Touch and Go. Michelle Rowen

pretty thick. Since I’m not an empath, I can’t quite see through them, but I see enough. I’m very observant.”

      He leaned back in the deck chair. “There’s no need to talk about this, Carrie.”

      “Patrick Liam McKay. Thirty-six years old. Recruited by the Paranormal Assessment and Recovery Agency thirteen years ago at Yale University. Field agent for four years, then headed the Mystic Ridge branch as agency manager for nearly nine years before his accident.”

      He stared at her with surprise. “Are you writing up my bio?”

      “I did that research for the Medallion article. But you’d probably be surprised what’s available from a simple Google search.”

      “This isn’t a magazine article. And you’re not a journalist anymore.”

      “No, I’m a paranormal investigator now. But you said yourself my natural curiosity is going to be an asset to this job.”

      He wanted to keep his guard up but her flushed cheeks only made her more beautiful. He was dismayed by how much he wanted her, even now. And he was the one who talked about professionalism. “I’m sure it will.”

      “Do you do that with everyone?”

      “What?”

      “Be so diplomatic. Makes people who don’t know you that well think you’re a nice guy, doesn’t it? But maybe you’re not so nice.”

      Despite his attraction to Carrie, he was feeling increasingly uncomfortable and it wasn’t simply because his crotch was soaking wet. He flicked a rapidly melting ice cube off his right thigh. “I never claimed to be nice.”

      “I think I’m starting to figure you out.”

      “Is that so?” He stroked a finger over his BlackBerry as it began to vibrate on the table. He glanced at the screen to see an email had arrived from the office—the file he’d requested about the goddess Erzulie. He’d read it later.

      “You don’t like it when people get too close,” Carrie said. “Not just physically, either. You like to keep everyone at a safe distance since your accident. Or rather, since you got better from that accident.”

      His shoulders stiffened. “People change.”

      She shook her head. “Something changed you. You’re an empath, but now you don’t touch people, which leads me to believe that it has to do with your psychic ability.”

      “You’re welcome to have any theories you like about me. It’s a free country.” He really wished he had a pair of sunglasses to hide his own eyes. She was studying him like a sample under a microscope. He looked down at his BlackBerry again.

      “You refused to touch people right when you started walking again, which means you can’t really use your empathic ability anymore.”

      His gaze flicked from the smart phone’s screen to her. She was far too insightful for her own good. He had to stop this before it got out of control. He struggled to keep his face expressionless.

      “I don’t refuse to touch people,” he said. “I’ll touch you right now to prove it.”

      She extended her hand without hesitating. A challenge. “Okay. Touch me. Tell me how I’m feeling.”

      He eyed her closely. “Did someone put you up to this? Was it Amanda?”

      Of course it was Amanda, he thought. Who else?

      “She’s concerned about you,” she confirmed. “You’re like a big brother to her. A big brother with lots of secrets.”

      He frowned. “Amanda needs to mind her own business.”

      “You’re not touching me yet.” She raised an eyebrow. “Something stopping you?”

      He reached forward and entwined his fingers with hers. Just like the time at the restaurant when they’d first met, the intense pleasure from the skin-to-skin contact sank deep into him. “See? No problem.”

      Carrie watched him carefully. “What am I feeling?”