Tall, Dark and Paranormal: 10 Thrilling Tales of Sexy Alpha Bad Boys

by Opal Carew

  “Absolutely not. You’ll take what you want and pay me when you can.”

  “Oh, but I couldn’t—”

  “Of course you can. You want to, you know you do. Not another word. Select a few of your favorites.”

  The temptation was just too strong. And, really, it wasn’t as if it was charity. She was good for the money. He knew where she lived. Well, used to live. Heck, even she didn’t know where she lived anymore. Which brought her to the next order of business. “Do you have today’s newspaper, Mr. Griff?”

  He handed one to her.

  “Just add it to my tab,” she said as she piled a few books—okay slightly more than a few—in front of him.

  “Nonsense. What kind of a soul do you think I am if I took advantage of your misfortune to earn an extra fifty cents?” He rang up the books, but the total seemed suspiciously low. How did this guy expect to stay in business? “Take the paper and find yourself a safe place to live, you hear?”

  She heard, and she thanked him. And left him to his delusions. ’Cause what she was willing to pay and what constituted “safe” were worlds apart. Besides, it was just a place to put her head and her stuff until she finished her degree and opened her shop. She’d worry about the hominess of her home after that.

  But she decided to keep that to herself as she made her way home.

  Todd’s home.

  She really should find another place to stay in the interim. Todd had that big ol’ house empty for a reason and it just wasn’t right to impose.

  She started to call her friend, Bella, then stopped mid-number punching. Who was she kidding? Bella was a newlywed. She was not going to want someone barging in on her at this stage of her marriage.

  That option was out.

  Option number two was Chloe. Chloe had a boarding house for girls like she and Jolie used to be—wrung through the system and coming out on the other side with no one to care. Chloe was the one who cared. For as many as she could get her hands on.

  A quick phone call and Jolie realized Chloe had enough drama going on with some developer trying to take her house, so Jolie didn’t even mention her problem.

  It looked like she’d be stuck at Todd’s. Which wasn’t necessarily a bad place to be stuck—as long as she made up for the imposition.

  So, after hanging her new clothes in the closet and selecting a pretty pastel, handkerchief-hem camisole and white capris to go with her silver sandals, she headed out to his pool. Seemed a shame not to make use of it. She could read the newspaper poolside as easily as on a park bench. Easier probably.

  “I should have bought a bathing suit” crossed her mind before she took a seat at the wrought-iron table amid a beautifully landscaped garden. She opened the paper to scan the classifieds.

  Apartments, here we go. Sadly, there didn’t seem to be a glut of efficiencies or one-bedrooms, which posed a bit of a problem. She ran her finger down the column as she ticked off those that just wouldn’t do. Which left very few that would. Factoring in her budget, it left even fewer options. Then she took a look at the locations and she was even more discouraged. She sighed and put the paper aside, channeling Scarlett again.

  She would’ve liked to read the book Mr. Griff had given her, but in all the drama of last night she’d left it in Todd’s car, so she decided to take this time to work on her own. It was a safe option. Todd wasn’t around, and she had new supplies and a few hours to plot and plan.

  The late afternoon passed in a flurry of characterization. Her hero, Tom, was fleshing out very well. And if there was more than a little of Todd Best in him, well, no one would know. Not unless they spent some serious time with him. The man, not her hero.

  Aren’t they one and the same?

  Not daring to venture down that avenue, Jolie stopped periodically to dip her tootsies in the pool. Sheer bliss. Heavenly. Paradise. Whatever the adjective, it was just too wonderful to have the opportunity to cool off at will.

  She grabbed a quick salad for a late lunch or early dinner—Todd did say meals were included—and lit a few of the tiki torches ringing the pool deck. All she needed was a virgin daiquiri, some Jimmy Buffet, and a sexy native island guy.

  The French door from the kitchen opened and out walked Todd.

  She glanced heavenward with a quick “thank you.”

  “Having a party and forget to invite me?” He chuckled.

  “Sorry, it’s just too nice of a night to be indoors. And the pool was calling me.” She scrambled to close her notebook. “What are you doing here? I thought you had dinner plans.”

  Those laugh lines deepened near his eyes. “I do, but I started thinking you might be lonely and let yourself get down about the fire. I didn’t like the idea of you here alone. So, would you like to come to dinner with me?”

  Where was this guy’s white horse?

  Chapter Twelve

  Todd didn’t lie. Mike was definitely earning a six-figure salary. His house was as big and gorgeous as Todd’s, with the perfectly manicured front lawn with down-lights along the brick walkway and up-lights on the trees. Double etched-glass front doors opened into an impressive marble foyer. Basil and cream wainscoting wound up the curved front staircase where a crystal chandelier glimmered overhead.

  Mike’s wife was the requisite thin blonde, but any comparisons to the living embodiment of Barbie ended there. Except, darned if she wasn’t named Barbie. Well, Barbara, but close enough.

  Todd made the intros and Barbara welcomed Jolie graciously into Versailles, er, her home even though she looked a little unsure of who Jolie was supposed to be. Was Todd springing her on them?

  Maybe she shouldn’t have come. Maybe Todd was just being nice and she should have declined, like last night at The Midni—

  “Jolie, huh?” Mike entered from a room on the right, drink in one hand, the other outstretched, a big smile across his face. Too late to back out now.

  Not that she ever did. No quitting for her. No siree. “That’s me.”

  Mike’s hand engulfed hers. As in, absorbed. He was big. Bigger than Todd, who was plenty big. They looked alike too, only Mike had some gray at the temples (another “distinguished” feature on a man that didn’t translate to women) and his eyes didn’t have Todd’s haunted sadness in them. But definitely good-looking. Their parents must have gone swimming in the gene pool at Lourdes to create these two.

  “You’re the new chef?” Barbara ran a manicured hand over the buttons on her peach blouse and fingered the pearls at her neck.

  “Yep. Omelets to bedtime snacks, I do ’em all.” Cute little slogan. Or so Jolie thought until Mike almost spit out his drink.

  Oh. Probably not a good idea to mention bedtime snacks in conjunction with Todd.

  Not that it meant anything. The man was safely ensconced in his memories. Nothing for anyone to worry about.

  “Well, my cooking experience isn’t in the same realm as yours so I hope dinner is somewhat—” Barbara’s fingers creased her crisp linen pants as they slid down the sides then linked in front of her, her shoulders so rigid she looked like there was a curtain rod holding up her dress.

  “Please.” Jolie put a hand on Barbara’s arm. More touchy-feely-ness. What was with that? “Don’t worry. I’m sure dinner will be marvelous. Really.” She smiled and got an answering one in return. “I don’t do critiques or restaurant reviews. And I usually do a pretty good job of clearing my plate.”

  It was the one thing she didn’t like about her job. Everyone thought they needed to hire a five-star chef when inviting her to dinner. No way. She was just happy someone else had planned and cooked the meal. She wasn’t fussy. Not after some of what she’d eaten before going into the foster system and, sadly, during.

  Barbara let go of the tight rein on her shoulder blades and they dropped back into place.

  “Would you like a drink?” Mike asked Jolie, his eyes taking her in. Of course, he’d had that little “is she cute” conversation with Todd, so she shouldn’t be surprised.
It didn’t, however, necessarily make her comfortable.

  “Soda or iced tea if you’ve got it would be nice.”

  “Iced tea’s in the kitchen and I have to check on dinner,” said Barbara. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Would you like some help?” Jolie asked. The least she could do for her sudden appearance was help out.

  “Oh, but you’re Todd’s—our—guest. You needn’t concern yourself with the meal.” Barbara still looked flustered.

  “I don’t mind. Really. It’s about time I started earning my pay.” And it was the perfect excuse to remove herself from Mike’s inquisitorial looks. She’d let Todd deal with those.

  ***

  “Earning her pay? What does that mean?” Mike asked after the women left. He took a sip of his drink then headed toward his study.

  Todd shoved his hands into the front pockets of his khakis and followed. Not where he wanted to go, but he knew his brother. Mike never let up when he got his hooks into something. It made him a great negotiator for a businessman, a pain in the ass for a brother, and sometimes, now for instance, too damned nosy.

  But he followed Mike anyway. He wasn’t going to get out of this conversation so he might as well get it over with.

  The study’s cherry paneling reminded him of a principal’s office, more so when Mike chose the seat behind the desk, drew his elbows onto the leather blotter, and linked his fingers with feigned nonchalance.

  Todd knew the posture. Had used it himself when bargaining with hotels and whatnot to display his works.

  How long ago those days seemed.

  But he hadn’t forgotten, which was why he only glanced at the padded leather wing chair across from Mike, opting, instead, to rest his hip on the edge of the deep windowsill. “Got another one of those?” He indicated Mike’s drink.

  “Really? Two nights ago wasn’t enough?”

  “Are you my keeper or my brother, Mike?”

  “I can’t be both?”

  “Not anymore.”

  Mike sat back with a wry grin on his face. “Well, well, well. What’s gotten into you?”

  Todd exhaled. “Nothing’s gotten into me, but the other night was an ending of sorts. Maybe a beginning, I don’t know. But I’m back. In my head and in my life. You’re off duty.”

  Mike chewed the inside of his lip, fighting the smile—not that he did a good job of it.

  “The drink?” Todd reminded him, pointedly.

  “Right.” Mike slid to his feet and poured a Dewars.

  Todd took the tumbler and saluted. “Thanks for everything, Mike.”

  “Aw, come on, Todd. It’s what brothers do. I’m just sad I had to step in. You know Barb and I miss Trista, too.”

  “I do, and I appreciate everything you’ve done. Even if it didn’t seem that way at the time.”

  “So does this mean I can go back to my old job?”

  Todd swirled the amber liquid in the glass. Did it? “Give me some time. It’s been two days and I’m still coming to grips with things.”

  “Okay. That’s fine. Whatever you want.” Mike sat behind the desk again, putting his boots on the gleaming polished surface. “So what’s with bringing your chef to dinner?”

  Todd raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t think you’d mind.”

  “Oh, don’t get me wrong, I don’t. It just seems a little unusual. I mean, I haven’t exactly met any of the other hires before.”

  The Dewars burned going down, just what Todd needed. “It’s a long story.”

  “Does she have anything to do with my being off duty?”

  Did she? Todd shook his head and took another swallow. “Mike, I just met her.”

  “And Trista sideswiped you with one look. There’s precedence, Todd.”

  “You’re out of your mind.” He was, right?

  Todd studied the liquid in the tumbler. Jolie didn’t have anything to do with his decision to wake up. Well, okay, she’d had something to do with it. He hadn’t considered the correlation between giving up his art and locking Trista’s memory away before it had come from Jolie’s lips.

  It made sense. But, damn, he couldn’t do it again. Couldn’t look at an apple tree or a rolling hill with the same eyes because he’d seen them through Trista’s. She was his muse. And now she was gone.

  But her legacy, that he could address. That he could carry on. He and Trista weren’t just about paintings. Weren’t just about themselves. They’d given to the community, shared his talent and her inspiration in other ways, and he’d let that stagnate.

  She wouldn’t want that. He didn’t want that.

  He had Jolie to thank for that. Maybe that was why he’d asked her tonight. The thought of her sitting alone in his house, a new place for her, all of her things gone, she didn’t deserve that.

  Oh, hell. She also didn’t deserve the third degree she was probably getting from Barb as he sat here contemplating the meaning of life.

  Todd set the glass on the windowsill. For all Barb’s blonde sweetness, she was a barracuda when it came to family. Especially about him since Trista’s death. She’d been the one on the porch fending reporters off with the flick of a wrist. He couldn’t imagine what she was doing to Jolie in the kitchen.

  “I’ll be back, Mike.”

  ***

  “So how do you like working for Todd?” Barbara asked as they traversed the marble-lined corridor from the living room to the kitchen. “I’m sure it’s quiet compared to what you’re used to.”

  “Uh huh.” Jolie was pretty non-committal. Talking about a client definitely wasn’t a good policy. Not to mention, she’d hardly worked for the guy. One omelet did not a career make.

  Barbara opened the door to the fridge and poured the iced tea, then fluttered around the kitchen with its bazillion—okay, maybe forty, but still—cabinets. Pristine white, with brushed nickel knobs, nothing pretentious, but classy and functional and elegant—just like Barbara and the world she inhabited.

  “Can I help with anything?” Despite Todd’s efforts, Jolie wasn’t used to being waited on. That, and silence, made her edgy.

  Barbara glanced over from the double convection ovens set into a fieldstone wall with a cute smile on her face and nodded toward a large bowl and veggie-stuffs on the island. “If you’d like, I was just about to start the salad.”

  Back in her element, Jolie was feeling comfortable, chopping and dicing away. And of course, garnishing. A little swirl with the carrot peel here, a decorative tomato there, la la la la la.

  “Do you work at many homes, or just stay at one for a while?” Barbara asked, setting out the preparations for garlic bread.

  “This is my third. I worked for an older couple until they finally had to go into a home. That was sad. They really didn’t want to leave their house, but they just couldn’t get around anymore.” In went some fresh basil and parsley. Adding the basil as part of the salad rather than in the dressing gave it more of a zing.

  “My last job was with a family. When their youngest went off to college they didn’t really need me anymore. I guess take-out and TV dinners work for the two of them because I know for a fact Mrs.—I mean, the wife—doesn’t cook.” Jolie shrugged. She’d bet it had more to do with having the house all to themselves. That was probably the real attraction—and who could blame them?—but of course no one would give that as a reason to let go of the hired help.

  “And now you’re with Todd. It must be lonely after having people around.”

  “Lonely?” Jolie shook her head. “Not really. He’s chatty enough. Plus I’ve only been there two days.”

  “Todd? Chatty?” Barbara pointed a knife at her. “Todd Bartholomew Best?”

  “Is there another?” Bartholomew?

  “No.” Barbara shook her head. “But Todd hasn’t really—” The knife paused mid-twirl. “He hasn’t really been himself since… well, I’m sure you know about Trista. His wife.”

  Jolie nodded. Oh, yeah. She knew.

  “They were such a
great couple. Perfect for each other. Her death hit him hard. He rarely goes out and we only see him when I force him to come to dinner.” Barbara started slathering butter on the bread. A little thicker than necessary, but with the tears welling in her blinking eyes, she probably couldn’t tell.

  Jolie wasn’t about to correct her. “Well, I didn’t know him before, but he seems to be doing okay.” She tossed the salad now that all the ingredients were in the bowl. It looked rather festive, if she said so herself. “I mean, he was out yesterday and today. I barely saw him.” No way was she going to mention that she had actually seen him bare-ly.

  Barbara put down the knife with a sharp little slam. “Todd? Out? All day? Where did he go?”

  “Um.” Okay, now she was in a spot. Her loyalties were with Todd since he was technically her boss. But also technically, Mike paid her salary since he ran the company, and Barbie here was his wife, so did she owe that loyalty to them or Todd?

  Gosh, this reminded her so much of those years in the system. Where to place her allegiance? Without it coming back to bite her in the butt.

  So, she pulled on old experience and went for middle of the road, praying she’d get out of the inquisition with her job and integrity intact.

  “He took me to the grocery store yesterday and then he went to Mike’s office.” So far so good. “Then we went to The Midnight Maiden—”

  “You’re kidding!”

  The reaction wasn’t unexpected given her eavesdropping incident. See? Came in handy at times. Prepared her for this moment. “Uh, no. Then today, he was out all afternoon. Can’t tell you where.”

  “Can’t?” Barbara slanted her eyes. “Is it a secret?”

  “Oh, no.” Jolie tossed the salad a little higher to show it was finished. She was ready to end the conversation. “I don’t know. He didn’t tell me and, last I looked, it’s not in my job description to keep tabs on the guy.” She said it with a smile to take the sting out of the words, but really, this little tattle session needed to be over.