go this route. She thinks it's better if
everything is out there in the public's face. I don't necessarily
agree. I know you lost your husband a year ago and this is hard. If
you'd rather Tessa go in a different direction—"

As Emma shook her head, her honey-blond hair
fell over her shoulder. "The family is always questioned. The
family is always of interest. It's okay, Mr. Granger."

"It's Linc," he said gently. As cutting as
his voice had been a few moments before, it was so different
now.

Ever since their first meeting, she'd felt
strangely out of breath. She was a mother with a four-year-old, and
her sister was missing. She couldn't think about anything else.

Squaring her shoulders, she assured him, "I
can handle Ms. Kahill's questions."

As Linc Granger studied her, she felt almost
all of the air get sucked out of the room. What was it about him
that made her so flustered? He was older, between thirty-five and
forty she guessed, and she felt young at twenty-six for the first
time in years. She'd taken on a lot of responsibility early.