Page 11 of The Gift
She grinned at him. “I only feel me.”
That wasn’t entirely true.
His skin was warm, callused in places, his hands firm around hers in a way that made her notice. The clean scent of him and maybe a hint of aftershave curled through her senses. A rush of heat spread through her chest and migrated south to her belly, which had nothing to do with emotion other than her own.
That interesting detail, she kept to herself, however.
She squeezed his hands, not ready to break the connection yet.
“You can’t imagine how good it feels to touch someone without being bombarded. Without being afraid.”
“That must be hard to live with.”
It was, but something in his tone brought her head up. Was he humoring her, or starting to believe? She couldn’t tell and shrugged. “I’ve learned to adapt.”
She wasn’t sure she’d ever adapt to touching Coop. She swept her thumbs over the backs of his hands, just feeling him. She imagined doing more: gliding her hands up his muscular arms, over the breadth of his shoulders, and running her fingers over his end-of-day scruffy beard.
He was attractive. No doubt about that. But what made him different?
“There have only been a handful of people that I couldn’t read. A few I can dampen and ignore, but that isn’t often either.” She wasn’t sure why she’d said all that, but it led to what she really wanted to ask. “Do you have any perceptive gifts or talents?”
“Coop has the best gut on the force. His instincts are always dead-on. If that’s not some kind of ESP, then I don’t know what is.”
A middle-aged woman in uniform stood in the doorway with a coffeepot, smiling at their joined hands with zero subtlety.
Erica let go.
“We’re in the middle of something,” Coop told her.
The woman didn’t take the hint. “I came to see if you needed anything. Coffee, maybe, if it’s going to be an all-nighter.”
Coop glanced at his watch. “It’s after midnight. We should get going.”
He rose, gesturing her up, then guided her out with a hand at the small of her back. She brushed up against the woman, who barely had time to step aside.
Erica sucked in a breath as she hit a hollow pocket of emotion. Not fear. Not danger. Sadness. Abed gone cold on one side, and the faint echo of a man’s laugh that would never fill her kitchen again.
“I’m so sorry about your husband, Judy.”
The woman started, coffee sloshing over the rim of her carafe. It splashed on her hand, but she didn’t seem to feel it as she stared.
“Isn’t that hot?” Erica asked.
“What? Oh… crap.” Judy set the pot down and fumbled for a napkin.
Coop closed his eyes briefly, drawing in a slow breath.
She was used to this—Judy’s shock and his suspicion. The look that said she’d moved outside the bounds of normal. She needed a redirect.
“If you don’t mind, Lieutenant, I’d like to stop by the ladies’ room before we go.”
Still staring, Judy pointed down the hall.
As she walked away, Erica heard her ask, “How’d she know my name? Or about Earl?”
“Your name is on your ID badge,” Coop pointed out. “As for the other… damned if I know.”
***
