by Karen Kelley
She frowned when she realized where her thoughts had strayed... again. She straightened and faced him. “I was stretching.”
“I could see.”
His gaze slowly roamed over her, causing a definite heat inside her.
“You stretch very well.”
“Funny.”
But she couldn’t stop the little thrill of pleasure that shot through her. He was flirting, and it felt kind of nice, even if it was a ploy on his part to make her drop her defenses. He probably hoped she’d say something revealing. Not that she had any idea what she could say that would prove she was a fraud since she wasn’t a fraud.
Now she was confusing herself. He had a way of making her feel confused.
What he was wearing didn’t help her stay focused, either. He’d traded in his jeans for shorts. He had nice legs: tanned, muscled. Very buff.
Her mouth watered.
Duh! Enemy!
He stretched his leg in front of him, then brought it in and repeated the stretch with the other leg. Umm, nice squats and lunges. But then, he’d lunged pretty good in her dreams, too.
She had to wonder if it was okay to lust after the enemy if you didn’t actually act upon the desire. Sex dreams didn’t really count. They were a... bonus, sort of.
“I take it you’re going jogging,” he asked in the middle of another delicious stretch that raised his T-shirt an inch or so above the waistband of his shorts.
Breathing: The act of respiration. To keep one alive.
She inhaled a ragged breath and attempted to pretend she wasn’t reaching her target heart rate without even starting her run. Not easy when she was practically drooling over Trent. Damn, he’d think she had rabies or something equally disgusting.
“Jogging?” he repeated.
He’s talking to you, you idiot. “Um, yes. Jogging.” Damn it, she’d wanted to clear her mind. Get away from him for a while.
“Mind if I go with you?”
“It’s a free country.” She tried for nonchalance as she trotted down the steps and toward the street. He was beside her, but she refused to look at him.
The park wasn’t far and had a great running trail. She breathed in, inhaling the crisp morning air—and Gio. Okay, stop breathing. Well, not exactly stop breathing, but maybe she shouldn’t breathe quite so deeply. Maybe she should just focus. But as hard as she tried to block out Trent, the easier it was to let him invade her space.
They didn’t speak, but he kept up with her. He was in good shape. Not that she set a grueling pace, but after three miles he was still beside her and he wasn’t breathing hard. She, on the other hand, felt as if she’d run twice that distance. Normally, she would be a little tired, but exhilarated.
She came out of the park and slowed to a walk.
“If you want to continue, go for it. Three miles is my limit.”
“And your reasoning is?” He slowed to her pace.
She relaxed just a little. “I want to do just enough to get my heart pumping, to feel alive and to offset the chocolate doughnuts I plan to eat when I get back to the hotel.”
He laughed. Different from the way he’d laughed since she’d been around him. There wasn’t an ounce of sarcasm in it. In fact, she liked the rich warmth of the sound. It sent shivers over her. Trent wouldn’t be such a bad guy if it weren’t for his hardheaded convictions. Why did he have to think that anyone who believed in the paranormal was out to rip off the public?
“What are you thinking?”
Could he tell she was thinking about him and his beliefs? No, of course not. She was the psychic, not him. But why shouldn’t she tell him what she thought?
She glanced in his direction. His hair was damp, mussed from the run. Damn, it only made him look more attractive, more disreputable. She quickly looked away. Temptation wasn’t a good thing.
“I was thinking how wrong you are,” she told him as she went up the steps of the hotel.
“About the books I write?”
“Yeah.” She opened the door and went inside, going toward the kitchen. When she reached the refrigerator, she got out a bottle of water, started to close the door, but instead, handed it to Trent, then reached for another.
She drank a third of her water before heading back to the front porch. He followed. As she stepped outside, a light breeze fanned her heated skin. Nice.
“And why should I believe what you’re doing is right?” he asked. “Am I supposed to take your word for it?”
“Sometimes the first step is an act of faith,” she told him as she set her water down and stretched her arms above her head. For just a second she closed her eyes and let the world move forward without her.
“But your mother believes and she doesn’t see ghosts.”
“Mom tries too hard. She wants to see a spirit around every corner. She believes what she thinks should be there.” She’d tried to teach her mother meditation, but it hadn’t worked. Her mother was always thinking of what she needed to do or what she wanted to do. She probably had a million mental sticky notes.
“Tell me about your visions,” he prodded.
She chuckled, looking in his direction. He was humoring her again. “They’re not visions. They’re people who for one reason or another are earthbound.”
“Why don’t you tell them about the white light?” He sat down in the rocker.
Since he seemed at least a little interested, she made herself comfortable on the rail, leaning against the post. “It’s not that easy. Some haven’t finished what they’re supposed to do, some are afraid to cross and some just plain don’t want to.”
“And you know this how?”
“It’s actually my own theory, mixed with a little fact, that I’ve put together over the years.” She frowned. “Why are you so interested all of a sudden?”
He opened his hands. “I’m interested.”
“In something you don’t believe?”
“But then, aren’t you trying to convince me otherwise?”
He had a point.
“When did you first start seeing ghosts?” He leaned back in his chair, looking quite comfortable.
Get out the couch. Therapy was about to start.
She didn’t quite trust him. And why should she. On the other hand, she wanted to educate people. It was okay that he didn’t believe the same way she did, but he didn’t have the right to condemn her because her beliefs were different from his.
So, okay, she’d tell him more. “I was about six. My mother was having a séance.” Selena laughed. “Mom might’ve even called the ghost forward accidentally. Whatever his reason for being there, no one could see him except me. When I pointed him out, the women practically fell all over themselves running out of the house.”
“And the ghost?” he prodded when she paused.
“I never saw him again. Maybe they scared him toward the light. Who knows?”
“And after that you... saw ghosts all the time. What, do they just appear?”
She didn’t think she liked his attitude. It was getting snarky again. “Wesley is standing near your chair.”
“Should I be afraid?” He smiled.
Wesley pulled out his gun and twirled it a few times before popping it back in his holster. “Want me to shoot him?”
Not a bad idea. “You can’t.”
“I can’t be afraid?” Trent asked.
“Not you.” She frowned at Trent. She really hated these double conversations.
He glanced around. “The ghost is here? Which one? Whistle or Ditsy?”
Please don’t let me get caught in the crossfire, she silently prayed. She cringed when Wesley pulled his gun and fired. Trent slapped his arm, then looked around.
“Mosquito,” he said.
“Wesley shot you.”
He looked at her with raised eyebrows. Why had she even told him? Ghosts couldn’t do any really damage—most of the time. Unless you crossed paths with a really bad and powerful spirit.
“He shot me?�
� Trent laughed.
Oh, this wasn’t good. She looked at Wesley. His aura was turning red. Damn, he was really pissed. She came to her feet and eased behind the post.
Trent grabbed his chest and pushed the rocker back with his foot, still laughing. “Quick, call an ambulance before I bleed all over the porch.”
In a burst of flame, Dixie appeared and swung her arm wide. The rocker Trent was sitting in collapsed beneath him, and he went to the floor with a loud crash.
Oh, no, she’d been afraid of something like this. “Are you okay?” She ran to him and knelt down. He looked a little dazed.
“That’ll teach him!” Dixie looped her arm through Wesley’s, and they were gone in a streak of blue light.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Trent grumbled. “I should’ve known not to trust these old rockers.” When she looked at him, his expression turned grim. “I guess you’re going to tell me it was Wesley. What’d he do? Shoot me again?”
She shook her head.
“Good.” He came to his feet.
“It was Dixie.” She stood. “You pissed her off.”
“Damn, I really hate that.”
He didn’t believe her. She’d figured as much. It didn’t stop her from trying to warn him. “You really have to watch what you say.”
He put his hands on her shoulders and looked deep into her eyes. Damn, he had really beautiful eyes.
“There are no such things as ghosts,” he said.
For just a second, she forgot about Wesley and Dixie and let the warmth of his hands heat her skin. His touch was even better than in her dreams. Apparently, he was feeling something, too, because his eyes dilated and he quickly moved away.
“The rocker was old. That’s all there was to it, so don’t make more out of it than there was.”
She stomped her foot and planted her hands on her hips. “Trent Sanders, you’re an idiot!”
He backed up a step.
She sought words that wouldn’t come. They were all twisted like a pretzel inside her head, and she was afraid if any words did come out of her mouth, they’d just be a bunch of gibberish. Then he would call for the men in white coats. She settled for a glare and a snarl. Turning on her heel, she stomped into the hotel and up the stairs, muttering all the way.
Couldn’t she see he wasn’t going to fall for her so-called ghosts? Hell, if that were the case, he could blame everything bad that had ever happened to him on spirits that were caught between earth and another realm.
“Yeah, sure,” he muttered.
He picked up the pieces of the rocker and carried them to the end of the porch where he tossed them over the side. When he turned around, he paused thoughtfully.
It was strange that she hadn’t sat in one of the rockers, but chose to perch her sexy little bottom on the rail. His eyes narrowed as he went to the other rockers and checked them out. They seemed to be okay.
But he’d sat in the same one as he had the other night. There were four other rockers on the porch. Had she known it was human nature to go back to the same spot? A territorial type response. There was only one way to find out.
Damn, if what he suspected was true, Selena might not be as sweet as she looked. Did she hide an evil streak? Maybe what he’d told Tye wasn’t far off the mark. He swallowed past the lump in his throat and ran a hand across his neck. No, surely she wouldn’t slit his throat.
Just to be on the safe side, he hurried down the steps and around the side of the house. He carefully examined each piece of the broken rocker. The legs were intact and hadn’t been partially sawed or anything that he could see.
Tossing the leg he’d been looking at, he stood and slowly walked to the front again.
“You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?” Matilda asked.
He pulled himself from his thoughts. Great, he’d had an audience.
“No, I’m fine.”
“I told you that you didn’t want to anger Wesley and Dixie.” She shook her head. “That Dixie has a temper.”
Yeah, he remembered her telling him that exact thing the first time they’d met and how he’d suspected Selena of paying her to say it. He still thought she was in on the scam to a certain extent, even if she looked like a sweet little old lady. He didn’t quite trust her.
“You best be careful around the ghosts,” she continued. “They can be downright ornery when riled.”
He gritted his teeth and counted to ten, then pasted a fake smile on his face. “I don’t believe in ghosts.”
She wiped her hands on her apron. “Oh, I see.”
“Good. So now you can tell Selena that her plan isn’t working. Neighbors won’t convince me any more than she will.” He nodded in her direction and went up the steps.
When he reached the door, he paused with his hand on the doorknob. Damn it, his parents had taught him better than this. It wasn’t Matilda’s fault. She no doubt needed the money. Hell, she and Hiram were probably living on a fixed income.
Taking a deep breath and ready to apologize, he turned.
The yard was empty. Guilt washed over him. Damn. He’d apologize the next time he saw her.
That was if she decided to come over again.
He kind of liked her, too. Maybe he’d find that hole in the fence and drop by her house. It had to be next door.
But later. Right now he wanted to soak in a hot tub. His backside hurt. If he discovered Selena had sabotaged the chair, he’d warm her bottom and let her see how it felt.
A vision filled his head of Selena lying across his lap, her bare bottom right there for the spanking. Only spanking wasn’t what came to mind.
He really needed to get a love life. He was losing it.
As he walked down the hall to his room, he could hear Selena talking. No, it was more like she was yelling at someone.
He walked past his door and didn’t stop until he got to hers.
“Dixie, you could’ve seriously injured him.”
Silence.
“Well, yeah, I was there. Duh. I heard what he said, and I know he doesn’t believe in you, but collapsing his chair isn’t going to convince him you’re real.”
Silence.
“He’s what?”
Silence.
The door suddenly jerked open, and he was staring at Selena. Her mouth was set in a grim line, and she didn’t look a bit happy to find him eavesdropping.
How the hell had she known he was listening at the door?
She slapped her hands on her hips and thrust her chin out. “Dixie told me you were eavesdropping, but I didn’t believe you’d stoop so low after being caught the first time.”
“The ghost told you?” She looked sweet when she got all huffy. Sweet in an I-want-to-have-sex-with-you kind of way.
“Yes, Dixie, the ghost. Do you see another Dixie?” She waved her arm as she turned around, then faced him again.
He grinned. “Sorry, but I don’t see this one.”
She stuck her bottom lip out.
A pout that no red-blooded man could resist, and he was a red-blooded man, and he was tired of resisting. He pulled her into his arms and lowered his mouth. She tasted as hot as she had when she’d haunted his dreams. Maybe that was it. She was the spirit.
Right now, he didn’t care, because she wasn’t pushing him away. His tongue caressed hers. Heat. So much that he thought it might consume him.
Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer while his hands roamed over her back, cupping her bottom and bringing her against his erection.
There was little between them. It wouldn’t take much to pull her top over her head, unhook her bra and test the weight of her breasts—something he’d done only in his dreams. He groaned as a mental vision formed.
When she lightly pushed against his shoulders, he backed away with supreme effort.
She looked at him. Swallowed hard, then stepped inside her room and closed the door.
Why the hell had he kissed her? But then, he knew the answer. There was something abou
t her, something that made him forget why he was even at the hotel in the first place. Maybe she’d cast a spell over him.
At the very least, drugged the water.
He drew in a deep breath and went to his room, quietly shutting the door behind him. For a moment he just stood there drawing in deep breaths.
Man, she was turning him every which way.
He picked up his black book and sat on the side of the bed, but when he opened it, something wrenched inside him. Writing his exposé about her was starting to give him a really bad feeling.
Chapter 12
Selena leaned against her door and sucked in a deep breath as she tried to slow her racing pulse. What had just happened? Like she didn’t know the answer to that. Her dreams had become a reality.
Oh, God, what a reality.
She pushed away from the door and began to pace.
“Not good, not good,” she kept repeating.
This was more than lust. Or maybe it wasn’t. Damn, he tasted so friggin’ good. Her body had practically turned to mush. She wanted more than his kiss. She wanted to feel him buried deep inside her.
Oh, yeah, that was exactly what she wanted.
She marched to her door, reaching for the knob, but when she realized what she was doing, she jerked her hand back.
What the hell was she doing? Going to his room and then what? She’d just knock on his door and wait for him to come out and ravage her? Not that she would mind that much if he did want to ravage her.
She could see it now. “Hey, Trent, could you bang my brains out? Right before you try to ruin my career, that is?”
That wasn’t going to happen. He would think she was trying to seduce him into not ruining her livelihood. He’d already said as much. That wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted him to believe because he believed.
She plopped down on the side of her bed. Not fair. She was just starting to have some semblance of a love life, and it was with the one man who wanted to hold her up to public ridicule.
Damn it, who said he could kiss her in the first place? She wanted to keep him at arm’s length, and she had every right to do that. She jumped off the bed and strode to the door, jerking it open.
