A touch on his arm startled him. He’d been so focused on faking indifference, he hadn’t even noticed Lavender leave her seat to stand beside him.
“Are you okay?” Her whispered voice comforted him. The gentle hand on his arm calmed his racing heart. He started to lean into her to draw strength from her quiet confidence.
“I’m fine. It’s all a trick anyway.” His whispered voice cracked and betrayed him.
“What is your father’s name?” Zan adjusted dials on the scanner.
“Jason Harris.” Tyler ground his teeth together until his jaw ached.
“Jason, can you hear us?”
The machine ran through its frequencies until what sounded like a garbled yes came through.
The air in the room weighed Tyler down, lodged in his throat, and made it difficult to breathe.
“Your son is here. Do you have a message for him?”
Phhh phhh pphhh phhh phhh. The garbled noise didn’t sound like anything to Tyler, yet he strained to listen. Then people in the room started picking out words and repeating them.
“Listen to—What did he say next?” Ed’s teeth rattled in his mouth.
“Listen to your—your?” Homer repeated what he thought he’d heard.
“Your heart. Listen to your heart.” Zan said the phrase as if it surprised even her.
“This is crap. I never heard any such thing.” Zach spat out.
Kelsie shot him a withering glare. “If you don’t want to listen, you’re free to leave.”
Tyler didn’t pay them any attention. He might have heard those words coming from the device, but he couldn’t be sure.
Now he was believing this crap.
“Shhhh. There’s more.” Zan held up a finger to her lips. Zach rolled his eyes. Kelsie looked ready to go a round or two with him in the ring, more likely in bed. “Jason, are there other spirits with you?”
Pht phhhht phhhhttt phthttt.
“Your grandfather and Uncle Artie. Did you catch that?” Zan looked to Tyler.
Tyler shook his head. He heard no such thing. Regardless, he suppressed a shiver. He needed to put more logs on the fire. “My uncle and my grandfather don’t get along. They wouldn’t be together. Even in heaven.”
Pht Pht phhhht phhhhttt phthttt.
“It seems you’re wrong. They’ve settled their differences.”
Zach slapped his hand across the top of the bar. “Oh, for the love of God. This is total crap. You can make that static out to be anything you want it to be.”
“Please. Be quiet. Your attitude is disturbing the spirits.” Zan’s calm voice showed signs of breaking.
“This whole thing is disturbing me,” Zach shot back.
“Shut up,” Kelsie hissed.
Zan dismissed Zach as she would an insignificant demon and turned back to the ghost box. They leaned forward to listen—except Zach, who did his best to look bored.
Jim spoke up, apparently asking a question of the spirit. “What should Tyler do?”
“You’ll—do—the – right—thing—for—you. Do—it—without—remorse.” Zan repeated the words as if the spirits allegedly communicated via the device.
“Did he say without a horse?” Don leaned forward, as if that would help.
“No stupid. Remorse, not horse. Wear your hearing aide.” Ed jabbed Don in the side.
Jim glared at Zan. “Whose side is this ghost on?”
“His son’s side. What do you expect?” Zan stated the obvious.
“Could you tell him that I’m available if they need a good realtor?” Homer offered his services for the umpteenth time.
Zan sighed. For once, Tyler could relate.
“I can’t hear more than a few words that make sense out of that thing. This is a scam.” The squawking box drowned out Zach’s words.
“I’m proud of you, son.” The words came through loud and clear. Even Tyler couldn’t discount the words, nor could he deny the familiarity of that voice.
No one spoke. Several pairs of eyes grew as big as saucers. The hairs rose on the back of Tyler’s neck. The world spun in slow motion around him. His dry throat begged for liquid. God, it couldn’t be. It just couldn’t be.
He guzzled the remainder of his drink. His hands shook, and he shoved them in his pockets. Lavender gripped his arm and held tight, letting him know she was there for him. And he needed her. Oh, God, how he needed her. Like a quarterback needs his offensive line, he needed this woman.
“The risk is—Don’t let her—” The device emitted static, but no more noticeable words. Nothing. For what seemed an eternity, they waited for more. Nothing.
“He’s gone.” Zan’s voice broke the silence and shook Tyler out of his shocked state. He needed them to disappear. Every single one of them.
“Get. Out. Of. Here.” The tone of Tyler’s coldly homicidal voice sent the uninvited guests scurrying to gather their equipment. Lavender hung back, still holding onto his arm.
Calmly Zan packed up her devices with unhurried, deliberate movements. “This was significant to you. I’m sorry if it was hurtful. That wasn’t my intention.”
“Leave. Now.” Tyler’s voice shook, and he hated his raw display of emotion.
Derek stepped in to intervene in an attempt to speed up the exit of Zan and her band of merry ghost hunters. He pointed toward the door, obviously having reached the limits of his ability to tolerate bullshit. Stowing the last of her gear in her bag, Zan offered an apologetic smile and walked out, bag slung over her shoulder, the last of the ghost hunters to leave. The women stayed where they were.
Lavender stared at Tyler, a horrified expression on her face. Damned if he knew if she was horrified at his reaction or horrified that she’d run to be at his side. His feelings were too transparent to her. He’d spent most of his life disguising his true feelings under layers of asshole bullshit. Half the time he didn’t have clue how he really felt, but Lavender saw through it all.
She always had.
Still feeling shell-shocked, he shook off the surreal situation. Turning away from Lavender, Tyler poured a stiff drink and sank into an overstuffed chair. Cougar appeared from nowhere and crawled into Tyler’s lap. The orange tabby glared at Lavender.
Meanwhile, Lavender’s pack of she-wolves started a wave of speculation—one of their favorite pastimes.
“Don’t let her what?” Kelsie mused.
“Don’t let her leave?” Rachel wondered.
“Don’t let her go?” Mac said the very thing that entered Tyler’s mind.
Derek looked from the women to Tyler. “Hey, ladies, it might be time to call it a night.”
Lavender touched Tyler’s arm. “Would you like me to stay?”
“No, but thanks.”
Obviously disappointed, Lavender nodded and followed the other women out the door.
“Ty, you okay?” The concern in Derek’s eyes irritated him. He’d obviously let his guard down enough that they’d all seen how deeply this encounter with the imaginary ghost of his father affected him.
“I’d like to be left alone.”
Derek motioned for the rest to follow, and they left him alone with his troubled thoughts.
An eerie silence permeated the room, an odd contrast to the earlier noise of the ghost scanner and the chattering people. Cougar purred loudly, but even the orange tabby provided no comfort to the emotions swirling inside Tyler’s head.
Chapter 6—Sneak Play
Later that evening, Rachel slipped out the back door and wrapped her bathrobe tightly around her body. Holding the flashlight, she picked her way along the edge of the lawn and down the stone steps to the old marina.
A dark figure stood at the head of the dock, tall and lean, hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt.
“Hey,” his husky whisper made her heart race.
“I’ve missed you.” She ran the last couple steps, as fast as her pregnant body would allow. Derek pulled her into his strong arms and held her tight.
“God, I’ve missed you, too. This has been hell.”
“You think it’s been hell on you? I’m the one with the overactive hormones making me horny as hell.”
“Well, baby, I aim to please. Whatever you’d like me to do relieve that itch, I’m more than game.”
“Just screw my brains out, and I’ll be satisfied for the next few hours anyway.”
Derek chuckled. “You drive a hard bargain.”
Rachel leaned into him and lifted her face for his kiss. He didn’t disappoint, not that he ever did. His kiss was deep, hot, and demanding. Rachel demanded right back.
“Let’s go somewhere private where a pregnant lady can get comfortable.” She breathed into his neck.
Panting, Derek pulled back, his gaze darting around the area. Then he smiled and pointed. “What about the boat?”
“Sounds good to me.”
A fifty-foot classic yacht Tyler was having refurbished was tied to the far end of the dock.
“Let’s hope it isn’t locked.”
Derek helped Rachel keep her balance as they made their way to the boat. The salon door was ajar. “We’re in luck.”
He flicked on the lights. Rachel started ripping of his clothes as soon as they were standing in the main salon, but Derek grabbed her hands and held them.
“Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?” Rachel couldn’t hear a damn thing over their heavy breathing.
“Someone else is in here.”
Then she heard it. Rachel turned toward the noise, and her big belly knocked into a bar stool, sending it clattering to the teak floor.
A second later Zach came slamming out of the aft stateroom, shirtless and zipping his pants, looking ready to battle an intruder. Instead, he stopped short. His eyes grew big and his alpha male protective instinct flipped to little-boy sheepishness.
“What’s going on?” Kelsie followed him from the stateroom, wearing Zach’s t-shirt which came to mid-thigh on her. “Oh, crap.”
“Oh, crap is right.”
For a long moment no one spoke, as they looked at each other. Kelsie and Zach had been caught red-handed, or more to the point, bare-skinned. Not that Rachel and Derek were any more innocent. Given five more minutes, they’d have been naked, too.
“Look,” Zach finally said. “Lavender and Tyler might be on the rocks, but we aren’t. We just wanted to have a little private fun.”
“Us, too,” Derek said.
“How about you take that stateroom, and we’ll take this one. No one will be the wiser. We didn’t see you here, and you didn’t see us.”
“You’ve got a deal.” Derek grinned. Rachel didn’t wait any longer. She grabbed him by the hand, slammed the door shut on Zach and Kelsie, and in under sixty seconds she had her husband stripped naked and on his back on the bed.
She stripped herself and climbed on top of him, not wasting time with foreplay. She needed sex, and she needed it now. She lowered herself onto his welcoming cock, while he watched her with half-lidded eyes and rubbed her protruding stomach.
So much for a girls-only weekend.
Even better, they had two more nights in paradise.
Of course, anywhere with Derek was paradise to her.
* * * *
Lavender rubbed her eyes and looked around the room. Afternoon sun streamed in the large windows. No one else seemed to be sleeping in, but she’d needed the sleep. Exhaustion had finally claimed her sometime in the early morning hours. She hadn’t slept this soundly in a while.
Lavender showered, dressed, and headed downstairs, expecting to find her girlfriends lounging about in the sun on a beautiful day like this. Instead she found Tyler pacing around the veranda, minus the rest of the alpha dogs.
He halted when he saw her. He struck a deceptively casual pose against the deck railing but his clenched jaw gave him away.
Her eyes drank in his square jaw, his tousled hair, and unshaven face. The man rocked the sexy when he looked like that, despite the bloodshot eyes and evidence of a rough night.
All she wanted to do was jump his amazingly good bones. Instead she leaned against the railing herself, keeping a safe distance between them.
“Hey,” he said, his voice husky from misuse, which made her think he’d been alone for a while.
“Hi. Have you seen the girls?”
“Bruiser and Mac and Brett and Estie took off in one of the cars early this morning; thought they were being quiet, but I heard them.” A muscle ticked in his jaw, often the only sign he gave when he was distressed.
Lavender nodded. “I saw Kelsie and Zach sneak on the boat last night, about ten minutes later Derek and Rachel followed.”
Lavender’s gaze followed his as they both glanced at the small yacht gently rocking back and forth in the marina.
“Shit,” Tyler sighed.
Their eyes met, telegraphing their thoughts as clearly as if they spoke them out loud. They’d been abandoned by their friends, forced to be alone together.
They’d been in tune to each other almost from day one, that connection she’d never felt with anyone else, the very connection she battled with all her heart. Only her heart fought on the wrong side of the battle, and it was falling once again for those blue eyes, crooked smile, and strong chin.
Tyler broke eye contact first and slumped into a big wicker chair with overstuffed cushions. The cockiness drained out of him, leaving nothing but a weary, furrowed brow, and a grim line to his sexy mouth. Coug seized the opportunity to jump on Tyler’s lap and crawl up his body until he lay sprawled on Ty’s chest. Tyler absently stroked the cat.
“So much for a separate boys’ and girls’ weekend.” Lavender flopped down on a wicker loveseat.
“Yeah, so much for that.” Tyler stroked his cat and stared at the railing, as if it were the most interesting structure ever. Coug glared at her as if to warn her off his person. She glared right back. She loved Coug, but dammit he’d drawn a line with his feline paw in the sand and consorted with the enemy.
Tyler placed Coug on an empty lawn chair and stood, stretching and faking a yawn. Whenever he did that he was contemplating something serious. “Have you eaten yet?”
She had to laugh. “I just got up.”
He smiled at that, and a small piece of that heart she fought so hard to shove in the deep freeze thawed. “How about an early dinner? I’ll buy.”
She was starving, but still. This was Tyler, and nothing good would come of it. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“My stomach does.”
So did Lavender’s.
“Just dinner. I’m an attention slut. I hate to eat alone.”
“Not much is open on a Sunday.” She had to smile. Tyler craved attention almost as much as he craved sex, and that was a damn lot. “How about Mexican?”
“Mexican it is.” He picked up a zip-up sweatshirt he’d abandoned earlier on the couch and held it out to her.
She stood and reluctantly let him help her into it. Of course she swam in the three-sizes-too-big sweatshirt, but as much as she hated it, the thing smelled like Tyler, and she inhaled his heady scent. He mind flashed back to another time—numerous other times—naked and sweaty times where his scent mingled with the scent of sex. God, she wanted him. Just one last time. One final round of goodbye sex.
Only it wouldn’t be just one. She’d been there, slept with that. She’d want him one more time, and another, and another until she’d be right back where she’d been a month ago. With a man she loved who’d never give that final piece of himself. She couldn’t live that life because each day a little of her self-respect flaked away. She couldn’t go back to the uncertainty, couldn’t raise a family under those circumstances, as old-fashioned as it sounded.
Lavender turned to find Tyler studying her with an unfathomable expression. He managed a melancholy smile.
She couldn’t stop the words that tumbled from her mouth. “What are you thinking?”
He looked startled, as if he h
adn’t expected the question and was unprepared to answer. He stared over her head, easy to do considering their height difference, heaved a heavy sigh, and met her gaze again. “I prefer you as a redhead.”
No way was that troubled frown attributed to her change in hair color, but she let it go. Better not to know the truth. “I’m starved.”
He grinned, a full-blown, bad-ass Tyler grin. “That’s what I’ve always loved about you. You eat a healthy meal.”
“Thanks. Just what a girl wants to hear.” She studied him closely. “That’s all?”
“Well, your tits, I love your tits, and that little thing you do when you—” he joked.
She smacked his arm and cut off his next words. “Enough. This isn’t getting us anywhere.” Except horny.
“Okay,” He attempted to look contrite, but Tyler so did not wear that look well. God, she loved this man and would always love this man. He was larger than life, with an ego as big as the ocean, but his heart was even bigger, even though he tried like hell to hide his soft spot.
She found the same old argument running through her thoughts. Would it really be so bad to stay with him? He’d been faithful, not even flirted with other women unless they were eighty-plus years old. As usual, the downside had to be heard. She wanted kids, and he didn’t seem to give a shit one way or another. She wanted a house, not some slick condo more sterile than a hospital room. She wanted acreage so she could indulge in her animal obsession. Tyler loved animals, but he didn’t seem to need them like she did—except Coug. He adored Coug and took the crazy cat everywhere.
A man who treated his animals like family said a lot about his character in Lavender’s book.
This internal argument she had with herself always came down to one big fat problem. She’d dubbed it the picket fence syndrome. She wanted it all. The house. The picket fence. The dogs. The kids. The cat. The ring on her finger.
Tyler only wanted her. She’d left him because he didn’t buy into the rest of her dream, and as much as she loved and adored him, she would not sell out so cheaply. She’d resent him the rest of their lives if she did. And he’d grow to resent her, too. There was nothing worse than a resentful Tyler Harris. He’d make her life a living hell just like her bitterness would do to his.
Roughing the Passer Page 5
