Page 7 of In Dangerous Water

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I woke with a start and glanced automatically at the clock on my nightstand. It was still dark; the time read 4:05 am. With a sigh, I rolled over and discovered that I was not alone. Tim was sitting across the room from me in a chair with his blonde head tilted at an odd angle. He’d fallen asleep.

It made me feel all warm and fuzzy knowing he had been watching over me. I had given him a key to my lower-level apartment a year ago, so I wasn’t surprised to find him here. But Iwassurprised that he hadn’t crawled into bed with me.

I frowned trying to remember if I’d called him the night before. Once I had some food in my system I’d had to speak to Austin and then to my dismay, another detective as well. Thelatest letter had been taken into evidence, and Austin was going to check the security cameras of the aquatic center parking lot to see if they’d recorded anyone leaving it on my windshield.

Privately, I had managed to tell Austin that I used psychometry on the letter and to watch for the person I’d ‘seen’ wearing a gray hoodie. Austin hadn’t argued or asked questions. Instead, he simply nodded and told me that he would. By the time the interviews were over, I’d been exhausted and had gone straight to bed.

My eyes traveled back to Tim. He was still wearing his khaki-colored deputy’s uniform. I guessed one of my sisters must have called him, and he’d come over after his shift had ended at midnight.

Quietly, I got out of bed and went to use the bathroom. While I was in there, I brushed my teeth and splashed some water on my face. I typically rose early—it was an old habit from training back when I was a competitive swimmer—so I knew I wouldn’t go back to sleep. Walking back to the bedroom, I peeked in and saw that he was still asleep.

For a moment I seriously considered going in there and pouncing on him. There was nothing like a morning romp to take the edge off things. But instead, I gently shut the door and went into the kitchen.

I sat on my navy sofa, with my feet propped up on the coffee table and sipped at my tea. The hour before dawn was so serene. Wiggling my butt deeper into the soft cushions of the couch, I let loose a contented sigh. The old house above me was silent, and while it was comforting knowing my sisters were right upstairs, it was also soothing to me to have some physical distance between them, their emotions, and me.

My psychic empathy was something I fought hard to restrain. If left unchecked it could put me at quite a disadvantage, andsometimes caused me to experience severe anxiety from the rush and pull of everyone else’s emotions. It could be difficult to tell the difference between my own feelings and another’s, especially if they were upset, angry, or wound up.

Back when I’d been competing, I had to learn to block everyone out—which earned me the reputation of being ‘ice cold’ during a meet. But the truth was it was either block everyone out or become physically ill. Water is the element linked to emotions after all.

Sometimes I would throw up before a race due to the bombardment of the other competitors’ emotions...not to mention a boisterous crowd. I’d finally gotten a handle on that in college. Especially while competing in the SEC, the nationals, and finally in the Olympics.

‘Ice Cold Cordelia,’ they’d called me. Even now that moniker made my lips twitch. Because the truth was, I wasn’t detached or unfeeling. It was simply that I felttoo much. So I switched off that part of me during a meet, or I would have been forced to stop swimming competitively in school for my own mental health.

Oh, and in case you wondered,no.I never used my affinity to water as an edge over other competitors in any swim meet. First off, that would have been cheating, and magick is not a crutch. Swimming is a physical and mental challenge. I trained hard, competed hard, and had enjoyed some success.

Nevertheless, the psychic strain of blocking it all out had taken a toll on me. It was one of the reasons I had retired from competition at the relatively young age of twenty-three. Yes, I definitely could have competed in the Olympics again, but my heart was no longer in it. I had been ready to go home and live a normal life. Where the rush and pull of other competitors and large crowds wouldn’t affect me so. And far away fromthe intrusion of the press where I would remain out of the international media’s spotlight.

The soft creak of my bedroom door opening had me turning my head. I smiled, looking forward to seeing Tim. He was one person who I didn’t mind how he made mefeel—which was usually very lusty.

“Good morning, sexy,” I said.

He was adorably rumpled after having slept in his uniform. Tim walked over to where I sat and stood over me. I set my mug aside, tipped my face up for a kiss, and was surprised to see an angry scowl on his face.

It looked like I wasn’t going to get that good morning kiss after all.

His hazel eyes seemed to bore into mine. “You didn’t call me last night.”

“Sorry,” I said. “Things were kind of crazy.”

“Do you know how it felt finding out from yoursisterthat you’d been sent a threatening note again?”

“I—”

He cut me off. “Damn it, Cordelia! You promised me you wouldn’t take any risks. That you would be more careful. Not only did you lie to me about that, you didn’t even bother to call me when it happened again!”

“Hey!” I rose to my feet, not liking his tone or the fact that he was looming over me and lecturing.

At the same time that I stood, Tim stepped closer, and we ended up colliding with each other. I grunted when my chest bounced off of his. Automatically Tim grabbed my waist, as I grasped at his arms for balance. Bringing us nose-to-nose.

I could feel the aggravation radiating off him. Then, as he looked down at me and realized that I was only wearing athin, sea-green nightie, the mood in the room swiftly changed. Tilting my head, I studied his facial expression. My lover had gone from angry to aroused in a heartbeat.

Now that was more like it.

Standing so close to him his emotions crashed over me:Aggravation, desire and love. I breathed it all in and felt my body respond. Slowly I ran my fingers over his very well-defined biceps.

“Stop that,” he grumbled.

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