Otherworldly [McKnight, Perth & Daire 1] (Siren Publishing Allure)

by Beth D. Carter

  Charlotte looked around the room and sighed, crossing her arms so she could rub them warm. Her suitcase lay on the desk, clothes strewn about. The sheets and blankets from the bed were all tossed. The pillows littered the floor. Even the towels from the bathroom were part of the mess.

  “Yeah, okay,” she mumbled. “Let me gather everything up.”

  It didn’t take her long to pack her belongings. Jonas followed her out, closing the door. He took the key and walked over to the front desk receptionist and handed it over. He exchanged a few words with the woman and with Officer George before walking back to where she stood waiting.

  “The closest hotel is just up the street,” he told her as he unlocked his car and held the door open for her.

  “Sounds good,” she said as she slid into the passenger side. “As long as they don’t have a bathtub.”

  Chapter Five

  “I thought you were joking about the bathtub,” Jonas said, frowning as Charlotte slid back into the passenger side, once again shaking her head. This had been the fifth hotel they had stopped at.

  “Why would I joke about a bathtub?”

  “I don’t know. What do you have against them?”

  “Do you know there are over eight hundred thousand accidental drowning deaths in a year caused by slipping in a bathtub?”

  “Do you realize there’s more water in a toilet than in an empty bathtub?”

  “Okay, but my body won’t fit in a toilet.”

  He stared at her, one eyebrow raised.

  “I’m just saying is all,” she replied, rather defensively.

  “You don’t look like the type of person who has an excess fear of anything.”

  “We all fear something, Jonas,” she said rather practically. “Whether it’s spiders or heights or germs. Mine happens to be bathtubs, although surprisingly, there isn’t is a technical phobia term for it.”

  “Yeah, go figure,” he said deadpan. “All right, I’m tired and had a helluva day. So you can stay at my place. The guest bathroom has only a shower.”

  As he started the car, Charlotte stared at Jonas’s profile, her mouth hanging open a little. All kinds of thoughts flashed through her head, ones involving him and her being horizontal on the bed. Her heart sped up a little, causing her breathing to become a little shallow. Once again the awareness between them flared to life, and the interior of the car became charged with something exhilarating.

  She cleared her throat and took a deep breath. “So, do you have a roommate or something?”

  “No. Why?”

  She shrugged. “So it’ll be just, uh, you and me?”

  His fingers clenched white around the steering wheel. He might be trying to play it cool, but she could tell he felt the pull between them as well.

  “You planning to take advantage of me or something?” he asked casually.

  Her mouth dropped open. Her mind raced because yes, yes, her imagination had flown into overtime. She’d checked out his package earlier, had seen the way his pants hugged that tight ass and it made her wonder what type of kisser he’d be, what type of lover. Gentle? Powerful? Charlotte’s body shivered at the thought of submitting to him, taking him in her mouth, exploring his toned body. She pressed her thighs together, trying to halt the sudden throbbing of her sex, but it didn’t help. Instead, it only made her pussy a little wetter.

  She cleared her throat. “Well, you might want to hide your handcuffs. You know, just in case I get an inclination.”

  He flashed a teasing smile.

  She didn’t have the courage to tell him she meant it.

  “I had another vision,” she said, deciding to skate on more sturdy ground. “During my little black-out moment.”

  “What? Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

  “I am telling you now.”

  “Charlotte—”

  “Okay,” she interrupted, holding her hand up. “Sorry, I’ve been a little distracted since I walked in on my hotel room being burglarized. Anyway, Zach showed me that night, waiting at the bar for you. He’d been playing pool.”

  “That’s all?”

  “It was slightly odd because I was there, dressed up in this sexy little black dress and these fabulous Louboutin shoes.”

  “Who?”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Do I look like I know about ladies shoes?”

  “And you call yourself a detective,” she scoffed.

  “No mocking allowed in my car,” he warned.

  “Fine, I’ll wait until we get to your place. Anyway, he’d hurt his arm. He had a bandage around it. And he pulled something out his wallet to show me, but I couldn’t make out who or what it was. I’m assuming a photo, but you know what they say, to assume makes an ass out of you and me.”

  Jonas pursed his lips. “Everything in his wallet was badly damaged from the water, but I’ll have my partner send it to the Seattle crime lab. They have more sophisticated technology than we do.”

  “I got the impression Zach felt alone,” she said. “I was in the middle of a crowded bar, yet the people moved as if I didn’t exist.”

  “And that means?”

  She shrugged. “Sometimes it’s hard to comprehend what spirits are trying to tell you, but if I had to guess he was conveying that he felt invisible.”

  “I don’t know,” Jonas said doubtfully. “Zach was the most outgoing guy I knew. That just doesn’t sound like him at all.”

  “Sometimes what you know of someone on the outside isn’t who they are on the inside.”

  Jonas didn’t say anything. They rode the rest of the way in silence until he turned into the driveway of a two-story brick home. Charlotte’s mouth dropped a bit because this hadn’t been what she expected when Jonas mentioned his house. She didn’t know what she had imagined, but it certainly hadn’t been such a modern family home. White painted accents brought out the deep rich red of the brick. The porch held a swing on one end and two wicker chairs on the other, and Charlotte could imagine her and Jonas nestled together on the swing, staring at the sunset, relaxing at the end of the day.

  What?

  “What?” he asked.

  “What?” she asked back, suddenly nervous he could read her mind.

  “You just had a weird look on your face.”

  “Oh,” she replied and shook her head. “I’m just surprised at how beautiful your home is.”

  He gave a sheepish little grin. “Thanks.” He exited the car and walked over to her side, holding open the door as she stepped out. He took her suitcase as he led her across the stone walkway and up the steps to the porch. “I wanted a home, not just a bachelor pad.”

  “So you plan to have little Daires running around one day?”

  “I’d never thought of that,” he replied, and then sighed. “But I guess I’m the last male of the Braddock-Masters clan now.”

  She felt heat engulf her cheeks and gave silent thanks for the darkness. Thinking about having children with him led to thoughts of sex, more specifically, wild monkey sex. Why did her thoughts always lead back to fucking his brains out?

  Charlotte looked forward to the inside, wondering if that held as much surprise as the outside. The front door opened to a small foyer that held a coat rack and a table. On the right the family room held warm tones of brown and cream. Bookshelves lined one wall from floor to ceiling, packed tight with books. The dining room branched from the left of the foyer. A staircase lay directly in front with the hallway continuing past where Charlotte saw a refrigerator peeking through the arched doorway. Harwood floors went through the house except in the family room where a plush, dark-brown carpet lay.

  “It’s beautiful,” Charlotte reiterated, her voice betraying how impressed she was. It was the exact type of house she would have chosen.

  “Thanks. The bedrooms are upstairs,” he said, pointing up.

  She followed after him, holding onto the railing. A bathroom lay just to the left of the stairs, and Jonas headed in that di
rection. He flipped on the switch.

  “As you can see, no bathtub,” he told her.

  “Awesome.”

  He led her to a closed door. “And this is the guest room. Please excuse the boxes. I’m not entirely finished unpacking.”

  “You just moved in?”

  “About a year ago. Just haven’t been inspired to unpack those.”

  The bedroom held a daybed with a white comforter and a chest of drawers. Closed boxes were piled on top of each other and pushed against the wall.

  “Perfect,” she said, walking in and putting her suitcase on the bed. “Thanks for loaning me the room for tonight.”

  “You flying out tomorrow?”

  “Yes, but not till the evening.”

  “Then you’ll be able to make a statement.”

  “About the break-in?”

  He nodded. “Probably nothing will come of it, but it’s good to have a paper trail just in case.”

  “Sure,” she said. “I need to say good-bye to your aunt. Oh, and I need my rental car back.”

  “Okay. Listen, I haven’t had dinner yet. Are you hungry?”

  “No, I ate dinner.”

  “Wine then?”

  She arched a brow at him. “Trying to get me drunk?”

  “A beautiful woman sleeping under my roof? Of course not,” he replied. Though he said it with a serious expression, she saw a bit of humor lurking in his dark eyes.

  “Oh. Darn,” she said casually, though her heart had raced at the word beautiful.

  He chuckled as he turned and walked out of the room. “Twenty minutes, Miss Perth.”

  She closed the door and sat on the edge of the bed, breathing deeply in an attempt to calm her racing heart. She didn’t know if sleeping in his house was a good idea, especially since she’d just met the man. But damned if she could bring herself to regret it.

  Charlotte opened her suitcase and took out her toiletry then made her way to the guest bathroom to freshen up. The mirror revealed a face slightly pale, the corners her mouth a little compressed. She turned on the faucet and cupped her hands, bringing the water to her face and rubbing lightly. The cold water helped ease the strain she felt, plus revived her a little. She dried up with the hand towel. In her toiletry bag she took out her toothbrush and paste and quickly brushed. When her ministrations were finished, she felt better, or at least better prepared to face Jonas’s magnetism.

  She walked downstairs and found Jonas in the kitchen, pouring cooked spaghetti from the pot into a strainer.

  “Need any help?” she offered.

  He shot her a quick glance from under long eyelashes. “I have some wine on the table, if you’d like to open it and fill up the glasses.”

  “Sure,” she said. “Corkscrew?”

  “Top drawer over there,” he answered with a nod of his head toward his left.

  She found it and headed into the dining room, leaving Jonas to finish up in the kitchen. She noticed the dishes and silverware had already been set. He had picked out an Italian Chianti, and by the time Jonas brought the food, the wine had a few minutes to breathe.

  As they sat down, Jonas offered her some food.

  “Just a little,” she said.

  After filling her bowl and his, they fell silent for a few minutes. She really wasn’t that hungry after her visit to the diner, but the Chianti went down smooth and she found herself eating.

  “So,” he said after a few minutes, refilling her glass with more wine. “Tell me a little about Charlotte Perth.”

  “What would you like to know?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. How about telling me what it’s like to be the fastest swimmer in the USA?”

  “Fastest freestyle, hundred meters. Anyway, if you were to ask my mother, the story about my early swimming years is legendary,” she told him with a broad sweep of her hands, drinking more Chianti. For some reason, it tasted very good tonight. “She put me in the water at three months, and by age five I was a fish. I lived, ate, and breathed swimming. I started in competitions. My parents invested in a great coach, and soon I had my sights set on Olympic gold.”

  “So what happened?”

  She took a drink of wine, taking a moment to reflect over her answer. “I got hurt,” she finally replied. “I couldn’t swim anymore.”

  He stared at her, speculation shining in his dark eyes. “I think there’s more to that story.”

  She shrugged. “I lost one ability but managed to gain a new one. And I’m happy that I can help people.”

  “New?”

  “My whole seeing ghostly visions.”

  “And how, exactly, did you become psychic?”

  “Clairvoyant, not psychic.”

  “Right. Clairvoyant.”

  She took another sip of wine. “I don’t usually drink and tell on the first date.”

  “Oh, are we dating now?”

  “I’m using the word as a noun, actually, not a verb.”

  “So you don’t consider this as a date?”

  “More like the time of a specific event.”

  “So we’re eventing together?”

  “I don’t think that’s a word,” she remarked.

  “Well, you know what they say about language.”

  “No, what?”

  “It’s orgasmic.”

  Her breath hitched in her throat. Just the word had made her breasts tingle, her nipples harden into little pebbles, and a rush of heat pulse between her thighs. To distract herself she grabbed the wine bottle and refilled her glass. “I think you mean organic.”

  “Right,” he said with a wicked grin. “Of course that’s what I meant. Slip of the tongue.”

  Holy hell! She took another long drink of the wine to try to cool herself down.

  He pushed his empty plate away before grabbing the wine and refilling his glass as well as topping hers off.

  “Well, if you won’t tell me how you became clairvoyant, then tell me about spirits,” he said. “You’re saying Zach is a ghost.”

  She nodded, taking a sip in an order to try and calm her racing heartbeat. “Some people call them earthbound spirits, and there are many theories as to why they don’t cross over into the next level.”

  “Level?”

  She shrugged. “Into the light, heaven, Valhalla, whatever you want to call it.”

  “I don’t know if I believe in…” He waved his index finger upward. “You know, heaven.”

  “Spirit is just energy, so wherever energy goes into the universe is what I like to call heaven.”

  “And Zach is lingering because he was murdered?”

  “Yes,” she said with a nod.

  “Then why didn’t Zach show you his murderer?”

  “It’s possible he doesn’t know,” she answered. “Or that he doesn’t know how to tell me. He could be confused. He could fear crossing over. But it doesn’t really work like how it’s portrayed on television, that ghosts can talk and interact and poof, they see the light.”

  “Then how does it work?”

  “All souls born have a natural time limit. Even if a person was killed by natural disaster or an accident, we’re predetermined by whatever fate we have. But murdered people’s times are stolen from them, their natural life span cut short. And that’s the reason I can draw them to me, because they’re not supposed to be dead.”

  “What about suicides?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never connected with anyone but a homicide victim.”

  “Why is that?”

  She hesitated. Could she tell him? Could she trust him? Her heart said yes, but her mind reminded her that they’d only met a few hours ago under tragic circumstances. “I don’t know,” she replied, knowing that she lied but hoping he didn’t pick up on it.

  He stared at her for a heartbeat and then looked down at his plate, eating slowly and letting the silence lengthen. She respected the boundary he set and let him eat and work through the thoughts in his head.

  She knew h
ow he felt because she had once been in his shoes. Those who didn’t know what it felt like to draw spirits to them couldn’t wrap their mind around how it worked, and of course Hollywood didn’t make it any easier. Charlotte couldn’t count how many times she denied she was anything like Jennifer Love Hewitt’s character in Ghost Whisperer.

  “Can I ask you a favor?” he asked once he’d finished with his food and pushed his plate away.

  She quirked an eyebrow at him. “All right.”

  “I’ve gone through Zach’s apartment a dozen times, but maybe if you go there you’ll get another vision.”

  “Okay.”

  He blinked. “That easy?”

  She shrugged. “You’ve been really nice to me. Minus the interrogation room, of course.”

  “Sorry,” he said, sounding chastised. “You’re right. I’m an ass.”

  She rested her elbow on the table and placed her chin in her palm. “And what an ass it is. I’ve been admiring it all day.”

  “How much wine have you had?”

  “I’ve no idea,” she said, and a small giggled slipped through. She slapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide.

  “Right,” he drawled, a sly grin curving one side of his lips. He pushed away from the table and stood before walking over to her. He took her glass from her hand, set it aside, and then placed his hands on her shoulders. His long fingers massaged her muscles. She wanted to tell him she felt pretty mellow from the wine, but no way did she want him to stop, so she stayed quiet and leaned into the rub.

  He worked his way around her shoulders, over her deltoids, and up the corded tendons of her neck. She closed her eyes, lost in the feel of his hands on her. Everywhere he touched seemed to ignite her senses until she couldn’t suppress a groan of pleasure.

  At the sound he stopped the massage and she opened her eyes. He turned the chair and dropped to his knees, moving her legs apart so he could move closer to her. At this level they could stare into each other’s eyes. He brought his hands up to cup her face, and the pad of his thumb lightly brushed over her bottom lip. Slowly, his head descended until their lips touched. Her eyelids fluttered down as he possessed her mouth fully, applying pressure until her lips parted. Immediately he deepened the kiss, sweeping his tongue inside to find and dance with hers.