by Jen Talty
“You could shower here.” Her long lashes fluttered over her seductive blue eyes. “Things were just getting revved up.”
He let out a long breath. “I’m sorry. We probably shouldn’t have done that. Very unprofessional of me, and I have some work to do.”
“Oh. Okay.” The hurt and disappointment etched in her crinkled brow was undeniable.
Teenage romance never lasted.
You’re not a teenager anymore.
I’m certainly acting like one.
He blinked. Not only was he letting his hormones control his every move, but now he was talking to dead people. God, he hated Halloween.
He took in a long breath, trying to clear his mind, except he got a good dose of Courtney’s sweet aroma instead. “Lay off the ghost stories, okay?”
Courtney frowned. “They’re not stories. And I bet you never asked my grandmother to stop telling them.”
He looked out to the night sky as if the stars held all the answers to the universe. “She was a nice, old lady who missed her husband. No one took her seriously. But you.” When he turned back, the pain in her blue eyes was replaced with daggers filled with poison directed right at his heart. He swallowed. “Look. The kids all believe you, and the parents think you’re kind of nutty.”
“Really?” She wrinkled her nose like she’d done as a teenager when she didn’t get something but tried to pretend like she did. It was cute then, and damn sexy now. “No one believed Grandma?”
He pulled her into his arms for a harmless hug. “I know it must be weird to live in a house where someone died.”
She shoved him away. “Actually, it’s quiet comforting. My grandparents are with me whether you want to believe it or not. Grandma still talks incessantly, while Grandpa merely grunts and tells her to leave me alone. They walk the halls because they haven’t yet done what they need to.”
The wind swirled outside, and somewhere inside Courtney’s house a door slammed.
He jumped. “I should go check that out.”
“It was Grandma. You pissed her off.”
For a brief moment, he wondered if the cocoa had gone right to her head. Or to his since he could almost hear her grandmother giggling somewhere in the recesses of his mind.
“I really should go check—”
She gave him a little shove. “Go home,” she said behind a tight jaw. “Thanks for your help tonight.”
“Good night, Courtney.” Her first name rolled off his tongue like a waterfall. Without looking back, he headed across the street to his dark and lonely house. “I’m not lonely. Horny, maybe. Lonely, no,” he muttered as he gave his door a gentle tap with his shoulder. “And there are no such things as ghosts.”
Right.
2
Owen tossed and turned, listening to the little voice reminding him that someone other than those pesky raccoons had been in Courtney’s garage. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t let it go. He’d be a bad cop if he did.
He threw back the covers, slipped into his jeans and T-shirt, and snagged a flashlight. He wouldn’t be doing his job if he didn’t listen to his instincts. Even if at this point, his instincts sounded like some little old lady begging him to watch over her granddaughter.
He stepped out into the cool North Dakota night under a blanket of stars. The frigid air stung his lungs as he jogged across the street. Once in her driveway, he twisted the top of the flashlight and started looking. For what? He hadn’t a clue. The burglar really didn’t have much of an MO. Just hit houses that were empty and unlocked. But there had to be some kind of clue out there, and it was his job to find it.
Carefully, he examined the entrance to the garage and noticed fingerprints below the handle. Well, not really prints, but smudge marks. He reached out and touched it before glancing at his finger. Some of whatever was on the door was now on his finger. He took a good sniff and chuckled before wiping the frosting off on his jeans.
Someone got to her cake before the raccoons.
He took a step back and reached for the door, placing his hand above the handle. He lowered his light to the ground and found clumps of cake and goo across the driveway. As he stepped into the grass, he found a few more small piles of the glop leading toward the trees lining her backyard and the forever wild woods attached to them. It all made perfect sense. One of the neighborhood kids must have gotten into her freezer, realized his mistake, and then decided to bring on a decoy.
At least that is what he would have done in his younger days.
A branch snapped from somewhere behind him. His body went into full alert as he reached behind his back for his weapon.
You know its Courtney. You sense her. Smell her.
For all I know it’s the boogeyman, he thought.
No such thing. Just us ghosts.
Right.
Slowly he turned, pistol drawn. The door to the garage flung open at the same time the light over the garage momentarily blinded him. He blinked a few times but kept his focus on the fleeting shadow carrying a metal weapon.
“I’ve called the cops,” Courtney said.
Immediately, he released his finger from the trigger. “Jesus. I could have shot you. Now shut that damn light off.”
“Owen?”
“No, it’s the boogeyman.” Darkness once again took over the night. He flicked on his flashlight and shined it at her. “What the hell were you thinking coming out here?”
“I heard noises. Again.” She had the phone in one hand and a knife in the other. “I could have stabbed you, you big oaf.”
“Oaf?” He shook his head. “You still got 9-1-1 on the line?” he asked, rubbing his gut. The twelve-inch blade she carried could do some serious damage.
“Actually, it’s your answering machine. What the hell are you doing out here? You scared me to death.”
“Sorry.” He wiped the sweat from his brow, but once again, the temperature had nothing to do with it. Nor the near-death experience. He let his eyes drop and soak in every inch of her creamy-looking, near-naked body. Tank tops and boxers should be illegal on a woman. “I don’t think you should be out here like that.” He tried like hell to tell himself this was purely lust. Just desire for a beautiful woman and lack of sex.
“I suppose not. Why don’t you come in?”
She turned, and he followed her into the garage and back into her house, knowing that this time he didn’t plan on leaving. He paused mid-step at the door and tilted his head. He could have sworn he heard her grandmother laugh again. “I think I know how those raccoons got to your dessert.”
“Really?” She glanced over her bare shoulder, setting aside the knife and tossing the cell phone onto one of the chairs in the family room. “Is that what you were doing? Investigating?” Her checkered shorts hung loose at her thighs. The waistband was rolled down over her hips, showing off her firm midriff. She offered him a seat on the oversized sofa.
“Something like that.” He swallowed as he watched her tuck those long legs under her adorable butt. “Anyway, I think it’s just neighborhood kids. They left a trail of food to the woods, and that probably encouraged the gang of bandits to wreak havoc in your garage.” Not quite sure what to do with his gun, he set it on the coffee table.
Sit next to her.
He wondered if a man could go insane due to lack of sex.
Just sit down next to her.
He slid himself down on the soft sofa. He’d always had ‘gut instincts,’ but they never came in the form of a female voice, and he never needed help with a woman before.
“So, did you get the cake done?” he asked.
“I sure did, and there was some batter left over so I made some cupcakes. Want one?”
“As long as you’re not going to shove it in my face, sure.”
She wrinkled her nose and leapt from the sofa with enthusiasm. “Don’t move.” She raced off to the kitchen, her hips swaying back and forth.
He enjoyed the view, perhaps a little too much.
Shifting on the sofa, he contemplated what his next move should be. Did he have moves? It had been so long since he’d hit on a woman.
When she returned, she held a cupcake in each hand. One had vanilla frosting with some creepy spider thing on top. The other had chocolate frosting with a bloodshot eyeball. They looked both gross and tantalizing at the same time. His taste buds watered with delight.
“Which one?” She snuggled up against him, tossing her legs over his, and waving both sweet-smelling creations under his nose.
“I’ll take the spider.” Carefully, he slid his hand over hers, taking the cupcake before she could pull one of her notorious stunts, like making his face a tasty treat. He’d had enough food on him for the night. Time to get some in him. “You made all this tonight?”
She nodded, lifting the grotesque eyeball off and popping it into her mouth. “The cake and frosting, but I already had a bunch of these kinds of things done.” She waggled her finger over his spider. “The inside of the spider sac is filled with jam and should ooze out when you bite it.”
“That’s oddly disgusting and sweet at the same time.” The damn thing smelled like fresh strawberries. He lifted the cupcake to his mouth and bit off the entire spider. Something gushed in his mouth as he chewed. A combination of chocolate and strawberry jam filled his mouth. “This is ridiculously good,” he said, shoving almost half the cupcake in his mouth.
“Glad you like it.” She dipped her finger into her frosting. “Try this.” She held her finger to his mouth.
“Isn’t that the same as mine?” He stared at her finger. If she scooted about five inches to her left, she’d be sitting on his lap. He sucked her finger into his mouth but didn’t really give a shit about the vanilla frosting rolling down his throat. It was time to stop fighting his attraction. Besides, she wasn’t being subtle about hers anymore, not that she had been to begin with. “How about you try this.” He shoved his cupcake in her face, pushed her down onto her back, and tucked himself between her legs as she wrapped them around his waist.
“Oh, you’re so dead now.” She cocked her wrist, trying to shove the rest of her delightful treat into his face, but he was able to snag the cupcake before it landed between his eyes.
“Hey. Not fair. You have a major advantage over me.”
“That I do.” He rubbed her cupcake all over her gorgeous face and down her soft neck.
Squirming under him, she licked her lips as her head shook left and right.
He let what was left of the cupcake drop to the floor, snagged both her hands, and held them high over her head. “I think this is a job only the chief of police can handle.”
“This is police brutality.” She wiggled underneath him.
He smiled, cupping her chin with his free hand. “I can’t perform the necessary police function to clean your face if you keep struggling.”
“Oh.” She relaxed underneath him. “Clean away.”
He ran his thumb over her lower lip and tried like hell to control himself as she licked the frosting off his finger. Somehow, the way her sweet spring-like scent mixed with sugary food sent his sex drive on high alert. His blood raged through his veins like race cars screaming around a track. “I think it’s safe to consume,” he whispered as he licked the goop on her cheek.
“I have more on my lips.”
“I’ll get there.”
She turned her head, catching his lips and thrusting her tongue deep inside, not letting him take his time. Oh well. This was just as nice.
Her legs tightened around his waist as she tried to free her hands from his grip, but he wasn’t about to let go, or give up what little control he had. It was damn near impossible to break away from her enticing mouth. “I need to get all the evidence, Miss Nash.” He moved to the other cheek, making sure he got as much of the frosting as he could, before returning to the warmth of her lips. The room spun around him as he kissed a path down her chin and along her neck.
She took in a deep breath, her chest greeting his lips. He felt her heartbeat against his hand as he slid it under her flimsy top. “You were the prettiest girl back in high school, and you’re even more beautiful now,” he said, gliding his hand closer to the object of his desire. A faint thud echoed from somewhere above. He froze.
“You heard that, right?” Her hot breath sent a shiver down his spine.
He’d been hearing a lot of things lately, but that didn’t sound like a nice, little old lady. “It’s probably nothing.” No way did he want this moment to end, so he tried to will the sounds away.
You need to believe.
I’m going crazy, he thought.
She cupped his face as a few other faint noises rang out in the night. “Please tell me you heard that?”
He buried his head in her neck. “The wind is picking up. It’s probably just tree branches or something.” Then he heard a few more thuds, followed by a door slamming. “Okay, I heard that,” he said, reaching for his gun as he leapt from the couch. “You stay put.”
“Like hell.” Once again, she buried herself in his back. “Where your pistol goes, I go.”
“Fine but stay close and grab your cell phone as we head up the stairs.” The first step creaked under his weight. “Any chance you left a window open?”
She pounded her head against his back. “Um, well, I might have.”
He chuckled. “Let’s check it out anyway.”
Courtney hadn’t left any windows open, but she knew who did, and she could smell her grandmother’s cinnamon scent everywhere. Everyone had a natural scent. Owen’s was like the ocean mist, or first morning dew. Hers was more like a hot summer day, which was in part, why hers and Owen’s hearts were locked with one another.
She stayed tucked behind Owen, just in case, since Grandmother Dearest wasn’t owning up to her shenanigans. Things had been going well enough downstairs. Hell, damn near perfect, minus a few articles of clothing. So why would her grandmother interfere? Kind of didn’t make sense, then again, Grandma was a pushy broad.
Courtney repeated the thought, in hopes to get a rise out of her grandmother, but she got nothing.
Damn.
“This house has always smelled like someone is baking,” he said.
“Because I usually am and so was Grandma.”
“Well, lookie here,” he said after opening her bedroom door.
“What?” She nudged her head under his arm and blushed as she stared at the open window just above the bed. “Sorry,” she managed, trying to remember if she’d pulled back the covers or not. It wouldn’t be unheard of for her to prepare her bed like that, making it easier to jump between the sheets. And the plan had always been to get him to jump in there with her. But the couch had been working just fine, so why mess with the mojo?
Here that, Grandma? Don’t fix it if it ain’t broken.
He needs to believe…
The curtains fluttered as the cool breeze filtered across the room. “Why don’t I just shut that?” He tucked his gun in his pants.
“That can’t be comfortable?” She scowled. Messing with a man’s gun would be like messing with his lawn mower. Not a very bright thing to do. He tugged the window closed, then turned and faced her. His eyes bore deep into her soul, making her heart beat just a little faster. “I feel naked if I don’t have it with me.”
“But does it have to be on you all the time?” She swallowed the sudden rush of nerves threatening to surface. She’d started this dance, and according to all the stars, the cards, and the potions, he was the man for her. “I mean, you don’t sleep with it, do you?”
He glanced at her bed, then back at her, letting his gaze drop to her feet before working his way back up her body. He shook his head, removed the gun, and put it on the nightstand. Then without warning, he ripped off his shirt and tossed it to the floor. “No. I don’t.”
A groan rumbled in her throat. She tried to swallow, but her muscles seemed to be on leave from active duty or something, because she could
n’t move. Hell, she couldn’t blink if she tried. All she could do was stare at the perfect specimen standing before her. “Wow,” she heard herself say. He’d always been a hottie, and built like a tank, but not quite like this. “You’ve changed a little.”
“I would hope so, since I’m not seventeen anymore.”
“Nope. You’re not. And I’m not fifteen.”
“Can we not go down that road?” he said with a contorted look on his face. “We’re adults now, not silly teenagers who don’t know anything about nothing.”
“Wow. That was prolific.”
He reached for his shirt.
Panic forced her heart to beat into her mouth. She reached for his arm. “Please. I’m just kind of nervous and always, I resort to sarcasm.”
“You’ve always had a sharp tongue.”
Listening to the drum-like pattern of her heart, she inched closer to him. His muscles twitched when she splayed her hands across his stomach. His skin was soft yet hard. She kissed the center of his chest and inhaled the ocean breeze filtering from his skin. The unsteady rise and fall of his chest mirrored her own labored breathing.
He tugged at her ponytail, releasing her hair, then ran his fingers effortlessly through the tangled mess. Goosebumps tickled up her spine as he traced a path down the length of her back. “You’re a beautiful woman.”
“You’re not so bad yourself, Chief.”
He smiled.
God, she loved his smile. “You should do that more often.”
“What?” His hands moved freely through her hair, down her neck and arms, before sliding under her top.
“Smile.”
“I’ll smile more often if you promise not to wear this top in public. Ever.”
“I don’t wear my pajamas out.”
“Good, but right now, it’s got to go,” he said, lifting her tank top over her head.
She brushed the hair from her face, pushing it behind her shoulders and stood still. His gentle, brown eyes filled with lust as he drew her closer.
“I’ve waited a long time for this,” she whispered and wondered why she’d stayed away for so long. Her heart had always belonged to him.
