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be his fantasy, because if it had been hers, she would have imagined tasting him. Plus, in her short marriage to Billy, she’d been too self-conscious to try to please him orally. And Fantasy Seth was definitely pleased.
    As quickly as thoughts winged into her mind, they were zapped out as if someone slammed a door closed on them. Or as if Seth crushed his desire by sheer will.
    Too stunned to move, she wondered at what had just happened. She’d read the thoughts of another person. Oh dear God! This couldn’t be happening. First seeing his aura, now reading his fantasies? She’d thought last night had been an aberration. What if it hadn’t?
    The last thing she wanted to do was start experiencing the thoughts of the living. Seeing ghosts was bad enough. But if she started hearing living people’s thoughts, she’d never have a moment’s peace.
    He extended a hand toward her and she gasped.
    She didn’t want him to touch her. Not until she figured out how to block his fantasies from invading her thoughts. Not that she hadn’t enjoyed his little one-sided sex show.
    She had.
    A little too much.
    Falling backward onto her butt to evade his touch, she banged her shoulder against the bedframe behind her.
    “Are you all right?” Seth pulled his hand back with a frown, then asked in an exasperated tone, “Can I have my bedroom back now?”
    “Of course.” For the second time in twelve hours, she’d forced her way into his bedroom. And she’d thought last time had been embarrassing. Jules pushed to her feet, avoiding eye contact.
    She hurried through his apartment. Clutching the knob of the front door, she tugged but it didn’t give. A tanned, muscular arm reached around her and flipped the lock. Before she could escape, he tapped her on the shoulder.
    Jules rotated on her heel, relieved none of his stray thoughts had filtered into her consciousness. Still, he stood so close the scent of sandalwood filled her senses and sparked memories of the vision she’d just had.
    He frowned at her and held out her purse. She tried to accept it, but he didn’t release it. The purse acted as a conduit and again she connected to him. Unlike last time, there were no images, just an electric current of awareness evident in his darkening eyes.
    It was sinful, frightening, and strangely intoxicating.
    He lowered his head.
    Instinctively, she lifted her chin, keeping her gaze locked with his. Her breath caught in her chest. His lips kicked up in a small grin.
    His cell phone rang.
    The shrill tone severed the link they shared. Sanity returned as the cop retrieved the phone from his pocket and scowled at the caller ID. He opened the front door.
    With one hand on her back, he pushed her through it.
    “Wait, my pur—”
    He tossed her the clutch, which she caught against her chest with both hands, then he gave her his back as he answered his phone. “Detective English.”
    The door closed unceremoniously in Jules’s face. For some reason she couldn’t name, disappointment settled in a lump in the middle of her chest, immediately followed by an overwhelming sense of relief. She’d almost kissed a near stranger—a cop at that—for the second time since three this morning. And to top it off, she was either losing her mind or she’d just discovered some new facets to the Scott family curse. She could read thoughts. Maybe not everyone’s, but definitely his.
    I’d rather be insane.
    “You’ve got your purse. Good. Lock up please.” Jules glanced up to see April, arms full, waddle into the hallway. “I can’t believe you own a Prada.”
    “Yes, well, I needed to get something out of the divorce,” Jules said, taking a stack of forms out of April’s arms. “Go on downstairs, I’ll lock up.”
    That’s when Jules remembered which two items were missing from her handbag, her cell phone and her keys.
    Perfect! Hopefully they’re together, at least.
    Tucking the purse under her free arm, she hurried down the steps and caught up