The Hollow by Nora Roberts

off.”
    â€œDid it work?”
    He only smiled, and slid a plate into its cabinet. “Then a couple weeks before we turned seventeen, things started happening again. I knew—we knew—it wasn’t finished after all. It came home to me that what I had wasn’t something to play around with. I stopped.”
    â€œMostly?”
    â€œAlmost entirely. It’s there, Layla, it’s part of us. I can’t control the fact that I might get a sense from someone. I can control pushing in, pulling out more.”
    â€œThat’s what I have to learn.”
    â€œAnd you may have to learn to push. If it comes down to someone’s privacy or their life, or the lives of others, you have to push in.”
    â€œBut how do you know when—when, if, who?”
    â€œWe’ll work on it.”
    â€œI’m not relaxed around you, most of the time.”
    â€œI’ve noticed. Why is that?”
    She turned away to get more dishes, then slid a bowl into the sink. The little boy had gone inside, she noted. In to eat dinner. His dog curled on the porch by the back door and slept off playtime.
    â€œBecause I’m aware you can, or could, sense what I think or feel. Or I worry that you can, so it makes me nervous. But you don’t, because you hold back, or because I’m nervous enough to stop you. Maybe both. You didn’t know what I was thinking, or feeling earlier today when you kissed me.”
    â€œMy circuits were crossed at the time.”
    â€œWe’re attracted to each other. Would that be an accurate reading?”
    â€œIt’s dead-on from my end.”
    â€œAnd that makes me nervous. It’s also confusing, because I don’t know how much we’re picking up from each other, how much is just basic chemistry.” Layla rinsed the bowl, passed it to Fox. “I don’t know if this is something we should be dealing with, with everything else we have to worry about.”
    â€œLet’s back up, just a little. Are you nervous because I’m attracted to you, or because we’re attracted to each other?”
    â€œDoor number two, and I don’t have to see inside your head when I can see by your face you like that idea.”
    â€œBest damn idea I’ve heard in weeks. Possibly years.”
    She planted a wet, soapy hand on his shirt as he started to lean in. “I can’t relax if I’m thinking about going to bed with you. The idea of sex generally stirs me up.”
    â€œWe could relax later. In fact, I can guarantee we’ll be a lot more relaxed later if we finish the stirring-up part first.”
    She not only left her hand planted, but nudged him a full step back with it. “No doubt. But I compartmentalize things. It’s how I’m built, it’s how I work. This, between us, I have to put it in another compartment for a while. I have to think about it, worry about it, wonder about it. If I’m going to learn from you, if I’m going to help end what wants to end us, I need to focus on that.”
    His expression sober and attentive, he nodded. “I like to juggle.”
    â€œI know.”
    â€œAnd I like to negotiate. And.” He dried her hand, then brought it to his lips. “I know when to let the opposing party consider all the options. I want you. Naked. In bed, in a room filled with shadows and quiet music. I want to feel your heart pound against my hand while I do things to you. So put that in your compartment, Layla.”
    He tossed aside his dishcloth as she stared at him. “I’m going to go get your wine. It should help you relax some before we get to work.”
    She was still staring when he strolled out. She managed to press a hand to her heart, and yes, it was pounding.
    Obviously, she had a lot to learn if he’d had that in him and she hadn’t sensed it.
    It was going to take more than a glass of red wine to help her relax now.
    SHE DRANK THE WINE; HE CLEARED