Authors: Vicki Hinze
“The house.” Caron again rubbed her leg. “Either the girl is still there, or she was there.”
“Oh?” Had he missed some sign at the house that she’d
picked up on?
She held his gaze. “I saw it.”
“Saw it?”
“Saw
it.” She smoothed back her hair and pointed to her
temple. “Psychic, remember?”
She didn’t back down. And she didn’t flaunt her “gift,” either. That confused Parker. Human nature would have
made it natural for her to capitalize on her gift. Yet she was
damn near broke. Half of everything she made she sent to that biddy of a mother of hers over in Mississippi, who lived with Caron’s only aunt, Grace Collins. That, too, bothered Parker. It had ever since Harlan had first mentioned Caron Chalmers. If she was gifted, why didn’t she
use the gift to help herself? Financially, the woman was still
struggling.
The answer was easy, of course. She wasn’t gifted. The
fact that Harlan was six feet under now proved that.
Edgy, Parker straightened in the booth. Their knees bumped under the table, and Caron’s hand slid from her
calf to his thigh. Their gazes clashed across the table. His throat went dry. No way, he told himself, looking into her
lavender eyes. No way would he allow himself to feel at
tracted to this woman.
She jerked her hand back. It thudded against the under
side of the table. Clearly she felt the sexual tension be
tween them, too. And, just as clearly, she didn’t like it. For
some reason, that annoyed Parker. And because it did, he cursed himself as a fool. “What’s wrong with your leg?”
“Excuse me?”
Wide-eyed innocence. He wasn’t buying it. Megan had
worn out that particular feminine wile years ago. “Your
leg. You keep rubbing it.”
Caron looked away. “It’s nothing.”
“Then why are you rubbing it again now?”
Snapping a cold glance his way, she gripped the edge of
the table. “I said, it’s fine.”
Her overreaction bothered him. It was defensive, not
evasive. A woman who’d masqueraded for years should be
more in control of her responses.
She gazed up and dropped her shoulders. “Look, Parker,
there’s something you’d better understand right up front.”
He leaned forward. His hands were close enough to feel
the heat radiating from hers. He didn’t like that, either. A cold woman should feel cold, and look cold. Chalmers
didn’t. “What’s that?”
She licked her lips. “When I’m working a case, I tune in to the victim. I don’t know why. It just happens. I feel what
they feel, when they feel it.”
Her response had been controlled, after all. She was mixing her signals to knock him off guard. He tested the
theory
. “
Is
that what was wrong earlier in the car?” She’d
say it was, of course. But it was more likely that she’d scarfed down one Butterfinger too many and been riding
out the crash from a sugar high.
She nodded.
Naturally. More confident now that he had a fix on her,
he feigned concern, and denied he was feeling any. “And
now it’s your leg?”
“It stings.”
He narrowed his brows. “Have you checked it?”
“There’s no sign of anything wrong. It just stings.”
“So what you’re telling me then, is that it’s the girl.
Something’s wrong with her leg.” Chalmers had to be half-nuts if she thought he was going to swallow this.
“That’s exactly what I’m telling you.” She swept a long
lock
of hair back over her shoulder and reached for her cup.
He watched for signs of nervousness, of lying, but she’d
looked him straight in the eye and her hand hadn’t trem
bled—and it still wasn’t trembling. She hadn’t shifted in the
booth, or done anything else typical of a liar’s body language. Either Caron Chalmers was telling the truth, or she
was well practiced at lying. His money was on the latter.
He cleared his throat. “I’ll check out the tags on the two trucks and call my secretary to get things rolling. We’ll
watch the house.”
“Wait.” Caron blinked, then blinked again. “You’re moving too fast.”
“If the girl’s been abducted and now something’s wrong
with her leg, I think we should move fast.”
“Fast, yes.” Caron’s eyes clouded.
“But with caution.”
She was afraid. He didn’t like it. And he liked even less that he didn’t know why she was afraid. Was she worried about being exposed as a fraud, or about making a mis
take?
Outside the window, thunder rolled. A cloud split open and dumped a downpour. Heavy drops of rain slashed
against the window. Caron watched them for a long min
ute, then turned that cool, competent gaze back to him.
“I have to move slower, Parker. I can’t afford to make a
mistake. If I fail, the child could die.”
A shiver shot up Parker’s backbone. Not from what
she’d said; a good con could tear your heart right out of
your chest. But because he could see the genuine effort that
saying it had taken Caron. She was good. The best he’d ever seen. He’d go along—for now. “So how do you want
to handle this?”
“First, I think we should set up a watch on the house.”
“Sounds reasonable.” Hadn’t he just suggested that a
moment ago and met with a brick wall?
“Good. You do that. I’ll find out who occupies it, then
meet you there in thirty minutes.”
“That’s pretty quick. Are you forgetting the guys at the
station move slower than slugs?”
“No, I haven’t forgotten. But I don’t need them.” She dropped two bills onto the table, then scooted out of the
booth. “Sandy says you’re resourceful.” She treated Parker
to a rare smile. “In a pinch, so am I.”
*
* *
Caron greeted the woman at Meyer’s Properties with an
open smile. “Sorry I’m dripping on your rug.”
“It’s hard not to with all this rain.” The petite bru
nette’s high heels clicked on the tile at the end of the rug.
“I’m Meriam Meyer.”
“Caron Chalmers.” She stretched out a hand.
The woman took it. “Are you looking for a house here?”
“Yes,” Caron said, glad that it wasn’t true. The neighborhood looked tired, as weary as her own. “I’d like some
information on the neighborhood.”
“Have a seat, please.
I’ll
be with you in a moment.”
The front door opened, and a chime went off some
where in the back of the office. Caron felt the cold draft on
her back. She didn’t have to turn around to know it was
Parker. Right on schedule.
Meriam’s attention shifted to the door. A spark of inter
est twinkled in her eye. “Hi.”
Parker walked forward, toward Meriam’s desk, and gave
the realtor one of his knock-you-to-your-knees smiles.
“Hi.”
“Be with you in just a second.” Meriam looked from Parker to Caron, and her eyes lost a bit of their sparkle.
“Do you have a rest room?”
“Sure.” Meriam swiveled her chair and stood. “Be right
back,” she told Parker.
The phone rang, and she paused to answer it.
Caron waited until Meriam was deep in conversation, then turned to Parker and dropped her voice to a whisper. “Distract her, I’ll get the street index.”
“I’ll handle her,” Parker whispered.
Caron resisted a frown. He’d handle Meriam, all right—
and Caron had no doubts as to how he’d do it. He’d charm
the woman right out of her panty hose.
Meriam hung up the phone. “This way,” she told Car
on, then quickly moved down the hall.
They passed two private offices—both empty—then a cluttered copier room. Caron slowed her step. A fax ma
chine was on a long table near the far wall. A pile of maps
was stacked on the other end, and there was a row of
books in between. Scanning the titles, Caron saw the street
index.
“Here you are.” Outside the rest room, Meriam paused and waited for Caron to catch up. She nodded toward the
front office. “Isn’t he gorgeous?”
“Yeah, gorgeous.” Caron resisted the urge to sigh.
“I dated a guy like that once.” Meriam sank her teeth
into her lower lip. “It was three months of sheer heaven.” On a wistful sigh, she returned to the front office.
Summarily dismissed and surely forgotten, Caron doubled back to the copier room and grabbed the index. She
looked around, saw no one, then tucked the book under her raincoat. Visions of herself being arrested and carted off to
jail ran through her mind, and guilt had her face nearly
steaming.
Stealing didn’t sit well on her shoulders; it went hand in hand with dishonesty in her inbred guilty-conscience pack
age. But she needed the information now. A child’s life was
at stake. When this was all over, she’d return the book.
Back in the hallway, she heard Meriam’s desk chair squeak, and heard her offer Parker a seat. Caron peeked around the corner just as he took one—on the corner of
Meriam’s desk.
Caron huffed under her breath. Simms sure didn’t mind
using
his
gifts. He had more slinky moves than a big
cat...and more sex appeal than the law should allow.
Meriam’s husky laughter grated on Caron’s ears.
She slid a covert glance at Parker, and wasn’t surprised to find him watching Meriam. That was what irked her about him, Caron realized. When Parker Simms looked at
a woman, he really looked at her. One hundred percent fo
cus, total concentration. That attention from such a hunk was flattering. And Meriam was working hard at not letting that flattery go to her head—but she was losing.
Caron shouldn’t be watching this. She had the book; she should just leave. But, curious about him, she didn’t move.
Parker reached over and brushed at a speck Caron felt
certain didn’t exist from Meriam’s cheek. The woman let
out a breathless little groan that had Caron gritting her teeth.
He winked at her. He knew she’d been watching!
Caron hiked her chin, positively refusing to feel awk
ward about getting caught. She
should
observe the way he
worked; they were partners, weren’t they? Reluctant part
ners, but partners nonetheless.
She narrowed her eyes. Parker shrugged, and that cor
ner of his mouth tilted up. She was quickly coming to hate that tilt. He knew his effect on women. Who was he trying
to kid with that innocent what-did-I-do look?
Caron slid him a glare that said she knew exactly what he
was up to, then sniffed to let him know she thought it was
rotten.
That darn
tilt
grew to a full-fledged smile.
It nearly left her breathless. She looked away, out the front window. A dynamite man could do serious damage to a woman’s dignity, and, though she’d have liked to be, Caron wasn’t immune to Parker’s charm. Worse, he knew
it.
Meriam was jotting down some information Parker was feeding her. Caron snickered. Probably his phone num
ber, or the address of someplace they could meet. He
dipped his shoulder and whispered something that had
Meriam giggling like an idiot. Couldn’t the woman see what
he was doing?
Irritated, Caron looked down at the clutter on the desk. Parker’s throaty chuckle had her working to keep a grimace from her face. What difference did it make to her if
Parker was coming on to Meriam? Caron barely knew the man. But she knew he was dishonest. He’d lied to her about
why he was getting involved, and right now she was watch
ing him lie to another woman. Different circumstances, but
the same actions.
She’d seen enough. Caron didn’t interrupt the quiet
conversation, just crossed the room to the door. She kept a death grip on the book, scared to death it’d fall out from under her raincoat and she’d be caught red-handed in a
nasty spot.