The Mind Keepers (The Mind Readers) (19 page)

“I had wanted this to be
romantic.” He shoved his hands into his jean pockets. “I was going to wait, but
now with your aunt here, and you looked so sad.”

Wait, what? Romantic? Sad?
“Maddox, what…”

There, in the snow, he dropped
to one knee and held out his hand. A small velvet box lay nestled in his palm. I
had a feeling that box didn’t hold earrings. My heart leapt into my throat,
denying what I knew was true. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Marry me.”

Suddenly, I no longer felt the
cold. Heck, I didn’t feel much of anything. My body, my mind, my heart had
grown completely numb. I stumbled back a step. “Are you insane?”

He didn’t grin. This was no
charming, flirtatious Maddox. This man was sincere—completely and utterly
serious. “We don’t have to get married right away. We can wait a year, two,
hell, five. But I’m not going anywhere, Nora. We’re in this together.”

“And that’s a reason to marry?”
I said, feeling a bit hysterical. This could not be happening. It was like a
scene from a romantic movie, and things like this just didn’t happen to me.

“No.” Slowly, he stood. “Marry
me because I love you. I’ve loved you since I first saw you pretending to be a
nursing student, with your horrible bedside manner. I knew you we lying, and I
still fell for you. Being here with you these last eight months has only
supported what I realized long ago.” He took my hand. “You can push me away all
you want, but I’m not going anywhere. Trust me, Nora. Trust us.”
 

The warm pressure in my chest
spread comfortingly through my body. A bubble of laughter slipped between my
lips. A year ago, just the thought of an engagement would have left me feeling
stifled, horrified even. “One big happy family, huh?”

“Why not? Life is better with
you, Nora. Finally, I feel free. I feel like there’s hope, there’s….” He
swallowed hard, his features going soft as snowflakes peppered his hair and
clung to his dark lashes. “Nora, unlike you I can’t read minds. I swear, if you
don’t—”

“Yes!” I threw myself at Maddox.

He caught me easily, and
together we collapsed into the snow. Without pause, I pressed my lips to his.
Maddox was right. Love wasn’t stifling. Not true love. It was freeing. He
flipped me over, the back of my neck exposed to the snow.

I shrieked, laughing.
“Seriously, you couldn’t have proposed on a beach in the Caribbean?”

“You don’t mean it.” He grinned
down at me and took my hand, sliding the ring over my finger. It fit perfectly,
a diamond star that had landed on my hand, just for me. “This is your home. You
love it here.”

I sighed, wrapping my arms
around his neck. “You’re right. This is home, and there is nowhere I’d rather
be than here with you…and our fifteen kids.”

There, in the cold, we kissed, completely
heedless of the snow melting underneath us. I’d always wanted a family. When I
was a child, I’d dreamt that my father would repent and rejoin us, and we could
have the Norman Rockwell painting kind of life. It hadn’t happened the way I’d
expected, but frankly I was glad. For we were a family in our weird, screwed up
kind of way. More importantly, I had love…true, selfless love. No matter what
happened, we had each other, and I knew without a doubt we were going to be
alright.

“And,” he whispered. “They lived
happily ever after.”

I grinned, pulling him close. “You
read my mind.”

The End

The Mind Readers might be over,
but make sure to check out Lori’s new series,
Make Me a Match
! Read the
first two chapters below!

Make Me a Match

Lori Brighton

Emma

“Come on. Make your move, you
jerk.”

Three freaking weeks. For three
freaking weeks I’d been watching him. Three freaking weeks I’d been forced to
shadow his every dull move…spying on some pathetic loser’s life in order to get
that one photo opportunity that would pay next month’s rent.

It had never bothered me before.
Why,
now,
did I feel so frustrated?

I sighed and lowered the camera.
Spying was way less fun than it was portrayed on television, especially when it
revolved around watching from the shrubbery while middle-aged perverts tried to
pick up women half their age. No cloaks and daggers for me. No running for my
life through narrow European alleys. Certainly no mysterious hot men coming to
my rescue.

“Emma! Emma! I have the
telephoto lens.” Lizzie’s voice carried easily across the parking lot, no doubt
drawing the attention of the numerous patrons who were enjoying the outside
deck…including the man we were spying on.

Glaring over my shoulder, I
pressed my finger to my lips. “What part of incognito don’t you understand?”

My sister frowned, tottering as
she climbed over the curb and stepped into the pea gravel that surrounded the
lilacs and azaleas. She handed me the lens. “Sorry. Sheesh, you’re in a mood.”

I ignored her comment, having
more important things to worry about than her overly sensitive thin skin. A
deck with tables took advantage of the lake view while Bob Marley played on
outdoor speakers. Our target was currently reclining in a bamboo-framed chair,
bobbing his head in time to the music, but his gaze, oh yes, his gaze remained
focused on the bar.

“Did anyone see me?” Lizzie
asked, smoothing down her white pencil skirt and kneeling carefully beside me.

I’d been hiding in front of the
pub for a good thirty minutes now, waiting for our target to make his move, and
Lizzie had almost blown my cover in the mere two minutes since she’d arrived.
“I don’t know, but just in case, you need to hide.”

Lizzie dropped to her knees,
grimacing when the gravel bit into her tender flesh. “He looks pretty normal
for a cheater.”

“Don’t they all,” I mumbled,
wondering what my sister had been thinking by wearing a skirt and heels to a
stakeout.

But Lizzie was a novice. Beyond
a novice. She’d never make it as a spy. She was too naive, too innocent. Heck,
she read romance novels, for God’s sake. The first thing this business taught a
person was that the idea of true love was a ridiculous myth that housewives
clung to in order to give meaning to their mundane lives. Yep, they clung to
the idea until I arrived, camera in hand, to show them just how in love their
husbands were…with the maid, the neighbor, the wife’s best friend, or the woman
twenty years younger they’d met at a bar.

The target looked our way. “Get
down!”

Lizzie dropped to her belly with
a grunt, half falling into the lilac bush we were hiding behind. The purple
blooms rattled in protest, sending their overwhelming perfume through the warm
evening air. She might as well have waved a white flag, proclaiming to all our location.
I closed my eyes and sighed. Counting to twenty helped…sometimes.

Still, it was a family business,
which is why I didn’t fire her, and although it was hard juggling the PI firm
and school, it was something I wasn’t ready to give up. Lizzie, on the other
hand, would have given up years ago. I might have inherited our grandfather’s
sleuthing ways, but not Lizzie. One thing was certain, she would never be a
private investigator. Not like me. She was too positive, too bubbly, while I
was made to crush the hopes and dreams of couples in love. And yeah, I might
have even taken a perverse pleasure in proving to women that men were nothing
but jerks. Attractive jerks, jerks I occasionally wanted to kiss, but jerks all
the same. It was the one thing, the only thing, I was sure of.

“Stay still,” I whispered.

Lizzie nodded, her auburn
ponytail waving back and forth.

When I was younger, I’d envied
my sister’s ease at conversation and making friends. While she’d been liked by
all, I’d always been the quiet good girl everyone overlooked. The girl who’d
had too much responsibility taking care of her little sister and a depressed
mother to attend basketball games and pep rallies. And now, heck, I was
seventeen and had only been on a handful of lame dates.

But the past was the past. There
was no use in dwelling. Pushing aside my dark thoughts, I looked through the
lens of my camera, watching Kelly make her move. It didn’t take much; with a
rack like hers, the gorgeous blonde had only to give a small smile and they’d
come running like dogs in heat. I’d found the girl working in a strip club, and
Kelly had been only too eager to leave the smoky joint.

The former stripper gave a
little toss of her head, her long blonde locks shimmering under the setting
sun. I was pretty sure Kelly loved taking down the same sort of slime balls
she’d been forced to endure for the five years of her adult life in that club.

“The man in the blue
button-down,” I said into the tiny microphone pinned to the lapel of my jacket.
“Looking your way now.”

Kelly gave a discreet nod and
glanced over her shoulder toward our target. There it was…
the
smile. The poor sap didn’t have a chance. He surged from his
chair, his eagerness almost tangible. With an arrogance that belied his
thinning hair and middle-age paunch, he sauntered toward Kelly.

The man had money. That was
obvious by the clothing he wore and the Jag he drove, and people with money
thought they were gods. He leaned against the bar, his string of drool
practically sliding down Kelly’s cleavage.

“You come here often?” came
through my earpiece.

I snorted and stretched out upon
my belly to get a better angle. Seriously? The man had made millions in the
stock market and that was the best line he could come up with? I almost felt
sorry for him…
almost
. Thankful for
the leather jacket I wore, I settled my elbows into the gravel.

I needed that money shot, the
photo his wife could use to take him for everything he owned, and with Kelly’s
good looks and his neediness, it wouldn’t take long. Once I got that shot I
could go home, soak in a tub, and forget for a short while the heartache I
witnessed every day. It was, undoubtedly, the worst part of the job, handing
that picture to the wife, proof that her husband wasn’t the man she thought
she’d married. But better to know now than later. Right? I shook aside the
thought. Besides, the check she’d write afterward made up for my unease. At
least, that’s what I told myself.

A soft breeze blew in from Lake
Michigan, sending small purple blooms raining through the air. Perhaps I’d go
to the beach for a bit. When I was lying in the sand, my eyes half-closed, I
could pretend I was on the Mediterranean.

Kelly giggled at something the
target said, but I barely paid attention. I’d get it all on tape and go over it
later. I was good at my job. The best. Grandpa would be proud, although I
doubted he’d appreciate our newest clientele…cheating men. But you had to make
money any way you could, and we definitely needed the money.

Still, lately I’d found my mind
drifting, my attention wavering. Although the family business was as busy as
ever, life seemed…lacking. I needed a vacation. A little time to recoup. Heck,
I needed an actual life. I might not be able to afford the Mediterranean, but
maybe I could talk Lizzie into driving to Florida for spring break. Nothing
like string bikinis, illegal beer, and drunk frat guys to make a girl feel
special.

Our target leaned closer,
resting a possessive hand on Kelly’s thigh. I smiled and clicked. “Perfect. Now
give me just a little more. Mama needs vacation money.”

“Is he going to kiss her?”
Lizzie said a little too loudly, peering through the branches.

“Shhhh,” I hissed.

He leaned in, whispering
nauseating nothings into Kelly’s ear.
Click
.
I tried not to gag. How Kelly could allow these men to paw her, I hadn’t the
slightest idea. Then again, I’d broken the guy’s finger who had dared to grab
my butt at a bar last week. What could I say? I liked my personal space.

“You know,” Lizzie whispered.
“You should totally be the decoy. A little makeup, put some gel in your hair…”

I resisted the urge to sigh.
“Lizzie, please, like I want those guys pawing me.” As if to prove my point,
the man leaned toward Kelly, his hand cupping the side of her face.
Click. Click
. “Yes, there we go. Kiss
her, you sick freak.”

“It worries me how thrilled you
are when you take these men down.”

I frowned. “Why shouldn’t I be?
These men lie to their wives, their families—they should be destroyed. They’re
arrogant jerks who think they can get away with anything.”

“Yeah, but it’s totally clouding
your aura.”

I slid her a glance. At times I
wasn’t sure if my sister was being serious or not. Surely no one could truly be
that optimistic and clueless. For her sake, I hoped she was joking.

I shook my head and refocused on
Kelly. The target was leaning in close. So close. Here came the money shot. The
thrill of victory coursed bittersweet through my veins as I knew deep down that
my win was someone else’s loss. He leaned closer, and I held my breath.

“Excuse me,” a refined British
voice called out from behind us.

I froze.
Crap.
Perhaps if I ignored him, he’d go away. Frantically, I
continued to push that button,
click,
click, click
, attempting to get the money shot before this man, whoever he
was, ruined everything. “The owner knows me. I have permission to be on his
property.”

Which was true, sort of. I’d had
permission last year, before someone had complained.

I pushed the button again.
Click
. Mentally, I urged the target to
move closer to Kelly.
Come on, come on
.
Why wasn’t he kissing her? She was totally kissable!

“Uh, no,” the guy insisted.
“You’ve misunderstood.”

Lizzie nudged me in the arm,
pushing me off-balance and making me drop the camera a few inches. I sighed and
glanced over my shoulder, intending to give the man a piece of my mind. But his
polished dress shoes momentarily surprised me into silence. My gaze moved from
his feet to his pressed slate-gray trousers, up to his jacket and vest,
complete with pristine white shirt underneath.

Lounge and beachwear were the
norm here. Even the millionaires who visited from Chicago wore their Hawaiian
shirts, attempting their best imitation of Jimmy Buffett. What Ivy League
college had this guy crawled from, and why the heck was he here in Podunk,
Michigan?

“I’m busy.”

He cleared his throat, shifting
the briefcase from his right hand to his left. “It’s important.”

Nineteen or twenty, he couldn’t
have been much older. But he carried a briefcase? Weird. Maybe he was older
than I first guessed. He was tall, with broad shoulders and strong hands. A
workman’s hands that belied his businessman attire. Curious, I couldn’t help
but lift my gaze to his face. Square, smooth jaw. Firm lips. Sunlight glinted
off dark hair, trimmed neatly and parted perfectly to the side. Wire-rimmed
glasses covered his green eyes. My gaze jumped back to his. No, not just green.
Intensely green. My heart squeezed slightly in surprise. If he ditched the
glasses and suit, he’d have women eating out of his hands.

He was a total hot nerd. Like Clark
Kent. I’d always had a thing for superheroes. I rolled back to my belly, intent
on ignoring the man, and more importantly intent on ignoring the heat of
attraction swirling in my gut.

Had Louie gotten a new manager?
He was certainly taking his position rather seriously, if his suit were any
indication. The former manager’s idea of dress clothing was an unstained
wife-beater and jeans.

“Emma!” Lizzie cried out. “He’s
kissing her!”

“Shoot!” I lifted the camera and
started clicking before I’d even focused on the target. Sure enough, the man
was pressing his mouth along Kelly’s delicate jaw. I should have been paying
attention. I could have missed the shot and the paycheck, all because of a guy
with brilliant green eyes. I definitely needed a vacation.

“You
are
Ms. Emma Watts?” the Englishman behind me persisted.

I didn’t dare look back or stop
pushing that camera button, afraid I’d lose my opportunity. “Maybe.”

“I have something for you.
Papers and…such.”

Papers. A man wearing a suit.

Realization hit like a punch to
the stomach. I should have known. A freaking lawyer. I jerked around, looking
up at him. Grandpa had been sued more than once. “You’ve got the wrong person—”

“Your aunt has died,” he said,
ignoring my protest.

Relief was sweet. Not getting
sued. Thank God. Although Grandpa always won the cases, it had taken time and
money, neither of which I had. As the relief gave way, curiosity settled in.
Aunt? As far as I knew, I didn’t have an aunt. “Like I said, wrong person. So
either leave, or get down. You’re blowing my cover.”

He frowned, looking more than
annoyed, but finally knelt beside me. The warm scent of spice and male swirled
through the air, momentarily interrupting my concentration. Visiting bars and
seedy motels, I’d spent more time than I cared to around men who barely bathed.
I’d forgotten what a clean guy smelled like. He smelled good…really, really
good.

“As I said, your aunt Clarice
has died.”

Lord, his eyes were even more
intense up close. A brilliant green, like moss after a spring rain. I shook my
head. Pretty soon I’d be spouting poetry. I never should have sneaked a peak at
Lizzie’s latest romance novel.

“We don’t have an Aunt Clarice,”
Lizzie replied for me, giving the man a brilliant smile. A smile that had sent
plenty of males panting to their knees. Sure enough, the man gave her a
hesitant smile back…ensnared.