Running Hot

bar. Grace ordered her coffee black, he noticed. It was how he drank his. Hey, something in common. Focus on the positive.
    They sat together at one of the tiny tables.
    He studied Grace’s hand, which was currently wrapped around her cup.
    “You’re going to have to lose the gloves before we get on the plane to Maui,” he said quietly.
    She paused, the cup halfway to her mouth. “Why?”
    “Because if you insist on wearing them, you’re going to stand out like, well, like a sore thumb.”
    She winced and looked at her gloved fingers. “I was afraid you would say that.”
    “How big a problem is it?” he asked.
    “I have some issues,” she said coolly.
    He angled his chin toward the cane hooked over the edge of the table. “So do I. Mine are physical. Yours?”
    “Psychical. But the problem is linked to my sense of touch, which makes things complicated at times.”
    “Seen one of the Society’s shrinks?”
    Her eyes narrowed. He could practically feel her withdrawing from him.
    “No,” she said coolly.
    “Look, I realize that under normal circumstances this wouldn’t be any of my business, but given that we’ve got a job to do on Maui, I need to know what I’m getting into here.”
    She went very still. “There’s no cause for concern. I assure you that my phobia doesn’t interfere with my aura-reading talent.”
    “Fine. You’re still going to have to lose the gloves. Can you deal with that?”
    For a few seconds he thought she was going to tell him to go to hell. Then, very deliberately, she stripped off first one glove and then the other. She stuffed the pair into her handbag and picked up her coffee.
    “Satisfied?” she asked.
    Her hands were surprisingly delicate-looking, the nails neatly tapered and unpolished. There was no ring.
    “Yes,” he said. He let out some air. “Sorry about that.”
    “Uh-huh.” She did not look impressed with the apology.
    “Are you going to be okay?” he asked quietly.
    “Don’t worry about me,” she said coldly. “I can take care of myself.”
    “Been doing that awhile, have you?”
    “Yes,” she said. “I have.”

SIX
    The rental car that had been booked for Andrew Carstairs was waiting at the end of the short flight to Maui. J&J was nothing if not efficient, Grace thought.
    “Want the AC on?” Luther asked, getting in behind the wheel.
    “No thanks. I don’t like air-conditioning unless it’s absolutely necessary. I’d rather roll down the windows.”
    “Same here.” He put the car in gear and drove out of the parking lot.
    She contemplated her initial impressions of Luther Malone. They could be summed up in three potent words: Powerful, controlled, fascinating. Okay, there was a fourth word that came to mind: exciting. There was something indefinably electric in the atmosphere, at least on her side of the car. At various times in her life she had found other men attractive but she had never experienced anything quite like this fluttery little rush of sensual anticipation. It stirred all her senses in unusual and interesting ways.
    Power was always interesting; power that was ruled by the kind of exquisite control that Luther wielded was especially intriguing, at least to her. One glance at his aura had told her that he was no level eight— more like a level ten or higher. Obviously he’d managed to keep that little fact out of the files. She couldn’t hold it against him. She’d faked her own ranking, too. Powerful talents were slapped with the label “exotic” within the Society. The term did not convey admiration or respect. At best, other sensitives tended to view strong sensitives of any kind with a degree of caution. At worst, they avoided them. Power might be interesting but it could also be dangerous.
    The photo on Luther’s new driver’s license had not lied. He was as hard-looking in person as he was in the picture. His eyes were brown, too, as advertised. But it was an almost feral shade of amber. It made her think of dark jungles and forbidden passions. Not that she’d had much experience with either.
    “I love the air here,” she announced, inhaling deeply. “It’s intoxicating. Makes me want to put my head out the window like a dog.”
    “Hawaii has that effect on a lot of people.” He glanced at her, his eyes unreadable behind his dark glasses. “How are you doing without the gloves?”
    The question annoyed her. She looked briefly at her hands, neatly folded in her lap, and then raised her