Knock, knock... Read online

  Shay groaned. What was Bernice talking about? Had she gotten another nasty email? She'd been plagued by several lately. Typical Bernice had tossed them off as unimportant. As just expressions of discontent by those who wanted money and weren't going to be getting any. But that brushing off, itself, was unusual for Bernice. She had a tendency to bring in lawyers and scare off potential lawsuits.

  Running foundations was big business, and drumming up new money was a constant challenge. These receptions were cornerstones of that process.

  Shay was part of the same world. Dealt with the same driven – and sometimes desperate – people. She had her own methodology for finding the shysters and removing them from the honest applicants for her own foundation. And because they shared similar challenges and experiences, Bernice and Shay often compared notes and worked closely on joint projects. Their assistants also stepped in to help resolve problems on each other's projects. It helped to have that type of close working relationship. They watched each other’s backs.

  "Roman, darling. Here is the young woman I adore as if she were my own." Bernice reached out, latching onto the arm of a tall, suited gentlemen. She tugged him around and pointed to Shay. "Isn't she gorgeous? Just like I promised."

  Oh lord. Shay groaned inside. Bernice really hadn't needed to make a public spectacle of this meeting. But why was she surprised? This was typical Bernice.

  "Shay, this is Roman Chandler, the grandson of my dearest friend, Gerard Chandler."

  Heads had turned at Bernice’s loud introduction and color stroked up Shay's neck as she fought back her embarrassment. She should be used to it. But wasn't.

  Still, she faced Roman, kept her plastered-on smile in place and lifted her gaze to his.

  And sucked in her breath.

  The look in his eyes. It was so...intimate. So knowing…as if he knew her...all of her, inside and out. And as if he liked what he knew.

  They'd emailed. Chatted. Though they’d corresponded for a few years, over the last year they had built a friendly almost…intimate…relationship over the Internet and phone. And they had talked – like really talked. Theirs was a relationship she hoped would grow. But she'd never met him before. Hadn't shared everything with him. She didn't know him – not in the way he seemed to know her.

  The heated look in his eyes unnerved her...and yes...intrigued her.

  And she had to admit…sparked an answering awareness.

  Shay had no illusions about her looks, regardless of Bernice's constant matchmaking attempts. She was too tall for many men, was slim, with milk chocolate brown shoulder-length hair and a largish mouth, and instead of symmetry, her nose was slightly crooked and one eyebrow was slightly off line. All minor in the scheme of things but those same flaws had given her terrible, angst-ridden moments through her teenage years. Now she could brush off the negative thoughts as they came and even though she could get her nose fixed, it no longer mattered to her.

  According to the look in Roman's eyes, her flaws didn't matter to him now either. Of course he'd seen pictures of her. But that wasn't the same thing as this. She secretly had high hopes about Roman, but she'd never expected this level of appreciation from him right off.

  When he spoke, his voice held both promise and familiarity. "Hello, Shay. I'm delighted to finally meet you." He glanced at Bernice, standing beside them both with a smug, knowing look on her face.

  "Hello, Roman." Did he look at all women as if they shared special memories? She so badly wanted to ask. Instead, she said, "How nice to meet you." She paused then added, "Finally."

  His gaze deepened to midnight blue, and he smiled. That wide movement of his lips released her from the intensity of his gaze. She could breathe easy again.

  "This is so much better than email," he murmured, "and you are so much better looking in person than in photos."

  Under Roman's midnight blue gaze, Shay's stomach churned with unanswered questions and delight. She wanted to take a more in-depth look at his energy, but thought she’d better save her strength for when a deeper reading might be needed.

  A strange sound had her turning to face Bernice, her hostess and mentor.

  Bernice opened her mouth to speak when she suddenly stopped, an odd look on her face. Her breath sucked in so loudly, Shay leaned closer in concern. "Bernice? Are you all right? What's the matter?"

  Silence.

  Shay studied her old friend, but Bernice's face had turned ashen, her eyes locked on something behind Shay's back. Shay twisted around to look, but the only thing behind her was a wall. A blank wall.

  Turning back around, and seeing no change in her friend, she said, "Bernice, talk to me. You're scaring me."

  Bernice's breathing turned ragged, stuttered then almost appeared to stop. Her features locked in place yet her chest rose and fell in a natural movement.

  The hairs on the back of Shay's neck rose.

  Jesus, she must be having an attack of some kind. "We'll get you some help. Can you talk to me? Can you tell me what's wrong?"

  Roman bent to study Bernice's face. "I'll get a doctor." He took off.

  Bernice's mouth worked. Still, no sound came out.

  Silently, Shay willed Roman to hurry. But from the looks of it, he wasn't going to be fast enough. She raised her hand to call for help when her arm was grabbed. She stared, surprised to see Bernice's bronzed nails cutting into her soft skin.

  "Bernice?" Shay rubbed the papery skin on the back of Bernice's fingers with gentle soothing strokes. "Hang on. Help is coming."

  From a distance, she could hear rapidly approaching footsteps. Thank God. Please let her friend be all right.

  Worried, Shay stared into Bernice's eyes, and Bernice stared back. Her gaze dark. Bottomless. Blind. Shay's heart squeezed in fear. "Bernice. Damn it, stay with me. Please talk to me if you can."

  Shay willed Bernice's eyes to return to normal. Willed them to blink. To move. To do something.

  Then something else happened. Inside, deep inside, Bernice blinked. A clear movement that Shay could see and understand.

  Except for one thing.

  On the surface, Bernice's eyelids never moved.

  ***

  Roman Chandler stood off to one side of the ballroom entrance as the paramedics moved the stretcher out through the foyer and into the ambulance. It was certainly a different world out here than the expensive event going on behind him.

  Damn. He’d found Bernice was a good friend and benefactress to the people. ‘My people,’ as she'd say. To see the old fighter brought low by age and sudden change in health was a blow most people here would struggle with – one that would make them look at their own health and wellbeing. She was formidable. Creating stress and tension and love and affection with a few words, a flick of her hand and the flash of her smile.

  He hoped whatever was wrong would turn out to be minor but given Bernice’s age – well…she hadn't looked good. He'd already called his grandfather and given him the news. His grandfather would no doubt make it to the hospital before the ambulance did. He'd been there for Bernice for over thirty years. That wasn't going to change now.

  His thoughts drifted back to the woman who stood beside him, the woman Bernice had just introduced him to…the woman who had intrigued him since their first email. Now he knew his gut reaction was right about Shay.

  Shay was...dynamite. Everything he'd hoped for. Hell, he couldn't have hoped for this... He hadn't even known this kind of connection could exist, let alone was something to hope for. She’d entered the ballroom with an attitude that caught every man's attention. He knew because he’d watched them all turn to mark her progress.

  She had to be almost as tall as him, in heels. And every inch was smoothly muscled and as delectable as any woman he'd seen. And he'd seen plenty. And learned that the inside rarely matched the package.

  That he'd recognized the delicate line of her neck, the smooth curve of her shoulder, the delicate bones of her wrist, had shocked him. The level of familiarity
and desire he felt for her, terrified him. And delighted him. The recognition could not be explained away by the plethora of email conversations and a few pictures.

  He'd been painting her for years. A delight that had him open to making that initial contact. Since then…well, she'd worked her way into his life, his psyche…even his dreams. Some days she was all he could think about. He'd been looking forward to this meeting for months.

  Still his reaction to finally meeting her shook him to the core. From the moment he laid eyes on her this evening he’d wanted her. He'd known that already on an intellectual level. She was so damn interesting. But to have the physical person match his fantasies...well, that’s when he'd been deluged by an overwhelming sense of recognition. Not just a superficial knowing, but an understanding of her at a deep, visceral level. It was as if he knew her for who she was, really was. Without the trappings of society, the painful past, the solitary existence he knew she lived. He just knew Shay.

  And she wouldn't be happy that he knew as much as he did about her life. She liked her privacy. She would likely blame Bernice and their grandparents… And it’s true, they'd started his interest in Shay – at least initially. After that. Well, he was no fool...

  He'd almost frozen with shock when she spoke to him. Her voice had been a surprise. Light, cool. Whatever else she was, life, vibrant life, swirled inside. She presented as calm and poised, but that calm exterior in no way hid the richness of the woman on the inside. When she spoke, the artist in him wished he knew how to capture that rich throaty fullness and knew his medium would be lacking if he tried. The sensual promise of her voice sent shivers down his spine and straight to his loins.

  And that's the woman he wanted to get to know better. Needed to get to know more.

  His paintings didn't do her justice.

  The artist in him tried to memorize her details. Like a video camera snapping off stills, he tried to capture the special essence that made up this remarkable woman. He could only hope that later, much later, he'd remember some of what he'd seen and recorded in his mind.

  His grandfather had warned him about Bernice's matchmaking surprise tonight. And Roman was grateful. Bernice didn't have a good history as a matchmaker, but she was hell on wheels when she had an agenda.

  She’d thrown Callie at him years ago, hadn’t she? Look how well that had turned out. Not. Still he'd been young and infatuated with his young wife. He couldn't blame Bernice for his own lack of judgment. Callie had been too free-spirited to stick faithfully to one man – even her husband. The divorce had been painful with the list of her flings including names of several of his friends.

  Callie was part of his history. A part he didn't want to revisit. A mistake he didn’t want to repeat. Along with the bullet that had ended his police work. Now he specialized in Internet security. Even had his own company.

  This time he knew better.

  And he knew Shay had her own history to get over.

  Besides, without that painful breakup and change of career, he'd never have returned to the passion of his youth – painting. And he couldn't imagine how empty his life would be now without that constant creative need and drive washing through him.

  Moreover, his emotional breakup with Callie had endowed his work with a new edge. But those post-breakup pieces were nothing compared to the work he churned out now. Somewhere along the line, he'd become fixated on his current series and hadn't managed to paint it out of his system. Though he’d tried.

  Maybe now, he understood why.

  "Excuse me." A man walked around him, making Roman aware that he stood in the middle of the elaborate front entrance, holding back the crowd as he stared down the curved driveway.

  He hoped Bernice was all right, if only for his grandfather's sake. He'd be devastated to lose her. His grandfather was getting on in years and wasn’t as resilient as he once was.

  Another reason for his return to his hometown. To be closer to his family.

  It had been time.

  ***

  In the too-silent silence, Shay and the rest of the hushed crowd watched the paramedics efficiently load Bernice into the ambulance and drive away with siren blaring and lights flashing.

  Bernice had been a larger-than-life presence for so long; Shay couldn't imagine the void she'd have in her life if Bernice died. She shouldn't think so negatively, but it was hard not to. Shay knew what lively, life-giving energy looked like. Their last conversation had been so strange. And Shay knew what at-the-edge-of-death energy looked like. Bernice's energy now indicated that she'd lived well past the best-by date.

  And it hurt to think that Bernice might not bounce out of bed and give Shay royal hell for sleeping alone – again. Shay looked for the man Bernice had all but pushed in her direction.

  Roman had stood off to one side, casual, concerned and competently keeping the crowd back. Many of those who had gathered had disappeared inside by now.

  Shay appreciated that.

  Still, whatever she'd seen deep in Bernice's eyes during the episode made her suspicious. She needed to find out just what that double set of eyes had meant...if anything.

  She had to do what she could to find out. She stepped back into the ballroom. Despite the thinning masses there were still too many people around for her to do much by way of finding answers. Regardless, she opened her senses and studied the sea of colors swirling through the crowd. Emotions rippled outward as everyone absorbed details and dealt with the crisis in their midst.

  She couldn't avoid hearing the words whispering outward as each person's thoughts swirled around them, carried on their energy. Even though she normally saw more images than words, right now, in this crisis, these thoughts damn near screamed in the ether.

  Is that Bernice?

  The old dame is finally coming to the end of the road.

  Oh dear, I hope she'll be okay.

  The world won't be the same without her.

  About time that old bat bit it.

  The last thought had Shay spinning around and pinning a look on a young, rakish-looking man standing off to one side. She studied him, half recognizing him. Still there wasn't any real negativity rolling off him. His energy was more like that of a disgruntled nephew who was hoping he'd be getting something from the will...but wouldn't be, and he so knew it.

  Shay dismissed him as unimportant, and let her gaze continue to roam, still hearing the whispered thoughts like dull noise in the background. Studying those standing around her, she let her gaze zip past Roman and came to a sudden stop. She slowly retraced the short distance to Roman’s aura and studied it.

  Her heart slammed into her chest, and she gasped.

  He was a man of power. Psychic power.

  Like Darren.

  But she didn't know what kind of power. It could be anything. And she didn't know if he knew. Many didn't.

  Roman turned to look at her, as if just becoming aware of her interest, and raised an eyebrow in concern. He took a half step toward her. She gave a tiny panicked shake of her head and averted her gaze. It was only her strength of will that stopped her from backing away from him. She desperately tried to control her breathing. When she could, she stole another glance at Roman’s energy.

  And her heart stalled.

  Part of him was shielded. Behind a protective wall. She couldn't read him. He could be anyone in there. He could be a good guy...or another bad one.

  And for all she knew he could be just like Darren, her dead fiancé who'd tried to kill her.

  ***

  Knock, knock…

  Hi Shay. There you are. Too bad you can't hear me. Standing in the middle of the chaos as usual. Did you enjoy the show? I made sure you got a front row seat.

  And you have no idea I even exist. Just the way I like it.

  See, or don’t see me…it doesn’t matter. I'm still special. I can get inside people's auras and sneak into the part of their consciousness they don't like to see. That they hide or bury. The parts that exist but th
at can’t be acknowledged – even from themselves. I can make my hosts do things. Not too much yet. And not for very long, but I'm getting better. Stronger.

  You might ask, what’s the difference between me and a serial killer? The serial killer gets his hands dirty.

  I don't.

  And the difference between me and the guy I'm stepping into is...nothing. Because under our skin we all want the same thing. Even you, Shay.

  I'm just one of the few that found out how to do it. It's taken time, and a lot of effort, but I'm getting better all the time. Now I don't have to be beside the person; I don't even have to be in the same building. Actually, at this point in my evolution, soon I won't even have to be in the same fucking city. I'll have mastered this technique and can live anywhere. Any way I want.