“You have to participate in a divorce, sign things.”
He sighed and took a step toward her. “I forgot.” Forgot? “I’ll sign them. All right, we’ll stay overnight and I’ll sign them in the morning.” He fended Didiane off by taking a step to the left. “I want a room to myself. I don’t share.”
He used to.
“With you.”
Where had that come from? His voice sounded clear in her mind. She knew he hadn’t spoken because he was facing her in clear light, his face open to her. “Not the one next to Didiane’s, either.”
Bernard moved across to the desk where they kept the keys. They had no receptionist, since the hotel was closed. “Courtesy at last. It is better that a man doesn’t sleep with another woman under the same roof as his wife. I would not have allowed it.” He glanced at Karey, and she knew he meant her, too. Their flirtation had advanced considerably, but it would go no further while Jordan was here. That was a shame. She’d hoped to begin the healing process with Bernard, begin to put some space between her and the marriage that had turned to gall in her mouth.
Bernard found two plastic cards and put them on the counter. “Rooms twenty three and thirty. Or you may have a cottage if you prefer. We ensure they are kept clean and aired, and it would not take much to make them comfortable. Several workmen who are living in the cottages already. We have a couple in the kitchen who cook for us, and a maid who comes in every day, but the rest of the staff are on leave until we re-open. That means you will have to fend for yourself, to a certain extent. If this isn’t suitable, there are plenty of hotels in New Orleans.” From his hostile expression, it was obvious which choice he wanted them to take.
Didiane bit her lip. The small seductive movement sang out in the quiet room. “I will stay here for now. I am drawn to this place. There is something here.” Jordan shot Didiane a poisonous look before sweeping up the cards and Karey came to a realization.
These two had quarreled, and they were using her as their punch bag. Without another word, Karey turned on her heel and left.
* * * * *
In the shower with steaming water pouring over her shivering body Karey was as frank with herself as possible. Life held worse things than losing your husband to another woman. Worse, she had discovered, was being forced to watch it. She had no doubt that Jordan and Didiane would be all over each other in a couple of days, if not sooner, once they had made up their quarrel.
That would be worse than seeing them at each other’s’ throats. She wanted him as badly as she ever did. Thinking of his lean body made wetness ooze between her thighs. She found the soap and scrubbed her pubic hair, working up a lather to wash away the betraying liquid. Leaning back to let the water rinse her, Karey willed herself to forget him, to want someone else. Anyone else.
She wouldn’t be the one to leave. Karey Murray never ran away. Pouring a puddle of herbal scented shampoo into her cupped palm, she lifted it to her nose and sniffed deeply before smoothing it over her hair.
The perfume suffused her in fresh warmth, and she recalled with a pang that Jordan had remarked more than once that her hair smelled good. Well, if she changed her brand of shampoo that would be running away again. The brand suited her and made her hair shine—she wasn’t about to abandon it because of memories. She used it as a test, a defiant gesture he would never know about. As soon as she forgot Jordan’s comments, and the way he would kiss the top of her head, and inhale at the same time, she would be cured of the madness of her love for him.
For she had to admit that she still loved him. Her foolish heart wouldn’t give up and accept what her head told her—he didn’t want her any more. He might never have wanted her in the first place. No, scratch that. He’d wanted her, at least for a while. He’d pursued her with determination and single-mindedness.
She scrubbed at her scalp, remembering the old song from “South Pacific.” Getting rid of the memories and her feelings would be harder than washing him out of her hair, that was for sure.
For two years she had worked with Jordan to make Hosts to Ghosts a force in the new field of parapsychological research studies. They’d worked together to get the syndication rights for the TV program, day and night, and now he was giving her the whole thing. Why he suddenly decided to give it up defeated her understanding, but she would take it, make it even better and then shove it up his ass.
She snorted as she toweled herself off and then wrapped the towel around her wet head, turban style. She was smiling when she went through to the bedroom to find her clothes.
Only to stop short when she saw Jordan reclining on the bed. Sexy in his black garb, it took her back six months, to their wedding night, when he’d greeted her in much the same way. Even the smile was the same, appreciative and promising.
“What the fuck are you doing in here?” she demanded, shocked back into reality.
“Waiting for you.”
She would not, absolutely would not behave like a schoolgirl. She refused to hide herself, refused to be cowered by her naked state and his raw allure. Karey took her time sauntering across the room to the chair where her robe lay, picked it up and shrugged into it, turning as she tied the belt firmly around her waist. “Next time, knock.”
“I did, but you didn’t hear me.”
“Wait until I answer,” she suggested.
“I’ll remember that.” His appreciative grin didn’t seem in the least repentant.
She stomped past him to the vanity and picked up her comb. “What do you want?” She busied herself combing out her hair. It was easier than looking at him.
She caught sight of him in the mirror. He’d lifted himself on one elbow, and was unashamedly watching her. His eyes seemed to hold an expression of naked desire, but she couldn’t be sure of anything anymore. She must have misinterpreted his body language so often to get things so badly wrong. She glanced down at his crotch, but he’d bent one leg, and she couldn’t see if he had an erection or not. In any case, she’d just crossed the room naked—most full-blooded men would have reacted in some way, even if they didn’t want to. A naked woman seemed to do that to a man.
She picked up her hairdryer. Then she turned to him, trying to catch him out in his stare. He didn’t take his avid gaze away from her. Surely she couldn’t be wrong, but if he wanted her, why had he gone? He hadn’t seemed afraid of commitment, nor had he hesitated about proposing marriage to her. And yet, within three weeks it had all fallen apart. As she had so nearly done.
Thank God for friends like Auguste. He hadn’t taken sides, but made it clear that he still considered her family, and always would. Now Jordan was invading the protection she’d tentatively begun to erect for herself.
Speaking of erections—Jordan definitely had one. She could see it, the shape outlined in the reddish rays of the setting sun streaming through the window. She stared, not bothering to hide her discovery, deliberately raising one eyebrow.
“What did you expect?” he asked her roughly. “You walk across the room like that, did you think I was incapable?”
“I’d begun to wonder.” Her comment was unfair. The few times they had made love had been entirely wonderful, if hurried, but Karey needed all the weapons she could get. Above all, he mustn’t know how much she still wanted him.
Jordan flinched and turned on to his back. “I’m not incapable.”
“You’ve proved that with Didiane.”
He sighed, and brushed his hand across his eyes. “I do, don’t I? The sun is setting.”
The change of subject made her blink. What had the sun to do with anything? Remembering the reason he’d gone to Paris, she seized on the chance to talk about anything but their personal relationship. She didn’t want a confrontation, she felt too raw. Although the word why throbbed in her head, she couldn’t ask it. It was too late, in any case. One day, she promised herself, she would ask. Until then she would learn to live with the doubt Jordan had cast on her, doubt that had never existed before. “So did you
get to interview your vampire? What was his name? Cornwall?”
“Gillespie Cornell.” Jordan blinked and sat up, his eyes reflecting the reddish light cast by the sun’s recent display as it sank below the horizon. Suddenly he seemed—more. Karey couldn’t explain it, but Jordan seemed more concentrated, more masculine, more gracefully lithe. As if the vital part of him intensified, became more concentrated. “Cornell’s dead. I didn’t get much chance to talk to him. Didiane was his girlfriend.”
“So you comforted her in her loss,” she said dryly.
“As you say,” he responded, equally dryly. “I want to warn you about her. She’s addicted to precious stones. She wants the necklace, and that’s why she came, or at least, that’s what she claims. She doesn’t play nice, Karey. I’ll take her away as soon as I can.”
“Can’t you seduce her into going away with you?”
He visibly winced at her sneer. “No. She won’t leave here until she tires of the game, or finds the stone.”
“The Blue Star’s been lost for more than a hundred years. If she finds it, there’ll be a reward, but it’s Auguste’s. Or yours.”
“I never wanted a part of it. It’s bad luck.”
Karey put her hairdryer down, aware she was holding it like a gun. She forced her fingers to relax as she held her arms relaxed by her side. Body language was so important, and while Jordan wasn’t bothering to hide his, she didn’t want him to see how wound up she felt inside, how tight, how much she bled pain. “You’re supposed to be a man of science. Nobody’s ever proved bad luck.”
“I’ve changed.”
“In six months?”
He shrugged. “You’d be surprised how much someone can change in six months.” He swung off the bed in an economical, graceful motion, revealing the tensile strength contained in his lithe body.
“Or three weeks.”
“As you say. Don’t you have some papers you want me to sign?” He walked across to the window and stared at the red-streaked sky. “I prefer the night these days.”
The inconsequential remark surprised her, but she decided it was none of her business. “I didn’t bring them with me. Why should I? They’re in New York.”
“Fuck! Can I sign them on my way home?”
She turned back to the mirror. “Yes. They’re at my lawyer’s office. You know where that is.” It used to be his lawyer’s office, too, before he’d changed to a French one.
“Sure. I’ll take a detour.” He walked to the door, but paused, his hand on the knob. “Karey, I’m truly sorry, but this is the best way, really it is. For both of us.”
“Why?” Her cry, ripped out of her, appalled her. She hadn’t meant to show him how anguished, how torn apart she felt. She had determined to keep her pride, and now here she was, laying it at his feet in one unconsidered word.
She turned her back to him, biting her lip.
He sounded as shaken as she felt. “I’m a bastard, a toad, un con, call me all the names you like. It’s all my fault. I’ll make it right for you, Karey, I won’t contest a thing.” The door clicked quietly shut behind him.
In that case, why did she still want him? He hadn’t touched her, but she shivered when she remembered how his hands felt on her body, how she had given him everything she was, everything she wanted. For three whole weeks.
His presence in her room had tainted it. She would move to another room. No, she wouldn’t, because that would be running away as much as changing her brand of shampoo, and the best way to get Jordan out of her life was to face it head on and get it over with. If only she didn’t have to do it.
It was only at that point that she wondered how Jordan had got into her room. It self-locked with a keycard.
Chapter Four
Jordan managed to get to his room without faltering, but as he slid the keycard into the slot, Bernard came around the corner and he was forced to nod a greeting. Bernard quickened his pace and halted before Jordan. “Are you planning to leave soon?”
Jordan shrugged, in no mood for conversation. “Maybe. I want to take a look at this case first. Auguste is my cousin, and I feel personally responsible.”
“Karey is doing a good job.” Enmity exuded from Bernard in waves. In Bernard’s position Jordan would probably feel the same. He’d watched the way Bernard visually stalked Karey, tracking her like a hungry dog. He wanted her.
Jordan knew he looked bad, the villain in this business. He’d walked out on marriage after three weeks. How could he defend that? He couldn’t, not in terms that would mean anything to anyone other than another paranormal being. Talents, they called themselves.
“Of course she’s doing a great job. She always does.”
“Did you use her to find lost things?”
Startled, Jordan turned from the act of turning his doorknob. “What are you talking about?”
Bernard smirked. “I’m a dabbler in psychic matters myself.” Jordan’s heart sank. There must be as many aspirant psychics in the world as aspirant novelists. “She’s a seeker, Arcenaux. She can find things. I’ve seen her do it three times since she arrived without noticing it. I’m surprised your company didn’t mark her down as one.”
“It’s not that kind of company,” Jordan growled, getting his door open at last. “The research we do is based on scientific principles.” True as far as it went. “Our mediums’ findings are always backed up by more analytical facts. The medium is mainly for the TV in any case.” Before Bernard could say any more, Jordan walked into his room and slammed the door.
Ten minutes later he slipped out again and left the hotel by the front door.
He’d go into New Orleans. He’d find prey there. He prepared to flash to an alley he knew well, one he’d memorized so there couldn’t be any mistake. Few vampires could flash so soon after their turning, but Jordan had found the skill easier than others, although long distances exhausted him as they did all other vampires. Near-instant travel from one place to another.
Opening his eyes one last time Jordan drew a deep breath, and then sensed a movement behind him.
Didiane stood by his left shoulder. “I’m going into New Orleans with Bernard. We’ll take the car,” she said casually.
“I’ll go another way.” Glancing at Foret, he saw the sentence made no sense to the concierge. But something did.
Empathetically, he felt something, a wave of curiosity coming from the man. Fuck, a dabbler with curiosity.
Furthermore, Jordan hadn’t missed the glances Foret and Karey had exchanged earlier in the day, and his suspicions came into full flower. He already knew Foret wanted Karey. Had he already taken her?
Gently probing into Foret’s mind, Jordan received an image of him naked, lying on a bed, his limbs entwined with a woman whose hair flamed red in the light.
Foret and Karey were having an affair.
Pain seared through him, instantly filling him with horror and anger.
What did he fucking expect? That she would pine for him? It was none of his business, Jordan told himself. Foret was a good-looking man and Jordan had no right to feel the jealousy that was tearing him apart now. Despite that, the thought of anyone else in Karey’s bed made wounds he’d thought were beginning to skin over rip open again. It hurt as much as ever.
Keeping his voice steady and his mental barriers raised, he spoke to Didiane. “I won’t stay long in town. And I won’t spoil your fun.” He didn’t care what she did.
“Oh you won’t spoil anything,” Didiane assured him. “Stay as long as you like, then we’ll go home together. All three of us. You, me and the necklace.”
Didiane moved closer to Jordan, twining her hand around his free arm. “Why did you insist on separate rooms, ma puce?”
If he told her the truth, she’d go after Karey, if only from sheer spite. But he had to say something. “Southern courtesy. Karey and I are still married, at least in law, though not for much longer. If I’d known that, I wouldn’t have moved in with you. I have my morals, such a
s they are. Monsieur Foret here wishes to maintain the proprieties. Isn’t that right, sir?” His lazy smile taunted the man to reply in an aggressive way.
Jordan was in the mood to take someone apart. Hungry, frustrated, angry with the world and with himself, he’d welcome a good fight. Not that it would be fair. The sun had gone down, and he possessed all his powers now. Vampires had telepathy during the day, but during the dark hours they gained the power, speed and strength of fully matured vampires. He could take the man apart without touching him.
Foret stepped back in response to the flash of fury Jordan couldn’t suppress. “Merely that you shouldn’t sleep with another woman under the same roof as your wife. Karey has been very helpful, and I owe her for that.”
“Even if she hates me?”
Foret gave a shrug. “She doesn’t hate you. She doesn’t care enough for that.”
Jordan found the car keys in his pocket and tossed them to Bernard. He caught them deftly, his teeth flashing in a grin of cocky triumph and walked away around a corner of the building.
“She should care. She should hate me.” He’d tried to make Karey hate him. It would make his desertion easier for her. He couldn’t help her now, couldn’t tell her he loved her, so best to make her forget him. At least, that was what he kept telling himself, but now he’d seen her again, the task had grown to mammoth proportions. He could show her his erection, but not his heart. “We made a mistake, that’s all. Better to accept it now.”
He turned as though bored with the conversation and made for the door, but Didiane followed, touching his arm to attract his attention. He cast her a glance that held disdain and uninterest. “What is it, Didiane?”
She gave him a cool stare. “You are mine now, Jordan. You know that, don’t you?”
He shrugged. “You told me vampires were rarely monogamous. You and Cornell had your lovers while you were together.”
She winced, a strangely vulnerable expression in her hard eyes, but he didn’t try to read her. It might be an attempt to draw him in. “We did, though he strayed first. You can’t go back to your wife.”
Hosts to Ghosts Box Set Page 26