A Sexy Time Of It

“On the day that she died, June 1, she came to the sailboat and left a note that she wanted to see me. She even put the time on it—3:00 p.m. I was working on a case, and I wasn’t home. If I’d just been there…”

“You couldn’t have known.”

“She said that she had something that was ‘right up my alley.’ I know that it was about the Ripper. Otherwise, she’d never have contacted me. She was too stubborn. I believe she’d grown suspicious of someone she knew. Perhaps she was even dating him. I keep building up scenarios in my mind. My favorite is that she’d discovered his identity and the fact that he was an illegal time traveler. ‘Right up my alley.’ I can’t prove it, but I know it.”

“We’ll get him. I know that,” Neely said. “Maybe today. You think that he’ll be here, don’t you?”

He studied her for a moment. “How do you know that?”

“You were very insistent on coming with me.”

He studied her for a moment. She was so perceptive. “I should have told you. And there’s something else you should know.”

“What?”

He searched for the words. Once they got inside the lecture hall, he wouldn’t have a chance. She needed to know that she was supposed to be one of the Ripper’s victims. If the killer was at the lecture, and something happened to him…Knowledge was power.

“It’s about why I came here.”

A bell sounded followed by a voice over a loudspeaker informing those within hearing distance that the lecture was about to begin.

Neely grabbed his hand. “We should go in. You can tell me later.”

Later. There was an odd tightening in his chest. He might not have a later with Neely.

“Now, remember the plan,” she said.

The plan was sketchy at best. Once Neely joined the line to get her book autographed, he was going to hang around the fringes in the hopes of recognizing one of the five suspects Deirdre and Lance had identified in 2128. If he did or if Neely sensed the Ripper’s presence and pinpointed his location, Max would take him out.

Neely led the way into the lecture hall. “You keep a low profile. If the Ripper sees you and recognizes you, he might decide to hurt you.”

Max tightened his grip on Neely’s hand. She was the one in danger. The clock was ticking, and he hadn’t told her yet.

DR. JULIAN RHOADES was just as handsome as he’d appeared to be on the book jacket. Even the glasses he wore didn’t detract from his overall appeal. The audience was ninety percent women—most of them in their mid-twenties to late thirties. A group of them had walked up onstage to surround Rhoades.

“Sense anything yet?” he asked.

“Only that I’m underdressed for this,” Neely muttered.

Max glanced at her as they took a seat in the last row. The lecture room was small with graduated seating on three sides of a small stage. “You look fine to me.”

“Every other woman here is wearing a dress or a suit. I’m wearing jeans and a T-shirt.”

Max looked around again and saw that she was right. Even the few men who were present wore suits or slacks and jackets.

“Look how those women are hovering around him onstage. Dr. Rhoades has attracted his own groupies.”

“Groupies?”

“It’s a term used to describe women who spend a great deal of time chasing after and hanging around celebrities—usually rock stars.”

Max studied the group of women onstage more carefully. “Interesting.”

“You don’t have groupies in 2128?”

“Probably. But what I’m thinking is if I were the Ripper and I wanted a chance to meet women of a certain age and background, hanging around Julian Rhoades might just provide me with some opportunities.”

She looked back at the stage. “You think that’s how he selects his victims?”

“Perhaps.” Max scanned the crowd more intently now.

“Are you getting anything?”

She didn’t answer, and when he looked at her, he saw that she too was studying the crowd, and a small line of concentration had appeared on her brow. Finally, she shook her head. “Maybe it’s the crowd. I’ve always been close to him when I sensed him.”

An elderly gentleman appeared onstage and said something to the ladies who circled around Rhoades. After the women returned to their seats in the audience, the man introduced Dr. Rhoades, and the lecture began.

Fifteen minutes later, Max was working hard to stifle a yawn. While he was willing to give Rhoades high marks in both the looks and personal charisma departments, the man’s theory on psychic time travel was nothing more than that—an attention getter with no scientific evidence to back it up. The studies wouldn’t take place for another eighty years.

Frustration rolled through him. Time was running out. If the Ripper did show up and Neely sensed him, this would be the last time they would have together. There was at least another forty-five minutes of the lecture to get through before they could get closer to Rhoades during the book signing. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Neely too had her mind on other things. She’d pulled the locket out and she was rubbing her thumb over the inscription on the back.

Without thinking, he slipped into her mind. Enjoying the lecture?

She started the moment she realized he was with her, then relaxed again. He doesn’t really have more than a theory. I was hoping he’d have some case studies.

He’s all looks and no science. Max had the pleasure of seeing the corners of her mouth curve upward. You’re worried about that locket.

She glanced down at it. I’m trying to sense something. On TV, psychics sometimes get flashes when they touch things, right?

Yes. He thought of what he’d felt when he’d lifted Rhoades’s book. Are you getting anything?

No. Still, when I hold it like this I know it’s important. My grandmother should have told me something about it.

Max slipped a hand into hers. Maybe she didn’t know anything. And it could be that she never talked with you about her power because she was afraid of it. She probably couldn’t embrace it the way you do.

She met his eyes. Embrace it? Is that what I do?

Yes. He took her hand and raised it to his lips. You want to travel back to 1888, confront the Ripper and save his victims. You’re the bravest woman I’ve ever met.

I don’t feel very brave.

I’ve got an idea. Why don’t we play hooky.

We’re supposed to be looking for the Ripper.

We are. He just hasn’t shown up yet.

In front of them, Julian Rhoades picked up his book and began to read. They both glanced back at the stage. To anyone watching, Max and Neely appeared to be just two people holding hands and listening with rapt attention to the reading.

C’mon. He’s just getting started. Max could sense that she was tempted.

We can’t just get up and walk out.

We’re not going anywhere physically. Just relax and come with me, Neely.

Neely felt herself drifting. Sounds faded. Oh, she could still hear the drone of Julian Rhoades’s voice, but she could no longer catch the words. Then she felt the brush of Max’s lips against hers. Neither one of them physically moved, but her lips parted beneath his. Then her breath caught as she felt the scrape of his teeth and the movement of his tongue teasing hers. She struggled to focus. They were in a public place.

Relax. No one can see us. It’s all in our minds.

Neely begged to differ. What was still shimmering through her system was a very physical reaction. But a quick look around assured her that no one was paying them any heed. Everyone in the audience was focused on Dr. Rhoades. No one was even shushing them for talking because they weren’t—at least not out loud.

If it bothers you so much that we’re in a public place, let me take you somewhere else.

Before she could even formulate a reply, he kissed her again. She knew that it was only their hands that were linked, but the pleasure was so intense. She’d never felt so united with another person. And this was a man she’d met less than twenty-four hours ago. A man she might never see again after they visited London tonight.

Neely sank into the kiss, imagined her fingers were digging into his shoulders and drawing him closer. Then suddenly, she smelled the sea, felt the roll of it beneath her feet. When Max broke off the kiss, she realized they were on a sailboat. She barely had time to take in the shiny brass railing and a sweep of white sail before the deck rolled beneath her feet again.

Her stomach took a little bounce. Your sailboat?

Yes.

How can we be doing this?

The mental connection between us is stronger than anything I’ve ever experienced before. Perhaps it’s because we want each other so much.

The deck beneath her feet rolled again.

Easy. He removed her hands from his shoulders. You can get your sea legs while I take you on a tour.

In the background, Neely could still hear the drone of Julian Rhoades’s voice, and she knew that she was sitting in the lecture hall. But what was going on in Max’s mind was much more compelling. More real. He led her down a short flight of stairs into a tiny galley that boasted gleaming wood cabinets. Red-and-white checked curtains were pulled back from the portholes on each side of the room. A gleaming brass lantern hung over a small table with two benches. Here the scent of the sea merged with a hint of lemon oil.