Free Dream Eyes by Jayne Ann Krentz Page B

Maybe he could have been stopped before he killed Ben and Mary.”
    “One thing I’ve learned in the consulting business. Don’t look back. Not unless there is information in the past that can be used to figure out what is going on in the present.”
    “It’s a good rule.” Gwen picked up her fork. “But in my line, I’ve learned that the past always impacts the present.”
    “Yeah,” he admitted. “I’ve run up against that problem a few times, myself.”
    They ate in silence for a while. He tried not to watch Gwen overtly but it was hard to take his eyes off her. It was good to be here with her, basking in her delicate feminine energy. This was what he had needed ever since he had returned from the island, he thought. Gwendolyn Frazier was the fix he craved.
    “It’s usually better if you don’t ask,” she said matter-of-factly. She speared a tomato slice and ate it.
    He went very still, vaguely aware that his ring was suddenly infused with a little heat.
    “Better if I don’t ask what?” he said, feeling his way as cautiously as he had when he had escaped the underwater cave.
    “You’re wondering what I see when I view your aura.” She munched the tomato and swallowed. “I was just warning you that it’s better not to go there.”
    He had known he would have to deal with this sooner or later. She was not the type to let go.
    “You do realize that you’ve left me no option,” he said. “Now I have to ask.”
    “I was afraid of that. Promise you won’t get spooked?”
    “I’m a talent. I take the paranormal as normal.” He forked up a mouthful of fish. “Why would I get spooked?”
    “My aura readings sometimes have that effect on people, even those who accept the reality of the paranormal,” she said.
    “What do you see in my aura?”
    She hesitated. He could see the uncertainty in her eyes.
    “Okay,” she said. “But remember that my visions involve all sorts of misleading symbols and metaphors. When I go into my talent, I essentially slip into a trance, a waking dream. Those kinds of dreams can be just as hard to interpret as regular dreams unless I have context.”
    She paused to give him an encouraging smile.
    “No context,” he said. “Let’s see what you can do without any hints or clues.”
    She stopped smiling.
    “I was afraid you were going to say that,” she said. “You don’t believe that I can actually see anything useful, do you?”
    “I don’t doubt that you can see auras, and I’m convinced you’re sensitive to heavy energy like the kind laid down at crime scenes. But read my dreams? No. I don’t think anyone can do that.”
    She sat quietly for a moment, her incredible eyes luminous with a little psi. Energy shivered in the atmosphere. Two men at the nearby table glanced around uneasily and then went back to their meal.
    Gwen lowered her talent. Her mouth tightened at the corners. “Your aura looks the same as it did a month ago when I met you in Seattle. You’re stable. But I can tell that the dreams are getting more powerful. They aren’t nightmares—not exactly—but there is a rising sense of urgency linked to them. You’re not sleeping well, either. But there’s something else going on, too, something I can’t figure out without more context.”
    He made himself put his fork down with no outward show of emotion. “Is that the best you can do? Because any storefront fortune-teller could pull that kind of analysis out of a crystal ball. Everyone has a few bad dreams from time to time.”
    “I know,” she said.
    Her voice had gone flat and cold. He felt like he had just stomped on a butterfly.
    “I apologize,” he said. “I shouldn’t have implied that you were a storefront fortune-teller.”
    “I’m aware of what the general public thinks about psychic counselors. Most people assume that we are entertainers at best and scam artists at worst.”
    “I know that your talent is genuine, Gwen. I shouldn’t have said what I did. I’m