Vie woke to the delicious feeling of Beckley placing tiny, featherlight kisses along her nape. She sighed and stirred.
“Good morning,” he murmured.
His breath felt warm. Too warm.
Then the aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted across her senses and her eyes popped open. Sunlight assaulted her retinas.
“Oh,” she gasped, squeezing her eyelids shut while rolling over enough to grope blindly for the mug. Beckley’s hand gripped her wrist and she felt the hot ceramic brush against her fingers.
“I’m going to place it on the nightstand so you can hold it by the handle. It’s hot.”
“It better be,” Vie mumbled. “Thank you.” She levered herself onto her elbow and opened her eyelids until only a slit of brilliant light gained access to her eyes. “I’ve got to disable the automatic drape opener,” she said as she reached for salvation. The steam from the coffee brought the most amazingly wonderful scent to her nose. She breathed deeply before taking a sip.
“The sound of it opening is what woke me. Two hours ago.” She heard the gentle reproach in his voice and smiled.
“It’s your fault I was tired enough to sleep until ten,” she said, cracking open one eye enough see him properly. He sat on the bed beside her, one foot on the floor, the other folded at the knee. He was already dressed in black slacks, a pale mossy-green oxford shirt and a black, gray and moss-green sweater vest. Experimentally, she concentrated and thought at him. How many of those vests do you have, sexy?
His eyebrows climbed and his hazel eyes twinkled. I’ve lost count. Sexy? I’ve never thought of myself as sexy before.
Vie concentrated on an image of him lying in bed, his hair tousled and only a sheet draped carefully over his dignity. Then she tugged on the sheet.
Violet.
“What?” she asked, a mischievous grin playing on her lips. She watched a flush start at his neck and end at his hairline. Blinking rapidly, she managed to finally get both her eyes fully open.
“Do you think we’ll be able to communicate mentally when we are farther apart?” Beckley asked, glaring sternly at her when she began to tug up his T-shirt that she wore, revealing her bare midriff. His hand shot out and he covered her hand with his, holding the cotton material down.
“You’re no fun,” she complained, but stopped teasing him. They were slated to go to Port Grange today and if they got distracted they wouldn’t arrive before lunch. She’d told Suzy they’d be there first thing. First thing had come and gone. Vie climbed out of bed, expertly balancing her coffee mug while she did so. “Tell you what. I’m going to get ready and you go downstairs. I’ll see if I can send you what I want for breakfast.”
Vie touched his forehead and then gently threaded her fingers through his hair. No mousse today. She liked it soft. He wanted her to kiss him, she could tell, so she leaned down and their lips met in a light, good morning-type graze. Then she stepped away and scrutinized him. He looked fine.
“Two hours? Has Watcher-man been by?”
Beckley shook his head and stood up. “Not so far, no. How long will you be?”
“About fifteen minutes,” Vie said, moving toward the en suite.
“What time did you tell your family we’d be there?”
Vie looked over her shoulder and made a face. “We should have been there by now.”
“And how far away is Port Grange?”
“About an hour or so.”
“You’re very close to Suzy, right? Perhaps you should try contacting her…nonverbally. It might work.”
She stopped and turned around in the doorway to look at him in surprise.
“Why not?” Beckley asked and she didn’t know if she’d projected her doubt or he’d guessed. “What can it hurt? If anyone could hear you, wouldn’t she be the one?”
“Yes,” Vie said slowly. She suddenly shooed him away. “Off you go. You’re too much of a distraction. I have to concentrate. Something simple, I think…like…I’m going to be late.”
* * * * *
Beckley entered the kitchen, his brow furrowed. He picked up his cup of tea and drank appreciatively, waiting for Vie to send him directions about her breakfast. He’d seen some eggs in the fridge. Maybe she wanted eggs. He could do eggs. If she wanted oatmeal, though, the only decent kind he could make was the instant kind that came in a packet. A grin blossomed and he had to take a couple of deep breaths to quell the sudden lightness of spirit that arched through his system. She finds me too much of a distraction. He wondered if she could sense how he felt at this moment. The rational side of his brain told him to calm down, to guard his heart and to be chary of how quickly their relationship was progressing. But the emotional—some would say irrational—side of him wanted to jump like the Maasai warriors of Kenya, higher and higher with a huge smile to show off his pearly whites.
Eggs.
Ah, very good, Beckley thought, turning toward the fridge. Poached? Fried? Scrambled? He waited for her answer but nothing came. Closing his eyes, he focused on Vie. Did you want toast with those eggs? Nothing. Hmm.
“Can you hear me?” Beckley asked in a normal voice. “Do you want poached, fried, or scrambled eggs?”
You’re talking aren’t you?
“Yes. It seems you can send but you can’t receive over any distance. Maybe with practice you’ll be able to increase the distance.”
Too bad. Oh well. Poached, please. Two on toast. But I don’t like runny whites. So gross.
“No problem. I am diametrically opposed to the concept of runny whites,” Beckley said.
He started opening lower cupboard doors until he found a small non-stick saucepan. He filled it half full of water, salted it and put it on the stove to heat. The old painted tin breadbox proved to actually contain bread. His sister-in-law had one of similar design that she used for vitamins, of all things. He put four slices of multi-grain in the toaster, closed the bag and replaced it in the tin. Then he paused as a thought occurred to him. Beckley moved over to the kitchen doorway.
Can you hear me now? She didn’t respond. He walked six feet toward the stairs. Can you hear me now? Still nothing. Feeling rather like the guy in the mobile phone commercials, he walked to the bottom of the stairs. Can you hear me now?
Did you know your thoughts grin?
Where are you? Are you still in your room?
“No, I’m right here,” Vie said, peering over the balustrade at him.
“Oh.”
“Well, don’t sound so pleased,” she mocked and then skipped down the stairs.
Beckley kissed her cheek when she reached him and they turned toward the kitchen. “I was hoping you were farther away. I heard you just fine but it seems we have to be practically beside each other for you to receive my thoughts.”
“That’s probably a good thing,” Vie suggested. They entered the kitchen and she took the eggs from the fridge. The toast popped up and she began buttering them while he cracked eggs into the saucepan.
Shrugging, he turned from the stove and watched her collect two plates and deposit toast on them. “I was thinking about how useful it would be in the private-eye business if we could communicate from a distance. Particularly if there were trouble.”
“No doubt. However, we’ll also have to see if I can do it at the same time as ‘looking’. We’re usually touching then anyway. If I can hear your thoughts we could carry on a two-way conversation instead of you having to listen to my running dialogue about what is going on in the past.”
Vie turned around and pointed at Beckley with the butter knife. “Next time Watcher-man talks to you, I want to see if I can listen in.”
“Do you think that’s wise?” he asked, glancing once at her and then poking the whites of the eggs with the corner of his spatula. “Perhaps it would be better if he didn’t know about your ability.”
“I don’t know what difference it would make if he knows or doesn’t,” she said, approaching him and glancing into the simmering pan. “He’d still hate me. Dang, look how plump they are. How did you manage that? Mine always spread across the pan.”
“Use a smaller pan next time,” he explained and then he took a deep breath as though to speak but he said nothing.
Vie didn’t have to read his mind to know he was worried about her. That felt good. People didn’t usually worry about her because they knew she could take care of herself. “Listen, we’ve got to learn more about him. I’ve been meaning to suggest that the next time he talks to you that you try to engage him in conversation. You might learn something useful.”
He let out a sigh and tipped the pan slightly toward her. “What do you think?”
“They look good to me,” she said.
After taking the pan to the sink and pouring out most of the water, he returned to her side and fished the eggs out, draining them carefully before settling them on the toast.
“That’s what I was trying to do last night,” he confessed. Beckley made a face. “I couldn’t bring myself to speak back to him. However, I let him rant on the off chance that he’d let something slip. I’ve gone over what he said but I don’t think I’ve learned anything new.” He smiled ruefully at her. “Sorry. Next time I’ll talk back.”
Vie refilled her coffee, added sugar and cream and glanced at the shelves full of mugs. The next mug slated for use was the stupid little blue one. She scowled and joined Beckley at the table, bringing his lukewarm tea with her.
“I think this tea is cold. Do you want me to nuke it for you?”
Beckley shook his head. “I don’t mind. I need to pick up some specialty teas. All you have are orange-pekoe bags.” He tilted his head at her and raised his eyebrows. “And you don’t even have a teapot.”
“I’ve never seen the need,” she said airily and then broke her yolk to let the golden liquid flow all over the whites. She shook salt on top and enough pepper to turn her breakfast black. “Won’t any tea do? They all taste the same to me.”
“Just like every coffee is identical, I suppose?” Beckley asked, catching her eye and nodding over her shoulder.
Vie didn’t need to turn her head. Three rows of her mug shelves had been dedicated to twelve coffee canisters. She shrugged.
“Teapots are civilized,” Beckley noted before taking a bite.
“I’ll get you one for your birthday. Something funky,” she promised. “When is it?”
“June tenth,” he said around a mouthful.
Vie lifted her mug, took a long drink and looked around her kitchen at all the shelves bursting with coffee mugs. She swiveled in her chair so she could look at the wall behind her. There was just about enough time to get the word out about Beckley’s tea fetish before his birthday.
“Dang, all the shelves are full. We’re going to have to put up a couple of more for your teapot and teas.” She turned back to her food and found Beckley staring at her, a steady, soft expression in his eyes. He caressed her cheek and then went back to his meal.
Vie’s stomach fluttered and she ducked her head to hide her sudden, unfamiliar feeling of shy awkwardness. She tucked into her breakfast and they ate in silence for several minutes.
“I’m sure you wish Watcher-man never spoke to you again,” she commented, reluctantly returning to their biggest concern. She watched him closely. His lips pressed together and he gave a short nod. “Do you think you can tell when he’s in your head? Could he be listening to our conversation right now and you not know it?”
He didn’t answer until he’d finished half his food. After swallowing some tea, he picked up his fork again and paused before cutting into his second egg on toast.
“When Watcher-man is in my mind, my head feels heavier, somehow. I know that’s illogical,” he added hurriedly as though afraid she was going to mock him. Vie merely nodded and continued to eat. “You know when you have a bad cold and your head feels woolly and thick?”
“Uh huh.”
“That’s what it feels like when he’s just talking to me. When he’s trying to make me do something—like smash your Harley kitty plate—then it’s as if there’s a beehive inside my mind, right behind my eyes.”
“That sounds uncomfortable,” Vie said, using the last bite of toast to clean her plate.
“It is. That’s when I forced him out.”
Vie let him finish his breakfast before asking him another question. The realization that they could have been speaking non-verbally while they ate struck her so forcibly that she let out a bark of laughter. Beckley raised his eyebrows at her.
“I’ve been waiting for you to finish before I pestered you with another question. It only just occurred to me that I needn’t have waited.”
His hazel eyes crinkled at the corners.
True. Vie slugged him gently on the upper arm and carried their plates over to the sink. “I suppose I’ll get used to it. Anyway, the question I was waiting to ask has to do with how it feels when I am talking to you.”
“There is no comparison,” he revealed quietly.
She turned around and looked at the awe on his face and the blazing fire in his eyes. Her insides melted.
“It’s clarified one thing for me, though,” Beckley said, rising and approaching the other side of the island. He placed both his palms down on the surface and looked at her. “I am absolutely positive now that Watcher-man is male. Your thoughts are clearly feminine.”
“I wonder if I can read your mind,” she said, pursing her lips in thought.
Beckley raised his eyebrow and considered her carefully while watching her lips repeatedly purse and relax as she worked on this weighty idea. He wanted to kiss those lips but the island was too large for him to lean over and he didn’t want to crowd her.
“Do you mean read more than surface thoughts?”
“Yeees,” she said slowly, extending the word as if it were warm taffy being pulled and stretched. Her green-eyed gaze was sharp and assessing. “Think of something nasty about me—something you’d try to hide deep in your mind so that even you wouldn’t want to hear it.”
“No,” Beckley said, drawing back. His heart started racing. “I don’t want to think anything nasty about you. Besides, I can’t think of anything.”
Vie put her hands on her hips. “Come on,” she encouraged. “You don’t have to actually feel it or believe it. Just make up something.”
“I don’t have that good of an imagination,” he argued. “Why can’t I just think of a number between one and ten?”
“Because it wouldn’t work. Five. You were thinking of five. See? You have to think of something you’d bury deep inside. Something you wouldn’t want me to know.”
Beckley paced back and forth a few times, glancing at her and then away again. Finally he turned and challenged her. “Like what?”
“Uh, like I’ve got knobby knees.”
“But you have nice knees.” He watched her roll her eyes. “You do,” he insisted.
“Thank you but you’re missing my point. Think about my feet. How about that?”
“What about your feet? You’ve got lovely feet.”
Vie ogled him.
“What?”
She came around the island, toed off her sneakers and stripped off her socks. Then she stood there and waved at her feet. Beckley looked down. First he scrutinized the left foot and then he stared at the right.
“I’m not seeing what you see, I guess,” he said at last. “What’s wrong with them?”
Vie heaved a sigh and spoke in the tone of voice of someone admitting a great misfortune. “My baby toes stick out from the rest of my toes at an odd angle—they have since birth. Don’t you see it? Everyone else notices.”
Beckley hunkered down and examined the really rather minute splaying of her baby toes. He shook his head. “You’re right. They’re hideous. How could I not have noticed before? They’re so repulsive.” He looked up at her to be certain she’d understood the mocking sarcasm in his voice. She looked murderous. Staring her in the eyes, he said, “If I’d noticed last night I would have kissed them better. Violet. They’re adorable.”
Vie growled at him. She hopped about on one foot and then the other as she put her socks back on. “Everyone in The Family thinks I’m a freak.”
“Well, I don’t.”
“Okay. Okay.” She huffed while leaning against the island and slipping on her shoes. “How about you think something mean about my behavior. That shouldn’t be too hard. Lots of people think I’m too insensitive or too arrogant or too bossy.”
Beckley felt so uncomfortable he thought he might lose his breakfast. He took several deep breaths through his nose and glared at her. “I’m not going to think horrible things about you.”
“There’s got to be something,” she insisted.
“Well, there isn’t.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Beckley tilted his head, smiled at her and said, “Why don’t you search inside my mind and see if you can find anything. Then you’ll know for certain.”
Vie turned on her heel, grabbed her mug and refilled it with coffee, muttering the whole time.
He folded his arms across his chest and watched her. In the deepest recesses of his mind, he thought that she reminded him of an almost tame tiger—willing to play nice but with claws barely sheathed.
Vie stopped muttering and turned to stare at him from half-hooded eyes. She gave him a cat-that-ate-the-canary smile. I can live with that, she thought at him.
Beckley’s stomach unclenched.
“Now, back to business,” she said, noticing Beckley relax his shoulder muscles. “We have got to find this guy. He hasn’t been able to force you to do anything, but clearly he expected to be able to.”
“Yes. I think that’s a fair assumption.”
“Imagine what he might be able to make a weaker mind than yours do? Or a criminal mind? Or an insane mind?”
A steely glint flashed in his eyes and his jaw tightened. “Or already has.”
“Or already has,” Vie repeated, her tone of voice equally grim. She opened the dishwasher, discovered it still needed to be unloaded and shut it again. “We’ll look after these later. I better call Suzy now and make sure she got my message that we’re going to be late. You had better answer your phone.”
“My phone?” he said, patting his pockets. “Oh, it’s still in my jacket. In the spare bedroom.”
“I’ve still got it!” Vie cried, wiggling her hips and doing a small dance of joy.
Beckley chuckled, heading swiftly toward the archway. “Got what?”
“Super hearing, of course!” Vie called after him. She dug her phone out of her pocket, hit speed dial and waited for her cousin to answer.
“Suzy.”
“Vie. Where the devil are you? Is everything all right? You said you’d be here by now. Before now, actually.”
“Sorry. I was delayed.” So much for hoping she could project over a long distance. Suzy clearly hadn’t got her mental message. “We’re about to set out. Sorry about being so late.”
“We? With that cute new guide of yours?”
“How do you know he’s cute?”
“Arlee, of course. She said she hoped you’d pick him.”
“Dang. I told you that girl was smart.” Vie overheard part of Beckley’s conversation with his mom. “Just a second, Suzy. We’re probably not coming today after all.”
“Why? I’ve arranged for Chief Todd to come over and everything. What’s up?”
“Not sure yet. I’m only hearing one side of the conversation. Beckley’s talking to his mother and she’s so upset I can’t make out what’s wrong.”
“You know what they say about eavesdroppers.”
“I know what you say about them,” Vie retorted. She started toward the guest bedroom, keeping Suzy on the line. “You were supposed to discover who sent me that stupid little blue mug and so far you’ve come up with bupkis. Maybe if you did a little more eavesdropping and a little less holierthanthouing you might have the name of the culprit by now.”
“That is in no way a real word.”
“It would be if those people over at Merriam-Webster would take my calls. I’ve given up writing to them, you know. New words have to come from somewhere… All right. Hold on while I talk to Beckley.”
He looked at her standing in the doorway and waved at his phone.
“Mom, please calm down. My boss just walked in. I’ll ask her right now… Yes, I’ll make sure she knows how important this is… No, don’t worry… Yes, she’s very discreet.” He held the phone away and looked at Vie.
“I have to go home to the Hamptons. Someone has stolen the manuscript my father was restoring. Will you come with me?”
“Of course I’ll come with you,” Vie said and then she lifted her phone back to her ear. “Suzy? I’ve got a thing. If we get this sorted out today, we’ll be in Port Grange tomorrow night.”
“What’s this thing that’s come up? Are you going to tell me what it is?”
“No. I don’t know what it is yet.”
“Will you need my help? I can come if you need me.”
“I’ll let you know if I do but I think Beckley and I can handle it,” Vie said. “I’ll call you as soon as I know how long we’ll be. Oh, and look, I was going to warn you today…I want you all to keep an eye out for people watching you.”
“What do you mean, watching us? People look at us all the time.”
“You’ll know the difference. If anyone notices someone like that, give me a call.”
“Vie?”
“And whatever you do, don’t let them touch you.”
“What the hell? What’s going on?”
“Gotta go. Just remember what I said. Bye.”
Beckley put his phone back to his ear. “Mom. We’ll be there as quickly as we can… No. No police… I understand. I’ve got to go. Please stay calm. We’ll try to make the three o’clock ferry.”
He hung up and turned to grab his smaller suitcase. He shoved his shaving kit and miscellaneous items into it. “I really appreciate this. If word gets out that the manuscript has been taken, my father’s reputation will be ruined.”
“We should take a helicopter,” Vie said, coming forward and laying her hand on his arm. “Can someone meet us? At East Hampton airport?”
“Yes. I’ll get my father to pick us up. Are you sure you can get us a flight?”
Vie gave him a look and then went off, dialing her phone. “I’m going to pack. It’s just after eleven. We could probably be there in a couple of hours. We should tell your parents about Watcher-man—after we deal with their primary concern.”