Free Running Hot by Jayne Ann Krentz

contact with him might actually cause her psychic pain was troubling. It just didn’t seem right that she might not be able to abide his touch; not when he was so certain that touching her would bring him nothing but pleasure.
    “I’m starting to feel guilty about the glove thing,” he said.
    “As well you should.”
    “Damn it—”
    “Don’t worry, I understand,” she said. She smiled wryly. “Wearing them on this mission would not be at all professional.”
    He searched for another path through the Don’t Touch Zone.
    “How long have you been in Genealogy?” he asked.
    “A year.”
    “That’s all? Fallon implied that he considered you very valuable.”
    She glowed. “I’m delighted to hear that. Mr. Jones is not what you would call forthcoming with positive feedback.”
    “He’s never going to be up for Boss of the Year, that’s for sure. But take it from me, he wouldn’t have used your professional services more than once if he hadn’t been impressed.”
    “That’s good to know.”
    “What did you do before you went to work for the Society?”
    “Didn’t Mr. Jones tell you?” she asked.
    “Fallon can be vague about details that he doesn’t consider important.”
    “I used to work for a company called Crocker World.”
    He stopped in front of the elevators and pressed the call button. “Martin Crocker’s company?”
    “Yes.” She looked politely surprised. “You were aware of the company?”
    “Crocker’s death made headlines. It was also big news within the Society. He was a member. Funded a lot of research projects.”
    “Yes, I know.”
    “What did you do at Crocker World?”
    “I was on the corporate research library staff. After Mr. Crocker died, it became obvious that the firm was in trouble. Everyone knew that the company would fall apart without him at the helm. I could see the writing on the wall, so I started job hunting immediately.”
    It was all said very smoothly, very casually, but there was something ever so slightly off. Luther jacked up his senses until he had a clear view of her aura. He might not be able to see details the way she apparently did, but he could make out certain strong emotions. There was tension in the energy field that blazed around her, the kind that, as a cop, he’d learned to associate with a well-crafted lie.
    “How long have you been a member of the Society?” he asked.
    “My mother registered me when I was born.” She paused a beat. “You?”
    “My folks were both members. They registered me at birth.”
    The elevator doors slid open, revealing a cab packed with people. He assessed the situation in a single glance. Joining the crowd would mean forcing Grace to run the risk of someone brushing against her. He could feel her sudden tension.
    Luther smiled benignly at the cluster of faces.
    “We’ll wait for the next one,” he said.
    The elevator doors closed.
    “Thank you,” Grace said quietly.
    “No problem,” he said. “I’d suggest we take the stairs but—” He broke off, giving the cane a disgusted look. He refused to tell her that his leg was acting up and that descending four flights of stairs would make things worse. “I can make it down but it’s not the most graceful sight in the world,” he said instead.
    “No problem,” Grace said gently. “It’s not as if we’re in a hurry.”
    They stood together in silence and watched the illuminated numerals over the three elevators. Grace’s expression was calm and composed. It was impossible to tell what she was thinking.
    Luther used the time to wonder why she had lied about the job at Crocker World.

EIGHT
    They had a drink in the open-air bar and ate red snapper garnished with a light ginger and miso sauce in the restaurant. There were candles on the tables, moonlight on the sea and a slack-key guitar playing softly. If she closed her eyes and surrendered to the wonders of magical thinking, she could almost pretend she was on a real date, Grace thought. Of course,