by Jennie Marts
“You could have been killed.”
“I almost was.” Her eyes took on a faraway gaze, as if she were watching the scene in the past. “The windshield shattered as the car crashed through trees, and a branch from a tree stabbed through my shoulder, impaling me to the seat. I couldn’t move and I was losing a lot of blood. My husband was bleeding from a head wound, and I can remember how bright red the blood was against his white shirt. I had this crazy thought that it would be a good shade to paint the trim in our kitchen. We had this whole black-and-white theme going, with red accents. Isn’t that a funny thing to be thinking about? I was dying and yet contemplating what shade of red to paint our kitchen.”
He touched her arm lightly, wanting to offer some kind of support for such a terrible experience. The look of pure pain in her eyes shot through him, as if he were the one who had been impaled. “People do all sorts of things in crisis situations. It’s the brain’s way of helping them to cope.”
She looked at him, her eyes brimming with tears, and the corners of her mouth tipped up a little in a mournful smile. “What helped me cope was the strength of my husband and his unfailing support. He applied pressure to my wound and kept me talking. I can remember clearly the way he encouraged me to hang on and stay with him. He kept talking about these funny memories of our time together, and I can even remember the stupid jokes he told. He was covered in blood, so much blood, but he wouldn’t let me give up. Wouldn’t let me surrender to the pain.
“I don’t know exactly how long we were trapped. Witnesses later said it took the ambulance twenty minutes to get to us, and at least another ten minutes to get me out of the car. I lost consciousness as soon as I heard the sirens and knew help was on the way. The last thing I remember was him holding my hand and telling me to stay. To not give up.”
“He must have loved you very much.”
She nodded, a slight bob of her head. Her next words were choked with emotion. “I woke up in the hospital the next day. I asked the nurses where my husband was and if he was okay. They told me that he had died on impact. That he’d broken his neck in the fall and died instantly.”
His heart stopped at her statement, and his breath caught in his throat. She turned to look at him, really look in his eyes, and he thought his heart could break at the pain evident in them. He didn’t know if he fully believed the story, but he knew she believed it. It was clear that she believed every word. And she wanted him to believe her.
She swiped at the lone tear rolling down her cheek. “I’ve only told that story to a few people. Honestly, I don’t know why I even just told you. I guess I just wanted you to understand. It’s not hocus-pocus nonsense to me. Connecting with the other side is very real to me. And having gone through the pain of losing someone so close, having survived such a tragedy helps me to be able to connect to people, to see their pain and to work with them to try to heal.”
He didn’t know how to react, and couldn’t figure out what to do with his hands. He wanted to touch her. To hold her. To protect her from her pain. To tell her he was sorry, but he couldn’t open his mouth. He didn’t know what to say.
She stared at him. “Well, say something. Don’t just stare at me. Tell me what you’re thinking. What you’re feeling.”
“First of all, I don’t talk about my feelings, and second of all, I don’t know what the hell I’m feeling. I want to wrap you in my arms and protect you and never let you get hurt again. And at the same time, I want to rip your clothes off and kiss you senseless and make you forget you’ve ever had a sad moment in your life.”
She laughed. A laugh choked with tears. “Now that’s a feeling I understand. You drive me insane with your close-mindedness, and I feel like the best choice for me is to walk away from you. But my hands are itching to touch you, and all I want to do is dig into that shell of yours and uncover the man who’s afraid to believe in things he can’t prove.”
“I’m not afraid. I just have a hard time believing it.”
“I know. And I can’t figure out how to feel about that. I like you, but you infuriate me. You make my insides go a little gooey at the same time you get my back up in frustration. As much as I’ve been thinking about kissing you and fantasizing about your hands on me, I’m not sure what I can do about it. How can I be with someone that doesn’t believe in the most important life-changing event of my life?”
Did she just say she’d been fantasizing about his hands on her? Everything else in the room fell away. Everything except this woman, with her cascades of long, dark hair that he was itching to drive his hands through. Everything but her. Her pain-filled eyes and her full lips.
Her scent swirled around him, enveloping him in a cloak of musky tones full of sex and femininity. He heard his throat click as he swallowed. His mouth dry, his words soft and full of want. “I don’t know. How can you?”
She hesitated, only a moment, searching his eyes. He felt like she could see into his very soul as she reached up to touch his cheek. A shiver ran through him as she whispered, “I guess like this.” She leaned forward, and his breath caught at the nearness of her.
He reached for her, and the silky softness of her hair caressed his hand as he slid it around her neck and pulled her closer to him. Her mouth was so close to his. All he had to do was lean a little closer and her lips would be his. He hesitated, savoring the sweet moment of anticipation.
So close, he gently touched her lips. One soft, sweet kiss. A kiss that elicited a low sigh of pleasure that went straight to his gut. His stomach was turning circles, and he ached to dive in and take her, but the moment was too good to rush. Indulging in the decadent promise of what was to come. Just a small taste. A little nibble before the richness of the bite.
He knew this was probably a bad idea. Knew he was just getting caught up in the moment. The stakeout, a gorgeous woman, and cupcakes. What man wouldn’t be turned on?
But he knew it was more. More than a momentary lapse of judgment. This woman had somehow seeped into his soul. With her positive spirit and her easy laugh. And her generous curves. Lord help him, her curves. And he was inches away from touching those curves now. Did he dare?
He was normally so cautious, thinking through every decision, making the wise choice. She lightly licked his bottom lip, and that was it. All rationale disappeared.
He reached for her and pulled her body into his lap, and finally his hands were on her. He feasted on her lips, taking her mouth in ravenous hunger as he filled his hands with her. Touching every inch of her. Caressing and stroking.
She tasted like chocolate and coffee, and he could not stop kissing her. The feel of her hands in his hair and clutching his back almost sent him over the edge with desire. Having her in his lap allowed him to wrap her in his arms and still touch and feel and explore her body.
Dipping his head to her neck, he laid a hot trail of kisses down her throat. Inhaling her scent, he slowed, savoring the softness of her skin as his kisses moved down her neck. She sighed again and arched her back as he brushed his lips against the tops of her breasts.
“You feel so good,” he growled, his voice husky with want.
He could have wept with the ache of wanting her beneath him. He shifted their bodies, holding her against him as he eased her onto the floor, resting her head on one of the pillows. Her long hair spread out across the floor like a silken pool of black liquid, dark and lush.
She looked up at him, her eyes full of desire and vulnerability. Like she was trusting him not to hurt her. Not to break her heart. He pulled back. What if he couldn’t be the man she needed? The man she wanted?
She reached up and ran her fingers along the leather strap of his gun holster. “That was pretty sexy the way you pulled your gun this morning and pushed me behind you to protect me.” Her words were playful, flirty. He could handle playful, but he was terrible at flirting. It made him feel like a dork and that he was always doing it wrong. But she did say she thought he looked sexy.
He shrugged
out of the holster and carefully placed the gun on the floor, out of their way. “Unfortunately, my gun’s pretty rusty. It hasn’t been used in a while.”
Her eyes widened, and he could tell she was trying to keep a straight face. The corners of her mouth tipped up. “Was that your attempt at flirting? Because I’m not sure that was your best line.”
Feeling the heat of embarrassment warm his neck, he paused, watching her face, trying to decipher if she was teasing or mocking. Her face broke into a grin, and he relaxed, easing his body down on top of her. “Pretty terrible, huh? I almost went with something about my gun not being the only thing that was loaded, but I knew that would be wrong too.”
She let loose a peal of laughter followed by a snort of giggles, and he smiled down at her. Her laughter was like magic to him, the melodic tones seeping into his soul. He picked up a strand of her hair and rubbed it between his fingers. “Look, Zia, I’m just a simple guy. Not suave or debonair. Just ordinary and probably too jaded. But I like you.”
Her laughter stopped. She blinked up at him, her brown eyes at first round and surprised, then softening with affection. “I like you too.”
“I may not believe in all this magic, but I believe in chemistry and the laws of attraction. And I know that people can have a connection, even when they’ve only known each other a short time. And crisis can make that connection stronger.”
“Do you feel like that? Like you only feel connected to me because of this crisis?”
“No. I feel connected to you because of the way you smile at me. This crisis has nothing to do with the way your laugh makes my stomach feel funny or the way I can’t seem to keep my hands off of you. Or the way my spine tingles when you touch me. That’s chemistry. This crazy feeling that makes me ache to touch you. To kiss you.”
He skimmed her lips with the edge of his thumb, and she gasped. A small catch of her breath as she bit her bottom lip in rapture and he couldn’t take his eyes off her lips. He had to kiss her, to take her.
Passion filled him as he leaned down and kissed her mouth. Kissed her with the ravenous desire of a man stranded in a desert and thirsty for water. His hands roamed her body, seeking to learn every curve. He couldn’t get enough.
He pulled back and stripped off his t-shirt. He liked the way her eyes darkened as she took in his muscled chest. He might be boring, but he still worked out. She pushed up from the floor, and he tugged her shirt over her head, leaving her in only jeans and a black lacy bra.
She lay back on the floor, letting him look at her, giving him his fill of her lush body. Grinning up at him, she squeezed her legs around him and drew his hips tighter to her. “I can tell by the size of your gun that you must like what you see.”
Words failed him. He knew she was teasing, but he could only nod. She really did look like a witch, with her long, dark hair spread out around her and the black lace against her pale skin.
In the dim light of the room, her eyes seem to mesmerize him, capture him in her spell. She must have put a spell on him. How else could he be feeling so much, like she affected every one of his senses? How she looked and felt, the sound of her laugh, the way she smelled, the way she tasted—Lord help him, she tasted so damn good.
He leaned down, needing to feel her, to taste her again.
“Oh, Finn,” she whispered, and a soft moan escaped her as he drew her lips into a passionate kiss, and for just one fleeting moment, he believed in magic.
A jagged sunburst scar lay in the dip of her shoulder, and he laid a soft kiss on the scarred tissue. Sliding down her body, he ran his lips down her skin and kissed the soft spot just below her belly button. Her gasp of pleasure was all the encouragement he needed as he flicked open the top button of her jeans. She gripped handfuls of his hair as he slowly unzipped her jeans and ran his tongue along the lacy edge of her panties.
Another moan filled the room, this one low and eerie, and her hand tightened on his hair as she froze. “That wasn’t me,” she whispered. “Please tell me that was you.”
He sat up, one hand automatically reaching for his gun as he pulled her into a protective embrace. “That sure as hell wasn’t me.”
The sound again, this time coming from the other side of the wall; another low moan followed by a soft thump against the wall.
Finn tossed Zia her top and yanked his shirt on. He scanned the room, his senses on high alert, listening for a clue to the source of the sound.
“It sounds like it might be coming from your office,” Zia said, her voice muffled as she pulled her shirt over her head.
Damn shame to cover up that beautiful skin. Focus, Finn. There was a ghost to catch. Wait, make that a goon to catch. Someone was probably tossing his office right now. They’d picked the wrong room to stage their stakeout.
“I’m gonna check it out. Stay here. I’ll be back in a minute.”
She arched an eyebrow at him. “Not on your life, bud. I’m coming with you.”
“Fine.” He sighed. “You better grab your stuff, then. We’re going ghost hunting.”
Chapter Five
Zia followed Finn through the door and into the hallway, mesmerized by the instant switch from passionate lover to steely detective. He held his gun in front of him, his stance alert and ready as he glanced down the hallway, watchful of danger.
She knew she should be looking around as well, but she couldn’t take her eyes off him. Plus, he had such a great butt.
“Are you checking out my ass?” he whispered.
A giggle bubbled in her throat and threatened to escape. “Yes. Guilty as charged.”
“Carry on, then.” He never missed a beat, making the flirty joke without cracking a smile. He really was funny. How did she ever think this man was boring?
He moved a step closer to his door, passing the utility closet that sat between their two offices. Another low moan sounded, and they stopped in their tracks. A strange scraping sound came from behind the closet door, and a chill ran up Zia’s spine.
“I think it’s coming from in there,” she whispered, and pointed her EMF meter at the door. The lights on the meter went crazy, flashing and blinking. “There’s definitely something happening in that closet.”
Finn pushed her behind him, stopping to give her a coy smile, as he must have remembered her earlier comment about how she thought that was sexy.
He turned the knob and yanked the door open. A startled cry came from the closet, and it took her a moment to process the scene. She took in two people on the floor of the closet, a lot of bare skin, various stages of undress, and a slutty nurse sitting on top of what appeared to be a pirate.
“What the hell, dude?” the pirate asked as the slutty nurse giggled and flashed Finn a nice view of her exposed chest. The smell of alcohol and perfume filled the air.
“This is private property. You folks need to move it along.” Finn waved the gun at the couple before clipping it back into his holster.
“Is that gun real?” Dial-a-Nurse asked, letting loose another round of drunken giggles. The gun was more real than the double-Ds she was taking her sweet time putting away.
“Yes, it’s real, and so is the trespassing violation you’re about to get,” Finn said. Zia appreciated the way he averted his eyes, even though the woman was obviously putting on a show for him, the way she was bending and adjusting as she tried to stuff everything back into the too-tight Halloween costume.
“Relax, dude,” the bare-chested pirate said. “It’s Halloween. We’ve been at the party across the street and the door of this building was open. We were just looking for a little privacy.” He gave the woman an exaggerated wink and slapped her on the rear end. “I wasn’t feeling so hot, so this lovely nurse offered to give me a checkup.”
The lovely nurse smiled up at Finn and Zia. “Yeah, we were just having a little fun. Do you two want to join us? We’ve got plenty of pirate rum.” She burst into another round of giggles, and her companion grinned and held up a bottle.
“I
think we’re good. You two better get on back to the party now.” Finn held out a hand and hoisted the pirate to his feet. The drunken nurse took a little more hoisting, and she fell against Finn much more than necessary.
Finally the couple made their way across the hall and out the front door.
Zia stepped into the crowded utility room and looked around. The light from the hallway fell into the closet, dimly illuminating the small space. A shiver ran up her back, but all she saw was a shelf of cleaning supplies down one side of the closet, and several mops, brooms, and spare materials leaning against the back wall.
Setting her EMF reader on the shelf, she was surprised to see the lights flickering and flashing, indicating the presence of a spirit.
All thoughts of a ghostly presence left her head, and she sucked in her breath as Finn stepped into the closet next to her. He was so close she could feel his warm breath on her neck as he leaned in and softly spoke next to her ear. “Well, that’s one pirate that’s not getting his booty tonight.”
Nervous giggles bubbled out of her as she laughed at his silly joke. Why did he make her feel so jumpy? She was normally so calm around men, never really letting them get to her. After what happened with her husband, she knew she wouldn’t ever let herself get too close to a man again. The risk of breaking her already fragile heart was too great. That made it easy to keep them at arm’s length.
Her friends had set her up on dates, and she enjoyed getting dressed up and going to dinner or taking in a show. She even enjoyed some harmless flirting, but no one had made her pulse race or her mouth go dry. No one until this supposedly dull private eye who was looking down at her now and staring at her lips. Staring in a way that made her stomach do funny flips and her breath catch in her throat.
She looked up at him and bit her bottom lip.
He groaned and closed his eyes, then leaned his forehead against hers. “It kills me the way you bite your bottom lip like that. It makes your face go all sexy and has me imagining all sorts of things I would like to do to you to get you to make that face some more.”
