“My hand,” she explained.

He stared at her, baffled.

“You held my hand.”

He narrowed his eyes, as though concentrating. “I did.”

“That’s what happened,” she clarified.

Jonah jumped to his feet. “I’m calling reception. We’ll get you a doctor.”

She shook her head, then wished she hadn’t. It made the dizziness worse. “There’s no need for a doctor. I’m fine.”

“Lady,” Jonah said, obviously worried. “No one has ever zoned out on me like that. You need a doctor.”

“You’ve never held my hand before,” she pointed out.

He leaned over and touched her neck. “You’re white as a sheet and making no sense. Please, let me get someone up here to check you out.”

She grabbed his wrist, holding it tight. “I promise, I’m fine. I just need to get my balance back. This always happens afterwards.”

“What always happens? After what?”

“Hands.” She lifted hers and dropped it back down. “I feel dizzy. Discombobulated. But in a few minutes I’ll be right.”

“And this happens after holding my hand?”

“Not just yours.”

“You get dizzy when you hold anyone’s hand?”

“No, only certain people.”

Jonah shoved a hand through his hair. “Jesus, Eve, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She sighed and looked up at the ceiling before closing her eyes again. The giddiness subsided quicker if she kept them shut. “I have a…gift. A talent, you might call it.”

“What kind of gift?”

“The gift of sight.”

Silence, then, “Oh.” More silence. “Huh?”

“I see things. Images, snippets, pieces of people’s lives.”

Her words were met with more silence.

She took a deep, fortifying breath. Let the freak show begin.

“Often, when I hold a person’s hand, I’m hit with flashes of that person’s life. Sometimes it’s an image of the past, sometimes the present and sometimes the future. If I don’t know the person well, it’s impossible to tell which it is.”

“Hell.” The word was a whisper.

“Sometimes it’s a picture, like a photograph. Sometimes just words or maybe a conversation I overhear. Maybe I’ll see images, like I’m watching a movie, but there are times when it’s much more than that.”

“Much more how?”

“I merge with the person whose hand I’m holding. Become one with him or her. Instead of seeing the vision like a passive observer, I become part of it. Live it like the person has—or will.”

What Eve neglected to tell Jonah was the latter only happened when the person whose hand she held had significance in her life. It was almost as though the more important that person was to her, the more she saw.

At the best of times, Eve’s visions left her rattled. But this one, this snippet of Jonah’s life, worried her like none ever had before.

She didn’t know the man. Had met him just a few hours ago. They’d shared nothing more than harmless conversation and a few roses. Oh, yeah, and a soul-shattering kiss. And yet she’d merged with him. Lived his life.

At least she assumed it was his life.

“Jonah?”

“Yeah?” He sounded distracted.

“Who’s Zachary?”

This time the silence stretched on endlessly.

Eve couldn’t bear it. It echoed through her ears, deafening her. She opened her eyes and looked at him, only to find him staring back, his expression confused, cautious.

“That’s the second time you’ve said the name,” he finally said.

“I merged with him. A child named Zachary.”

“What did he look like?”

Eve shrugged. “I don’t know. While I could see what he saw and hear what he heard, I couldn’t see him.” She hummed the song Edna had sung.

Jonah’s jaw dropped.

“His grandmother was singing to him.” The word struck a chord. Hadn’t Jonah spoken about his grandmother earlier, when he’d first given her the roses?

“His grandmother?” Jonah’s eyes widened.

“Edna.” The refined, beautifully dressed woman. “Brown eyes, brown hair. Although she was graying, rather grandly I might add.”

Jonah collapsed into a chair. “My grandmother.”

“Edna’s your grandmother?”

“Was.” His face fell. “She died a few years ago.”

She left him to his thoughts, let him assimilate what she’d told him. Though the visions were different every time, she was used to them. She’d been having them for eleven years, ever since the explosion. This was all brand new for him.

“Zachary? The kid you saw…or merged with?”

“Yeah?”

“That’s me.”

“You’re Zachary?”

“Zachary Pace. It’s my real name.”

“What about Jonah?”

“Stage name. And middle name.”

“Ah.”

And then they were both silent for a while.

Jonah came to sit beside her on the couch, perching on the edge of the cushions. She scooched up to make space for him.

“Tell me more. Tell me all of it.”

She told him, describing everything she’d seen and heard.

Jonah stared. “That lullaby my grandmother sang was her special song for me. She and I were the only ones who knew it. Until now, no one else has ever heard it.”

“It seemed to make you happy.”

He smiled. “It did. It gave me a sense of my future.”

“So, have you met her yet?”

“Met who?”

“Your future. The redhead from your imagination.” Her heart squeezed painfully as she asked.

He blinked. “Y-you saw that too?”

“I was you, Jonah. I was Zachary. Whatever you felt or thought that night, I felt and thought.” She’d experienced his sheer contentment at the idea of meeting the redhead. Contentment, happiness, excitement and anticipation.

Which was odd, really, because although she’d experienced all of Jonah’s feelings, they weren’t hers. Her personal emotions were quite different. She was put out, fiercely disappointed and…jealous.

“Jesus, this is weird.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “Bizarre.”

To say the least.

What was weird for Eve, however, was that she’d told Jonah about her vision. There were times she didn’t mention having them at all. She’d yank her hand away and brush over it, explaining away her dizziness with arbitrary excuses like she must have stood up too fast, or that she hadn’t eaten all day.

But with Jonah she hadn’t thought twice. She’d told him.

“Look, I know how wacky this all sounds. If it helps at all, I did try to avoid it happening.”

“You did?”

“Earlier, when you offered to shake my hand, I kinda sensed something would happen, so I refused you. Twice.” She knew it must have come across as rude, but hey, better rude than invasive, right?

“You knocked my arm away.”

“I did.” Still aware of the jealousy niggling at her belly, she pressed him for an answer. “So, have you?”

“Have I what?

“Met her yet?” Another painful squeeze of the heart.

“You don’t pull punches, do you?”

“You kissed me earlier. Kissed me like you meant it.” Or maybe she’d been the one kissing him like she meant it. Just remembering the touch of his lips against hers—the glide of his tongue, the taste of his breath—brought a fresh wave of goose bumps racing over her spine and made her belly dip and jump. “If the woman of your fantasies is in your life, I want no part of your kisses.”

Not true!

Eve wasn’t exactly sure which part of her had yelled that. Her heart? Her mind? Her soul? Her…pussy?

“I did mean it.” His gaze met hers, and his lips softened in a sensual smile, making her heart slam into her ribs. “Didn’t mean to do it in front of all those people though, but I couldn’t help myself. You made eating that chocolate look like a sexual feast.” He closed his eyes for a second and licked his lower lip as though remembering the kiss and how the chocolate had tasted on her tongue.

The action caught her deep in her belly and brought back the breathless wonder she’d experienced when he kissed her.

“Th-then we’re even, because you make breathing look like an erotic festival.” She took a deep breath, steadying her pounding heart. “But, mate, that’s beside the point. You’ve once again avoided answering my question.”

“Maybe that’s because you don’t ask the easiest of questions.”

“See? Another non-answer.”

He eyed her thoughtfully.

Eve sighed and pushed up into a sitting position. The dizziness had subsided, and she felt stupid lying on the couch.

Jonah shifted to give her space. Even so, she had to shuffle awkwardly to get her legs around him and put her feet on the floor. She accidentally rubbed her calves against his side in the process.

Shockwaves pulsed through her at the contact. Sharp pulses of energy that set her blood on fire and awakened every nerve ending in her body.

But it was time to ground herself firmly in Eve-world again. Time to remind herself she had no place in Jonah Speed’s hotel room. Or life, for that matter. There was no point getting all worked up because Jonah had kissed her once. And given her flowers.

She was just Eve Andrews, the scarred girl from down the road. Even if Jonah’s interest in her had been genuine before now, she’d have destroyed it all with her freak show.

Just like she’d destroyed any possible relationship with her little talent. Men tended to run a mile when they discovered her “gift”. If her scars didn’t chase them off beforehand. And generally, the visions weren’t necessary. Men took one look at her face…and fled.

She stood up. “Look, Jonah, I’m sorry. I’m prying into issues I have no business prying into. Shoving my nose where it doesn’t belong.”