It didn’t surprise him when she tugged her hair out from under his arm and scooted away. Lara didn’t like to talk about being psychic. He could relate.
She sat on the edge of the bed, looking so damn beautiful he couldn’t look away. That long dark hair, those soulful eyes, that soft mouth that would curl into a smile with the slightest provocation… Sexually sated, his mind didn’t jump to carnal analogies as swiftly as it had before, but he couldn’t help remembering just how good her lips had felt, snug around his cock.
“Good Lord, Noah. Does that thing ever go down?”
He cleared his throat and tried to act like he had a shred of discipline in his body. “Just ignore it.”
“I’m trying to.” But she didn’t look away from his erection, now encased in jeans. “Oh man, you’re smiling again. When you do that, I just want to give you whatever you want so you don’t stop.”
He chuckled. “Good to know.” He sobered as he decided how to say what needed to be said. “As much as I would like to shut the world out, we have some serious problems to deal with.”
“I know.” She sighed and leaned down to kiss him. So tactile, his woman.
His woman.
She cleared her throat and glanced from his face to his crotch again.
His cheeks heated. “It’s not my fault. It’s you. Before I came here, I used to get lost in history and the past. Now I’m lost in you,” he grumbled.
“That’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me yet.” Lara grinned. “Now finish telling me all the bad stuff so we can go get something to eat. I barely touched my sandwich with Bill because I was worried about you. I’m starving.”
Male satisfaction threatened his attempt at staying on track. “Okay, then. This is what we know. Someone killed to steal the painting. They brought it here and killed again, but this time it’s less about a theft and more about connecting the victim to the subject of the painting—who looks like you.”
“Good summation. Now what?”
“I spent the day waiting for Chloe to show up. While waiting, I did some digging into the town’s history. Did you know that Mike Buckman and Bill Knowles are cousins?”
“Really?” Bill had never mentioned that. Nor had Mike, but then, she and Mike rarely conversed. He leered; she avoided.
“Yeah. Did you also know their mothers died in a fire some twenty years ago?”
“That’s horrible.”
“And I think one of them is the killer.”
“What?”
“I told you before, I see the past. Snippets of it. But I’m much better now at directing my focus than I used to be. I saw the art dealer who owned the painting die. I also saw the painting disappear from his gallery. In both instances, there was a greasy energy, a darkness to the person committing the crimes. I felt it here too. In my room.”
“What? When?”
He told her about the earrings he’d found earlier that morning. “The energy in the room was the same. Our guy is here in town. He knows I’m here, and he doesn’t like me with you.”
“I don’t like this, Noah. Maybe you should leave town.”
Her concern surprised him. When was the last time anyone had worried about him? His mother never had. Deirdre didn’t even merit a thought. Kitty, maybe, or Chloe. But they hadn’t connected to him like Lara did. “If I’m leaving, you’re coming with me.”
She didn’t look happy about it. “But my job is here.”
“Are you that attached to it that it might mean your life?”
Lara sighed. “No. In fact, even before you got here, I’ve been questioning whether or not I’ve done the right thing by coming here.”
“Why did you?”
“Because I needed to prove myself. I’m not that freak the neighborhood kids teased me about being. I had to work for twelve years to put that behind me and move on. To show my folks I’m not a nutcase, that I can and will amount to something, I moved far away to live on my own.”
“Why do you need to prove anything to anyone?” But he knew. Hadn’t he done the same until he’d found the PWP? “You’re smart, Lara. I just met you, and I know that.”
She stroked his jaw. “Thanks, but you have to admit, we know each other better than makes sense. I feel like I’ve always known you. And that freaks me out.”
He tensed. “Yeah?”
“For years, I’ve struggled to not hear the voices. I put them out of my life. Then I moved here because I was guided. I have no other explanation for it. I’m not from here. I went to college in Charleston, for God’s sake. Across the country. But something drew me here, and I’m afraid it’s Cecilia.” She took a deep breath, then explained, “In some way, I’m Cecilia, Noah. And I think you’re Finnegan Fury, her one true love.”
Chapter Eight
Noah balked, but Lara doggedly continued. “Just hear me out. I feel like her; I look like her. That dream I had before, when we were in my office? It wasn’t just a scene for me. Not like I was watching her and you.”
“Finn,” he corrected.
“I was her with Finn.” She paused. “With you.”
He sat up, clad in jeans and nothing else. So virile, so handsome, and she loved him because he was the ghost of the man she used to love? Lara believed it to be true. It made a heck of a lot more sense than that she’d fallen for a man she knew little about. How she could trust him so implicitly, let him do things to her she’d never even tried, let alone done?
“So you’re telling me you don’t want me; it’s Cecilia wanting Finn, that it?”
He sounded less than pleased, and she half wished she hadn’t opened her mouth. She liked the smiling, happy Noah much better. Yet, like this, she could see the predator that called out to Cecilia. And to you too, her conscious tried to get her to admit.
“No, not exactly.” She frowned. “I’m trying to be honest with you, Noah. I’ve dealt with disbelief my whole life. I would have thought you, of all people, would understand this.” Angry, she also felt on the verge of tears and didn’t know why.
All of a sudden, Noah sat by her side and took her into his lap. He hugged her tight. “I’m sorry, baby, okay? Lara, I grew up a lot like you did. Except my father took off when I was two, and my mother hated me. She never believed me, had me committed more times than I can count, and finally just sent me to live with relatives, who at least tried to raise me right. My uncle had similar abilities, so I found a haven of sorts. But by then I was eighteen, and the damage had been done.
“So don’t think I don’t believe you, because I do. But only to an extent.” He tightened his arms when she would have spoken. He’d apparently said all he planned to say about his past. “There’s an obvious connection with Cecilia. But remember, I heard her too. Not just once, but a few times. Lara, I hear and see the past. No way I should have been able to hear Cecilia speaking directly to me. I know enough about history to know when I’m reliving it. I don’t know about you and Cecilia, but I can sure as hell tell you I’m not Finnegan Fury.”
She pulled back to look up at him, relieved to see the hint of a smile on his face.
“Not that I wouldn’t mind the comparison,” he continued. “From what I’ve gathered and seen from this town, he was a man to have by your side in a fight. I highly doubt he killed his lover, his only friend.”
“I don’t think so either.”
“Honey, I’m not possessed or a reincarnation. And before you get all offended, I’m not saying that because I don’t believe in the hereafter. Trust me. I’ve seen things that would make your hair stand on end. The impossible is not as impossible as you might think.”