“Could you summon him?”
He grinned at her. “Listen to you with the ghost-hunter lingo. Let’s leave it for now. I’ve got plans for us.”
A week passed and one morning, Tia poured herself a cup of coffee in Dec’s kitchen, then padded out to the front porch to grab the newspaper. When she unrolled it, Cassandra’s photo stared back at her.
An obituary.
She’d barely finished reading the column—a glowing account of Cassandra’s good deeds in the community and of all the people who’d admired the ninety-one-year-old woman—when her cell phone rang. She answered as Dec wandered into the kitchen and gave her a sleepy smile. She pushed the paper over to him.
“Hello?”
“Dr. McGarry?” The masculine voice was tight with tension. Familiar, too, but she couldn’t quite place him.
“Yes?”
“This is Jules Jameson. Meet me in my office at nine.”
She raised her eyebrows at the brusque command. “I’m teaching a class then. I can meet with you at eleven.”
“Fine.” The word rumbled out like a growl, at odds with the polite, polished impression she’d gotten of Jules during their brief acquaintance.
Why was he calling? Did he need urgent counseling after his grandmother’s death? “I’m so sorry for your loss,” she said.
“Don’t patronize me. Be here at eleven.” He ended the call.
Dec had finished scanning the obituary. “I guess this explains why Cassandra didn’t show. She died in her sleep last week.”
“Yes.” Tia stared at the phone in her hand. She didn’t know why Jules was so upset, but a sick feeling rose in her stomach.
“Who called?”
“Jules.” She told him about their conversation. “I don’t know what’s wrong.”
“It’s probably nothing.” He leaned over, brushed his lips with hers. “Want to save some water and shower together?”
That banished worry about Jules from her head for a good long while.
At eleven, a steel-haired receptionist ushered Tia into Jules’s lush office at the law firm. Diplomas and photos of Jules with everyone from President Obama to George Clooney decorated the walls. Jules sat behind a gleaming mahogany desk the size of the Titanic. He didn’t rise, nor did he invite her to sit. She stood before him, feeling somehow like a penitent.
The worst part was Richard was here, lounging against the wall behind Jules’s desk, a smirk on his face. How had she ever wanted to marry that idiot?
Jules pushed a deep blue ceramic urn across the desk toward her. “My grandmother left you this.” There was something behind his words that set off warning bells in her head.
Tia ran her finger over the delicate white flowers decorating the urn. “Mrs. Jameson’s ashes? I don’t understand. Why did she leave me this?”
“I should congratulate you, Dr. McGarry.” Jules’s voice lashed like a whip. “You accomplished in a matter of weeks what no one has done in a century.”
His attitude infuriated her. She raised her eyebrows, but refused to play along by asking him a question.
Jules didn’t wait long to enlighten her. “You conned my grandmother.”
Shock blanked her mind for an instant. “I beg your pardon?”
Richard stepped forward. “I knew you and Mancini were up to something as soon as I saw him at your place. It wasn’t until Jules told me about his grandmother’s will that I realized exactly what had happened.”
“I don’t understand.”
Jules placed his hands palm down on the desk in front of him, as though controlling a strong emotion. “Don’t play dumb with me. My grandmother changed her will right before she died. She included you and that con man.”
Richard smirked again. “Claiming my research as your own was bad enough. But I never thought you’d be so low-rent as to try to con an old lady.”
“Your research? Con an old lady? You know none of this is true. Why are you doing this, Richard?”
Jules continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “Your scheme didn’t succeed all the way. My grandmother left much of the foundation’s money to the health and education initiatives she supported all her life. But she also left a sizable—and I must congratulate you on how sizable—contribution to establish an institute for paranormal research. With you and Mancini to head it up.”
Tia sank into one of the chairs. “I had no idea.”
“Nicely said. Anyone else might have believed you.” Richard made a tsk tsk noise. “I’ve been telling Jules how desperate you are to advance your career. My guess is that your ruthless ambition combined with lust-driven mania from this affair you’re having with a con man pushed you to a life of crime. You’d make a great research subject once the Jameson Foundation approves my grant.”
“You’re an ass,” Tia said flatly.
Jules propped his polished loafers on the desk. “I’m filing a complaint against you with the university, Dr. McGarry. Don’t start spending my grandmother’s money just yet. I’m also filing a lawsuit that will not only reverse my grandmother’s will, but will destroy your career. And, if I can manage it, I’m going to make sure you and Mancini spend a good long time behind bars.”
Tia stared, unable to believe what she was hearing.
“Now get the fuck out of my office.”
Tia’s heart kept up its racetrack pace as she cancelled her afternoon appointments and sped across town to Dec’s house. This couldn’t be happening. She was going to lose everything.
She ran up the porch steps to the second floor, and the sounds of voices floated to her through the open windows. She didn’t pause, turned the knob and walked in without knocking.
Dec wasn’t alone. He and two other men huddled at his small table. One she recognized as his cousin Ryan. The other was a stranger in an expensive suit.
“Tia. I thought you had appointments this afternoon.” He stood quickly, and she didn’t miss the guilty expression that crossed his face. “Is everything okay?”
“I need to talk to you if you have a minute.” She forced a social smile. “Hi, Ryan. Good to see you again. How’re Beth and the kids?”
Ryan gave her a hug. “Doing great. Only a couple more weeks of school and they’ll all be underfoot for the summer. Beth was asking about you the other day.”
She returned his hug and gave him a peck on the cheek. She’d always liked Dec’s family. “I’ve missed her.”
“We should have you over for a dinner soon. Looks like I’m going to be building a new patio.”
Tia furrowed her brow. “Oh. Well, that sounds nice.”
The other man stood and extended his hand. He was in his mid-forties, fit, with shining black hair and a wide smile. “I’m Wes Sutton, with Killian Film & TV.”
She shook his hand, glancing at Dec with a question in her eyes. “Nice to meet you.”
“Here, take my card. I recognize you from the video. Quite an adventure you’ve been having, eh?”
The bottom fell out of her stomach. “Adventure?”
“That ghost of yours is going to play incredibly well on TV. These two”—he jerked his head to Dec and Ryan—“have some great ideas for the direction of the show. I understand your ghost may have—how do you put it—departed the mortal plane, but we can use the video footage plus interviews with you and Dec. He seems to think you’ll be a little hesitant to appear on TV, but I’m sure the two of us can work something out. If you don’t mind me saying, you’re very attractive, so you’ve got nothing to worry about in front of the camera.” He winked at her, obviously thinking she’d be pleased as all get out at his compliment and the chance to be on national television.
Slowly, she turned back to Dec, her heart squeezing to the size of a raisin and tears she could not, would not, shed pricking behind her eyes.
He’d never even bothe
red to tell her. He’d been so fired up about his paranormal investigations and his quest to show the world what he did that he’d disregarded her feelings and violated her privacy. At least it was just her privacy this time, and not that of her patients.
“Tia…” Dec’s voice held guilt and regret, but the emotion flickering on his face was the panic of someone trying to figure out how to talk his way out of a tight spot.
He must think he could charm her out of a crushing feeling of betrayal.
She whirled and sprinted out the front door, flew down the steps to the sidewalk below. Footsteps pounded behind her and she took off running down the block, blindly, not knowing where she was going or what she would do.
“Tia, for God’s sake, wait!” His arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her off her feet and swinging her around. “Will you stop for one damned minute?”
She kept her eyes on the toes of his running shoes. She would not let him see her cry, dammit. “Go back to your meeting, Dec. We’ll talk later.”
She’d never trust him. She should have seen this coming, but she’d been blinded by her raging hormones. And when he left again, her whole world was going to fold in on itself.
He put a finger under her chin and gently tilted her head up, forcing her to look at him. The hot anger in his eyes stunned her. “You think I’m betraying you, don’t you? You heard enough from that producer to decide I’m going to destroy your precious career. Despite everything, that’s how little you think of me.”
Outrage stiffened her back. “You’ve never made a secret of the fact that you want the world to know the paranormal is real.”
“I told Wes there was no deal unless we kept your name out of it. He was just giving you his sales pitch, trying to change your mind.”
She could read between those lines easily enough. She took a step back and his hand dropped to his side. “But you never bothered to tell me you were talking to him in the first place.”
He raked a hand through his hair. “I planned to talk you, but the guy arrived in town early. Before I figured out a way to bring up the whole idea of a TV show.”
“You mean before you figured out how to talk me into whatever you wanted.”
“I was wrong. I’m sorry.”
“It doesn’t matter. We’re finished, both of us. I just met with Jules. Cassandra left us a pile of money to start a paranormal research institute. But Jules is filing a lawsuit. He says he’s going to destroy both of us for being fr-frauds.” She stumbled over the word, her heart catching. God, how had it come to this?
“Tia, look at me.” He tipped up her chin again and she met his gaze with her watery one. “We didn’t do anything wrong. You know that. Invite Jules over here. We’ll show him the truth.”
“Billy is gone! What are we going to show him?”
“The tapes and photos I made.”
“God, Dec, you’re so naïve. He’ll just say we faked everything.” A bicyclist sped past. Someone’s garage door rumbled open. She rubbed her hands over her forehead, pressed her temples. “We have to tell Jules we don’t want the money. Maybe if we sign everything back over to him, he’ll drop the lawsuit.”
Dec shook his head. “No. If we do that, it looks like we’re guilty. We’re not guilty of anything.”
She wiped her eyes. “Like that’s going to matter. You know exactly what our situation looks like. I’m sure the jury will come to the logical conclusion.”
“So you’re going to cower, pretend none of this is true?”
“What else can I do? I’ve lost everything!”
His face closed up, like a door slamming shut on their future. “No, you just think you have. You like to pretend you’re above all the petty emotions that make up life, but really you’re driven by fear.”
The air sucked out of her lungs. She’d tried to trust her feelings, go with the flow like Adele had said, and look where it had gotten her.
“Whereas you,” she spat out, “are so driven by your need for external validation, you’re blind to the human wreckage you leave in your wake. I don’t want any part of your quest. I just want my life back.”
His face froze. Only the muscle jumping near his jaw gave any sign of life. “Do what you need to do. You were right back in the beginning. We’re too different. This thing between us will never work.”
He turned, walked back up the street to his house without once looking back.
Tia clutched her arms around herself, watching him go as warm, fat raindrops started to fall.
Ryan handed Dec a bottle of Sam Adams and flopped down on the couch next to him. “How’s next weekend for helping me finish my office? Looks like you won’t be busy.”
Dec didn’t answer. He popped the bottle cap and took a swig. Late-afternoon sun slanted through his windows, casting irregular columns of light on the floor. Ryan had shown up a few minutes ago, and without a word, turned on the basketball game and made himself at home.
“I haven’t seen an epic fail like that since senior year.” Ryan’s voice turned nostalgic. “You were homecoming king and I stole your queen away right from under your nose.”
Dec turned up the volume on the game. “Beth was only using me to make you jealous.”
“My point is, for all you got the good looks in the family, you’re a real screwup when it comes to women. You should have told her about the producer, man.”
Like he didn’t know that already. He was a world-class idiot.
He’d been afraid to talk to Tia about the reality TV show because he’d only just gotten her back and he didn’t want to mess up their fragile new beginning.
But by not talking to her, he’d destroyed everything.
In the corner of the room, his old-fashioned, silver radiator rattled, followed by a big pop, and then Billy appeared.
“Jesus Christ!” Ryan jumped to his feet. The beer bottle slipped from his fingers and crashed to the floor.
Dec didn’t move. “Ryan, this is Billy. Billy, my cousin Ryan.”
Billy grinned and gave a bow.
“Wow.” Ryan poked Billy, as though testing his solidness. “You were impressive on the video, but in person… Wow.”
“Hey, mitts off. I’m a ghost, not a wax statue.”
Ryan dropped his hand.
Dec raised his bottle to Billy. “I thought you were gone for good.”
“Don’t know as much as you think you do. I wanted a break from looking at your ugly mug until Cassandra joined me. Didn’t think you’d screw things up so badly without me.”
Dec grabbed his bottle again, took a swig, and leaned back into the cushions. “It’s going to be one of those nights, is it?”
“You’re an idiot.”
“I know.”
“My grand-niece is a terrific woman. A slob like you could do a lot worse.”
“That’s for sure,” Ryan said.
“So glad we could have this chat.” Dec turned back to the game.
Billy moved in front of the television. “Get your ass over there and apologize.”
“How do you even know what happened?”
Billy grinned. “Secret of the afterlife. Point is, you’re throwing away a good thing. Cassandra and I missed out on our lives together, but at least it wasn’t our fault. You’re throwing away happiness with both hands.”
“She doesn’t make me that happy.” Even as he said it, an image of Tia laughing flashed into his mind, followed by an image of Tia naked in his bed. “Okay, she makes me happy. But what kind of future do we have together? She’ll do anything to pretend to the world that ghosts—you—don’t exist. The whole point of my work is to prove the existence of ghosts to the world.”
“Oh? I thought the whole point of your work was to help people,” Billy said.
Dec opened his mouth, closed it again.
Ryan sn
ickered. “Told you.”
“She’s got a right to worry how far you’ll go chasing the wrong dream,” Billy continued. “You broke the law once, at her expense. What if you two have kids and one of them is a sensitive like you? Gonna exploit your kid to help your cause?”
Dec shot to his feet. “I’d never do that.”
“Sure you would. That’s what all you guys do who’re in it for fame and glory. It’s not enough to know, deep in yourself, that you’re doing good work? That’s what we used to call being a man. Guess that’s one of the things that have changed from the good old days.”
“I have it on good authority that the good old days never existed.”
“Some things don’t change. Honor. Loyalty. Love. So what’s it gonna be, Declan? You gonna be a man?”
The next evening, Tia stormed into her house, dropped the urn on the little table by the door. She stripped off her coat and threw it onto the couch. She’d snapped at her students, let her mind wander during a session with a patient, and generally been unfocused, unproductive and unhappy. That could mean only one thing.
She was in love.
Totally, stupidly, painfully in love with Dec.
She glared at the framed photo of Nana on her mantel. Nana, who always told her to follow her heart. “I had to fall in love with the most stubborn, impossible, pain in the ass…”
And because she loved him, she was going to go against her own best interests and make sure he got the thing he wanted most. If she didn’t, she would never be able to live with herself.
She knew how hard his life had been. How much he deserved public recognition instead of public scorn.
That didn’t mean they had a future together, but she’d do this one thing for him.
Different. They were different, that was for sure. She wasn’t going to let him toil in obscurity for his whole life, or go on his cockamamie scheme to give Jules some photos and videos—things easily written off as special effects. But what would convince Jules?
Her gaze landed on the elegant blue urn, gleaming in the waning light.
She’d locked the urn in her office last night while she and Adele holed up at her friend’s house eating chocolate, listening to sad songs, and commiserating about men. Had she missed something important?
Must Love Ghosts Page 9
