Fired Up

at least for now. She did a little more tweaking to ensure that the currents would remain steady for a few hours, and then she carefully withdrew from the pattern.
    She waited, but Jack remained sound asleep. Sound asleep and dreaming. By rights she should be looking for the nearest exit. But she was okay here with Jack. How was that possible?
    She studied him with a growing sense of wonder. The neon-infused moonlight filtering through the thin curtains gleamed on his sleekly muscled shoulder.
    Cautiously she opened her senses again, testing. Jack’s dreamprints were on the pillow and the sheet, and she could see the dark ultralight aura that enveloped him. He was definitely dreaming. But her own energy patterns remained undisturbed.
    It dawned on her that, for the first time in her life, she might actually be able to sleep in the same bed with a man.
    But even as the astonishing thought struck she became aware of the irritating, unsettling traces of the old dream psi of previous hotel guests that stained the sheets and bedding. She might be able to sleep with Jack, but there was no way she could sleep in this particular bed without protection.
    She pushed aside the sheet, got to her feet and crossed the room to the small carry-on bag she had brought with her. Unzipping the bag, she took out the long-sleeved, high-necked silk nightgown and silk travel sheet. For some reason that she and Phyllis had never understood, silk was a barrier of sorts. It did not entirely block old dream psi, but it provided a buffering layer that sometimes—not always—allowed them to sleep on tainted sheets.
    She put on the nightgown and unfolded the travel sheet on the bed next to Jack. The sheet was constructed like a sleeping bag with a zippered opening on the side and a large flap at the top that was designed to cover a pillow. Jack did not stir. She crawled inside the silk cocoon, zipped it shut and prepared to conduct the Great Experiment.
    She fell asleep before she could contemplate the implications of what it all meant.

26
    FOR THE FIRST TIME IN A MONTH HE AWOKE FEELING RESTED and genuinely refreshed. No nightmares. Almost normal, he thought. Thanks to Chloe. He reached for her and came up with a handful of silk instead.
    “What the hell?”
    He sat up and looked down at the crumpled fabric in his hand. It took him a moment to realize that he was holding a silken sheet sewn into the shape of a Chloe-sized sack.
    He rolled out of the sagging bed and got to his feet. The door that separated the adjoining rooms stood half open. Chloe was in the other room. She was sitting at the table in front of the computer busily making notes in a small notebook.
    There was something very intimate about seeing her like this, first thing in the morning, he thought. She was wearing the pants she’d had on yesterday, but the top was different, a dark green turtleneck this time. It was obvious that she had showered. Her coppery hair was still damp. She had pulled it back behind her ears to dry. The motel’s limited assortment of amenities probably didn’t extend to hair dryers.
    He smiled. She didn’t have the soft, warm, inviting air of a lover who had just gotten out of bed after hours of great sex. She looked like a determined investigator who was hard at work. But he was pretty sure he’d never seen a sexier woman in his life.
    For a moment he just stood there, absorbing the sight of her, the sensation of her subtle feminine power, and remembering the bone-deep sense of intimacy that had connected them last night. He was aware of a compelling need to keep her close, keep her safe. But the shattering truth was that at the moment he was the biggest threat she faced. A guy who could kill with the energy of pure fear. How could that work? If he ever lost control . . .
    She looked up. “Good morning.”
    “Good morning,” he replied.
    She gave him a critical head-to-toe survey and nodded once, evidently satisfied. “You look a lot better than you did yesterday or the day before.”
    He rubbed his jaw, testing the stubble of a beard. “I haven’t checked a mirror yet, but I’ve got a hunch that I look like hell.”
    Laughter glinted in her eyes. “Don’t worry, the slightly unshaved look is still in fashion.”
    “I’ve got a shaver in my overnight kit.”
    “Good thing we both came prepared to spend a night away from home,” she said lightly.
    He did not return her smile. “I wasn’t fully prepared last night,” he said