Free The Hollow by Nora Roberts Page B

little boy and a big black dog ran around a fenced yard with such joy and energy in the gallop she could almost feel the wind on her own cheeks, rushing through her hair. When the boy in his bright blue coat leaped up to stand on his swing, his fingers tight on the chains, the thrill of height and speed pitched into Layla’s belly.
    Is his mother in the kitchen making dinner? she wondered dreamily. Or maybe it’s the dad’s turn to cook. Better, they’re cooking together, stirring, chopping, talking about their day while the little boy lifts his face to the wind and flies.
    â€œWho knew washing dishes could be so sexy?”
    She laughed, glanced over her shoulder at Fox. “Don’t think that’s going to convince me to repeat the favor.”
    He stood where he was, a badly wrinkled dishcloth in his hand. “What?”
    â€œWashing dishes is only sexy when you’re not the one with your hands in the soapy water.”
    He came forward, put a hand on her arm. His eyes locked on hers. “I didn’t say that out loud.”
    â€œI heard you.”
    â€œApparently, but I was thinking, not talking. I was distracted,” he continued when she took a step away from him, “by the way you looked, the way the light hit your hair, the line of your back, the curve of your arms. I was distracted,” he repeated. “And open. What were you, Layla? Don’t think, don’t analyze. Just tell me what you were feeling when you ‘heard’ me.”
    â€œRelaxed. I was watching the little boy on the swing in the yard. I was relaxed.”
    â€œNow you’re not.” He picked up a plate, began to dry it. “So we’ll wait until you are.”
    â€œYou can do that, with me? Hear what I’m thinking?”
    â€œEmotions come easier than words. But I wouldn’t, unless you let me.”
    â€œYou can do it with anyone.”
    He looked into her eyes. “But I wouldn’t.”
    â€œBecause you’re the kind of man who puts a dollar in a jar, even if no one’s around to hear you swear.”
    â€œIf I give my word, I keep my word.”
    She washed another dish. The charm of sheets flapping in the wind, of a little boy and his big dog dissolved. “Did you always control it? Resist the temptation?”
    â€œNo. I was ten when I started tapping in. During the first Seven, it was scary, and I could barely keep a handle on it. But it helped. When it was over, that first time, I figured it would be gone.”
    â€œIt wasn’t.”
    â€œNo. It was very cool to be ten and be able to sense what people were thinking, or feeling. It was big, and not just in the wow, I’ve got a superpower kind of thing. It was big because maybe I wanted to ace a history test, and the smartest kid in history was right there in the next row. Why not reach in, get the answers?”
    Since he was drying dishes, he decided to take the extra step and actually put them away. She’d be calmer if they continued with the chore, if all hands were busy. “After a few times, a few aces, I started feeling guilty about it. And weird because I might take a peek into a random teacher’s head to see what they were planning to toss at us. And I’d get stuff I shouldn’t have known about. Problems at home, that kind of thing. I was raised to respect privacy, and I was invading it right and left. So I stopped.” He smiled a little. “Mostly.”
    â€œIt helps that you’re not perfect.”
    â€œIt took time to figure out how to deal. Sometimes if I wasn’t paying enough attention, things would slip through—sometimes if I was paying too much attention, ditto. And sometimes it was deliberate. There were a couple of events with this asshole who liked to razz me. And . . . when I got a little older, there was the girl thing. Take a quick sweep through and maybe I’d see if I had a shot at getting her shirt