Love, Lattes and Danger

by Sandra Cox

  I study her. “The craters under your eyes aren’t as pronounced.”

  “For a hundred and seventy pound sack of potatoes, you could look worse.”

  We laugh and eat our breakfast. She really does look better. “You must have been exhausted after hauling my sorry carcass around.”

  She grins and shrugs.

  “Do you feel well enough to move on?” I ask around bites of a breakfast sandwich.

  “Yeah, I do.” She studies me. “You still look a little flushed.”

  “Nothing peroxide and pain relievers won’t cure.”

  She leans forward eagerly. “Do you think they’re close by?”

  “My guess is they’re about thirty miles from here. We’ll see what the dolphins think.”

  “What were you saying to them?” she asks as she picks up a hash brown patty.

  “I was asking if they could find any other dolphs that might be around.”

  “And they understood?”

  “We’ll find out.”

  I finish off another sandwich, guzzle my coffee, and stand. “I’m going to take a shower. Did you by chance pick up some staples?”

  “Yeah, more sunglasses.” She laughs. “We should take out stock. Everything’s in the bathroom.”

  “Good girl. What would I do without you?” I lean over and give her a light peck on the cheek.”

  “We take care of each other.”

  “Yeah, we do.”

  I take a quick shower before she changes my bandage and soaks my arm in peroxide.

  “It looks nasty,” she says and she rewraps it.

  “It’ll be fine.” I hope I’m right.

  She looks dubious, but only says, “Then we’re good to go.”

  We put on our sunglasses and head out. We grab a bus to the other side of the island, find a remote spot and hit the water. When we’re far enough out, I give Ar’s and To’s signature whistles and keep swimming in the direction I remember from the GPS and Mr. Dunn’s map.

  Ten minutes later, I give another whistle. There’s no sign of our dolphins.

  “Do you think anything happened to them?” Amy’s worried. “Perhaps we should have gone into the water on the other side.”

  “They have excellent hearing. And this will save us time…if I’m headed in the right direction.”

  I whistle every few minutes, first for To then for Ar. I’ve become attached to the little female. She reminds me of a little dolphin from the lab that I was particularly fond of. Better not go there. The memories aren’t pleasant.

  “Listen.” Amy grabs my arm.

  I stop and tread water. I don’t hear anything. I look at her and shrug.

  “Whistle again.”

  I do. Then I hear it. First To, then Ar.

  My heart does a little dance. Amy is smiling widely. I know mine matches it. Five minutes later, I see gray fins coming swiftly at us. To noses me and Ar bumps Amy.

  After stroking them, I give the ‘Piper dolph’ whistle. To lifts into the air and nods her head. They point in the direction we were heading. I grab To’s fin and Amy grabs Ar’s. We fly through the water. This time I’m able to help.

  Two hours later, we’re approaching a small island. It looks deserted. Cautiously, we swim around it. I’ve about decided we’ve reached the wrong one when I see a boat covering made from wood and painted a greenish blue that blends with the water.

  “Look!” I point.

  Amy’s gaze follows my finger. “Do you think—” She doesn’t even finish the sentence but her eyes are shining with excitement.

  “Let’s find out.” We swim forward. Inside is Mr. Dunn’s old fishing boat.

  My heart is pounding so hard I can hardly breathe. I pat the dolphins then wade toward shore, Amy beside me.

  Along the coastline, we see no signs of habitation. “Let’s go inward.”

  We walk for about ten minutes before I find a trail. We follow it to a clearing where we see a small hut.

  In the doorway, as if she senses my presence, stands Piper.

  “Joel? Oh my God, Joel,” Piper runs toward me, her eyes sparkling, her smile wide. She’s holding Angel. Our daughter extends her arms. “Daddy.”

  My heart is pounding through every square inch of my body. I run toward her and gather up both her and Piper. “You can talk.” My chest swells. My throat warms and tickles into a smile. “She can talk.” I hug Piper hard. She nods, tears in her eyes.

  Angel puts a tiny hand as soft as a butterfly’s wing on my cheek. “Stay.”

  My heart turns over. My daughter wants me. I will never willingly leave her or her mother again. I take the tiny hand and kiss it. “Always.”

  Piper is still pressed to me. I look over her head and see Tyler standing in the doorway. Even from this distance, it’s impossible to ignore the tension radiating from him.

  My head comes up and my gaze locks with his. For this one magical moment, I meet the challenge in his eyes and pretend Piper is mine. Tomorrow will come soon enough.

  Meet the Author

  Multi-published author Sandra Cox writes YA Fantasy, Paranormal and Historical Romance, and Metaphysical Nonfiction. She lives in sunny North Carolina with her husband, a brood of critters and an occasional foster cat. Although shopping is high on the list, her greatest pleasure is sitting on her screened in porch, listening to the birds, sipping coffee and enjoying a good book. She's a vegetarian and a Muay Thai enthusiast.

  Visits Sandra at http://www.kensingtonbooks.com/author.aspx/31643

  Keep reading for a special sneak peek of Sandra Cox’s new novel

  GHOST FOR SALE

  Preparing for college is tough enough without being haunted.

  Caitlin King can’t believe that her shopaholic cousin actually bought two ghosts off of eBay. But she can’t ignore the truth when she starts seeing sexy Liam O’Reilly, a teenager who’s been dead for over a hundred years. He’s a fascinating specter, and the more time Caitlin spends with him, the closer they become—sending them both spiraling into a star-crossed tailspin. No matter how desperately they long for each other, there’s just no future with a guy who’s already stopped breathing.

  In order to help Liam and his twin sister, Anna, leave their earthly limbo and cross over into the light, Caitlin must find the ghost of Anna’s fiancé. But a malevolent spirit is dead set against Anna moving on. Now Caitlin will have to unravel the mystery surrounding the twins’ past lives in order to keep Liam’s spirit safe—even if it means sacrificing her heart in the process.

  A Lyrical e-book on sale September 2015.

  Learn more about Sandra at http://www.kensingtonbooks.com/author.aspx/31643

  Chapter 1

  Brring. The shriek of the doorbell caused me to jump, interrupting my first morning jolt of caffeine, as hot liquid sloshed over the sides and burned me. “Crap.” I thumped the cup down and trotted to the door, shaking my stinging fingers.

  My irritation faded when I opened the door.

  A young delivery man dressed in standard tan gave me an appreciative once over. I returned the favor. “Miss VanLier?” He held a box in one hand and a clipboard and pen in the other. Lust turned my brain to mush. I reached for the clipboard and scratched my name.

  “Miss King?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m sorry. But I need Miss VanLier’s signature.”

  “Oops. Wait right there.” I held up a finger and walked backward till I was out of sight, then sprinted for my cousin’s bedroom. “HDM at the door, Marcy.”

  “Hot delivery man?” She sat up.

  “Yup. A Mr. Hottie.”

  “What’s he want?”

  “He’s got a box that I can’t sign for. Did you order those red stilettoes?”

  She looked at me and mumbled, “They didn’t have them in my size.” Her eyes widened. “My ghosts!”

  “What?”

  “My ghosts. I bought two on eBay.” She jump
ed out of bed.

  “What?”

  “Caitlin, you’re repeating yourself. I bought two ghosts on eBay.”

  “No. Really? How much?”

  “Three thousand a piece.” She reached for the robe at the foot of her bed and threw it on.

  Pressure began to build at my temples. “Why would you spend six thousand dollars for ghosts?”

  “Why not?” She trotted out of the room and raced down the hall.

  Good question. Marcy’s parents were richer than God. Spending a few thou on a whim was no big deal. My parents weren’t exactly poor, but their fortunes paled in comparison to my mom’s sister’s family.

  I hauled butt after her. “You don’t really believe that stuff, do you?”

  “Why else would I have bought them?”

  Why indeed?

  We made it to the door in a dead heat.

  “Are you Miss VanLier?” HDM asked.

  “Yes, that’s right.” She reached for the pen and clipboard. His glassy gaze traveled back and forth between the two of us, lingering on my short-shorts.

  “She inherited those legs from her momma. At least that’s what Aunt always tells us,” Marcy put in helpfully as she intercepted the look.

  Mr. HDM reddened, thrust the package at her, and beat a retreat.

  She studied the return address. “It’s my ghosts. But the package is ripped.”

  “I’ll say.” The box was busted, ripped at the seams. “We should have been paying more attention to the package and less to the delivery boy.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I can’t wait to see my specters.” She clutched it to her breasts like a long lost child and headed to the kitchen, leaving me to shut the door. I watched the HDM drive away, then trotted after her.

  “You opened it,” I said, disappointed I’d missed the reveal.

  “No, the tube was cracked and the cork out. My ghost escaped somewhere between here and Florida.” She rubbed her forehead as if warding off a headache.

  A chill swept down my spine. Then sanity returned. Ghost indeed.

  “Jonas Bromwell is going to reimburse me for this purchase. I’m not paying three thousand for a cracked test tube. My daddy taught me the value of a dollar.” Hands splayed on her waist, she glared at the broken cylinder.

  “Yeah, and I wonder if your idea of value is going to equal his.”

  “Say what?”

  “Nothing. What about the other one?” I pointed at the still intact tube. Her face brightened. She looked at me, grinned, and picked it up with perfectly manicured nails.

  Slowly, she pulled out the cork, drawing out the moment, then pop. “Welcome to your new home, ghost.”

  A current of electricity traveled along my skin and trailed down my arms in a slow, sensuous slide. Heat escalated and my arms burned. “Ouch. Ouch. Ouch.” As I flailed around, the smell of cinnamon and tart limes teased my senses. The hairs on my neck stood on end. Goose bumps roughened my skin. What the…

  “Caitlin, what is wrong with you?”

  “I have no idea,” I wailed. “My arms feel on fire. Do you smell that?”

  Marcy dutifully lifted her nose and sniffed. “Smell what? Your arms have just gone to sleep. That’s happened to me before. Just keep shaking them and they’ll feel better in no time.”

  Right. I ran to the sink, turned on the cold water, and stuck them under it. The heat disappeared as quickly as it had come. The smell was gone too. This is weird. I touched my arms, expecting heat, but they were cool from the water. My skin looked perfectly normal, no blisters.

  “Are you better?”

  “Yes.”

  “I would have never thought about running water for a muscle cramp. I’ll remember that next time.”

  I opened my mouth to correct her, then promptly shut it. What was the point?

  Marcy’s attention turned back to the test tube. She waited expectantly, her eyes wide. As the minutes ticked away, the look of expectation turned to disappointment. “That thief, I’m going to ask for all my money back. He sold me empty test tubes.”

  I tried to work up a “well duh.” But I couldn’t quite do it, maybe because I was shaking like a leaf.

  When I didn’t respond, my cousin looked at me. The frown on her lovely features deepened. “What’s wrong with you? You’re white as a sheet and trembling.”

  Not for a million bucks or a thousand pair of shoes would I admit I might have just experienced my first ghostly encounter. I croaked the first thing that came to mind. “Sugar.”

  She pulled out a box of donuts, tossed them on the table, just missing an empty juice glass, and I fell into the chair.

  “Want a Pepsi?”

  “Please.”

  “I can’t believe I got scammed. I was so sure I was buying ghosts. The seller seemed so sincere.” She pulled a can out of the fridge and handed it to me. I drank it so fast I choked, and she slapped me on the back.

  “I’m fine.” I waved her away.

  “Here, have a donut.”

  I reached for a glazed, inhaling the yeasty confection before brushing my palms together to get the sticky icing off my fingers.

  “There, you’re looking better.” She beamed, then turned and walked out.

  I loved my cousin, and her abrupt mood changes were just part of her charm, but this one left me a bit off balance. Clearly, she was already over her ghost disappointment and had moved on to her next obsession.

  As soon as she left, I slipped out of the room and went to the little study off my bedroom, opened my laptop, and googled paranormal activity. In moments, I was immersed. Time disappeared as I tried to find a rational explanation for the strange scent that had appeared when the top popped on the tube, along with the kilowatt voltage that had fried my skin without leaving a mark.

  “I’m leaving now.” Marcy spoke from the doorway.

  My breath caught and I clutched my heart. “You scared me. What time is it?” I looked at the tick-tock cat clock on my wall, disoriented. “Six o’clock,” we said in unison, me in disbelief.

  “Have you been networking all this time?”

  “Yeah.” I took the coward’s way out and didn’t try to explain I’d been researching paranormal activity—ghosts in particular—not chatting socially. I’d be totally humiliated if my sophisticated cousin thought I was a geek. “You look great, Marcy.” She wore faded jean capris and a crimson silk shirt over a red halter, topped off with chunky red jewelry. “I didn’t think the party was till later.”

  “Cookout on the patio.”

  “Gotcha. Have fun.”

  “Sure you don’t want to go?” A set of bangle bracelets jingled on her arm as she shifted her little red clutch to her other hand.

  For a moment, I considered it. But I had a headache I couldn’t shake, and the nerves under my skin were twitching. “I’ll catch the next one.”

  “All right. Feel better.” She gave me an airy wave of her fingers before she strolled out of the room.

  “Have fun,” I called after her, then winced as it notched up my headache. I shut my laptop and stretched. Maybe a swim would clear my head. I put on my black one-piece and headed for the pool, my cork thongs clopping against the warm cement. The glistening liquid beckoned. After toeing off my footwear, I dove in.

  The cold splash of water shocked me and cleared my head. I floated on my back, buoyant, mindless. The sun still had an hour before it would set, but already the sky had turned a lovely shade of red. My body went limp and my headache disappeared.

  Interspersed with the smell of chlorine, a light scent drifted toward me. For a moment, I enjoyed the sensual masculine fragrance. The next instant my body went rigid. Cinnamon and tart limes! Stiff as a board, I lost my buoyancy and went under. I kicked to the surface, coughing and choking. As I dog-paddled and pushed my streaming hair out of my face, a shadow fell across the pool.

  My heart gave a hard thump. “Who’s there?” I scrubbed d
roplets out of my eyes but couldn’t see anything.

  The sky clouded and turned overcast as the wind cooled and picked up, causing the water to ripple. Goose bumps rose on my arms and legs that had nothing to do with the weather. The shadow swayed back and forth in rhythm with the wind, beginning to take shape.

  My insides turned to ice, my breath coming in short, sharp pants.

  The next moment, a shimmery silhouette of a man lay across the water.

  With more speed than grace, I sprinted for the opposite side of the pool. Water churned as I kicked out. As soon as I reached the ladder, I grasped it and whipped around. “Who’s there?” I squeaked again. Only silence. The shadow, or whatever, was gone. The only scent the evening breeze carried was chlorine.

  My muscles bunched and jumped as I pulled myself out of the pool. Pressure building in my head, I grabbed a thick white towel, wrapped it around me, and raced into the bungalow just as the phone rang. My feet wet, I slipped and slid across the tile floor as I hurried to answer it. “Hello?”

  “Caitlin, how are you?” Laughing voices and music sounded in the background.

  “Clayton?” Surprise jolted me.

  “Yeah, I’m back. I was going to surprise you. Thought you’d be at Richie’s. Want me to come over?”

  “I’d love for you to,” I responded with more enthusiasm than poor Clayton usually received from me.

  “I’m on my way.” He clicked off.

  “Hurry,” I muttered to the silent phone.

  I looked furtively around as I raced to the bedroom to change clothes. I didn’t know what I was worrying about. We had an excellent alarm system. Nonetheless, I locked myself in the bedroom and dressed in record time. I peeked out the door. Reassured no one was there, I skulked into the hallway and waited for Clayton. When the buzzer sounded, I opened the door and threw myself into his arms.

  His eyebrows rose, his body went rigid, and his face registered stunned surprise…for about five seconds. “This is more like it.” He kissed me enthusiastically, his hands busy as little bees.