Catching her hand, he lightly stroked her knuckles. “I’m glad you reconsidered our marriage.”
“I haven’t reconsidered anything.” Gently freeing her fingers from his, she drew both hands back and tucked them in her lap. As she’d feared, he’d gotten the wrong impression when she’d told him she needed to talk. “But we’ve been good friends. I don’t want to lose that too.”
His eyes darkened and his rejected hand curled into a fist atop the table. “I don’t want to be your friend, Emma. I want to be your husband. I want our life to be like it was before.”
“Our life together wasn’t that great for me.” She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I’ve been under a lot of stress since the accident and I just need to—”
“I know, babe and I’m sorry. It’s all my fault.” He leaned toward her again, his blue eyes gleaming with what appeared to be genuine worry. “You seem so fragile. I hate it that you were hurt, Emma. I hate it that I broke your heart. I want to make it up to you.”
His concern seemed genuine and Emma relaxed for the first time since she’d seen him waiting for her outside the restaurant. “Just be my friend. That’s all I can handle right now.”
He smiled. “Let’s forget about misunderstandings and accidents and just dwell on the good times we had. And we really have had some good times, haven’t we, babe? Remember that weekend we spent in Dallas and stayed up all Saturday night talking?”
“Of course I remember. It was our third date. But I—”
“I want times like that again.” As a waitress in a short black skirt walked past, his attention shifted for a moment. But his smile was fixed firmly when he turned back to her. “I know what’s best for you, Emma. I always have.”
“Alan, please—”
He raised both hands in surrender. “That’s all I’m going to say. I’m a patient man. I can wait until you’re ready to talk about our marriage again.”
Sitting back, Emma picked up her glass and took a sip. Tonight had mistake stamped all over it. She should’ve listened to her first instincts. She couldn’t confide her troubles to this man, after all. Telling Alan what she’d seen in the autopsy suite would only convince him that she was too “fragile” to be alone and she would never hear the end of his entreaties to get back together.
Frustrated, Emma took another sip of wine. Over the rim of her glass, she saw another couple cross the restaurant. The woman, tall and beautiful with flowing black hair, draped her companion like a fine silk throw, running one hand over his shoulder and down his back. Her long fingers dipped below his belt-line and clenched his backside through his suit coat. When the man turned his face in profile, Emma choked on her wine.
“You all right?” Alan leaned toward her and patted her back. “What happened?”
“I swallowed wrongly,” she croaked, then glanced again at the other couple as they sat in a booth across the room. Jason MacKenzie was certainly living up to his reputation as a ladies’ man.
“Do you know those people?” Alan asked.
Emma realized that he had caught her staring at the other couple. Embarrassed, she turned her attention back to him. “That man is the detective investigating my case.”
“Really?” He looked at the other couple again. “Do you want to go say hello?”
“No. I…don’t really care much for him.” The words tasted like a lie. But of course she didn’t care one whit about the man. “He’s the overbearing type,” she added shortly.
“A real bully, huh?”
“I imagine he could be.” She considered that assessment and found it to be another lie. Other than a brief—and mild—flash of temper at Rodolpho’s, Jason had been nothing but gentle with her.
“Well, his lady friend certainly seems to like him,” Alan noted, peering at them through the greenery between the two tables. “If she gets any closer, she’ll be in his lap.”
And if she leans any further forward, her breasts will fall out of that blouse!
The bitter thought disturbed Emma and she wondered why she should care what type of woman Jason MacKenzie dated. After all he was just living up to his reputation as a lady-killer.
“No wonder the guy hasn’t made any progress finding who hit you. I’d say he’s a little distracted. You used to hang on me that way, babe.” Dragging his gaze from the other couple, Alan captured Emma’s hand again and pulled her forward so that their faces were inches apart. “Can we be like that again?”
“Alan, we were never like that.” Sweat formed on her palm where it pressed to his. “And you know that we couldn’t—”
“Being apart this year has made me realize how much I love you. I was a fool.” His hand tightened around hers. “Please, give me another chance. I’ll never be unfaithful again.”
She looked into his eyes but knew he wasn’t fully focused on her. There were too many other women inside his head.
A feminine chuckle drew her attention back to Jason and his date. Still hanging on him in the cozy booth across the room, the woman laughed loudly. One of her hands, the long fingers tipped in crimson, dipped inside the front of Jason’s jacket. Jason caught her wrist and pushed it gently away. Glancing around as if embarrassed, he met Emma’s gaze. Surprise and discomfort darkened his face. Then, frowning slightly, he nodded to acknowledge her presence.
Emma returned the gesture and then looked back at Alan, only to find him ogling another young woman who was bussing a nearby table. Sighing, she reached for her purse. “I’m ready to go, Alan. We’ll have to talk later.”
Facing her, oblivious to her disappointment, Alan smiled. “I’ll drive you home.”
Emma pushed back her chair and rose. “You know I brought my car.”
“But a man should see his date home,” he insisted.
And a woman shouldn’t have to keep fighting off her ex-husband’s advances, she thought. Especially when his eye keeps roaming toward other women. “Another time, Alan.”
He pushed out his lower lip in a childish pout. “But you’ll think about what I said?”
Emma sighed, dreading the long walk with him to her car.
* * * * *
Jason watched Emma and her escort leave the restaurant. The guy held her arm as if he owned her while his wandering gaze checked out almost every other woman in the room.
Jason frowned. A date deserved her partner’s undivided attention.
“You know her?” Layne asked.
Guilt nipped at him. Okay, so maybe his own date wasn’t getting his undivided attention tonight. Not that she’d seemed to notice. She’d been all over him since he’d picked her up tonight, her inhibitions loosened by about half the contents of that vodka bottle he’d seen in her hotel room.
But wasn’t that what he’d wanted? A lusty, uncomplicated woman who would take his mind off his troubles? A woman who would expect nothing more than breakfast in the morning?
Unfortunately what he’d wanted and what he’d gotten appeared to be two different things. Layne was certainly lusty but she seemed a lot more complicated than before.
“You’ve been watching her since we sat down,” Layne said, unexpected accusation in her tone. Accusation and Stoli.
Jason turned his back on the departing couple. “She was a victim in that hit-and-run Charlie and I are working.”
“Who was that with her?”
“I never saw him before.”
“They’re obviously close.” Leaning in, she breathed hot, moist air against his neck. “The way he was hanging on her, I’d guess they were married.”
Crowded by her nearness, he inched back. “She’s divorced.”
“Well, the guy acted like a husband. Maybe he’s her ex.”
It irked Jason to realize he wanted to know. “Maybe,” he said noncommittally and then picked up their menu. “Have you decided what you want, yet?”
“Oh, I know what I want.”
The right side of Jason’s body heated as she pressed against it. But it wasn’t the pleasan
t warmth of arousal. He’d hoped to spend the entire night with Layne, engaging in discreet pleasures and driving Emma St. Clair out of his thoughts. But he found his companion’s tactics a little too fast for his taste these days and the whole ritual of dating seemed foreign to him after so long away from it.
Not that this was a real date. Layne knew that as well as he did. Or he’d thought she did.
As she turned away to pick up her wineglass again, he shifted to put the menu between them. “Are you enjoying your time off?”
“It isn’t really time off.” She drained her wine in a quick gulp.
“Are you in town on a case?”
“Yeah, a case. It isn’t fair, you know? You work hard and give up your life for the job and they just…” Reaching across him, she grabbed the wine bottle. “I’m thirsty. Are you thirsty?”
“I’m fine,” he answered quietly, making a mental note to order coffee after they ate. A lot of coffee. “What’s the case, Layne?”
“I don’t want to talk about that.” She refilled her glass. “Let’s talk about us.”
“Us?” His stomach knotted. “I thought we were getting together for a little fun.”
Her eyes flashed. “You think I agreed to spend two weeks in this gritty little tourist trap for fun? I only agreed to come here because I knew I could see you. I think it’s time we take this relationship to the next level.”
He tempered his own rising annoyance. “Let’s not complicate things by talking about relationships.”
Narrowing her eyes, she glared at him. “You’d be lucky to have me and you know it!”
He noticed other diners giving them curious glances as Layne’s voice rose. “Of course I would. If I was looking for something on the next level. But I’m not and neither are you.”
“You’re just blowing me off!” Her hand shook as she drank. Wine sloshed down her chin.
Jason reached inside his jacket for his wallet. “Why don’t we go? We can talk about this in the car.”
“Are you afraid I’ll cause a scene?” Her voice rose on the last word but she didn’t resist as he pulled her out of the booth. “Are you afraid I’ll draw attention in public?”
Jason dropped some money on the table. “You are causing a scene, Layne. Calm down and let’s take this outside.”
“Yeah.” Stumbling into him, giggling suddenly, she grabbed his shirt. “Let’s take this outside. Then, let’s take it in the car.” Her hand slipped inside his shirt and her fingernails scratched his chest. “You know you want it, Jason. You always want it from me because I’m the best you’ve ever had.”
Clamping one arm around her waist, he hustled her across the restaurant. He knew he would have to fight her off all the way back to her hotel. Most men would have been thrilled to have a beautiful woman like Layne Simmons pawing at them but tonight the notion made him sick.
* * * * *
Lying on her stomach in the middle of her bed, Emma flipped through the TV channels without really seeing what was on each one. Her thoughts continued to churn, trying to make sense of what had happened to her life in the past year. She’d been a fool to trust Alan. Even tonight, after subjecting her to his wandering eye and arrogance, he’d had the nerve to ask her to pay for dinner, claiming he’d forgotten his wallet.
“Yeah, right,” Emma muttered and hit the channel button on her remote. Police drama, sitcom, Old Spice commercial…
Jason MacKenzie wore Old Spice. Although it suited his masculine physique, she would have expected something racier for a man of his reputation. A man who dated a different woman every night. A man who wouldn’t stay out of her dreams.
Frowning, she pressed the channel button again. Weather forecast, SUV commercial, sport fishing competition…
Emma sat up. She had known the dead fisherman’s name was Robert Harris. She’d known that his wallet was in his cooler of beer. He’d stood right in front of her, wearing a fishing vest and a drooping hat covered in hooks and told her those things.
Stop it!
Rising, she paced the bedroom with the remote control in her hand and pushed the channel button again. Advertisement for a new sci-fi movie, a sports car, Mexican soap opera…
Jaime Campanero’s name had come to her too and she’d known about the argument he’d had with his sister over the television program. A woman in white had told her so. How was that possible?
“It wasn’t,” she muttered, hitting the channel button again.
Seinfeld rerun, anti-aging skin-care cream, special investigative report on near-death experiences…
Emma stopped pacing as a familiar image appeared on the television screen—the image of a long tunnel stretching toward a gently pulsating light. Shadowy figures crossed in front of the light.
A chill crawled through her as the announcer described what she’d experienced that night in the emergency room.
“Dream or something more?” the announcer queried. “Evidence is mounting that it may be possible to catch a glimpse of Heaven and not only live to tell about it but to bring back some amazing abilities. Stay tuned to hear the personal stories of people who have died and come back.”
Emma sat on the bed again and turned up the volume.
* * * * *
Driving his Mustang through the dark streets of Clear Harbor, Jason frowned. Fending off Layne’s advances had proven as difficult as he’d expected. And her anger when it finally sank in that he really wasn’t interested…
Lifting one hand off the steering wheel, he touched the raw streak on his cheek where she’d raked him with her fingernails. No, she hadn’t been happy.
As he turned onto Seadrift Lane, his headlights swept over the apartment building on the corner. The light illuminated the empty second-floor balcony facing the street and then shot across the broad green lawn that circled the building.
Slowing, he pulled to the curb between a rusted red pickup and a small sedan. Then he shifted into park and turned off the engine. He cut his headlights. Darkness enveloped him.
Through the open window, he heard the muted throb of music from a nearby apartment. The desk sergeant at the station would probably get a complaint call from a neighboring tenant soon but the music didn’t bother Jason. The dragging bass met the rhythm of his heavy heart and he listened beyond it to the crickets and the night crawlers and the past.
He stared through the Mustang’s windshield. The mystery car had leapt the curb a few yards ahead of where he parked now. If the driver had been paying attention that night, he would have seen Rose crossing the lawn. If he’d been sober he wouldn’t have jumped the curb and shot across the grass to where she’d been walking. If he’d been honest—if he’d cared—he wouldn’t have sped away afterward.
Jason pressed a hand against his unsteady stomach. Standing on the balcony that night, he had been above the scene. Down here he could see it from the mystery car’s perspective. It hurt to come here, to remember what had happened but Jason figured he deserved a little mental anguish.
He unbuckled his seatbelt, picked up the rose that lay on the passenger seat and then stepped out of his car. Fine gravel crunched under his boots. Letting the door fall quietly closed, he walked around the Mustang. Stepping up on the lawn, he felt the cool crispness of the grass and the gentle rise of land. No evidence existed of the gouges the mystery car had left a year earlier but Jason knew exactly where they started.
And exactly where they ended.
He walked until he reached the place where his sister had fallen. She hadn’t been thrown as Emma and Brian had been. Rose had simply crumpled about a yard from the car’s grill.
The off-white compact had sat motionless for several seconds. Seconds in which Jason could have run down the stairs. Seconds in which he could have at least gotten the license plate number and make and model of the car. Instead, he had used those seconds to stand on his balcony and stare in shock at his sister’s still body. And then the little car had backed up and driven off into the night.
Kneeling, he placed the rose on the grass. The music stopped. The crickets and the night crawlers fell silent too. But the past would not be silent. It echoed inside his head. He heard his sister’s sobs, the grinding of earth beneath thick rubber tires, the impact of metal on flesh.
Jason lifted his hands to his ears but could not block out those sounds from his past. He could not block out the memory of his own thoughtless words that had driven her from his apartment and to her death. He could not ignore the whispers of anger he felt because she’d left him to face life alone. He couldn’t ignore his guilt in her death…or his failure to find her killer.
He wanted the guilt and anger to go away. He wanted Rose to come back.
He wanted his life back.
Chapter Ten
“I think I had a near-death experience.” Emma settled into the leather chair in Paul Sanders’ office Thursday morning. “And I think it left me with the ability to communicate with the dead.”
Paul raised one eyebrow but before he could speak, she rushed on. “I caught a documentary on the subject and then I did some research. A lot of people—millions, in fact—believe they’ve had such experiences.” She forced her clenched fingers to relax against the nubby gray skirt that covered her thighs. “The descriptions I’ve read sound like what happened to me. And it would explain what’s been happening since that night.”
Paul crossed one leg over the other, getting comfortable in his wide chair. “After our first meeting I thought you might begin to think along such lines, so I did some research on that topic too.”
Excitement coursed through Emma when he didn’t automatically dismiss her idea. “Do you think it’s possible?”
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