To Touch a Thief (An Everly Gray Novella) Read Online Free Page A

eventually, but I’d like to save us both some time and get this put to bed as quickly as possible.”
    Bed. She shook the thought from her brain and stood, brushing against him. “Parker?”
    “Um-hmm,” he murmured, his gaze lingering on the deep vee of her jacket.  
    She’d spent ten minutes in front of the bathroom mirror getting exactly one half inch of the pink lace to show. It was paying off.
    The telltale warmth of desire crept into her cheeks for a second time as the tip of his finger dipped into the vee. She fought the need to move into his touch and focused on her precarious position with law enforcement. “How much of our plan do you want me to share with Everly?”
    His eyes came up to meet her gaze. “None of it. The less she knows, the less chance for mistakes.”
    “You’re betting a lot on her psychic talent,” Jayne said, a wry skepticism in both her tone and her expression.
    “No, I’m betting on you, and you’re a sure thing. Your skills are uniquely valuable, and you have continued to impress me with every audit you’ve done for Steele Management.”
    Jayne planted a hand on his chest and pushed, the soft cotton of his shirt warm under her fingers. He stepped back and shot her a grin. “I’m getting to you.”
    “Yes, but now isn’t the time.”
    “Depends on your perspective. Now seems fine to me.” The need storming behind his eyes was almost her undoing.
    She turned on her three-inch Manolo Blahniks. “I have work to do. And besides, waiting is stimulating.”

 
    FIVE
     
    Everly Gray
     
    I spent the morning searching the Internet for information about séances, jotted down a few notes, and tried to remember why I told Mitch I wanted to do this. The pen dragged across the paper—a testimony to my reluctance. Whether séances worked or not, there was something disturbing about chatting up dead people.
    Scooting away from my desk, I picked up the latest copy of Raleigh Living. Mitch had left it on my desk when he headed off in the small hours of the morning for a photography shoot at Bragg Air Force Base. Parker Steele stared back at me from the cover of the magazine—dark hair with gray temples, angled jaw, prominent cheek bones, and clear gray eyes. He was definitely starched enough to appeal to Jayne. The caption on the cover read: Philanthropist at Large.  
    I pushed my chair away from the desk, my determination evident as the legs scraped across the hardwood floor. It was the perfect time to practice my new role as a tongue-in-cheek medium. Five minutes, a long, multi-colored gypsy skirt, hoop earrings, and a wrist full of bangles later, I locked the door behind me and pushed the power button on my new Prius.
    Steele Management, Inc. had offices in one of the newish, modern buildings in downtown Raleigh. I pulled into a visitor parking slot, checked the directory, and rode the elevator to the accounting department on the third floor. When the elevator dinged, I stepped into a plush reception area that was decorated in neutral colors and adorned with a huge vase of gorgeous, fresh-cut peonies.   I wandered over, stuck my nose in the bouquet, and inhaled.  
    “May I help you?” a disembodied male voice asked. He had an accent, but I couldn’t place it.
    Reluctantly, I stepped away from the flowers. “Jayne Hunt?”
    A slight young man stepped from behind an oversized reception desk and eyed me with distaste. “Have you an appointment?” It was nothing short of miraculous that the words escaped through his pinched lips.
    I stifled a giggle. “Jayne will see me. Tell her Everly Gray would like to speak with her. Better yet, point me to her office and I’ll tell her myself.”
    His gaze slid to the side, then returned to focus on me. He grimaced. “An appointment is necessary.”
    I’d about had enough and spun on my heel, heading down the hallway before the reception Nazi could get a grip on my arm.
    Jayne’s office wasn’t there, but I stuck my head in the