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

myself to a séance? And a public one at that?”
    “Well…”
    I flipped my hair out of my face. “You’ve totally lost your mind if you think I’m going to start communing with the dead.”
    He paled. “You can’t really do that, right? Commune with the dead?”
    “Noo-ooo. Of course not. I cannot be-lieve you asked me that.” Drat. I was protesting too much, and still I couldn’t stop the words. “If I could chat up the dead, I’d be talking to my parents all the time. And you know that doesn’t happen.”
    I’d told him the truth and he must have believed me, because the tic in his jaw muscle stopped spasming. So why were the creepy-crawlies dancing over my skin?
    He pulled me down on his lap. “This is some kind of psychic fair to raise money for cats that need homes, El. No one thinks you’ll really be talking to dead people. Everyone who attends will know it’s a charity event, not a real séance.” He ran his hand around the back of his neck, a sure sign that he didn’t want to be having this conversation and was probably not telling me the whole truth.  
    I licked a tasty bit of cannoli from my lips, my mind searching for a way to reason with Mitch.  
    “The Mitch I know and love tries to keep me out of trouble. What’s with you and this cat thing? Do you even like cats? And Jayne was arrested. There’s something off about that whole thing. She’s not the type, and as soon as I get my fingers on her…”
    Mitch shifted in his chair, toyed with the cup of cinnamon coffee sitting in front of him. “Jayne—”  
    Cold, hard fear knotted in my stomach. “Hates me. Hell, she’s probably setting me up to take the fall for her fake felony.”
    Mitch scrubbed his hands down his face, a pitiful attempt to hide the guilt.
    I jumped up. “She is. She’s setting me up. And you’re letting her? Helping her?”  
    “She and Parker have set everyone up. They have some half-ass plan to identify the thief. My dumbass sister put her career on the line for this. She’s usually not this crazy stupid.”  
    “You’re worried about her.” I stuffed half a cannoli in my mouth to keep from saying anything else. Jayne wasn’t my best topic for polite conversation.  
    “Yeah. I’m worried. The séance is part of a psychic fair that will supposedly flush out the thieving bastard. And there was something about lusting after—”  
    I laughed so hard, cannoli blew over the kitchen table. “You’re blushing. Your sister is old enough to have sex, you know.”
    He scowled.  
    I did my best to ignore it. “I’m thinking you’d better start from the beginning. She invited you to dinner…”
    “Yeah. I’m a sucker for Italian. You know that.”
    “Uh-huh.”
    Mitch’s cell rang, cutting through our conversation. He raised his eyebrows at me, and when I nodded, answered the call.  
    I ambled to the sink, filled the dishpan with soapy water, and did my best not to eavesdrop. Or maybe it was my best to eavesdrop.  
    “Hey, Sis.” Mitch’s voice sounded over the running water. “Yeah. She’s washing dishes. Hang on.”
    I shut off the water, threw a glare at Mitch, and reached for a towel. “She hates me,” I mouthed to Mitch.
    When I reached for his cell phone, he tucked it behind his back. “Be nice,” he warned, then handed me the phone.  
    “Hey, Jayne. How’re things?”  
    I listened to her, barely hearing the words because I wanted to focus on her tone while she lied her way through a fake explanation of the situation. Kind of like subliminal listening, which gave me plenty of freedom to twist the dishtowel into a nice, snug rope that was perfect for snapping against Mitch’s delectable backside.  
    He started to step out of the line of fire, then held his ground with hands on his hips and batted his eyelashes at me. I tucked the phone between my ear and shoulder, and then flicked his belly with a satisfying smack, grinned at my target, and went back to listening.