Parker And The Gypsy by Susan Carroll Page B

hand to her face, she suddenly seemed to realize she was crying. Appearing embarrassed about it, she averted her face, trying to get her emotions under control.
    â€œI—I didn’t mean to cause such a fuss,” she said. “I seldom have a psychic experience that strong. It felt too real.”
    Mike didn’t know what she’d just experienced. All he knew on some gut level was, she hadn’t been faking it.
    â€œC’mon, angel,” he said gruffly. “There’s no sense using your hand when I have this perfectly good jacket you can ruin.” He turned her gently, starting to gather her into his arms, but she tried to pull back.
    â€œOh, n-no. P-please—”
    â€œHey, it’s okay. The local dry cleaner is my bookie. I have a running account.” Cupping the nape of her neck, he forced her head against the lee of his shoulder.
    She resisted a fraction longer, then wrapped her arms around his neck, burrowing her face deep against his jacket. Cradling her tight in his arms, he made idiotic and totally useless shushing noises, murmuring every fool endearment he could think of. He thought she’d stop crying, but she still trembled.
    This was all his fault, dammit. What the hell had ever possessed him into pushing her into trying such a thing? Of course, he’d never really believed this psychic junk would work. He still didn’t. Sara was just too... too damn suggestible, blast it! Good thing he’d been able to snap her out of it.
    Good thing for her or for you, Parker? his inner voice tormented. That whole bit about John Patrick being scared, the shrill of the ambulance, losing his mom that way. What a bizarre coincidence. It had all struck a little too close to home, didn’t it, Mikey boy? Dredging up recollections that Mike hadn’t thought about in years, pulling them more sharply into focus. Just what he needed. More lousy memories.
    Unconsciously, his arms tightened about Sara, holding her closer. He filled his senses with her, inhaling the fresh sweet scent of her perfume. Was it possible for a woman to smell innocent, like sunshine on roses, summer rain and the first breath of dawn? Sara did.
    She stopped trembling and relaxed, her soft, warm curves molded trustingly against him, touching him in some way he couldn’t explain.
    â€œS-sorry,” she said, her voice muffled against his jacket.
    â€œFor what?”
    â€œFor acting so stupid.”
    â€œIt’s okay, angel. I do it all the time.”
    â€œY-you mean, you cry? ”
    â€œNo, I act stupid.”
    Her shoulders shook again, but this time with a watery chuckle. Shifting away from the damp spot she’d created on his shoulder, she rested her forehead against the center of his chest with a tiny sigh.
    She fit so nicely tucked beneath his chin. It seemed the most natural thing in the world for him to pillow his cheek against the golden cloud of her hair.
    â€œSometimes,” she said, “I—I hate all these strange things I’m able to sense and feel. I get tired of—of being so different. I wish I could just be normal like everyone else.”
    â€œI don’t want you to be normal. I like you just fine the way you are.”
    â€œYou do?” Sara raised her tearstained face to stare up at him, her blue eyes round with wonder and surprise.
    â€œYeah, I do,” Mike said and was surprised himself to discover how much he really meant it.
    Sara’s lips quivered with a tremulous smile. “I think that’s the sweetest thing anyone ever said to me.”
    No one had ever accused Mike Parker of being sweet before. He wasn’t quite comfortable with it, but he pressed a chaste kiss on her brow.
    And then another on the adorable tip of her nose. And then both eyelids, her gold-tipped lashes still damp from her tears. And then her cheeks....
    He should have stopped there. He really hadn’t intended to use this comfort thing as an excuse