Free Finder's Keeper by Vivi Andrews

failure my fault. Is this how you people do business?”
    “Did you see Pirates of the Caribbean ?”
    “What? How does that—”
    “Did you see the movie or not?”
    “I saw it,” she snapped, turning to stalk toward her car.
    Chase followed, almost stepping on the back of her sensible pumps. “Do you remember Captain Jack’s compass? How it couldn’t find shit unless it was what you truly wanted?”
    “Yes. So?”
    “Think of me as the human version of that compass. I can find any object, as long as it is what you want the most in the moment you touch me.”
    She spun to face him, stopping so abruptly he nearly plowed into her. He caught her arms to steady her and she nearly fell again smacking away his hands. “That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”
    “ That’s the most ridiculous thing? You should get out more.”
    “I think we’re done here.”
    Chase rocked back on his heels. “You sure give up easy.”
    “I have better things to do with my time than stand here indulging your fantasies. Like pursuing legitimate means of reacquiring my watch, rather than wasting my money on mumbo jumbo.”
    “Shit, Mia, would it kill you to visualize the thing for five minutes? Think of it as an experiment. Controlled variables and all that shit.”
    “Visualization isn’t scientific. I’ll draw you a picture.”
    “Won’t help. Finding it isn’t about the item. It’s about you . Your connection to it. Your imprint on it.”
    “My imprint,” she repeated, her tone so dubious it bordered on disgust.
    “The things we value, the things we need , we tend to leave our psychic fingerprints all over them, creating a link with them. Sometimes even without ever coming into physical contact with them. That’s why I need you to want it. It tells me what kind of fingerprint I’m looking for and that lets me find your link.”
    “This is ridiculous.”
    “It ain’t science.”
    “No, it most certainly is not.”
    She turned away from him, stomping a few feet before stopping and riffling through her purse with a frenzy that was all too familiar. She cursed under her breath and a big ole grin spread across Chase’s face.
    Dr. Mia Corregianni couldn’t find her car keys.
    For a moment, he hesitated. He didn’t want to crawl around in her innermost thoughts again. His little parlor trick was supposed to be a surface thing. He wasn’t supposed to see inside her soul like that and he was pretty sure he didn’t want to. Don’t be a pussy, Hunter.
    Chase reached out and brushed the bare skin at the back of her hand. A mimosa rush. Get away from the goddamn surfer punk…find the damn KEYS. That internal metal wire snapped taut with a twang, an image smacking hard into his brain. That’s what it was supposed to feel like. He pulled back his hand, dropping the connection.
    “You put them in your coat pocket. And you left your coat inside.”
     
    “I didn’t bring a coat,” Mia snapped, fiercely satisfied to prove him wrong. Then memory asserted itself and her spine jerked straight. “Shit. I did bring a coat.”
    “Would you like me to get it for you?”
    She glared at him, pivoting to stalk back inside. He couldn’t have found the keys. It was impossible. “You saw it earlier.”
    “Nope. You just really wanted those keys.”
    She grabbed the dark gray wool coat off the rack in the foyer and shrugged into it. He wasn’t psychic. He wasn’t .
    “Left inner pocket,” he prompted cheerfully, earning another icy look.
    She stalked back out the door, brushing past him. He trailed her into the parking lot.
    “You’re something when you’re upset. You know that, Mia?”
    “I’m not upset.”
    “Oh, you’re livid. What I can’t figure is why. What’s so terrible about me having a little psychic gift? Why not let me try to find your watch?”
    “Because I don’t want you to be able to find it!” She spun to confront him, flinging the words at him, and only when his eyebrows rose in