Free Seeing Is Believing by Lindsay McKenna Page A

Diana’s face as she held a pillow against her body.
    “Y-yes.” She put the pillow back down and wrapped her arms around herself. Wes came over and stood inches from her. When he placed his hands on her arms, she whispered, “Ruth Horner was a very sad woman. She cried so much. So much…”
    Wes tightened his grip on Diana’s arms. Her voice was shaken, and he felt her empathy for Ruth Horner. “Lean on me,” he entreated softly near her ear. And she did. Wes stifled a groan deep within him as she leaned shyly against him and he took her weight. She felt good. Everything felt so right with her. She was warm and soft and rounded in all the right places, fitting perfectly against the hard, more angular planes of his body. Even her hair smelled fragrant—a scent he could swear was gardenia. Without thinking, he placed a kiss against her thick, black hair, shining in the light from the stained-glass windows behind them.
    Diana felt his kiss, felt the pressure of his mouth against her hair and trembled. Not from fear, but from anticipation. If only…if only he was kissing her lips. Her fingers were firm on her arms, and he was stalwart, his body hard but at the same time comforting. She closed her eyes, surrendering to him in every way—although she knew he didn’t realize it. Wes wasn’t much of an intuitive, not perceptive enough at reading body language to realize the gift of herself she’d just given to him. But it didn’t matter, because he was opening up. With time, she knew he would be able to read even her most subtle body signals. Did they have that time?
    Opening her eyes, Diana forced herself away from Wes, away from the strength and invitation of his body. Although she ached to turn and slide her arms around his neck, she fought the urge. She must concentrate on the job at hand.
    “Earlier I picked up a very different feeling near the clothes closet,” she said, hoping he didn’t notice that she was blushing. Her cheeks felt hot, and she kept her back turned to him as she moved toward the closet.
    Wes nodded and stood for a moment, absorbing the last sensations of Diana’s body against him. The moment had been too short, and he felt denied. Did she? He turned, but she was moving away from him. If he didn’t know better, he’d think she seemed a trifle nervous. Perhaps because of his boldness?
    Wes didn’t have much experience with Diana’s kind of woman—a woman who’d been hurt by another man. He was terribly unsure about how to approach her. What was appropriate? What wasn’t? Shaking his head, he followed her over to the light blue French doors. The closet was large, covering half the wall in front of them. When Diana turned, he felt instant elation. Her cheeks were bright pink, and her eyes… He groaned to himself. Her eyes were a soft, velvety brown with gold flecks. Yes, she’d liked him holding her, kissing her hair. Wes wanted more. Much more. Suppressing his clamoring needs, he put them aside and focused on what she was saying.
    “When I came into this room, I felt a lot of confused energy. I felt repugnance and disgust, along with a lot of grief.” Lifting her hands, she added, “I don’t know what to make of it, Wes.”
    “What did the bed area feel like?”
    “Grief, sadness.”
    “Can you conjecture why?”
    “She was sad. Crying over something.”
    Scratching his jaw, he said, “She was married once, you know.”
    “What caused the divorce?”
    “I don’t know. I asked the same question of the chief of the Psi-Lab, and he said only that her husband, Richard Horner, didn’t like the long hours she spent at work.”
    Diana lightly ran her hand along one French door. “I see.”
    “What do you feel here?”
    “Something…odd. Dangerous.” She shook her head. “Wait, let me see if I can be more specific.” She faced the closet, closed her eyes and placed both hands on the French doors. For a minute she was silent.
    Wes waited patiently. He saw Diana’s brow