Free Extrasensory by Desiree Holt

Hunter is the person you want to see but I’m afraid you’re out of luck. He’s away until this evening.”
    Oh, please. Could I sound any more self-deprecating? Why don’t I hunch my shoulders and peer up at him like a mouse? Get a grip, Mia.
    He stood at the front of her desk, looming over her. “No. I don’t think Dr. Hunter is the person I want.”
    She took another deep breath, unsettled by his nearness. “I’m sorry you wasted your time coming here when the director is gone but perhaps I can arrange a tour of the museum while you’re here?”
    “I thought I just said the director’s not who I want.” A ghost of a smile drifted over his chiseled mouth. Something about the way his facial muscles moved told her he wasn’t a man who smiled a lot. “I would have suggested a cup of coffee but that seems to be a lethal weapon for you.”
    “I’m so sorry.” Don’t get flustered, Mia. “You just startled me.” She looked at the business card. “What exactly is Phoenix?”
    “An agency that takes care of things for people.”
    Okay, that sounded ominous. And the man himself made her nervous enough that her insides were quaking. “I don’t think we have anything here that needs taking care of, so why are you here?”
    Instead of answering her he inclined his head toward her bandaged hand. “I see you injured yourself.”
    She waved it off, even though she’d been swallowing Acetaminophen at an alarming rate to dull the pain. Surely she was just being a baby about it, right? It was just a stupid cut. “Household accident. I think I’m genetically clumsy.”
    “Now, why do I have a hard time believing that?” He lowered himself into the chair opposite her desk with panther-like grace, his rangy body dwarfing it. His gaze took in every inch of her that he could see, giving her the feeling she was being x-rayed.
    I want to fuck you.
    Mia shook. Had he really said that? Of course not. His actual words were, “I understand you’re the art historian for the museum.”
    She frowned. Okay, he wasn’t leaving right away. He didn’t want a tour. If he hadn’t stepped out of her vision, what was this all about? “Yes. I do the research for all the exhibits and provide the material for the media kits and the brochures. Are you in the art business?”
    “No, I’m not.”
    Silence settled over them and he watched her, as if waiting for her to say something else.
    She cleared her throat. “As I said, I don’t think there’s anything with our art that needs fixing, or I would have known about it.”
    “Actually, I have very little to do with art except to appreciate both its value and its beauty.”
    Like yours.
    Okay, this was getting too weird even for her. She attempted to pull the frayed edges of the situation together.
    “Then I can’t imagine what you’d want with me. Are you sure you didn’t get lost here? I’d be happy to show you to the correct person.”
    “No. You’re the one I want.”
    More silence. The butterflies were fluttering harder in her stomach. This wasn’t about sex, despite the voice in her head. Unexplained disappointment surged through her. Something was wrong here and she couldn’t figure out what. She wet her lips with the tip of her tongue.
    “Well, that’s very flattering I’m sure but I have a great deal of work to do. Unless there’s something specific you want, I’ll have to be rude and ask you to leave.”
    “Before I’ve even told you why I’m here?”
    If he wasn’t here about art or the museum, then what… Mia tried to still the panic that slammed into her. Surely it couldn’t be the email. She was positive she’d covered her tracks. But his next words told her just how wrong she was.
    “I understand you like to send anonymous emails,” he said at last.
    Thunk! The butterflies were replaced by the Radio City Rockettes doing a tap dance.
    How could he have traced her? She’d been so careful building her protection. And no one had ever been able to