She nodded quickly. “You’re right. Negative self-talk is never a good idea.” She hesitated again, trying to regroup. “Where was I?”
He took a step forward, closing the distance between them. “You were about to explain your theory of why I took your case.”
He was not touching her, but he waslooming. There was no other word for it. Channeling all the energy in the atmosphere. There was a lot more heat in his aura now—and not the kind that indicated he was gathering and analyzing data. This was another kind of fire, and it was compelling. Fascinating. Dangerous, perhaps, but not scary. A real rush. That should have been confusing or, at the very least, disorienting.
She didn’t feel confused or disoriented. She was suddenly intensely aware that he wanted her, and the knowledge thrilled her to the core.Proximity,she reminded herself. Proximity and shared danger were the factors in play here.Do not mistake impulse for true intuition. Did she care?
Yes. She cared about the truth.
“Did you take my case because you wondered if I had gone through a similar experience?” she whispered. “Did you think that perhaps we had both temporarily gone mad, lost control of the dark side of our talents, and murdered people without being aware of what we were doing? Were you using me to research your own case?”
“Well, shit.”
She held up a finger to stop him. “I’m aware that no two talents are the same, but there can be similarities, especially when it comes to the side effects and the psychic blowback.”
“What in green hell makes you so sure you know what you’re talking about?”
He sounded like he was grinding the words between his teeth.
“Amnesia is terrifying. I know how you feel. I understand why you were eager to find me and interview me. You’re curious. You’re looking for answers—”
“I am not one of your dream therapy clients.”
“Right, I know,” she said quickly. “It’s okay. You aren’t the first man to become a little obsessed with me. Well, not with me, exactly—with my talent. Randolph Draper, for example.”
“I am not Draper.”
“I understand.”
“Stop saying you understand.”
“I wasn’t accusing you of anything. I was just trying to clarify a few points. You probably did a psi profile on yourself in an effort to find out if any of your ancestors had experienced amnesia after using their talents at full-rez. Or maybe you wondered if you had a new talent that manifested in response to a traumatic event? They say it happens that way sometimes. People occasionally develop a second talent.”
He reached out and used one finger to tip up her chin. “Keep going. I can’t wait to hear the rest.”
The physical contact sent tiny shock waves through her. She had to remember to breathe.
“You apparently did not find the answers in your own psi profile. Naturally, when my case presented itself, you jumped at it. You hoped I could help you figure out what happened during those few minutes of amnesia. Then you wound up having to rescue me and now you’re in danger. Motivations can get very complicated.”
“I’ve got news for you, Ms. Dream Therapist. There is nothing complicated about what I’m feeling right now.”
She frowned. “What, exactly, are you feeling?”
“Like I want to kiss you.”
She froze. “Why?”
“Because I want to kiss you.”
She shivered. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure, damn it.”
She reached up to clamp both hands on his strong shoulders. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“All right?”
