Free Extrasensory by Desiree Holt Page A

get through the museum’s firewall before, giving her a sense of security when she sent her messages.
    “In my job, yes. I exchange a lot of emails. And of course we use them for internal communications. But anonymous? I don’t think so.” She cleared her throat. “Why would you even think that?”
    Say it, she wanted to scream. At least I’ll know I got through.
    He leaned forward in the chair, elbows resting on his knees, his eyes impaling her.
    “I think we can stop the cat and mouse game, Dr. Fleming. An email was sent Friday night to Carpenter Techtronics from your computer. I know it’s yours because I’ve checked all the others. Does anyone use it but you?”
    Lie or tell the truth? Pretend ignorance or get it out in the open? Come on, Mia, don’t be a weak sister. Show him what you’re made of.
    She let out a slow breath. “No. I’m the one who sent the email.”
    “And also made two calls to make sure Mr. Carpenter got it?” She nodded.
    “Thank you for telling me the truth and saving us both a lot of time and unpleasantness.”
    ”I’d like to know how you traced it back to me,” she asked. Where had she made a mistake?
    “With some very sophisticated equipment. Look,” he told her, “I’m trying to be low-key here but if you have inside knowledge of something going on at his company, this would be a good time to tell me.”
    She wet her lips again. “I don’t have knowledge. Exactly. At least, not the way you mean.”
    All trace of humor and courtesy disappeared from his face. “I don’t really have time to play games here, Dr. Fleming. You obviously know something. Or are involved in it.
    If you won’t tell me what you know, we may get to that unpleasantness I thought we were avoiding.”
    She needed a sign. Something that told her he’d believe her crazy story. And not consider her the culprit. Sometimes a simple touch gave her the signal she needed.
    Sometimes, although not always, she could “read” people this way and know if she was dealing with an enemy. “Would you do me a favor, Mr. Romeo? Shake hands with me?”
    One eyebrow lifted. “Excuse me?”
    “Just shake hands with me. Surely that won’t create a problem.” She waved her hands in the air. “It’s not as if I have a gun or anything.”
    “Fine. If it will get me some answers.” He leaned across the desk and stretched out a hand, his face still implacable.
    Mia steeled herself for his touch. This was the dangerous part in more ways than one. What if the image came back, right now, right here, sharp and vivid in her office?
    What if her body responded the way it had the day before? It would take all her skills to get a sense of the flesh and blood man without revealing more than she wanted to.
    When she clasped his hand, a sense of heat spread through her body as it had the day before. But now there was something else. Something that overrode it. The most amazing feeling of warmth. A sense of safety. The image of the nearly naked man tried to intrude but she concentrated on banishing it. But there was no hostility. Nothing for her to fear. She could tell him the truth. He was safe. Built of granite but safe.
    “Do you know anything about psychic abilities?” she asked. “About precognition?” She waited for the skepticism and ridicule, bracing herself for a negative, derogatory reaction.
    But he didn’t recoil or make a face as most people did. Or stare at her as if she had two heads. And what he said caught her off guard. “As a matter of fact, I do. Are you saying you have precognitive powers?”
    God, did that mean he somehow knew about her vision of him? No, not possible.
    Just not possible.
    She bit her lower lip and nodded. “Most people think I’m some kind of a kook or a nut. I’ve tried to help the police before but sometimes I can’t interpret the images clearly enough and I’ve made…mistakes.”
    “I can understand that. Your average bear has little knowledge of any kind of psychic