Leo removed his glasses from his head and put them on the table. He went to the stove to pour a second cup of coffee. With any luck, this tenant of his might not want to stay here much longer. Moving the picture was only a start. Tomorrow night he’d take it a step further. Nothing overly terrifying, but he’d once read about the psychology behind paranormal belief. How the mere suggestion of supernatural elements often made people buy into the idea that what they’d witnessed was ghostly—not explained by natural forces. People believed what they wanted to believe. Hopefully he wouldn’t frighten her too much.
What if he did terrify her, though? A sensation inside of him shifted, almost like…no. Guilt? He couldn’t back down now. Otherwise, he might be stuck with her for months. Or longer.
He shook it off, with better thoughts of a bike ride this morning. For the first time in ages, he’d woken with an urge to move his body, breathe in the fresh air. It might help stimulate some progress once he got back to his office.
He stood and patted his side. Bella followed him to the apartment door left partially open. From here, he could see Emma at the living room window, staring outside with deep concentration, the sunlight picking up highlights of rich copper in her dried hair. A woman with problems, for sure. The desire to understand why swept through him. As quickly as it hit, he pushed it aside. He had his own problems.
He cleared his throat. “Emma?”
She turned and her worried expression vanished.
“The dog’s done eating. I’m going upstairs.”
She came toward the door and motioned for Bella to go inside. “Thank you.”
He stopped himself before saying “Anytime.” “Tomorrow I’ll be heading out of town for the night. Please make sure you lock up if you leave.”
“I will.”
He drained his coffee and headed upstairs to change. At the base of the staircase, he stopped and leaned over. A silky pair of bikini underpants lay on the hardwood floor. Where the hell did those come from?
Great. Now she was carelessly leaving her things around the house. Why was she even near the stairs? He’d asked her to stay away from the second floor. The usual irritation lassoed him. More distractions. This one a disturbance of the worst kind: a reminder of the opposite sex and all the great things that came with them. Another reason why he didn’t want a stranger lurking around.
He picked them up and headed back toward the kitchen, guided by his irritation and ready to remind her about his house rules. Halfway to her apartment he paused. What was he going to do? Knock on her door and hand them off, as if that wouldn’t come with its own embarrassment? He turned around. Next time she left the house, he’d slip them back inside her room.
He hurried upstairs to the attic, tossed the panties in the bottom drawer of his file cabinet, and sent off a quick email to his assistant about getting together. After shutting off the computer, he went to his room to get changed for his ride.
On his way downstairs, he brainstormed ideas about his manmade paranormal encounter. Then another idea hit him. Before going through all the trouble of staging a haunting, he might try to appeal to Emma’s reasonable side. Surely she had one. After all, a gentlemanly part of him hated to scare her if he didn’t have to. If she knew the truth about his contract commitments and trouble writing, she just might reconsider living here.
And if reason didn’t work, surely after one scary night, Emma would beg the real estate agent to find her a new place.
Chapter 6
Rose crinkled her nose as she stared into the refrigerator. She pushed aside Leo’s leftover slice of pizza—sitting unwrapped on a plate—a half-used can of Hormel chili, and two six packs of Coke. Behind them, she took stock of her own remaining food: two apples, a container of baby romaine leaves, and a half wedge of cheddar. Her stomach growled. She’d have been to the grocery store and back with food for lunch if she hadn’t gotten sidetracked searching for her missing cash.
She wished Leo were leaving for his overnight today, not tomorrow. Earlier, Meg had dropped off the other half of the rent money. Rose had half considered getting some takeout for a festive dinner tonight; after all, having some cash in her hands deserved a celebration. The idea of eating alone in her apartment, though, didn’t have the same appeal as sitting at a nicely set table—something she couldn’t do with him home. Plus, the found money shouldn’t be wasted. She hoped this afternoon’s interview at the vineyard could solve her money woes.
Leo walked into the room, came up behind her, and peered into the refrigerator. His warmth radiated against her back. Pretty cozy for a guy who’d stolen her money. She pulled her thin cardigan tight against the haltered maxi-dress top. Not the strangest article of clothing in her new apparel, but worn with black Keds instead of pretty sandals, she hoped it sent a very unlike–Dr. Rose message.
She glanced over her shoulder and his smoldering caramel eyes met hers. Why couldn’t she have landed in the home of an unattractive writer, with bloodshot eyes and a wart on his nose? Her glasses slipped a notch and she pushed them back up. “Am I in your way?”
“Nope.” He reached past her and removed the slice of pizza. Then he smiled. A little too nicely.
She almost asked where he planned on going tomorrow. Instead, she shut her mouth. The less she knew about him, the better. With one last sweep of the refrigerator, she closed the door and turned around.
Leo’s back was to her as he opened the microwave door and put in the plate. “I wanted to apologize to you.”
“For taking my money?”
“No.” He sighed and shook his head. “To say I’m sorry about how I acted the night you arrived. I wasn’t showing my best side.” He closed the door, pushed a few buttons on the keypad before facing her again. “But I’d like to explain why.”
She crossed her arms and leaned against the counter, quite curious where this was headed. “Go on.”
“When I write, I need solitude to make progress on my work.”
“That’s understandable.”
The corners of his mouth turned up, one step from a full smile. It warmed his face and showed he was really quite handsome when not scowling.
“The reason I asked you to find somewhere else to live is because I’m running the risk of not meeting the deadline on my book. I returned to this house to get it done. It’s where I spent time growing up, and where I often do my best work.”
Rose nodded and waited.
“This house, the lake, it’s always been one of my favorite places since I was a kid. It’s where I’ve penned a few of my more successful novels, and I guess I simply write better when I’m here. And it’s quieter with nobody else around.”
“The place sounds special to you. But I can’t imagine Bella and I are creating that much noise.”
“Having others in the house, it’s a distraction.”
“I see. Well, thank you for explaining. I promise we’ll be quiet.” Had she misread him? Maybe he wasn’t such a bad guy after all. “I’m heading to Bellantoni’s to pick up a few things. Do you need anything? Maybe some plastic wrap for your unused food?”
“No, but thanks.” He paused and studied her for a moment. “In light of what I shared, I hoped you might reconsider your plans to stay here.”
“Oh.” Leo, with sleight of hand, had played the honesty card. “So, me leaving would help you get your book done?”
He smiled more comfortably. “Exactly. It would go a long way to restoring my preferred work environment.”
The microwave dinged. He removed his food, set it on the table, and sat down in front of it, watching her with an expectant expression.
“May I ask you a question?”
“Sure.” He reached across the table for a napkin.
She pulled out the chair across from him. “In the time you were here before I arrived, how was your writing coming along?”
“Fair.” He avoided her eyes.
“Perhaps the writing
issues you’re having are about more than me being in the house. I mean, if progress was fair before my arrival, the problem might not be me.”
He lifted the pizza. “It’s a bit more complicated. However, rest assured, your presence is a distraction.”
Leo’s incessant need to get rid of her hurt, deep in a place Rose always guarded carefully. Silly she’d let it bother her, but John’s lack of love these past years had her almost believing she was neither likeable or loveable to the opposite sex.
Rather than let the feeling own her, she took a clinical approach. “You know, I may be able to help you.”
He’d been about to bite into the slice, but lowered it and raised his dark brows. “By leaving?”
“No.” She couldn’t tell him she wrote a self-help column for a magazine, but another little lie couldn’t hurt. “I’m getting a graduate degree in psychology. Even taking some online classes right now.” Not so far from the truth. She just happened to already have the degree. “You should go back to when you first started having trouble with your writing, to pinpoint the real issue.”
“Look.” He straightened his back, returned the food to the plate, and scrubbed his unshaven cheek with his palm. “I need it quiet. I know my process.”
She waited. Silence. A tried and true way to get her patients to talk. Leo stared back, his brown eyes clouded.
When enough time passed she said, “I read a case study about a painter. Whenever his relationships started, it inspired his artwork. Probably from that rush we all get when we’re in love.”
Leo rolled his eyes.
She continued anyway. “Whenever a relationship ended, he couldn’t paint at all. The same type of thing might be going on with you. Like the problems you appear to have with your brother, or—”
Leo shot to his feet and his chair scraped against the vinyl floor. “I thought if I explained this to you, you might be more understanding. And I don’t recall asking for a therapy session.”
He went to the refrigerator and removed a can of Coke.
“Fair enough. I’m sorry.” John had always hated when she got scientific, too. Being clinical made her feel safe and restored order to things that otherwise left her sad, even confused. But others didn’t have the same need. “Listen, I’m only trying to help. For instance, a healthier drink choice might be water, or even seltzer. Maybe caffeine has your mind so wired you can’t work.” She grinned, hoping a little humor could steer this conversation in a better direction.
He paused and considered her with furrowed brows for a long second, then returned to his seat and yanked off the top tab. “I don’t need anybody’s help. With my drink choices or why I’m stuck on my work.”
Rose doubted it, but she kept quiet. Her cell phone vibrated on the kitchen table. The name of the PI she’d hired flashed across the caller ID. She grabbed the phone and got up. “Excuse me. I need to take this.”
She hurried down the hallway, shutting the door, and quickly answered. “Hi, Dan. Any news?”
“Just an update, like I promised.” Dan Montgomery’s gentle voice held a quality that reassured and calmed, one reason Rose had hired him to investigate John’s deceptions. “Are you okay?”
“Hanging in there.”
“Good. Here’s the latest. An investigator has been following your husband since yesterday. We may need to get access to his personal computer to get to the bottom of this. My top guys are on it, though. If John’s done what you think, we’re hoping we’ll be able to prove he siphoned money from your accounts and disbursed those funds into his campaign—not you. Anything to show the Justice Department you’re not behind those contributions is our goal. Hopefully we can get something before they catch on. Give me a week, ten days tops.”
Accessing John’s personal computer? It almost sounded as if Dan might be doing something illegal to find out the truth. Could she get in trouble for that, too? The weights of justice teetered evenly, one bad thing versus another. Ultimately, though, her only choice was to overlook the PI’s actions. Evidence pointing to John could mean the difference between her going or not going to jail.
“Thank you. Call the second you learn anything.”
Rose hung up and searched the apartment for Bella. Shoot. She’d left her in the kitchen with Leo.
Damn him! Did he really think she’d leave simply because he couldn’t write his book? Given his bad relationship with his brother, he clearly had problems before her arrival.
She’d tolerate Leo and his rudeness for now. If Dan’s progress went well, she might be out of here in less than a month. Assuming nothing else went wrong.
* * * *
“Aaarrrggghhh!” Leo ripped the paper from the typewriter, crushed it into a ball, and threw it into the corner. It landed on the floor, about a foot from the trashcan near the other crumpled paper balls.
He inhaled a deep breath, blew it out, and his shoulders relaxed. Maybe his sister was right. If he used a computer, like the rest of the civilized world, he might save a rainforest or two. He lifted the yellow legal pad where he’d sketched out a loose outline. He still couldn’t figure out what was missing from one of his characters, one that he wanted to have a strong point of view, yet every time he tried to hone in on what motivated her, he came up empty.
Let’s face it. He’d been useless since returning to work after lunch.
Emma’s cute quip about caffeine had surprised him. The mysterious phone call that sent her scurrying down the hall had left him far too curious. And worse, his honesty had backfired. The conversation hadn’t gone as planned. In his head, it would have played out more genuine and heartfelt. The way he used to have conversations with people. He worried stress and irritation over his deadline had made his words sound disingenuous.
For a brief moment, she’d seemed to hear his deadline concerns. Then, without warning, the conversation switched to a quick round of psychoanalysis. On him! Instead of taking the bait, she’d unleashed annoying reminders of why his muse had probably disappeared in the first place. She had no business giving him advice; she seemed to have her own problems.
Plan B—being reasonable—was out. Pressure to meet his book deadline loomed. Hope to finish the book rested in the idea he could restore quiet to his household. The jumbled mess of limited choices that might get her to leave pounded inside his head. All roads returned to those ridiculous scare tactics, mainly because it had worked on the last tenant.
A voice from outside carried through the open attic window. He stood, stretched his arms over his head to work out the kinks, and made his way over. The quiet lake rippled and trees were now in full bloom, hiding homes on the hillside and changing the entire landscape from when he’d arrived two months ago.
“Go get it, Bella-bug!”
On the lawn, not far from his boat dock, Emma tossed a neon tennis ball. Bella’s ears flopped as she raced to the rolling ball. She picked it up then happily trotted back to Emma, dropping it at her feet. Emma threw the ball again and the dog went wild in pursuit. On the third toss, Bella walked in the opposite direction of the ball. A gentle breeze molded the fabric of Emma’s long skirt to her body, outlining every soft curve of her hips and thighs for him to view.
Emma tossed back her head and laughed, hearty and genuine. “Aw, come on!”
The dog sniffed the grass and ignored her, obviously on the trail of a good scent. A scent better than a ball.
Emma hurried over to the ball. As she ran, her boyish sneakers peeked out from beneath the dress hem. She picked up the ball, talking to Bella the whole time. When Emma rolled it directly to the dog, the canine sniffed it once then plunked her chunky body down on the ground, no longer interested.
Emma’s runaway strands of shiny red hair shimmered from the sunlight, and her joyful laugh filled the air, carrying up to his window. A peaceful sensation rolled over him and a smile crept along Leo’s lips, catching him by surprise.
Everything missing since he’d ar
rived at the house became clear. This stranger and her dog brought energy here. Camille’s energy. So contagious even a sworn loner like him wasn’t immune to her power.
Emma probably thought him a grouchy ogre. Exactly what his wife had thought when they’d first met—at a family gathering—right after Leo graduated from college. When she’d been dating his brother.
When Everett introduced Camille, Leo had pegged her as another blue-blooded and entitled wealthy gal, the type his brother always dated. It wasn’t until years later, long after Everett and Camille had ended things, that Leo ran into her again in a Manhattan restaurant.
An innocent cup of coffee the next day had led to dinner two nights later. Camille was nothing like he’d assumed. Her presence had brought Leo a measure of peace he rarely felt. They’d become inseparable. At that time, Camille confessed her ogre opinion of Leo from that first family gathering. She’d also said she was glad she’d dug deeper, because he hid all his good parts from others. It made Leo love her all the more.
A month later, Leo had finally found the courage to call his brother and tell him about the chance meeting with his ex-girlfriend and their dating. Everett had been silently polite. The fury had come during their first family get together as a couple. Everett had refused to speak to either of them.
It hadn’t taken much to figure out why. Winning drove Everett. Not only during childhood when the kids played games, but proven by his success in the corporate world as an adult. Leo’s relationship with Camille fell under Everett’s loss column.
Bella howled as a duck landed on the dock, jarring Leo back to the view from the attic window. Thinking about Everett’s competitiveness drew another reality about his relationship with Camille to light. One making Leo queasy with a truth he’d never seen before. Were his goals in pursuing Camille back then pure, or had Leo found a teeny piece of satisfaction in the idea that he had secured the love of a woman who wouldn’t give it to his brother? A brother who’d shoved every win in Leo’s face. Like Leo’s start in life didn’t leave him feeling inferior enough.
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