“She had filed for a divorce. I saw the paperwork on her desk, and she confided in me. We started talking, having lunch together, then we had dinner a couple of times. I…” He lifted his hands and dropped them. “I thought it was a done deal. Now, I think she was using me to make her husband jealous. They called off the divorce, and yes, he is on the museum board, but I wasn’t lying when I told you I was fired for not acquiring the artifact they wanted.”
He moved toward her, and she uncrossed her arms. “The priceless fifteenth-century samurai sword was truly worthless. It was an exquisite forgery, but it was still a fake, manufactured in a twenty-first-century forge. They acquired it anyway and used it as an excuse to drag me over the coals.”
He took another step closer, and she didn’t move away. “Their court date was a week off when it happened. I swear, Sydney, I wouldn’t have dated her if I’d known they weren’t through. I made a mistake, and it cost me my job. I can’t stand to lose you too.”
Her jaw ticked, and she swallowed hard. “Claire is afraid you’re making the same mistake again.”
“She’s afraid, but I’m not. The way I feel about you…it would be a mistake to fight it. I’m willing to take a chance.”
“She also said you still talk to her.”
“She’s messaged me a couple of times, but I haven’t responded. I’ll show you my email account if you don’t believe me.” He reached for his phone, but Sydney shook her head.
“I believe you.” She searched his eyes, narrowing her own as if trying to decide whether she truly did. “Why didn’t you tell me the whole story before?”
“Before? When you were barely speaking to me or when we finally started connecting? I’m not sure which would have been a better time to bring up my previous relationships.”
Her lips twitched before tugging into a hesitant smile. “I see your point.”
“Are we good, then? My past isn’t too haunted for you?”
She closed the distance between them, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You know I love a good haunting.”
Rising to her toes, she pressed a kiss to his mouth, and this time, he didn’t hesitate. He slid his arms around her waist and pulled her closer, coaxing her lips apart with his tongue. She leaned into him, the feel of her soft curves against his body and her sweet, feminine scent making his head spin.
Relief flushed through his chest as she gripped the back of his neck, deepening the kiss. For a moment there, he almost thought he’d lost her. As long as they kept the lines of communication open, though, they could make this work. Hell, this was meant to work. Why else would it feel so right?
As the kiss slowed, she stepped back, cupping his cheek in her hand. Her gaze flicked upward, and she cocked her head. “I thought you were turning off the lights?” She nodded toward his upstairs apartment, where the living room light burned bright in the window.
“I thought I did.” Though he’d been in such a rush to get back downstairs, it was possible he’d missed the switch.
“Maybe the ghosts like the lights on. Are you starting to have activity upstairs?” Her eyes sparkled at the mention of paranormal happenings.
“No, thank God.” He pulled out his phone to check the time. Seven twenty-five. “Let me run up and turn it off. Our ride will be here any minute.”
“Our ride? Where are we going?”
He smiled. “You’ll see.” No way was he ruining the surprise.
He darted up the stairs…again…and did a sweep of the living room. Everything seemed in place. He hadn’t even made the connection that the light turning back on—if he had indeed turned it off to begin with—could have a paranormal source.
Great. Another thing to make him jumpy in his own home. He was just starting to get used to the residual stuff.
He turned for the door, but a carving knife sitting on the kitchen counter caught his eye. He’d done the dishes this afternoon and put everything away. At least, he thought he’d put everything away. His mind had been so preoccupied with Sydney he could have left it out accidentally. That was the only logical explanation. He crossed the living room and shoved the knife into the block, turned off the light switch—for sure this time—and headed down the stairs.
Sydney smiled as he closed the door and locked it before taking her hand. “You are grinning from ear to ear,” she said. “What’s going on?”
The clip-clop of hooves on the pavement grew louder as a mule pulling a white buggy rounded the corner. Sydney’s eyes widened, and she pressed a hand to her heart as she looked at the carriage and then at Blake.
The driver tugged on the reins, stopping the mule near the sidewalk.
Sydney’s mouth hung open for a second before she spoke. “Is this for real? Did you…? Are we…?” She was speechless. Just the reaction he was hoping for.
He gestured toward the carriage and bowed. “Your chariot, m’lady.”
Sydney could barely breathe as she climbed into the white wooden carriage. A dark blue blanket sat folded on the corner of the red velvet seat, and Blake tossed it on the bench across from them as he slid in next to her.
The driver turned toward them. A splash of gray accented his curly, black hair at the temples, and deep creases lined his forehead, crinkling around his eyes as he smiled. “Evening, Mr. Beaumont.”
“Hi, Jack. Thanks again for doing this last minute.”
“My pleasure.” Jack nodded and shifted his gaze to her. “How are you, Miss Sydney? It’s good to see you again.”
“I’m good.” She blinked at the man before looking at Blake. “Is he…?”
Blake chuckled. “Jack’s an old friend of the family.”
“But he’s the same…” Her brain hadn’t caught up with what Blake had managed to pull off in a matter of hours. “This is exactly like our very first date.”
“It worked so well the first time around, I figured, why not try it again?”
It had worked well. At the end of their first date eight years ago, Sydney had been convinced Blake was the one. A carriage ride through the French Quarter, snuggling under a blanket while looking at Christmas lights. Dinner at Tableau on the balcony overlooking Jackson Square. He’d even made sure a heater was situated next to their table, though the fire he’d lit inside her had kept her plenty warm that night.
He tugged the blanket from the bench and unfolded it, laying it across their laps. “Am I correct to assume that, by the smile on your face, it’s working this time too?”
She slipped her hand into his. “It’s unexpected and familiar at the same time. Good call.”
“Hm.” He searched her eyes, a crooked smile tugging one corner of his mouth. “We’ll have to settle for looking at Mardi Gras decorations this time, though. I hope you don’t mind.”
She leaned into his side and rested her head on his shoulder. “Like the first time we did this, I’m more interested in the company than the scenery.”
“Ditto.” He wrapped an arm around her, holding her close as the carriage traveled up St. Ann toward the Mississippi, her stomach fluttering the entire way.
They talked about their lives, filling each other in on what they’d missed the past eight years, and by the time they reached Tableau, she felt as if the years had compressed, their time apart becoming insignificant compared to what might lay ahead of them.
Thoughts of the cemetery vision tried to wriggle into her mind, but she pushed them away, staying in the moment, in the carriage with Blake. If the premonition changed after tonight, giving her more information about its meaning, she’d deal with it then. The future could wait.
Tonight, she was all about the present.
They settled at a quiet table on the balcony. Though the starry night sky spanned cloudless above them, the chill in the air kept most patrons inside the dining room, making their dinner almost private.
The restaurant, situated above Le Petit Theatre on the corner of St. Peter and Chartres, featured authentic Creole cuisine and a stunning view of Jackson Square. Though
the central park area closed at dusk, the bustle of the pedestrian plaza rarely died down until well after midnight.
Tonight a street performer balanced a bicycle wheel on his head and juggled a set of five flaming batons while a trio of musicians played a jazzy tune on their horns. A crowd gathered across the walk from the St. Louis Cathedral, preparing for a haunted history tour, and Sydney let out a contented sigh, thankful her night off happened to be tonight.
She scanned the menu and glanced up to find Blake watching her, his full lips bowing up at the corners, crinkling his eyes. Folding the menu, she set it on the table. “What?”
“Nothing.” His smile widened. “Thank you for talking to me earlier. I’m glad we could clear the air.”
“If this is going to work, we have to talk to each other. I learned my lesson.”
He reached across the table, taking her hand. “This is going to work.”
His voice held so much conviction she believed it without a second thought. “It sure feels like it is. But…I have a confession.”
He arched a brow. “Do tell.”
“I know this is supposed to be a reenactment of our first date, but…” She leaned forward, lowering her voice. “I don’t remember what I ordered that night.”
He let out a breath and pretended to wipe his brow as he leaned back in his chair. “Good. I don’t either. I guess we can’t expect everything to be the same, can we?”
“No, I guess not.” Nor did she want it to be. Past Blake may have made her blood hum, but the man sitting before her now lit up every nerve in her body, making them all fire on overdrive.
Sydney’s barbecue shrimp and grits was a divinely savory sensation, and the bite of Blake’s steak he fed to her melted on her tongue like butter. They shared a bottle of pinot grigio with their meal—something they hadn’t done when she was nineteen—and split a serving of crème brûlée for dessert.
After dinner, they strolled along the bank of the Mississippi and cuddled on a bench overlooking the water. He slipped an arm around her shoulders, tucking her into his side, where she fit like a jigsaw puzzle piece clicking into place. Their conversation lulled to a comfortable silence as they watched the boats drifting on the water, the lights twinkling on the surface like jewels.
His heart beat against her fingers resting on his chest, the steady rhythm comforting her as she laid her head on his shoulder. She could have sat there with Blake all night, but the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, and she jerked her head around, peering into the shadows.
“Everything okay?” Blake rubbed her shoulder.
No sound had drawn her attention, no movement from the corner of her eye, but… “I keep thinking someone’s watching us. You know that sensation when you can feel someone’s eyes on you?” She shifted on the bench to look behind them, but nothing appeared out of sorts. No monsters lurking in the shadows.
That she could see.
“I get this feeling during investigations sometimes, and the activity always picks up right after.” She rubbed at the goose bumps on her arms. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Could be a ghost we introduce on the tour wondering why I’m not talking about him tonight.” She laughed, but she couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling churning in her stomach.
Blake checked the time on his phone. “We should head back anyway. I promised Jack we’d be done by eleven.”
“Is it already that late? Time seems to speed up when I’m with you.”
He rose and tugged her to her feet, catching her in his arms. “I know the feeling.”
Her paranoia dissipated as the carriage drove them back to Blake’s apartment, but as they pulled in front of the museum, light cut through the cracks in the window coverings, creating a spooky glow around the storefront.
“I swear I turned those lights off too.” Blake thanked Jack for the ride and took Sydney’s hand as she stepped out of the carriage.
“I’d say it’s either an electrical problem, which is possible in old buildings like this, or our ghost friend has learned a new trick.” Her heart rate sped at the idea of new paranormal activity.
“I love the way your eyes light up when the supernatural is mentioned. You’re really passionate about this, aren’t you?”
“It’s that obvious?”
He grinned. “I think we should check it out, don’t you?” He fished in his pocket and pulled out a set of keys. Without waiting for her answer—because, really, was it even a question?—he unlocked the door and held it open. “Shall I be a gentleman and say, ‘ladies first,’ or a macho man and make you wait out here while I see if the coast is clear?”
She laughed. “Just be yourself.”
“We’ll go in together then.” He offered her his hand, and she accepted.
She still stepped through the door before him, but only because they wouldn’t fit side by side. As Blake shut the door behind them, the main lights in the gallery clicked off, washing the room in darkness.
“Well, that’s creepy.” He tightened his grip on her hand and nodded to the back wall.
Light from the office area seeped under the door, and something solid moved in the hallway, blocking the illumination from left to right before a thud echoed from the back.
Blake swallowed audibly, his palm slicking with sweat. “Tell me you saw that too.”
“I did. Has it ever happened before?” Her breaths growing shallow, she moved toward the door, tugging him behind her.
“No, but how can something without a body block out the light?”
“I don’t know how, but I do know they can.” She released Blake’s hand and gripped the knob, slowly twisting it and cracking the door open. Her pulse thrummed, and she braced herself for a rush of cold air or an electrical buzzing to shimmy across her skin.
She held her breath, tensing her muscles. Nothing happened.
Opening the door fully, she stepped through the threshold and peered into the first office. Empty. Blake followed her as she tiptoed down the hall, checking each room for anomalies. Aside from the light being on, nothing seemed out of place.
“Do you think it was Bernadette?” Blake flipped off a light switch in one of the offices.
“It’s possible. She’s been noticed, so she may be trying to communicate.”
“Do you want to break out the equipment? See what she has to say?” He raised his eyebrows, trying his best to look excited about the prospect, but Sydney knew better.
While a spirit rarely ever scared her, she wouldn’t be keen on dealing with unknown ghosts in her house either. “You said you don’t get this kind of activity upstairs, right?” She moved toward him, sliding her hands up his chest.
His heart pounded beneath her palm. “Aside from what happened earlier, which was probably my own fault, no.”
“I don’t think we should stir up any more activity tonight then. She probably used up all her energy playing with the light switches anyway.” She rose onto her toes to press a kiss to his lips. “I’d love to see your apartment.”
His breath came out in a rush of relief before he smiled. “I’d love to show it to you.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and turned on the flashlight feature before flipping off the hall light.
The thin beam cut across the exhibition area, reflecting off the plexiglass containers as they made their way to the exit. Before they reached the door, movement in the air like a chilly breath brushed across Sydney’s skin, rustling her hair.
She swiped at her neck, swiveling her head to see if an insect had buzzed by, but the room sat still, the air stagnant. Not even the heater was blowing.
Sydney.
She froze, the whisper of her name seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere at the same time.
“Having second thoughts?” Blake stood in the doorway, concern tightening his eyes. “We can call it a night if…”
“No. No second thoughts.” He must not have had the same experience, nor heard her name being whispered. Maybe she’d imagined it. She follo
wed him out the door.
Blake put on a brave front, but as the activity picked up, she could tell his unease increased. No need to worry him. Not yet anyway.
Chapter Twelve
Blake led Sydney up the stairs to his apartment, silently cursing himself for acting like a scared little kid in the museum. When something moved behind the door, Sydney had headed straight for it, literally tugging him along because he couldn’t make his feet move.
She was fearless, and he’d been a fool. Even when he’d attempted to act nonchalant about a spirit that could turn on and off light switches—which, to be honest, freaked him out—she’d seen right through his mask. At least she’d been the one to suggest they leave, though she didn’t look the slightest bit shaken by the activity until the very end when she’d paused before reaching the door.
Even then, she’d brushed it off and put on a smile. Hopefully ghosts would become second nature to him after a while too.
He’d think twice about going down there alone after dark, though.
They reached the top of the stairs and turned into his apartment. “Here we are. My living room.”
Sydney released his hand and shuffled to the center, turning a circle as she took in the surroundings. He hadn’t done much to decorate the place. A tan sofa sat against one wall with a flat-screen mounted on the adjacent one. A potted aloe vera rested on a small table near the window, and a round table with four wooden chairs took up most of the open dining area.
She padded to the window and peered outside. “Nice view.” Turning toward him, she smiled. “I like it. It’s cozy. Is your bedroom upstairs?”
Something about the way she looked at him as she asked that question made him want to scoop her into his arms and carry her to the room in question, dropping her clothes on the floor along the way. “It’s in the back. The staircase to the third floor is outside. They’re two separate apartments.”
“Does anyone live up there?” She leaned to the side, peering down the darkened hallway.
“Not at the moment. I was thinking about having it remodeled to make my living area bigger. The idea of having upstairs neighbors doesn’t thrill me.”
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