by Debbie Mason
Would she never leave? Ava took matters into her own hands and carefully steered her cousin toward the door. “Yes, I’m sure you were the Maid of LA, but I am the Maid of Harmony Harbor, so you can go now. Give Mia a kiss for me.”
Sophie laughed. “Okay, okay, I’m leaving. But call me when you’re finished, and I’ll give you a ride home.”
“Ciao,” Ava said, and closed the door. Heart racing, she pressed her back against it. Simon sat in front of…the fireplace. The one place none of them had thought to look. Ava raced across the room. She knelt on the floor to move the heavy wrought-iron candelabra, careful not to knock off the candles as she pushed it to the side. Ignoring the pain in her arm, she scrutinized the brick facing for a sign it had been tampered with. When she didn’t find any, she ran her fingers along the dark oak frame and mantel.
Simon meowed and padded into the fireplace. He sat on the logs and looked up. Ava stuck her head inside and did the same. It was too dark to see much of anything. She was typically prepared for whatever might come up on the job, but she didn’t carry a flashlight, and she didn’t have her cell phone. Her father had broken it two weeks before in another fit of temper.
She skimmed her right hand up and down the wall where Simon was staring. Two of the bricks were loose. She pushed her finger between them, touching what felt like soft leather. She held her breath as she tried to lift it and the edges of paper brushed against her finger. It was a book. Her pulse kicked up with excitement, her shoulders sagging with relief.
Her relief was short-lived. No matter how hard she tugged on the upper brick with her uninjured arm, it refused to budge. Gritting her teeth, she tried using both hands. Her bruised arm protested the movement, but she refused to give up and breathed through the pain.
Fifteen minutes later, she stopped to regroup. There had to be another way. Her hands were blackened with soot, the tips of her fingers raw, and the bricks had barely moved. She looked around the room for something to wedge between them and spied the poker.
“We’re in business, Simon. This should do—”
“Tell Grams I’ll see her in a bit.”
Her gaze shot to the door. She’d recognize that voice anywhere. Griffin was here. Now. Outside the door. She shot to her feet, shoving the candelabra in front of the fireplace.
Meow.
She’d trapped Simon. She grabbed the cat, put him on the floor, and scooped up the bucket and sponges while frantically searching for somewhere to hide. The balcony. She didn’t care if she froze to death; she couldn’t let him find her here.
As she turned to run, Ava heard the beep of the passkey. She wouldn’t make it. She spun around and ran the short distance to the bathroom. Her breath coming in panicked puffs, she stepped inside the bathtub and carefully inched the crimson and gold shower curtain across the rod. She sagged against the tile wall, praying his in a bit meant he’d drop his bags off and leave.
If it had been anyone other than Griffin, she’d pretend to be cleaning the room. But she remembered all too clearly the humiliation of being discovered by Griffin and his ex-wife the last time they’d stayed at the manor. He’d looked at Ava like he hadn’t known who she was, and his wife had asked for fresh towels, acting as though Ava hadn’t done her job.
And then there was the book. She couldn’t leave without it.
“How did you get in here?”
Her gaze jerked to the curtain, her heart beating double time. She let out the breath she’d been holding when the bed creaked. Simon. Griffin was talking to the cat. “Better question would be, what have you been up to? Your paws are black. Off the bed, buddy.”
Her toes curled in her shoes, a warm, fluttery sensation settling low in her stomach in response to the slow drawl of Griffin’s deep voice. He always spoke in that low, unhurried tone. Even when he was angry or when he was whispering how much he loved her or when he was talking her out of her temper. Only then there’d been a hint of laughter too. Her temper used to amuse him. He had a long fuse; she had a short one. She used to, at least.
Her lips curved at the memories; then her wistful smile faded when the consequences of what he’d just said penetrated her lovesick brain. Simon’s paws were dirty. All she’d need was for Griffin to start looking for the source. She had to…
There was the rasp of a zipper, then the light thud of something hitting the floor. At the sound of heavy footfalls approaching the bathroom, Ava’s eyes went wide, and she pressed her back against the tiled wall. A bare, muscled arm reached past the curtain, a large hand turning on the water. The cold spray from the showerhead hit her in the face, and a small, shocked squeak escaped before she could contain it.
Griffin whipped back the shower curtain. His thick, toffee-colored hair glistened under the fluorescent light, his dazzling, deep blue eyes wide in surprise. She opened her mouth to say something, but the words got stuck in her throat as her eyes drifted down his body. He was completely and gloriously naked. And even more beautiful than she remembered.
Chapter Two
Griffin Gallagher gaped at his ex-wife standing fully clothed under the shower’s icy spray. Beneath a dripping wet gray sweater several sizes too big, her uniform clung to her birdlike frame, an ugly pair of shoes on her feet. Her long, jet-black hair plastered to her head, Ava stared at him through the water streaming down her pale, gaunt face.
Despite the changes to the woman he’d once loved more than life itself, he felt a familiar stirring, a familiar heat low in his belly. He was reacting to her as though nothing had changed. With her gaze riveted on the evidence of his body’s betrayal, embarrassment and anger coursed through him.
“What the hell are you doing in here, Ava?” He shut off the water with such force that he nearly ripped the lever off the wall.
Her impossibly green eyes jerked to his face, reminding him where they’d lingered only seconds before. Swearing under his breath, he covered himself with the shower curtain and then leaned to his right to grab two towels off the rack. He threw her one. She blinked and caught it before it hit her in the face.
Reeling from the realization that he still wanted her, still felt something for her after all this time, he said through clenched teeth, “Get out. Now,” and wrapped the towel around his waist.
“I…I’m sorry. I didn’t expect you so soon. I was…I was just cleaning the tiles.”
Everything about her was foreign to him—the meek, stammering voice; the way she stood with her shoulders bowed; the raw, chapped hands that trembled as she brought the towel to her face. She looked exhausted, and she was lying.
He opened his mouth to ask her what was going on. Then quickly closed it before he uttered the questions that had been eating at him since he saw her at his great-grandmother’s funeral. Are you okay? What happened to you? What can I do to take the shadows from your eyes? It was no longer his job, no longer his right.
He’d been there before, a long time ago. And all it had gotten him was a broken heart. It’d taken him years to recover. There’d been a time when he didn’t think he ever would. With Ava, he’d never again allow his heart to overrule his head. He needed to get her out of here, and so he hauled her from the tub.
She cried out, and her face crumpled.
He released her immediately and dropped his hands to his sides, taking a step back. “Jesus, I’m sorry. I didn’t think I grabbed you that hard, Ava. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” His gut bottomed out at the thought that he had. From his time as a Navy SEAL, his body had been trained to be a weapon—powerful, lethal. It was something he never allowed himself to forget. Even when he was angry, he was careful. He’d been careful with her too. He was sure of it.
“You didn’t. I hurt my arm yesterday. I’m sorry for…” Her gaze dropped, and his unruly body part perked up at the attention. She slowly raised her eyes back to his face, a hint of pink coloring her prominent cheekbones. She cleared her throat. “…startling you.”
He knew she was lying again. Just as he had all
those years before. But no matter how much he wanted her gone, he had to make sure he wasn’t responsible for the pain that had been clearly etched on her face. “What happened to your arm?”
She turned to grab the bucket. “I hit it on the service cart. It’s nothing, really.”
“It’s not nothing. Let me see.” He reached for her, at the same time wondering what he was doing. Why couldn’t he just leave it alone?
“No. I…” Her gaze jerked to his hand as he gently wrapped his fingers around her fine-boned wrist. She pulled away from him, wrenching her arm as she did. He noted her desperate attempt to contain the pained gasp, the flash of panic in her eyes.
They were the same, her eyes. They no longer lit up with laughter and passion, but they were just as incredibly beautiful as they used to be. Her eyes were the only thing about her that was remotely familiar. Maybe they were the reason he couldn’t let it go. The reason he took her hand, despite her murmured protest, and carefully pushed up the sleeve of her sweater.
His breath hissed through his teeth. Her forearm was almost completely black-and-blue. He raised his gaze to hers. “You didn’t get this from banging your arm on the service cart.”
She wouldn’t meet his eyes as she tried to push her sleeve back down. “I hit it again last night. Please, Griffin, it’s just a bruise.”
“You sure about that? It looks pretty bad to me. Maybe you have a hairline fracture. Did you let Doc Bishop take a look?”
She pulled away again, and this time he let her go. They hadn’t been alone together in a long time. He hadn’t stood this close to her or held her hand, and he didn’t like the uncomfortable pressure building in his chest. He tried to convince himself that it was nothing—just a reaction to seeing the extensive bruising. His protective instincts were strong. That’s all it was. He’d react the same to anyone with a similar injury. But with Ava, he didn’t want to feel anything. Not one damn thing.
“I’m not bothering Dr. Bishop about a bruise. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of it myself. But I appreciate your concern. It looks worse than it is. I haven’t had a chance to ice it today, that’s all.”
She probably was qualified to make that call. Two months before she would have graduated as a nurse-practitioner, she’d left school. A month before that, she’d asked him for a divorce, ending their marriage with five words: I can’t do this anymore. And that’s all he got. No matter how much he begged and pleaded for a reason, those five words were all she gave him.
But the anger flaring to life inside him had nothing to do with the past. It was because she appreciated his concern, and dammit, he didn’t want to be concerned. And he sure as hell didn’t want her to think that he was.
“You shouldn’t be working. Take a couple days off.” His irritation was evident in each word he bit out. It used to take a lot to set off his temper. That had changed after he’d lost Ava and his mother and sister. It had improved some after he met Lexi.
And there it was, the real reason for that uncomfortable pressure in his chest. It didn’t have anything to do with Ava, yet it had everything to do with her. His second wife believed he’d never stopped loving Ava. It made it impossible for them to work out their other issues. Impossible for Lexi to stay with him.
Ava blinked as though surprised not only by his suggestion, but also by the harshness with which he’d delivered it. “I can’t afford to take time off,” she said with quiet dignity.
Once again he felt the unwanted pull of sympathy. Six months after Ava had asked him for a divorce, her father had been badly injured on the job. He’d been left paralyzed from the waist down. Ava’s mother had died of cancer when Ava was nine, so the responsibility for her father’s care fell solely on her shoulders. But the apology Griffin was about to make got no farther than the tip of his tongue.
Ava saw to that with the next words out of her mouth. “I’ll finish your room while you take your shower. I won’t be long.”
The last thing he wanted to be thinking about was her in his room while he was naked in the shower, but more than that, he kept seeing that bruise. “No. Leave it alone and go home.”
She looked like she might argue, then lifted a shoulder and walked to the door. Her shoes squished and sloshed, leaving a trail of water behind her. He was about to suggest she borrow some clothes and shoes from her cousin before heading home but kept his mouth shut. He didn’t want Ava to think he was worried about her.
The tension in his shoulders released as the door closed behind her. Maybe now he could get her out of his head. He dropped the towel and reached for the lever to turn on the shower, his attention drawn to the oily, black footprints left behind by her butt-ugly shoes. So much for his plan.
He grabbed a washcloth off the towel rack and got to work on the stains. Getting rid of any trace of her helped work off some of the anger and frustration still rolling around inside him. Only when he finished did he realize his hands were covered in what appeared to be black shoe polish. He looked around for a bar of soap. There wasn’t one. Turning the lever to hot, he left the bathroom to retrieve a bar of soap from his kit. He stopped short at the sight of Ava walking across the room carrying an armful of wood.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Her mouth fell open, and she dropped the logs…onto her foot. “Crap. Ow. Crap,” she yelped, grabbing her foot and hopping around.
“Ava, let go of your foot. You’ll hurt your arm.”
She ignored him, swearing in Italian while still holding on to her foot with both hands.
He released an exasperated sigh. “Stubborn as ever,” he muttered as he walked toward her and scooped her into his arms. She might be as stubborn as she used to be, but she was at least thirty pounds lighter. When they were together, she’d been all soft, lush curves. She released a surprised gasp and her arms automatically went around his neck. Beneath the smell of damp wool, he caught a whiff of the same perfume she used to wear—D&G Light Blue. It brought back memories of all the times he’d held her in his arms. Seven years of memories, most of them amazing.
He set her on the edge of the bed and cleared his throat. “Do you think your foot’s broken?”
She didn’t answer; she looked like she might be in shock. He crouched in front of her to remove her wet shoes. The old Ava wouldn’t have been caught dead wearing shoes like these. She loved heels, the higher the better. Sexy, strappy shoes that were colorful and blinged out. He never could figure out how she walked in them for hours on end without complaining. But damn, he’d loved watching her do it. He should probably be grateful her taste in footwear had changed too.
This pair though…“For Chrissakes, Ava, there’s a hole in the bottom of this shoe, and look at this.” He lifted the other shoe, flicking its flapping sole.
She made a small choking sound, her eyes huge in her flushed face.
He frowned. “What’s wrong with—”
“You…you’re naked.”
He scowled and rose to his feet. “It’s not like you haven’t seen it before,” he grumbled, stalking to the bathroom to retrieve a towel. She was gone by the time he came back.
Colleen Gallagher walked straight through the closed door of Jasper’s room at the manor, surprised not to feel that disconcerting rush she normally did when passing through doors and such. Then again, her dander was up, so that may well be the reason why she didn’t. Or perhaps she was just getting used to this ghost gig. She’d been undead…Well, she wasn’t exactly sure what she was, but she’d missed the welcome mat to heaven more than two months before.
At a hundred and four, she’d been anxious to join her loved ones in the great beyond. In the end, though, it was probably for the best she’d missed her ride to heaven. She had to protect the Gallagher legacy.
There was also the small matter of ensuring that, when she eventually met St. Peter at the Pearly Gates, he’d welcome her into heaven instead of sending her straight to hell. She had to make amends for her past mistak
es.
All she had to do to save the manor and wipe the sins from her eternal soul was to ensure her plans for her great-grandchildren’s love lives came to fruition. Which was easier than it sounded; she’d been quite the matchmaker in her day. Even in her ghostly state, she’d already successfully married off one of her great-grandsons. Liam and Sophie were a shining example of her success. She didn’t fool herself that marrying off the next couple on her list would be as easy though.
Especially now that she’d discovered a traitor in their midst.
Ah, there he was, happy as a clam sitting in a brown leather wingback chair wearing a paisley smoking jacket and black satin sleep pants, his burgundy slippered feet crossed and resting on the ottoman. She caught his smirk as he brought the china teacup to his lips.
“You think you’re so smart sending me off on a wild-goose chase, don’t you, laddie?” She moved to stand between him and his favorite series playing on the television—Downton Abbey. Not that it would do her much good. He couldn’t hear or see her, but he bloody well sensed her presence. He’d used that to his advantage today.
“Back from your hunt so soon, Madame?”
So soon? She’d spent most of the evening down in the tunnels searching for her memoirs. Which Jasper well knew since he’d been the one who suggested her book might be there. She’d been looking over Ava’s shoulder while she leafed through the books in the tower room when Colleen heard a sound outside the door. She’d walked through it…and Jasper, who’d obviously been on the lookout for Griffin, and Colleen.
“I’ve got your number now. You thought to keep me busy so I wouldn’t be about to meddle in Ava’s and Griffin’s affairs now that he’s come home. You’re as bad as that Mr. Carson you admire so much on Downton Abbey. But you’re wrong about Ava. She doesn’t deserve your censure. She’s suffered more than you’ll ever know. And I’ll be damned if you’ll stand in the way of her and Griffin’s happiness.”