“Jim’s gonna stay with you tonight, hon, just in case this lunatic comes back. I’d do it myself, but—”
“I don’t need anybody to stay with me.” Wanting was a whole different thing, of course, but nothing was more pathetic, in her opinion, than a needy woman.
“You’re kidding, right?” Peter asked. “There was a stranger in your house an hour ago, Caro. No way am I gonna leave you here alone.”
She rolled her eyes. “The cops think I imagined it.” She punctuated the words with a cutting glance toward Jimmy.
“Yeah, well, I don’t. I’m your brother, hon. I know you better than that. Someone was here. If you won’t let Jimmy stay, you can come back to my house and stay with us. Though I warn you, Mary’s in a mood, and the kids are—”
She held up a hand. She loved her nieces and nephews, but honestly, six kids under one roof for an entire night was a little more than she felt up to handling right now. She turned to Jimmy. “I don’t want to be a pain in the ass.”
“I’m out of my apartment for a week. It’s being repainted. I was gonna stay with your brother, but—well, hell, this would be a lot quieter.”
“You don’t strike me as the peace-and-quiet type.”
He lowered his head, shook it slowly. “You think you’ll sleep a wink tonight if you’re here alone? Be honest. Do you?”
No, but she doubted she’d sleep a wink with him under the same roof, either.
When she didn’t answer, the men took it as consent. Peter said, “I’ll run home and grab your bag. But your car—”
“Go with him,” Caroline said. “Get your car and your bag, and come back.”
“I don’t like the idea of you being alone that long,” Jimmy said. And he said it with a look in his eyes that seemed to suggest a whole lot more. “Ride with me—uh, us?”
“I think enough people have seen me in my comfort clothes,” she muttered, glancing down at the sweatshirt with her ratty flannel robe and bare feet below it, thinking sorrowfully of her fuzzy warm slippers getting soaked in the backyard. But not as much as she was thinking this guy must be nuts to be looking at her as if he wanted to eat her alive, when she was dressed like a homeless person. A wet, bedraggled homeless person.
“So go change. We’ll wait,” Jimmy said.
She rolled her eyes and wondered why she was letting herself be led by males, something she’d vowed never to do again, ever. But in this case, it was caring, not control, that motivated it. At least, where her brother was concerned. She had no idea what kind of deranged sexual appetite was driving Jimmy Lipton. Maybe he had a fetish for sloppy, wet, older women. Either way, she supposed she could relax and let herself be taken care of, just this once.
“I’ll change. Be right back.”
She didn’t meet either set of probing eyes as she turned and left the kitchen, but she felt them on her. They were wondering if she was too scared to go upstairs alone. And in fact, she was. But she wasn’t scared enough to admit that, so she forced herself to march up the stairs and closed her bedroom door behind her, despite the goose bumps rising on her arms. But maybe fear wasn’t the cause of the goose bumps. Maybe she had them because she was cold and wet.
As the apparition had been.
Hell. She peeled off Jimmy’s hoodie and her flannel bathrobe and draped both of them over a chair. She pulled on a pair of jeans, then tugged her nightgown off over her head and added it to the pile of wet things. She opened her dresser and reached for a bra and one of her standard-issue oversize T-shirts. She had a drawer full of them. But she paused with her hand in midair, bit her lower lip, and wondered if she was losing her mind to be thinking about Jimmy Lipton the way she was. Oh, she didn’t intend to do anything with him. He was way too young for that. Wasn’t he? But she couldn’t deny that his interest—if it was for real—felt good. And for some perverse reason, she wanted to feel more of that.
She pushed that drawer closed, opened another, and dug deep until she pulled out a tiny T-shirt. The kind she hadn’t worn since the divorce but hadn’t quite had the willpower to throw away. She pulled it on, grimacing at the snug fit and wondering just how bad it would look, then turned to the full-length mirror. Her eyebrows arched, and she muttered, “Wow,” and turned to one side.
She’d lost weight since the divorce. Exercise helped with the stress and filled the loneliness, and with no one to cook for, she often forgot to eat. Not a healthy habit, but the results didn’t look half bad. The baby T looked better on her than it ever had.
She headed to the bathroom off her bedroom and ran a pick through her wet hair, which was already curling crazily, and scrunched in a palmful of mousse to keep it from frizzing when it dried. Just as an afterthought, she dabbed on some of the fragrance she’d bought on a whim weeks ago: vanilla.
She looked good. Maybe ghostly visitations agreed with her. Certainly got her blood flowing. Or maybe that was Jimmy. And with the primping, she’d forgotten to be afraid for a little while.
She went back downstairs, where the men waited in the living room, and they both stared at her body from head to toe as she descended. Jimmy was quiet, just looking, but his expression was purely transparent. He liked what he saw.
Peter not so much. “You’ve lost more weight, haven’t you?”
She shrugged. “Maybe a little. I don’t really keep track.”
“I thought all women were obsessed with their scales,” Jimmy said.
“What did you eat today? You been skipping meals again?”
“Well, I was having corn flakes when the drippy chick showed up. Sort of.”
“Uh-huh. Cornflakes for dinner. You need a keeper.”
“Had one. Unfortunately, I wasn’t the only one he kept.”
“Must be a freaking idiot,” Jimmy muttered.
Peter swung his head around and speared him with his eyes.
“What? I’m just saying…” He stopped there, clearly embarrassed.
Secretly, Caroline warmed to the blatant compliment as she handed Jimmy his wet hoodie. His fingers stroked the back of her hand when he took it from her, and she was sure it hadn’t been an accident.
Peter looked at her again, and she hurried to school her expression to one of bland disinterest but feared she’d been too slow. Frowning, Peter said, “Let’s go. Caroline, you ride shotgun.”
She grabbed a jacket of her own on her way to the front door. Peter reached it first and went out ahead of her. Jimmy caught the screen door as it swung in, then held it for her. She caught his eyes on the way past and wondered why she was torturing the poor guy with the tight little T-shirt and vanilla perfume. It wasn’t as if this was going anywhere.
Ever.
Chapter 3
T he kids were in bed, and Mary was nursing a glass of cola that, Caroline suspected, had more than cola in it, a box of Midol on the end table beside her. Her eyes looked puffy, and her blond hair was reminiscent of Albert Einstein’s. She got up when Caroline came in to give her a hug.
“Honey, are you okay?”
“Yeah. Just had a little scare. I’m fine now. Sorry to drag your better half away in the middle of the night.”
“Don’t be silly. He was just watching baseball, anyway.” She looked past Caroline to Peter. “So, did you find anything?”
“No, and neither did the cops. Jimmy’s gonna spend the night over there, just in case the nut comes back.”
“Oh.” Mary looked at Jimmy and then at Caroline, and Caroline saw her noticing the T-shirt and wished she had zipped up her jacket. “Oh.”
“I’ll just grab my stuff and my keys,” Jimmy said. “Be right back.”
Caroline nodded and tried not to watch him walk away. She failed, but at least she tried.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather stay here, hon?” Mary asked. “The kids are already in bed, and Jimmy’s here, but you could take the guest room. I’m sure he’d take the sofa.”
Caroline snapped her gaze back to Mary, since Jimmy’s tight bac
kside had rounded a corner out of sight anyway. “Yeah, I’m sure. I’m not letting some ghost drive me out of my house.”
“Ghost?” Mary blinked, looking from Caroline to Peter, a question in her eyes.
Caroline pasted a smile on her face. “I’m being sarcastic, Mare. She was there, and then she wasn’t, and there was no trace of her anyplace, that’s all.”
Mary was still staring at her, probing, questioning, maybe getting a little worried about her mental state.
“It seems everything is conspiring to make me give up that house,” Caroline said, seeking to change the subject. “Shawn hasn’t given me a nickel in three months, and it’s getting tight.”
“And your boyfriend has just about depleted your savings,” Peter put in with a grimace. “Your taste in men is seriously deranged, little sister. Can’t you find even one who’s not a total loser?”
She averted her eyes, ashamed of the mess she’d made of her life. “Not so far. Anyway, if I can find the money to keep up the payments, I’m keeping that house. No wet woman peeking in the windows at me is going to make me give it up.”
“Good for you,” Mary said.
“You should let me get your money out of those two leeches,” Peter said.
She pursed her lips. “I don’t want it to get nasty, Peter.”
“You’re gonna lose your house, hon. It’s already nasty.”
Jimmy came back into the living room in time to hear that last bit, but he didn’t comment on it, just held up his keys. He had a backpack slung over his shoulder. “Ready?”
“Yeah.” She looked at her brother. “Stay out of it, Peter. I love you for caring, but I don’t want to stir up trouble or hard feelings. Okay?”
He rolled his eyes but nodded.
“Thanks. ‘Bye, Mary.” She gave her sister-in-law another hug, then turned toward the door and headed out, not up to any further lecturing or advice. She was several feet ahead of Jimmy, heading for the car that had to be his, a cute forest green Jeep Wrangler, when she heard her brother say, “Watch out for her, Jim. Make sure she’s safe.”
“I guarantee it.”
She rode back in the passenger seat of Jimmy Lipton’s Wrangler, not sure what to say. She was alternating between being pissed at him for not backing up her story with the cops and tingling all over with sexual attraction.
“You were wishing I’d tell the cops I’d seen her, too, I’ll bet.”
His voice drew her eyes to his face, something she’d been deliberately avoiding. “Wouldn’t you have been?”
“They would have just thought we were both nuts.”
“At least I wouldn’t have been the only one, then.”
“Wouldn’t have made a difference.”
“Would to me.”
He bit his lip, and it was sexy. Damn him.
“I’m sorry, okay? Cops don’t investigate ghosts. I just didn’t see what good it would have done.”
“You could have at least told Peter.”
“Peter believes you.”
She sighed and lowered her gaze to her hands, folded in her lap.
“You look great, Caroline.”
“Oh, right. Insincere flattery will fix it.”
“It’s not insincere. It’s just a fact.”
She pursed her lips. “Thanks.”
“What, no reciprocation?” His tone was light, teasing.
“You know damn well you look great. You’re supposed to look great, you’re twenty-freaking-five.”
“Still, it’s nice to hear you say it out loud.”
She rolled her eyes and turned to gaze out the window. “You’re missing our turn.”
“Yeah, well, we’re not going straight back.”
“We’re not?”
“No.” He kept going straight, then took the right that would lead them into the little town of Lakeside, Michigan.
“Well, do you mind telling me where we are going, then?”
“To Vincenzo’s. You need to eat, and I could use a bedtime snack myself.”
“Vincenzo’s? I’m not dressed for Vincenzo’s.”
“They do takeout. You don’t want to eat there, we’ll just order a meal and take it back to Spook Central.”
She would have argued, but she was damn hungry, and Vincenzo’s was a local legend for everything from its Italian cuisine to its steaks. Besides, she got a shiver at the thought of returning to her house, and not just because of the apparition.
“And by the way,” he added, “there’s absolutely nothing wrong with the way you’re dressed, except that it might distract the waiters.”
She met his eyes again. Big mistake. The attraction was crackling between the two of them, and she was worried as hell about her ability to say no and mean it, should he try anything tonight. And she had a feeling he might. And then she wondered what woman in her right mind would be so worried about saying no to a hunk like this one, anyway.
“Let’s eat there,” she said. “Screw my attire.”
“Atta girl.”
Vincenzo’s was a bad idea. She’d forgotten about the candlelit tables and soft, sexy music and the dark wood and red velvet, making the place seem intimate and erotic. Jimmy sat across from her, with the candle flame painting his face in light and shadow, its reflection dancing in his eyes, and she found herself pretending this was a real date, with a man who actually gave a damn about her.
Wouldn’t that be a novel experience?
She’d ordered pork loin basted in strawberry sauce with a touch of curry that made it almost too succulent to bear. He had prime rib—his idea of a bedtime snack, apparently. And he insisted on tasting hers and on her tasting his. She didn’t want dessert, so he ordered one, anyway, to share. He certainly made it easy for her to pretend this was a real date.
What the hell was he after? God knew it had to be something. Her experience with the male species had taught her that much, if nothing else. Men didn’t ever do anything without an ulterior motive. Not for her, anyway. Maybe for some women but not for her.
She had three glasses of wine with her meal, trying to take the edge off her nerves and secretly wishing for whatever Mary had been drinking instead. Maybe he was only after some easy sex. Maybe that was it. If he was after money, he was going to be sadly disappointed.
“You seem awfully distracted,” he said, breaking into her thoughts.
She glanced at him across the candlelit table, realizing he’d paid the check and there was nothing keeping them at the restaurant any longer. She’d zoned out on him. “Sorry. I was thinking.”
“About?”
She pursed her lips. “Stuff.”
“Ah, a woman of mystery. I like that.”
Yeah, right now he liked everything about her. He was coming off a little too good to believe. Fortunately, she didn’t. If he wanted a woman he could play—for whatever reason—he should have picked a younger one. The turnip truck she fell off, she thought, was currently rusting in a junkyard somewhere.
His hand slid over hers, where it rested on the table. “You don’t have to be afraid to go back to the house, Caroline. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”
Her heart went soft and mushy. Stupid heart. She tried to harden it back up again but was having trouble getting it past the stage of well-set Jell-O. He was that good.
“Thanks,” she muttered. “That’s really sweet of you to say. But I’m not scared.”
“Then why are we still sitting here?”
She took her hand out from under his and used it to take the napkin out of her lap and toss it on the table. “Let’s just get this out of the way, all right? I’m not going to have sex with you tonight.”
“Okay.” He put his napkin on the table, too. “So, you ready to go, then?”
Caroline sort of gaped at him, then clamped her jaw. That was it? That was his entire reaction? Okay? She filled her wineglass for the fourth time, emptying the bottle.
He got up and came around to hold her chair. She
took her wineglass with her. Given the size of the tip Jimmy had left, she didn’t think the waiter would call her on it. Jimmy held a hand very lightly at the small of her back as they wound their way around tables to the exit. He opened the Jeep’s door for her. Good God, he was pouring it on. No male had manners this good.
She got in, buckled up, and sipped the wine, knowing damn good and well that she was breaking the open container law by drinking in the car, even though he was the one doing the driving. But damn, she needed bolstering.
Jimmy slid a CD into the slot, some hard-core band taking a shot at a ballad. It wasn’t half bad. She sipped more wine.
By the time they arrived back at her house, she was pleasantly full, much closer to mellow, and just slightly light headed. Okay, maybe more than slightly. She kept feeling the urge to giggle and squelching it. Women her age did not giggle.
He took her arm when they walked toward the front door, and she leaned a little closer, acting on pure instinct accompanied by the knowledge that she wasn’t very steady on her feet right then. Damn wine. He slid his arm around her waist. He didn’t take it away when she turned to insert the key and pushed the door open.
He kept that arm around her as they moved inside, and with the door still open, he turned her to face him and kissed her. Just like that. No leading up to it, no asking permission. He just did it, and it was so sudden and so hot that she kissed him right back. And then some. Her arms twined, and her hips arched, and her mouth opened. By the time she started to come to her senses, he was using his tongue, holding her hard, flush against him, one arm anchoring her waist, one hand buried in her hair. And damn, it was good.
She willed herself to push him away, but she didn’t want to, so that was as far as it got. She willed it, but she didn’t actually do it.
I really should, though, she thought. And then she thought, Why?
He must have felt her hesitation, though, because he lifted his head, those sexy eyes blazing down into hers. “Don’t think, Caroline. Just feel.”
“I’m feeling. Believe me.” Her words came out as whispers on broken, ragged breaths.
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