by Karen Kelley
She held him close, resting her head against his chest when they both came up for air.
“Are you going to quit football?” she asked.
“Yes. I’m spending more time at the doctor’s getting my injuries taken care of than I am playing football. You don’t mind, do you?”
“Not at all, but after we get married will we have to live in the country?”
Cal leaned back and looked at her. “I thought you didn’t believe in marriage.”
“I changed my mind. Does that bother you?”
He grinned. “Not at all, but remember when I tell the kids you begged me to marry you, I’ll be the one telling the truth.”
She frowned. “But we aren’t going to move to the country, are we?”
“Do you want to?”
“Good Lord, no.”
“Me, neither. I’ll take the city any day. I had an offer—sportscaster with one of the stations. I think I’m going to take them up on it. So, do we have everything settled?”
“I think so.”
“Good, then call in sick, because I doubt we’ll leave your bed for the next week.”
Nikki caressed her hand across his face before sauntering toward her room. At the door, she turned back and looked at him.
“I’ll call in later.”
Damn, she liked the look of passion that flared in his eyes. She had a feeling she’d be seeing it for many years.
Chapter 29
“I’m not so sure about this,” Nikki said as she looked around at the others. Celeste was clearly excited, Brian looked hesitant, and Cal, well, he just looked amused.
Cal grabbed her hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing it. He did that a lot—kissing her, holding her close. She rather liked it.
“We have to,” Celeste pleaded. “Her name was Aggie. Aggie Watson. I don’t know why anyone didn’t try to find out something about her years ago. It wasn’t like it was that difficult.”
“So, tell us about this…ghost,” Cal said, then grinned.
Nikki frowned at him and wondered why he was being so stubborn. “I saw the ghost and she’s real.”
“I thought you didn’t believe in anything you couldn’t touch, feel, or taste?” He ran the back of his knuckles across her cheek. She automatically leaned closer.
“Would y’all like a little privacy?” Brian asked.
“No, they wouldn’t. They want to do the séance, too.”
Brian shook his head. “I don’t think they look that enthused.”
“Nikki, help me out here. Don’t you want to set Aggie’s soul free?” Celeste said.
They were standing by the barn at the ranch. Nikki glanced toward the cabin, although she couldn’t see it because of the trees. A cold chill of foreboding clutched her in an icy grip. “How exactly did you say she died?”
“She was strangled by the man who wanted to marry her. She didn’t want to marry him because she was in love with someone else. So that’s why he killed her, and we just have to tell her to go toward the light. Please.”
Nikki didn’t want to go anywhere near the cabin, but how could she say no to Celeste when she pleaded so convincingly? “Then let’s do it,” she said, suddenly making up her mind.
Cal leaned close to her and whispered in her ear, “There are no such things as ghosts.”
Boy, was he in for a big surprise.
Celeste turned to look at Brian, giving him the same look she’d used on Nikki. Brian didn’t stand a chance. It was as plain as the nose on her face how much he loved Celeste.
“Okay, okay,” he finally caved.
Celeste smiled brightly. “We have to do it tonight.”
“Why tonight?” Cal asked as he casually draped his arm across Nikki’s shoulders. “Is there a full moon?”
Everyone automatically looked up, searching the skies.
“As a matter of fact, there is,” Nikki said.
“Even better,” Celeste chimed in. “Let’s go.”
They all piled into the double-cab pickup. Cal drove. Nikki wished she’d gone to the bathroom before they’d left. She was not about to take a chance her stickups were still working.
“I hope the psycho rooster has bedded down somewhere far away for the night,” Celeste muttered.
Nikki cringed. How could she still feel so damned guilty over a stupid bird?
After bumping over the dirt road they pulled up in front of the cabin. For some reason it looked really spooky in the light of the moon.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Brian asked.
“Don’t tell me you’re scared, little brother.”
“Damned right I am.”
Cal chuckled, then got out of the pickup. The others followed. Once beside him, Nikki made sure she held tight to his hand.
“Do you have the flashlight?” she asked, just to be on the safe side.
He flipped it on and put it under his face. “I want to drink your blood.”
She bopped him on the arm. “That was so not funny,” she said as they trooped inside the house.
“Okay, where are we doing this?” Brian asked.
“The kitchen, so we can all sit at the table.” Celeste raised her chin and marched right in without looking back to see if they followed.
Nikki had to give Celeste credit for determination. Nikki just wanted to get this over with and get the hell out of here.
They sat at the table.
“Now what?” Brian asked.
“I think we’re supposed to call her forth. Then we’ll tell her she’s dead and needs to go toward the light. I’ve never done a séance, but how hard could it be?” Celeste looked at each one of them, her gaze stopping on Cal. “No laughing. A young woman is depending on us.”
“No laughing, I swear.” Cal crossed his heart.
“Hold hands.” Celeste reached hers toward Cal’s and Brian’s.
They all clasped hands. Cal rubbed his thumb along the back of Nikki’s. She dug her fingernail into his and he backed off. The man was incorrigible.
“Aggie Watson, we know you’re here,” Celeste said. “We know why you’re here. That you were murdered long ago and we want to set your spirit free. Go, go toward the light.”
A blue mist began to form. Nikki held her breath, squeezing Cal’s hand. He grinned and glanced over his shoulder. When he looked back at her, his grin was gone.
“What the hell is that,” he whispered.
“The ghost,” Nikki said.
“It’s okay, Aggie. Go toward the light,” Celeste intoned.
The mist became a young woman. She was covering her face with her hands, weeping softly. Pity washed over Nikki. Slowly, the ghost lowered her hands. She was the most beautiful thing Nikki had ever seen.
“She’s so pretty,” Brian said.
The ghost looked at him. Her face changed from beautiful to grotesque. Her mouth opened and the scream that came from the spirit curled Nikki’s hair.
As one they jumped up, chairs tipping over, and ran from the cabin.
“Cock-a-doodle-do!” the rooster yodeled as they ran outside.
Nikki stopped just off the porch and turned to look toward the barn. There was Romeo on the top fence rail with his chest puffed out as he pranced back and forth without a wobble, his adoring hens on the ground looking up at him so they could admire his fine form.
Okay, so maybe he didn’t quite have his timing down right since technically it was the middle of the night, but she didn’t think the hens cared.
“Look, the rooster is all better.”
Cal turned and grabbed her hand. “Ghost, remember the ghost.” He tugged her forward as they ran toward the pickup and all piled in. Brian was already taking off before they could get the doors slammed shut. They hung on to the seats rather than risk their lives reaching for the doors.
“No more séances,” Brian said as they raced toward the ranch.
“Never again,” Celeste said, shaking her head.
“I think we’re
all in agreement about that,” Nikki said. “I was so scared I almost wet my pants.”
“Me, too.” Celeste’s laugh was shaky.
Cal and Brian didn’t say a word.
Be sure to catch WATCH OVER ME by Lucy Monroe, available now from Brava…
“Dr. Ericson”
Lana adjusted the angle on the microscope. Yes. Right there. Perfect. “Amazing.”
“Lana.”
She reached out blindly for the stylus to her handheld. Got it. She stared taking notes on the screen without looking away from the microscope.
“Dr. Ericson!!!”
Lana jumped, bumping her cheekbone on the microscope’s eyepiece before falling backward, hitting a wall that hadn’t been there when she’d come into work that morning.
Strong hands set her firmly on her feet as she realized the wall was warm and made of flesh and muscle. Lots and lots of muscle.
Stumbling back a step, she looked up and then up some more. The dark-haired hottie in front of her was as tall as her colleague, Beau Ruston. Or close to it anyway. She fumbled with her glasses, sliding them on her nose. They didn’t help. Reading glasses for the computer, they only served to make her feel more disoriented.
She squinted, then remembered and pulled the glasses off again, letting them dangle by their chain around her neck. “Um, hello? Did I know you were visiting my lab?”
She was fairly certain she hadn’t. She forgot appointments sometimes. Okay, often, but she always remembered eventually. And this man hadn’t made an appointment with her. She was sure of it. He didn’t look like a scientist either.
Not that all scientists were as unremarkable as she was in the looks department, but this man was another species entirely.
He looked dangerous and sexy. Enough so that he would definitely replace chemical formulas in her dreams at night. His black hair was a little too long and looked like he’d run his fingers through it, not a comb. That was just so bad boy. She had a secret weakness for bad boys.
Even bigger than the secret weakness she’d harbored for Beau Ruston before he’d met Elle.
She had posters of James Dean and Matt Dillon on the wall of her bedroom and had seen Rebel Without a Cause a whopping thirty-six times.
Unlike James Dean, this yummy bad boy even had pierced ears. Only instead of sedate studs or small hoops, he had tiny black plugs. Only a bit bigger than a pair of studs, the plugs were recessed in his lobes. They had the Chinese Kanji for strength etched on them in silver. Or pewter maybe. It wasn’t shiny.
The earrings were hot. Just like him.
He looked like the kind of man who had a tattoo. Nothing colorful. Something black and meaningful. She wanted to see it. Too bad she couldn’t just ask.
Interpersonal interaction had so many taboos. It wasn’t like science where you dug for answers without apology.
“Lana?”
The stranger had a strong jaw too, squared and accented by a close-cropped beard that went under, not across his chin. No mustache. His lips were set in a straight line, but they still looked like they’d be Heaven to kiss.
Not that she’d kissed a lot of lips, but she was twenty-nine. Even a geeky scientist didn’t make it to the shy side of thirty without a few kisses along the way. And other stuff. Not that the other stuff was all that spectacular. She’d always wondered if that was her fault or the men she’d chosen to partner.
It didn’t take a shrink to identify the fact that Lana had trust issues. With her background, who wouldn’t?
Still, people had been known to betray family, love and country for sex. She wouldn’t cross a busy street to get some. Or maybe she would, if this stranger was waiting on the other side.
The fact that she could measure the time since she’d last had sex in years rather than months, weeks or days—which would be a true miracle—wasn’t something she enjoyed dwelling on. She blamed it on her work.
However, every feminine instinct that was usually sublimated by her passion for her job was on red alert now.
What’s a lady to do when she finds herself
IN BED WITH A STRANGER?
Find out in Mary Wine’s Brava debut, new this month…
Brodick reached out, stroking a finger over one of her cheeks. “Aye, I am pleased.”
She shivered again, this time in some odd response to the way his tone had softened. He was no longer angry with her.
Anne turned quickly to hide the strange reaction from his keen stare. Her face was hot where he’d touched it, the skin oddly alive with sensation. There was a part of her that liked hearing that he approved of her. A man such as he was far above any that she might hope to have of her own.
“Face me, Mary.”
Hearing her half-sister’s name was like icy water being tossed onto her feet. She turned slowly, struggling to conceal her emotions before facing him once more. This man would not take being deceived very well. Now that her face veil was gone, she needed to be more attentive to concealing her feelings.
“I’ve no taste for timid women.”
The gruff tone of his voice annoyed her once again. “You may always return me home.” She looked at the ground, doing her best to look like a coward. For one brief moment hope flickered in her heart that he might reject her.
“You should take me to my father. He is returned to court.”
A hard hand cupped her chin, raising it to lock stares with him. “It’s clear you’ve been at court. That place is ripe with schemes.” His lips lost their hard line as he stepped up closer holding her jaw in a firm grip. “Do I really look like a man who would cry surrender so soon after greeting ye?” He chuckled, the sound sending a quiver through her belly. His warm scent filled her head with each breath as he tilted his head so that his breath teased her lips.
“You dinnae know very much about Scotsmen, Wife. We’re nae intimidated by a few cold glances. In Scotland, we’re more practiced in the arts of warming up our women.”
He touched his mouth to hers and she jerked away from the contact. It burned clear through her, all the way to her toes. Her freedom was short-lived. With a twist of his larger body, he snaked an arm around her waist. He moved toward her in the same moment, surrounding her and pinning her against his hard body.
“Now that won’t do.” He pulled her flush against his frame, tight enough to feel his heart beating. His gaze settled onto her mouth as he slipped a hand up the back of her neck to hold her head. “It won’t do at all. Kissing my new wife is something I’m nae in the mood to miss.”
He touched his mouth to hers again, this time slowly. She twisted in his embrace, too many impulses shooting along her body to understand. The few kisses in her past had been stolen ones and brief. Brodick lingered over her mouth, gently tasting her lips before pressing her jaw to open for a deeper touch. His embrace imprisoned her but not painfully. He seemed to understand his strength perfectly, keeping her against him with exactly enough force, but stopping short of causing her pain.
She shivered as the tip of his tongued glided across her lower lip. Sensation rippled down her spine as she gasped in shock. Never once had she thought that a touch might be so intense. Her hands were flattened against his chest and her fingertips were alive with new desires. Touching him felt good. She opened her fingers wider, letting them smooth over the hard ridges of muscles that his open doublet had allowed her to see. Pleasure moved through her in a slow cloud that left a haze over her mind. Forming thoughts became slow and cumbersome as he teased her upper lip, tasting her.
“Much better.”
No hero comes close to MIDNIGHT’S MASTER, the latest from Cynthia Eden, out next month from Brava…
“Throw her out, Niol. You want the vamps to keep comin’, you throw that bitch out.”
The tapping stopped, and, because the vampire had raised his shrill-ass voice again, the nearby paranormals—because, generally, the folks who came in his bar were far, far from normal—stilled.
Niol shook his head slowly.
“I think you’re forgetting a few things, vamp.” He gathered the black swell of power that pulsed just beneath his skin. Felt the surge of dark magic and—
The vamp flew across the bar, slamming into the stage with a scream. The lead guitarist swore, then jumped back, cradling his guitar with both hands like the precious baby he thought it was.
The sudden silence was deafening.
Niol motioned toward the bar. “Get me another drink, Marc.” He glanced at the slowly rising vampire. “Did I tell you to get up?” It barely took any effort to slam the bastard into the stage wall this time. Just a stray thought, really.
Ah, but power was a wonderful thing.
Sometimes, it was damn good to be a demon. And even better to be a level ten, and the baddest asshole in the room.
He stalked forward. Enjoyed for a moment the way the crowd jumped away from him.
The vampire began to shake. Perfect.
Niol stopped a foot before the fallen Andre. “First,” he growled, “don’t ever, ever fucking tell me what to do in my bar again.”
A fast nod.
“Second…” His hands clenched into fists as he fought to rein in the magic blasting through him. The power…oh, but it was tempting. And so easy to use.
Too easy.
One more thought, just one, focused and hard, and he could have the vamp dead at his feet.
“Use too much, you’ll lose yourself.” An old warning. One that had come too late for him. He’d been twenty-five before he met another demon who even came close to him in power and that guy’s warning—well it had been long overdue.
Niol knew he’d been one of the Lost for years.
The first time he’d killed, he’d been Lost.
“Second,” he repeated, his voice cold, clear, and cutting like a knife in the quiet. “If you think I give a damn about the vampires coming to my place…” His mouth hitched into a half-grin, but Niol knew no amusement would show in the darkness of his eyes. “Then you’re dead wrong, vampire.”