Holly considered lying, but what was the point? She didn’t care what Celia thought of her.
Flopping back into the chair, she tossed the box on the desk. “I found that bracelet a few weeks before my birthday. Paul hid it in his nightstand. I thought it was a gift.” She picked up the thick gold-and-ruby bracelet, dangling the length from her fingers. Light from the desk lamp glittered on the dark jewels.
“But he gave it to me,” Celia said softly. A look like indigestion crossed her face. “I’m…I’m, um, sorry.” She sounded almost surprised. “If it makes you feel better, I never liked rubies. I’m more a sapphire girl. They match my eyes. And diamonds. Diamonds are always good.”
“Yeah, that doesn’t make me feel better.” Holly glanced down at the flashy diamond wedding band Paul had put on her finger at the big Presbyterian church in town. He’d promised to love and cherish her until death did they part. She tugged the ring, winced when it jammed on her finger. Apparently the last ten pounds—or was it fifteen?—of baby weight she’d never lost had swollen more than her boobs and her hips. She worked the ring over her knuckle and dropped it in the wooden box.
“Okay, you thought Paul had gotten you a bracelet but the rat bastard gave it to his girlfriend instead. That doesn’t explain why you have it.” Celia swung her leg.
“I went to your funeral. You’re right—the bracelet looks fabulous with that dress.”
Celia gaped at her. “You stole my bracelet? At my funeral? Damn, that’s cold.” She grinned. “I’m impressed.”
Holly laughed, feeling lighter than she had in a long time. “I didn’t plan to take it. I saw it on your wrist and next thing I knew, I’d slipped the clasp and pocketed the thing. You deserved it.”
“Probably.”
Celia had that indigestion look again and sympathy panged in Holly’s chest. Lawe would think she was a sucker. Maybe he was right.
She dropped the bracelet back in the box, curling it next to her wedding ring. The only other item there was a small red paper envelope containing the safe-deposit box key. There was no identifying information to tell her which bank the key belonged to. No statements had arrived since Paul’s death. The bills for his secret credit card—the one with all Celia’s expenses—had come to their house. What was in the safe-deposit box that he’d taken more care to hide its existence than he had to hide his mistress?
Not having any answers, she slipped the key into the back pocket of her jeans and returned the box to the bottom desk drawer.
Celia followed her upstairs to the bedroom, where Holly pulled her hair out of its ponytail and ran a comb through the dark-blond tangles. Her hair was clean but it had been months since she’d bothered with styling products or even a hair dryer. The natural look. That was in, right?
Floating next to her, Celia fluffed her platinum curls and blew herself a kiss in the mirror. “So which bank we hitting first?”
“What’s this ‘we’? Lawe and I are visiting banks. You’re staying here.”
“And doing what? The house is empty. I can’t touch anything. Do you realize how boring the afterlife is?”
Holly put the brush down and tilted her head. She looked kempt again and that was about all she had the energy for. “I’ll turn the TV on for you.”
“Thanks heaps. I’m coming with you.”
“No, you’re not.”
The doorbell rang. Lawe. Holly gave her reflection one last glance, then headed for the hall.
“Hey, put some lipstick on,” Celia called.
“I don’t need it.”
“Oh my God, you so do.”
Ignoring her, Holly walked into the hall. If she wanted her appearance criticized, she’d talk to her mother.
Something small and hard whacked her in the back. She yelped. “What the heck?”
Turning, she found Celia looking stunned. A tube of lipstick lay on the white carpet.
Celia’s hands flew to her mouth. She floated in front of the big picture window, the bright sunny day and the trees bursting with fall color showing through her translucent body. “I threw that lipstick at you. I thought it with my mind and then it happened. I moved something.”
“You sure did.”
Something told her Lawe wasn’t going to like this evidence of Celia’s growing power. On the other hand, now Celia had something to occupy her time.
The doorbell rang again and Holly bent to pick up the lipstick. “Stay here and practice your new trick.”
“What am I, a dog?”
Celia’s outraged voice faded as Holly ran down the stairs and threw open the front door.
Lawe’s silver steampunk goggles hid his eyes but not his sexy grin. Something inside her woke up and stretched. Her sex drive. Guess last night hadn’t been a fluke born of lack of sleep and the trauma of being haunted.
“Hi,” she said, hoping her grin didn’t look as dopey as it felt.
“Hi, yourself. You’re in a good mood.” He eased into the foyer. Subtle lines creased his brow as he scanned the entry, tension running along the straight line of his shoulders. “Everything okay here?”
He stared at her intently and it took her a moment to realize what he was worried about. “Oh. Yeah. Totally okay. Celia kept her word. I’m not possessed. She’s upstairs.”
Lawe glanced up and she followed his gaze to where Celia glowed on the second-story landing.
“Heya.” The ghost waved, the movement leaving a trail of white shimmers in the air. “Watch this.”
Palms upturned, she rose a few feet up and forward, cleared the wrought-iron banister, then floated gracefully down next to them. “Cool, huh?”
“Very goddesslike,” Lawe said. “All you need is a pipe organ and a tip jar.” He turned to Holly and held out a hand. “Ready to go?”
Without thinking, she slipped her hand into his. His long fingers closed around hers and she sucked in a breath, tingles from his touch shooting along her nerve endings. Twenty-eight years old and she reacted to a simple touch like a horny teenager. But it had been so long.
Other than a few short and not-very-sweet occasions, sex with Paul had ended right around the time she started showing with the twins. That should have been a big fat clue that he was cheating on her. No doubt there’d been others before Celia, but she’d been willfully oblivious, pretending everything would work out.
Since his death, dating wasn’t exactly at the top of her to-do list. Or on it at all. Even if she had the energy to date, she wasn’t sure she would. What if she made a mistake and brought home another man who didn’t want children? What if she didn’t and found herself sharing parenting duties with a man who wasn’t their father? She didn’t need any more complications in her life.
Holding Lawe’s gaze, she squeezed his hand. A short-term relationship wouldn’t have those problems. And what was more guaranteed short-term than a man allergic to commitment who was leaving town in a few days, never to be seen again?
“You know.” She pulled her hand back. “I forgot something upstairs. Give me a sec.”
In her room, she unbuttoned her flannel shirt and dropped it on the floor. Her movements disturbed the leather sachet, sending a puff of fragrant herbs to her nose. Rifling through her closet, she found a pretty rose-colored tee with a rhinestone flower across the chest. The shirt was tighter than it had been the last time she wore it, lo those many years ago, but not too obscene to wear in public. She topped it with a fitted blazer. From the dresser, she grabbed the lipstick Celia had tossed at her, ran it over her lips, and fluffed her hair.
Downstairs, Celia pleaded her case to go with them this afternoon.
“Forget it,” Lawe said.
“But…” Celia turned, her gaze darting from Holly’s lips to the rhinestone flower, and she snorted. “Oh, I see how it is. But I’m still coming with you.”
Lawe took Hol
ly’s hand and pulled her outside. “No, you’re not.”
“How are you going to stop me?”
Good question. Lawe didn’t explain.
He held open door of his aging, wood-paneled station wagon. The thing was the size of her minivan and had that boxy-yet-aerodynamic look of cars from the sixties. Maybe it was all the gleaming chrome. The soft cream paint had rusted in a few spots, and the vinyl seats were original by the look of them. Kitschy cool.
“I think my grandfather had a wagon like this one. What is it, Ford Falcon?” She slid into the passenger seat. Celia darted into the back.
“Nineteen sixty-three.” He walked around to the driver’s side. “Not much compared to what Paul drove you around in.”
His voice was as casual as ever, but she sensed the edge under the words, remembered his comments last night on Paul’s salary and their expensive life. Did he think she’d married Paul for his money? “Paul drove some sweet cars. But he was a cheating bastard.”
And she’d given her heart away too easily. A mistake she wasn’t going to make again.
“Fair point.” He stuck the key in the ignition. The engine hesitated, then turned over with a deep hum. “My apologies.”
She touched the bobble-headed shark in a hula shirt on the dash. “I love this wagon. Makes me want to strap a couple surfboards on top and drive to California.”
Lawe’s stiff expression softened. “There’s a spot in Malibu—”
“Could we get this show on the road?” Celia interrupted. “Flirt later. Solve my death now.”
Holly twisted around. Celia hovered in the backseat, arms crossed, mulish expression on her face.
“Um, Lawe?”
“Don’t worry about it. She’ll be gone soon.”
“No, I won’t.”
Lawe reversed out of the driveway. As soon as the car rolled onto the street, Celia poofed out of existence.
Holly gasped. “Where’d she go?”
Lawe shifted into drive. “Ghosts have a tether. Their range usually isn’t far, especially a young ghost like Celia. My guess is she’s tied to your house or something in it.”
“My house? But how would that happen?”
“I’m not sure. I don’t usually pay attention to this side of the business.” He slanted a glance at her. “Most people who call me want their ghosts banished ASAP.”
Holly shrugged. “Guess I’m not your usual client.”
“That’s for sure.” Lawe quirked his lips. “I mean that in the best possible way.”
Warmth spread through her.
He returned his attention to the road and a comfortable silence stretched between them. Holly idly watched the fall trees flash by, flaming with color. The Flatirons rose in the west, sleeping rock giants burnished by the sun to an autumny orange-brown. Maybe this year she’d take the kids trick-or-treating. Her neighborhood had a block party every Halloween with games and cider doughnuts and way too much candy. She could invite Lawe.
Duh, no she couldn’t. He’d be gone by then and she’d already decided that was a good thing.
She snuck a glance at his profile. His hair curled from under his black cowboy hat. That hat and those silver glasses were odd, but they suited Lawe, his strange profession, his unconventional life. In so many ways, he was different from anyone she’d ever met.
And that kiss last night…
His strong hands gripped the steering wheel. Images of what those hands could do flashed through her head. She swallowed hard and shifted in the worn seat, the key pressing into her behind. She’d been out of the dating pool so long. And she hadn’t had a one-night stand since college. How could she initiate a hook-up that had to take place in the tiny bits of time she wasn’t taking care of three-year-old twins?
Maybe if they got lucky and found Paul’s safety-deposit box early in the afternoon, they’d get back to her place with time to spare before she had to pick up Sadie and Theo.
Then the only question was where would she find the courage to get naked in front of a man again?
“What?” Lawe’s voice shattered her thoughts. “You’ve got a weird look on your face.”
She sighed. Not a good start. “Nothing, just thinking about my schedule.”
Besides, even if the twins were at Janey’s, Celia was at home.
She was never going to have sex again.
Chapter Five
They found a parking spot a block off Pearl Street, the pedestrian mall jammed with upscale shops and restaurants in the center of Boulder. Around the corner was Rock Trust Bank, where she and Paul had had joint checking and savings accounts. It was probably too much to hope that Paul had opened his secret safe-deposit box in the same location, but this was the only bank she knew he had a connection to.
Her eyes slowly adjusted to the dim interior after the bright sunshine.
Lawe gazed fixedly at a potted plant in the corner. “There’s someone I want to say hi to.”
He wandered over to the plant and appeared to strike up a conversation with it.
Had to be a ghost. That one at the graveyard—Martin—shouldn’t have surprised her. They’d been in a cemetery, made sense that dead souls hung out there. But she’d never considered that the places she visited on a regular basis might be haunted.
Lawe nodded, said something in a low voice to a large banana leaf. A few people turned to stare. Most glanced at him and away, then quickened their steps. Why didn’t he pretend to talk on his cell phone? Talking openly to inanimate objects was a surefire way to get people to avoid you.
Or was that why he did it? Maybe he purposely created barriers between himself and other people.
A weight hooked into her heart, but she left Lawe to his otherworldly conversation and glanced around the crowded lobby, uncertain where to go. Was she supposed to wait in the teller line or take a seat in the lounge area until one of the bankers working at partitioned desks called on her?
“Holly!” A jovial voice boomed from her right and she turned as Anderson Webber pulled her into a bear hug.
Damn. She should have known she’d run into Anderson. He was the president of Rock Trust.
Anderson squeezed and she gasped for air. The man topped six feet and two-fifty, easy. His belt buckle, holding up the khakis cradled under his swelling gut, dug into her stomach. Just when she thought she’d pass out from lack of oxygen, Anderson released her. He held on to her hands, an exaggerated look of sympathy crossing his face. “How are you holding up?”
“Fine. I’m fine.” Every time she ran into someone who’d known Paul it was the same. Asking how she was, wanting to hear she was fine and not the complicated truth of single, widowed motherhood.
And despite his always-friendly greetings, this man had cheerfully invited Paul’s mistress to a mountain house party.
“Even after all these months, I can’t believe Paul’s gone,” Anderson said. “He was a force of nature. Never met a better salesman. Our mortgage numbers won’t be the same without all the business Paul swung our way. And now I have to deal with this guy.”
Anderson jerked his thumb over his shoulder. With Anderson’s bulk in the way, she hadn’t noticed the good-looking man behind him wearing a Brooks Brothers suit and a killer smile.
Jake.
Her breath sucked in and the blood drained from her head in a sudden rush. The dim bank lobby wobbled, blurred, then righted itself. Lawe was still deep in conversation with the banana plant.
A big, fake smile stretched her lips until her cheeks hurt. “Jake. Good to see you again.”
You murdering bastard. Allegedly.
“Holly. Always a pleasure.”
His London accent grated. Did she really used to think he sounded sophisticated and charming? Pressing his lips to her cheek—this one was big on the social kissing—he lingered a moment too long. She step
ped back quickly, aimed another urgent stare at Lawe. Why couldn’t telepathy be another of his powers?
She had to settle for pitching her voice louder. “Anderson, Jake, I’d like you to meet someone.”
Lawe gestured at the potted plant, apparently emphasizing a point. Finally he glanced her way, apologized to the plant, and crossed the lobby to join them.
The stupefied looks on Anderson’s and Jake’s faces would have been comical if she weren’t so freaked out.
“Anderson Webber, Jake Darlington.” She gave Lawe a significant look when she said Jake’s name. “This is my…friend, Lawe Callahan.”
Her hesitation—the few seconds it took for her brain to come up with something other than this is my exorcist—had been enough to make their relationship sound exactly as carnal as she hoped it would get later.
Anderson’s blond eyebrows rose. “Pleasure to meet you.”
“Any friend of Holly’s.” Jake’s polished smile held a hint of derision.
Lawe shook Anderson’s hand, then Jake’s. Judging by Jake’s wince, Lawe was trying to crunch his bones. “Darlington. I hear you’re the man when it comes to real estate.”
“I try.” Jake dismissed Lawe as though he wasn’t worthy of his notice and focused on Holly. “Have you given any more thought to selling your house?”
She jolted. Jake had called a few weeks ago, wanting to know how she was doing, and she’d mentioned she was thinking of selling.
“Not really,” she said honestly. “But it’s something I need to do. The house is too big now that it’s only the three of us.” And the mortgage payments were insane.
“I don’t usually deal in small properties, but for you, I’ll make an exception. I’m sure we can find something more suitable. Perhaps a cozy ranch house with a yard big enough for those adorable children of yours.”
He squeezed her shoulder, and her skin crawled. His face was full of concern, but his eyes were hard. Celia’s words came back to her. Jake left the room in a rage. I’ve never seen anyone so mad.
The Exorcist Who Loved Me Page 5