Excerpt from Telekinetic Kisses
Casey covered her mouth to stifle a cough from the lung-full of exhaust she’d just
inhaled. She almost wished she were back on the plane, as the seat springs dug into her
butt and the green vinyl stuck to her thighs. Parker sat across the aisle from her, arms
crossed over his broad chest, eyes closed.
Could he really sleep during this? Casey thought about opening a window, but
decided that would only give the exhaust more access, so instead she pulled a pack of
wipes from her purse and used them to clean a circle on the window. It took three wipes,
but now she could view the congested streets of Mexico City. They obviously needed a
few more environmental controls on car exhaust systems. Colonial architecture and
pavement soon gave way to the gray dirt streets and shanties of the poor. She watched
women sweep the ground as if it were hardwood through doors that were nothing more
than cloth, as children played in the streets. Soon she viewed fewer buildings and broader
streets, stone churches, scrub brush, and red clay.
The bus hit a particularly large bump. Casey’s forehead banged the window glass.
“Ouch!”
“Are you all right?” So Parker was awake. Just didn’t want to be social.
“Fine thanks. Go back to sleep.” She knew she sounded peevish, but this endless bus
ride was getting to her.
Parker smothered a grin. He seemed to know what her problem was and find it
humorous. How irritating. “I’m sure we’re almost there.”
“Really? I’m beginning to think we’re traveling to the end of the earth.”
“No, only the coast, and this is not exactly a race car.”
“Or even a minivan.”
His eyes widened in shock. “Do you own a minivan?”
“No. I’m a New Yorker. I don’t drive if I can help it. My sister moved to Trenton,
though, and has one. It even has a TV and DVD player inside and automatic doors.” She
sighed at the thought of supple leather seats and air conditioning, as well as the niece and
nephew she rarely saw because her sister thought she was a bad influence.
For a moment the bus interior returned to silence, so Casey glanced out the window
again. A tractor eased down the road in front of the bus infuriating Nando. He gestured at
the farmer and spoke in rapid Spanish, words Casey was sure she didn’t want to know.
To the left of the road was a small town with boxy flat-roofed buildings and a dirt road
traveling down the center hemmed in by ancient American cars. Scrawny, dark-haired
children played soccer in the street.
The slow movement of the bus allowed Casey to take in the whole scene. At the
town entrance, an old man struggled to lift something onto a truck. Two younger men
lounged on barrels nearby, smoking and jeering, not lifting a finger.
That poor man, Casey thought, touching the window with her fingertips. Her power
radiated through the glass before she’d even made the conscious decision to help, as it
always did. The sack the old man had been struggling with flew out of his hands and into
the air in an arc, landing with an “oomph” on the truck bed. All three men jumped back
and stared, amazed.
A hand touched Casey’s shoulder, so she jumped too.
“Did you see that?” Parker’s sexy voice whispered against her ear.
“Wh-what?”
The hand settled more firmly, heat radiating from it through Casey’s shoulder and
down her arm.
“Don’t tell me you didn’t see that.”
“Oh, that sack. Is that what you mean?”
“Yes.” Was that suspicion she heard in his voice?
“That was something, wasn’t it? That old man must be stronger than he looks.” The
three Mexicans were rattling on in Spanish and gesticulating wildly.
Parker fought the window down and listened to the voices over the roar of the
engine. The hand on her shoulder tightened its grip. “The old man says he didn’t lift the
sack at all. It just flew out of his hands.”
“Amazing.” Casey thought the high-pitched quality of her voice betrayed her, but
secretly she was pleased. The younger men now viewed the old man with interest and
perhaps a bit of respect.
“Finally!” Nando exclaimed from the front of the bus. Casey glanced to the right and
watched the tractor turning into a field. It was barely off the road when Nando gunned the
engine, throwing Casey back into Parker’s arms. Her weight caused him to lose his
balance. He fell against the seat, his arms wrapping around her waist and holding her
secure. All questions about flying sacks of grain were forgotten.
The bus barreled down the road with no thought of avoiding ruts or holes. Parker
became Casey’s seatbelt, cushioning her against his lap after each jounce, making her
feel warm and tingly all over. She grew extremely aware of his breath on her ear and his
solid thighs against her legs. If she were a wise woman, she would apologize and move
away, but she’d never been known for her wisdom, at least where men were concerned
anyway.
After a moment, Casey noticed she was having a definite effect on Parker as well.
His chest pressed against her back and she could feel his heart race. His breath seemed to
catch a bit, but the primary evidence pushed against Casey’s bottom.
Whoa, she’d just met this man! Did she want his erection pressing against her ass?
Actually she wouldn’t mind it if they were on a bed in a hotel room, but a dirty jouncey
bus seemed like the wrong place for any sort of making out.
She made to stand, to slide off, murmuring an apology, but Parker’s arm tightened,
snuggling her down even further against his legs and his boner. Something kindled in
Casey’s stomach and she clenched her thighs unconsciously. With his free hand, Parker
tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear. Then she felt his lips there, just a brush. Her heart
stopped and she held her breath.
Would he kiss her more?
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