Zoe pinched her lower lip. "I've heard that children these days are being born more psychic, but that kind of telekinesis really takes control."
"Can you float things?" Bryan asked curiously.
Zoe let out a quiet snort. "Not me. My gift is more about seeing things most people can't. Of course, lots of young kids see ghosts or angels. That isn't rare at all. We simply forget how to do it as we get older."
"I never saw spirits," Bryan said.
"You might have when you were a baby. Remember, if I see an infant chortling and flapping its hands for no apparent reason, I know who it's waving at."
Bryan shook his head in wonderment. "It doesn't scare you to see that stuff? I mean, tonight, somebody tells you a poltergeist is raining rocks, and you just come, no questions asked."
"I didn't notice you screaming in terror."
"Couldn't." His lips fought a grin. "Alex was watching."
"Whatever the reason, staying calm was a good decision. If you're not afraid, there's very little that can hurt you in the spirit world. In fact, I'm not sure there's anything that can. You'll see far worse in a horror movie than any ghost will show you, and people survive watching horror movies every day."
"Were you ever afraid? Say when you were little?"
Zoe smiled. "The first time I saw a ghost I was four. It was my Nana Sonia, the day after her funeral, and she wasn't going to scare me. She was a nice, nice lady. Always room in her lap for a grandkid. She wanted me to tell my mother she was all right. When I did, my mother insisted I was lying. I pitched such a fit, she had to send me to my room. Nana Sonia was the one who comforted me. She told me she was proud of me for sticking to my guns."
Zoe had to laugh. "If Mom had known the long-term effect that one bit of praise would have, she'd have put Nana in the ground herself. To answer your question, though, you could say I learned early who to be afraid of—and who not to."
Bryan thought about this. "I guess it would be cool to see the world the way you do, to know there's more to life than the day-to-day ordinary stuff."
"Sometimes it's cool. Sometimes, like when I've got six ghosts lined up and yammering in my ear at the grocery store, it's a serious pain in the butt."
"It's not easy being green?" he suggested, quoting Kermit the Frog and flashing her a teasing smile.
"Yeah, but it's better being green than hiding who you are."
She could see in Bryan's eyes that he liked her for what she'd said and that he knew she wasn't just referring to her own differences. The rapport between them was surprising but nice. She enjoyed knowing Alex's lover was a man she could have been friends with. In her experience, it was almost always more pleasant to like a person than to hate them—or to be jealous. Considering she still seemed to feel some lingering sort of something for her old boyfriend, jealousy was a danger. So it was better that she liked Bryan. Better all around.
It was Alex who reminded them they weren't here to socialize. "Speaking of gifted children," he said, leaning forward across the table.
His forearms had a thicker fuzz of golden hair than she remembered, his muscles flexing as they took his weight. His fingers played up and down the bottle he was holding, graceful and sensitive. When Zoe had been fifteen, she hadn't appreciated how truly beautiful his hands were. Now, as they caressed the glass, she was mesmerized. The shape of the beer was phallic, a firm, thick, upright cock. The motions of his fingers, however, were more suited to stroking tender, feminine things. Watching his well-tended nails draw those tiny patterns made it hard to breathe, like the air was heated sugar instead of oxygen. Alex seemed unconscious of what he was doing, but what if he weren't? What if he was jealous of that moment she'd shared with Bryan? What if, consciously or not, he meant to turn her erotic fascination back to him?
From the corner of her vision, she saw Bryan looking at Alex, so maybe he thought Alex's behavior was deliberate, too. Her nose flared at a scent she hadn't noticed before, not pizza, not beer, but something hot and musky and masculine. It wasn't the scent she remembered from her and Alex's long-ago make-out sessions—or not only that.
It was, she couldn't help thinking, the mingled arousal of both men.
In the time it took her to think this, her ni**les went tight as nails. Lord, she should have taken two minutes to throw on a bra when she put Corky down. The urge to check if the men were looking was hard to resist, but she didn't dare. The best she could do was ignore how wet her panties had become.
"Speaking of gifted children?" she repeated, trying not to sound breathless but aware that the pause had dragged out.
She did lift her gaze then, and, boy, she shouldn't have. Alex's laser-blue eyes were narrowed—maybe knowing or maybe suspicious—but definitely zeroed in on her. Already primed to react, her pu**y creamed with a vengeance. If her body kept this up, her silky short shorts were going to have a wet spot.
"Speaking of that," he agreed, his eyes still on hers. "The intern we questioned remembers you being at the hospital the night Oscar was born. She said you were helping an elderly man cross over. I know five years is a long time, but anything you recall might help."
"If you give me the exact date, I'll check my calendar."
Alex gave it to her. Having no bonafide home office, she dug in her "business" drawer until she found the old Day-Minder. As she moved, her fears were confirmed. Her shorts were sticking to her panties at the crotch. Deciding some distance was called for, and careful not to show the men her back view, she leaned against the Spanish-tiled counter to flip through the pages.
"Okay," she said, thankful to have found the date. "April second was the night Mr. Marshall died. I remember sensing a lot of spirit activity around the hospital, but that's not unusual. I've never seen anyone transition without a good escort."
"Can you, um, summon this Marshall guy?" Bryan asked. "Maybe see what he remembers?"
Zoe laughed, liking him more and more. "It's very open-minded of you to ask, but I'm afraid it doesn't work that way for me. The spirit world comes to me because they want to talk to their loved ones, not because I ring them up. You know, though, now that I think back, something odd did happen that night. When I got home, there was a light show going on out by Fairy Falls: orbs of light in different colors dancing around. I could see them glowing all the way from my deck."
"Any idea what that means?" Alex asked.
"Not a clue. Fairy Falls is supposed to be a power vortex, but I've never noticed anything except how pretty and peaceful it is. I chalked up the light show to plain old Fairyville weirdness. I can ask my fairies, though, after you're gone."