Out of Mind (2 page)

B
en Fortune also saw the gun inside the package and couldn’t imagine Willow being able to hold the thing steady. This was a very small woman. He knew well that she was strong, but could she hit what she wanted to hit with the weapon?

He saw Willow’s back stiffen. That didn’t have to be because she had sensed him behind her, standing near a Napoleonic desk he had been examining when she hurried into the shop. But given the long pause after Pascal announced the gun, he didn’t think she was reacting to that. She should have responded to her uncle by now.

Odds were that she did sense Ben. His own fault since he should have made sure that was not possible until he wanted it to be. From Pascal’s behavior he must have assumed Ben would mask his presence until he was alone with Willow. Pascal had promised to leave them once he’d had his say with his niece.

Too bad one glimpse of her and Ben had forgotten to do what should come naturally—reveal only what he must until he found out exactly how the land lay with the woman formerly pledged to become his lifelong Bonded partner.

That was a pledge he had never given up on, regardless of how Willow thought she could call all the shots. Despite sending him away—for good, she had insisted—she must have expected him back eventually.

Ben smiled slightly. A few experiments, really touching experiments, would prove if they still had what it took to send each other into pain and ecstasy at the same time. They had never actually made love—Willow had seen to that—but the foreplay was explosive, unforgettable. He heated up from the inside out thinking about those incendiary sensations. That electric, erotic pain between two of their kind was considered proof of preordained Bonding with a Millet. Somewhere in the mists of that family’s founding, a brilliant elder must have thought such intense feelings would test the loyalty of a male’s prospective mate and protect their women’s honor.

Apparently, the founder responsible for the concept had not taken into account that irresistible stimulation could become addictive.

There would be a test between Ben and Willow, but he had no doubt the compulsion would be as strong as ever.

He hadn’t seen her in two years since she told him they weren’t meant for each other. After that she wouldn’t see or speak to him.

Ben had left New Orleans, and ran the family business—a very successful club, Fortunes, and other enterprises around the city—from his retreat on the island of Kauai.

“You can see inside closed packages?” Willow said to Pascal.

“That surprises you?”

She muttered something, but she wasn’t concentrating on her uncle. Instead Ben could see her struggle not to turn around. Her shoulder blades pressed together, then released, as if she were trying to relax.

Well, if the way he reacted simply to the sight of her was any indication of things to follow, he’d better not miss any vitamins.

“Hey, Willow, remember me?”
he asked her through channels he attempted to open between their minds.

He’d lost his marbles, not that she had ever responded to his mind contacts in the past. That would have put the lie to her insistence that she had no paranormal powers.

“What are you doing here?”
she responded, gripping the counter with both hands.

His turn to stiffen. The muscles in his back and thighs turned rock hard. Damn, this was great, she’d forgotten to cover up.

“What do you think? You and I have unfinished business. It’s been unfinished for too long. And you need me now—you need all of us.”

“Sykes got you here, didn’t he? He could have talked to me about it first. You two have always shut me out.”

“You decided to shut us out, Willow. You and I could always be as close as you wanted to be. The decisions on that were yours, remember?”

“I didn’t ask you to come. I—Oh, darn it.”

He felt her cut him off. It was gratifying to know he could cause her to break rules she’d made for herself in her teens when Willow had decided she would be “normal.”

“You’re upset and trying not to need anyone. Don’t shut me out.”
It was worth another try to establish an intimate connection with her.

Willow didn’t respond, but she did give in and look over her shoulder. And now his knees snapped into locked position. Those fabulous, brilliant green Millet eyes searched for him. The curly hair was as outrageously red as ever, the skin as pale and freckled, the features as unexpectedly sophisticated and irresistible. Then there was the small, totally sexy body….

Their eyes met.

Hers grew wider and took on a bright sheen. Ben knew it meant she was fighting tears. Willow prided herself on being in control. For her to lose it showed him just how much he’d shocked her.

She faced him and crossed her arms under her breasts. At least the familiar white shirt with its ugly Mean ’n Green insignia was made to fit her these days, rather than falling from her shoulders to the knees of her white jeans, like an oversize painter’s smock.

What had he hoped? That after all this time she wouldn’t have the same power to reach out and grab him in places he’d as soon control?
Thank you, Sykes, for dragging me here to suffer some more. I hope Willow knows what a concerned brother she’s got.

“Willow, let’s finish here,” Uncle Pascal said.

She felt his tap on her shoulder but ignored it. Ben was here and she’d already done the unthinkable, responded to his poking at her mind. She could pretend she hadn’t done it, but what good would that do? He’d only wonder how much more she was trying to hide about herself.

“Hi, Ben,” she said, relieved her voice sounded steady. “What brings you to New Orleans? I thought you were an island-dweller now.”

“I am an island-dweller. I’m also a native of New
Orleans and I love the place.” He seemed about to say more but settled his lips together.

There was no sight that could do to her what Ben could, just standing there, weight on one long leg, black hair pulled back into a tail at his nape, dark blue eyes deceptively sleepy-looking…. She was staring at him.

“You okay?” Ben asked. “You seem unsettled.”

He had always been the king of smart comments. “Surprised to see you is all,” she said. His dark shirt fitted tight over his wide chest and toned belly, and disappeared beneath the waist of jeans washed enough times to hold a shadow pattern that accentuated the slim and the not-so slim bits of him.

Willow had known Ben all her life. He was seven years older than she, and as they grew up he had treated her like a kid sister. She thought about how all that had changed. Kind of coincided with him “noticing” her. Willow had watched him grow tall, fill out and become a big, hard man with more psi powers than was healthy. But then she had realized he was watching her leave girlhood behind and, evidently, something about her pleased him—a lot.

The misery she had felt knowing she wasn’t what he needed in a Bonded partner started an ache she had hoped never to feel again once it lost its sharp edge. But she was experiencing that longing now. He was too much for her, too strong, too skilled, too flamboyant, too much of a free spirit. Her suspicion that this was true had been confirmed by his sister, Poppy, who was very close to Ben. Poppy had been upset, tearful, but she had made herself warn Willow of the dangers in becoming Ben’s permanent mate.

At least she’d had the sense to end things between them before they put a seal on their fate and she shriveled up, bit by bit, while she watched him become bored with her. He would still have been stuck with the agreement—but even if he tried to hide it, Willow would have felt his dissatisfaction.

“Why are you here?” she said sharply.

“I already told you,” he said, without glancing at Pascal, who would quickly figure out that there had been a silent communication between Willow and Ben.

“You didn’t say what you’ve been told about me,” she said to Ben. Her gaze shifted sideways for an instant as she analyzed whether she’d made another reference to their personal communication.

Ben didn’t want to trick her into anything. “Sykes said he’s been worried about you. When I got here, Pascal told me the same thing, and I’m thinking the rest of the family will have similar stories.”

She spread her hands. “Worried? Why?”

“Because you’re worried.” He needn’t kid himself that she’d be easy to break down. “To quote someone near and dear to you, you’re even more fractured than usual. You’ve been very quiet and you never go anywhere other than work.”

She frowned, but her eyes were brighter than ever. “And that’s different from what I usually do? I work hard and when I get home, I’m tired.”

“And you sent for a crash helmet with two rearview mirrors,” Pascal put in. The man had done a good job of fading into the background behind the counter where he sat on a high stool.

Willow shook her head. “I’m safety minded. I’m
going to have all my staff wear similar gear—just as soon as I’ve made sure it works well.”

“Most people who ride motorcycles or scooters, or whatever, rely on handlebar mirrors. Cyclists have a mirror on one side on a helmet and it’s about a quarter the size of those.”

“Most cyclists don’t need to see anything but oncoming traffic and what’s around when they want to make a turn,” she snapped back, and turned red.

Ben saw her moisten her lips and his belly contracted. He would have to contain himself. “Whereas you think you have to see all around, traffic, pedestrians and anything else that might be a hazard?”

“Yes,” she said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Excuse her so she could run away and hide, the way she’d been hiding from him all this time? “No,” he told her. “I’m not excusing you. Not unless you take me with you. Now I’ve come all this way, the least you can do is talk to me. I should have made you talk to me before I left. I see that now.”

She blinked rapidly. Her lungs felt compressed. Did he really intend to trap her like this? To force her to go through all the misery again? For an instant she closed her eyes. His arms around her would feel so good. Of course she knew the other sensations that would go with the comfort—unless things had completely changed between them.

Willow looked at him.

“There’s only one way to find out if we’re still pledged, Willow.”

“You don’t know anything, Ben. You don’t know why it could never work between us.”

“Tell me why, then. Or let me hold you. What could be more natural than two old friends embracing?”

“You’re rushing me again,”
she told him.
“You rushed me all the time. Even when others said I was wrong for you.”

She put a hand over her mouth.

“Others?”
He had always suspected interference.
“What others? We were the only ones who mattered. We still are.”

“No. That’s history.”
She collected herself visibly. “It’s good to see you, Ben, even if I am a bit prickly. Some things never change.” Willow forced a chuckle. “I do have to see to some business right now, but I’ll get in touch with you and we’ll have dinner or something. For old times’ sake.”

And that little speech was for Pascal’s sake and to get Ben off her back. “Fine,” Ben said. “Great. Do you know where to find me?”

She shuffled her feet in white tennis shoes with lime-green flashes down the sides. “Um, at Fortunes?”

“No. Poppy runs the place now—with Liam’s and Ethan’s support when she needs it. I’m still the financial man, but I don’t want to tread on their toes.” Liam, a history professor, and Ethan, a lawyer, were his brothers and Poppy, his only sister. “Sykes says he’s completely tied up in his studio working on a mammoth piece of sculpture so he’s letting me use his flat here.”

Her face tightened and she breathed rapidly through her mouth. “Here?” She croaked out the word.

Ben didn’t miss the wicked smile on Pascal’s face. Pascal had encouraged a match between Ben and Willow. Part of what Ben intended to do in New Orleans was find
out who had interfered in and ruined something that had promised to be fantastic. He should not have waited so long, but he had kept hoping she would ask him to come back.

“Willow, the people who won’t settle for anything less than your safety think you’re being threatened. They’re not sure by what, only that it’s happening—or you think it is.”

“I’m not imagining things,” she said heatedly. “Oh, leave me alone, please.”

A mad scuffle accompanied Winnie, Willow’s sister Marley’s Boston terrier, downstairs from the regions where Marley worked on restorations. The dog clamped a vast, yellowing plastic bone between her teeth. She positioned her shiny black-and-white body in front of the shop door and wiggled in apparent anticipation.

Ben glanced up the stairs, expecting to see Marley, but there was no sign of her.

The doorbell jangled wildly and a tall, commanding man came into the shop. He took off a gray silk fedora. Tie askew at the open neck of a very white shirt, every inch of him screamed confidence, and the glittering smile—or grimace—turned his dark face into a demonically exotic vision no one would ignore. Ben had not had much to do with Nat Archer, but the detective was not someone easily forgotten.

Winnie gave a sigh of ecstasy, abandoned her bone and rolled onto her back in front of Nat. Ben decided the dog had known the man was coming.

“Hi, Pascal,” Nat said, “Willow. I’m pressed for time but I wanted to come myself.” He looked sideways at Ben. “Ben Fortune. It’s been a long time. I heard you
were in Hawaii.” He rubbed Winnie’s round, pink and splotchy tummy.

“Yeah,” Ben said. “I’m visiting—sort of.”

“Is Gray here?”

Ben remembered that Marley’s husband, Gray Fisher, had been a New Orleans Police Department homicide detective before turning to full-time journalism. Gray was Nat’s former partner.

“He’s on a story, Nat,” Pascal said.

Marley trotted downstairs in a large, paint-stained apron. “What’s up?” she asked the policeman.

“Could be what we were worried about has started again. I don’t have a lot of evidence, but something’s happened and there are similarities to what we went through a while back.”