A Sexy Time of It. Cara Summers

from lunch. You need to get out of this place for a while. Live a little. Come with me.”

      She shook her head. “I can’t.”

      Linc frowned. “I know exactly what you’re going to do. The minute I leave you’re going to try to bring on one of your dreams and go off to London again. What can I do to convince you to take a break—at least until you talk to Dr. Rhoades?”

      “I don’t think you can. I’ve been thinking about it all day, and I feel like this is something I have to do.”

      “Why?”

      “I don’t know. But there must be a reason I was given this ability.” Because she wanted to ease the worry in his eyes, she said, “Besides, if I went with you, what are the chances that I would meet any straight men at your club?”

      “No chance at all, I hope.” He smiled then. “There’s no way I can convince you to get out of here for a while and play?”

      “I’m going to the Psychic Institute tomorrow.”

      “That’s not getting away. That’s work.” He crossed to the door and retrieved his jacket from the coat rack. “You need a change.”

      Her mind drifted back to the stranger who’d come into her bookstore. He’d been a radical change. All day she’d been wondering what would have happened if he’d kissed her? And every time she thought about it, she experienced that curl of hot lust all over again.

      Pushing the stranger firmly out of her mind, Neely walked to Linc and rose on her toes to kiss his cheek. “Go. Have enough fun and excitement for both of us.”

      Giving up, he shook his head at her. “Be careful.”

      “I will. I’ve been taking the pepper spray you bought for me.”

      “Make sure you use it if you have to.”

      She nodded. She hadn’t thought to the night before. She’d been so intent on escaping. But she would use it if necessary.

      Linc gave her a nod, then turned to let himself out. “Lock the door and put on the alarm.”

      She did exactly what he’d ordered. Then she made her way to the stairs and hurried up them. To be honest, except for that time when the stranger had occupied her mind, her whole being, she’d been filled with an urgency to return to London, 1888. She was becoming more and more convinced that she had some kind of purpose there—or perhaps a mission. The bookstore had given her life direction for a while, but now that it was operating successfully, she’d begun to yearn for a new challenge.

      Linc had made a strong argument that she needed to expand her social life. No doubt that’s why she’d had such a powerful response to the stranger today. Linc was also right that she needed a lover. If she was going to react to every man who walked through her front door the way she had today, she definitely needed some sex in her life.

      But tonight she had something else—someone else—on her agenda. She was going to see if she could have another encounter with Jack the Ripper.

      Before she talked to Dr. Rhoades tomorrow, she intended to gather more evidence by seeing if she could travel again to London, to the scene of the Ripper’s first murder. Once in her bedroom, Neely changed into dark jeans, sneakers and a sweatshirt. Then she tucked her hair into a cap. Studying her reflection in the mirror, she felt an onslaught of doubt. Did she actually believe that she was going to psychically travel back through time?

      Neely met her eyes in the mirror. Yes. She did. Pressing both hands against the legion of butterflies in her stomach, she checked her reflection one last time, and decided that she could pass for a boy—if it was dark enough. If she was going to wander the streets alone at night in Victorian London, it was much safer to appear male. Finally, she made sure the pepper spray was in her pocket. Then she crossed to the chair next to her bed and sat down.

      Before she fell asleep, she was going to review in her mind the story of Jack the Ripper’s first victim—Mary Ann Nichols—who was killed on August 31, 1888. Mary Ann’s body had been found in Buck’s Row in front of a stable entrance. Neely had discovered a detailed sketch of the scene in one of the books she’d located for her armchair detectives. Leaning back, she closed her eyes and brought the gate into focus. Next, she pictured the time in her mind as if it were the readout on a digital clock: 11:00 p.m. Hopefully, that would be early enough. She might not have been able to save Catherine Eddowes, but if she got there in time, maybe she could save Mary Ann.

      If this worked—well, she was going to have a lot of questions for Dr. Rhoades tomorrow.

      2

      August 1, 2128,

       San Diego

      MAX GALE PUSHED his way onto the glass-and-steel elevator that would eventually lift him to the one hundredth floor of the Trans Global Security Enforcement Building. Trans Global Security or TGS was a privately owned company that handled security for the entire planet. TGS had offices in several major cities, including Hong Kong, London, New York and Buenos Aires, and each specialized in a specific branch of security enforcement. The home office was located in Paris, and its new director, Lance Shaw, oversaw all the branches. The San Diego branch handled Psychic Time Travel Security Enforcement.

      Nearly all of the fifty or so passengers surrounding him wore a uniform that either by color or emblem denoted their rank in TGS. Those in red handled background checks on all who applied for time travel permits. Those in blue handled personal interviews and psychic evaluations. His own one-piece black suit, and the silver badge on his arm, identified Max as a three-star inspector. His job for the past five years had been to track down and arrest anyone who violated the laws regulating psychic time travel.

      The elevator slid to a stop on the second floor and the “blues” exited. The telecom screen to his left came to life, displaying a red “breaking news” banner with what had become a too-familiar headline: The Ripper Strikes Again. The video feed scrolled through shots taken at a crime scene that morning while a pleasant female voice informed viewers that the latest victim of the serial killer the media had dubbed the Ripper was a twenty-two-year-old student at San Diego State University. The girl’s body had been discovered outside a popular nightclub.

      Every enforcement officer in the elevator car now had his or her eyes glued to the screen. Everyone except Max. He’d just come from viewing the body in person. Lucy Brightstone was the fifth victim of the Ripper in the last six months. All of them had been young, beautiful, and they’d each been stabbed to death, their bodies mutilated and then discarded somewhere near the university. Max had viewed each one of the bodies. The third one—Suzanna Gale—had been his sister. She’d been killed on June 1, and like the other victims, she’d been a student at San Diego State.

      Since then, Max’s one goal in life had been to catch the Ripper.

      As the elevator crept upward, Max looked through the glass wall at the San Diego Bay area. The bridge to Coronado was used only by pedestrians. No vehicles had driven over it since the turn of the century when solar-powered hover vehicles had become affordable to the masses.

      Max shifted to allow three female enforcement sergeants to exit the car on floor 48. He’d been surprised when Assistant Director Deirdre Mason had contacted him at six-thirty this morning and asked him to come in. She’d had his proposed plan of action for less than twelve hours. What he wanted to do had been controversial enough that he’d expected her to take a few days to consider the plan. When he’d heard about the latest victim he’d understood. The fact that the Ripper had struck again might just pressure the assistant director into approving his proposal, and while he didn’t want to be grateful to the coldhearted bastard who’d brutally murdered another woman, he needed all the help he could get.

      When the elevator door opened on the hundredth floor, Xavier, Assistant Director Mason’s administrative assistant, was waiting for him.

      “She’s ready for you. This way.” The tall black man led Max down a short hallway. Xavier had been with Assistant Director Mason