Night Visions

by Ariana Dupre

  Jared placed his forehead against hers until his labored breathing steadied. “You really know how to kill the mood."

  "I don't mean to sound like a tease."

  "No?"

  "I wanted to kiss you, Jared. But that's as far as we go. It ends here.” She sighed deeply. “This can't happen again. I can't let it."

  "Why?"

  Because I've fallen in love with you! “I just can't. We have to keep our relationship strictly business from now on.” Geez! It was hard to talk with his face touching hers.

  "Promise me, Jared. Our relationship is professional after tonight."

  Jared lifted his head to look at her. “All right. I promise. After tonight, there will be nothing but professionalism between us.” He grinned wickedly. “But Angie, tonight's not over yet."

  The corners of her mouth turned up, “No, it's not.” Stop it, Angie, she told herself. Don't flirt this way.

  Jared kissed her—hard. If this was going to be the last kiss for a while, he was going to make it a damn good one. One they'd both remember and dream about. He eased the pressure and gently caressed her lips, savoring the taste of her, the feel of her tongue tangled with his.

  Angie frenziedly returned his kiss. She'd remember every movement—Jared's taste, his musky scent, his hands on her flesh, everything—for all eternity. When he gave, she took, and gave back to him. Their bodies molded to each other perfectly. Jared didn't stop and neither did she.

  If only it could last forever.

  And then, just then, when they connected like she'd never connected to anyone before, she heard the screech and bang of fireworks.

  Hey, I must really be in love!

  Lifting her lids slightly, she saw the sparkle of blues, greens and reds in the night sky. Perfect timing.

  Jared broke off the kiss and looked at the sky, too. The sound their ragged breathing mixed with the burst of the fireworks. “Looks like they started without us,” he said, his voice raspy with desire.

  "I believe, Mr. Maxwell, that our fireworks started before the ones up there."

  Jared snaked his arm around her waist, lifting her away from the tree; then spun her around until she giggled. “I believe you're right, Ms. Benton. I do believe you're right."

  * * * *

  Chapter 14

  Taking a nail from his mouth, Jared pounded it into a shingle, securing it to the roof of Clyde Davis's house. The renovation was almost complete. Only three more weeks until he moved back home.

  It had been three weeks since the party and he'd avoided Angie as much as possible. She wanted professionalism and that's what he'd given her.

  And it was killing him.

  Even though he received a daily report from the security guards, who still posed as workers, he still couldn't figure out why she was so jittery and nervous around him. You'd think she would be more afraid of her stalker.

  And if Angie didn't hear him coming when he walked up behind her—well, the woman almost jumped out of her skin. It really didn't make any sense. She'd fight him like a pit bull to his face, but if he surprised her, she'd pull back in fear.

  He wished Terri and the twins hadn't left the day after the barbeque. At least they would have provided a distraction to keep him from dwelling on Angie.

  I'll miss her when this job is over, he thought, his heart sinking.

  And I'll worry about her. Her stalker was still at large. Sheriff Oakley hadn't been able to trace him. Even Eddie Harland hadn't been found for questioning. It was as if a ghost moved unseen amongst them.

  But there was something else on Jared's mind. He'd been sure Angie would have agreed to sell by now.

  Clenching his teeth, striking another nail into place, he decided to find a new way to convince her to sell.

  At the whine of a motorcycle engine, Jared raised his head.

  Would wonders never cease? Angie was riding a dirt bike, her hair streaming behind her in the wind. She looked beautiful, wild and free.

  As the bike zoomed closer, Angie waved, calling his name. Jared felt a tug in his stomach, a pull at his heart. If he didn't have her soon, lust was going to get the better of him. The thought troubled him.

  "Hey, Jared!” she shouted when she reached the house. “Come down here!"

  Waving his agreement, he climbed down from the roof.

  "Is everything okay?” he asked, as he jumped from the third rung of the ladder to the ground.

  "Everything's great,” she said, a broad smile covered her face. “Hop on."

  Jared took off his carpenter's belt and laid it on the front porch. Then, straddling the bike, he climbed on behind Angie.

  She was busily knotting her hair into a makeshift bun with a scrunchie. “Don't want it flapping in your face,” she laughed.

  How thoughtful. “Are you going to tell me what's wrong? And why aren't you wearing a helmet?"

  "There's nothing wrong, silly. Why do you always think something's wrong? And I couldn't find the helmet.” Turning the switch, she knocked the kickstand horizontal. “Alan's at the house. He wants to see us."

  "Next time, wear a helmet."

  "Okay.” Angie took off so fast that Jared had to grab her waist to keep from falling off.

  "Slow down, woman,” he shouted over the engine, leaning into her.

  The rush of tearing headlong into the wind sparked a fire in Jared's soul. The feeling of freedom was too overwhelming. Impulsively, he pulled off Angie's scrunchie, loosening her black hair. It flew all around him, filling him with exhilaration.

  When they reached the main house, Angie killed the engine just as Burt came out of the front door, carrying a can of soda. “Thanks, for letting me borrow the bike, Burt,” she said, as they climbed off the bike. “Can I leave it here? Alan needs to see us inside."

  "Sure thing, Angie baby,” he said, taking a drink.

  Angie stopped in her tracks. “What did you say?"

  "Sure thing. I'll move it in a few minutes.” Burt's blue eyes twinkled. “Go on now."

  Grabbing her scrunchie from Jared, Angie bolted up the stairs, pulling her hair back at the same time.

  "What's going on, Burt?” Jared asked, staring after Angie.

  "Beats me. Harland got here about a half hour ago. Bit after that, Angie ran out to the stables, whooping and hollering, jumped on my bike and took off. Now, here you are."

  "Hmm.” Frowning, Jared shoved his hands in his pockets, still staring at the house. “I didn't even know she could ride a motorcycle."

  "There's probably a lot you don't know about her. You best get on inside now, Boss, and find out what all the fuss is about,” Burt said, straddling the bike.

  "Guess I better,” Jared muttered, climbing the steps.

  Inside, he found Alan and Angie sitting in the living room.

  "Good afternoon, Alan."

  "Afternoon, Jared. Have a seat. I have some great news."

  "Do you?” said Jared, sitting down on the arm of the sofa farthest away from Alan. “What is it?"

  "I've already told Angie,” Alan answered. “That journal she found? It's the genuine article—written by Theodore Slayton himself."

  "Really?” So she gave the journal to Alan.

  "And the section written by Mary is also authentic. There was a legal issue involving Mary and an incident on a neighbor's property, and she gave a written testimony. I had a handwriting analyst compare the testimony to her journal entry. It matched."

  Damn! This was too close for comfort. What had Mary said in that journal? “Meaning?"

  "Meaning, we have written documentation that someone saw the ghost of Theodore Slayton in this house shortly after he died."

  "You're kidding!” A surge of relief coursed through Jared, and he slid down into the love seat's cushion. “That's what she wrote?"

  "It's amazing that those documents were still on file,” Angie put in, leaning back in her chair.

  "Well, the historian had to do some digging to find the paperwork,” Alan said.
“They also ran analyses on the journal, testing the paper and leather, the binding, those sorts of things, before the determination was made."

  "That's wonderful, Alan.” Angie said, “I'm so happy for the Inn."

  Jared got up and walked over to the fireplace, where he put one hand on the mantel and leaned forward to stare distractedly at the hearth. His mind was racing. What else did Mary say? If Angie and Alan learn too much, it could ruin my plan.

  "This will benefit all of us,” Alan was saying calmly. “I have some more good news, Jared. Can you handle all of this in one day?"

  Angie laughed. “Of course he can. Lay it on us, Alan."

  "I've already booked all the Inn's bedrooms from September first through the second week in January. And Clyde Davis's house is booked, too, for the weekend of the grand opening, and from Halloween through Christmas. I'm still working on September."

  Jared still stared into the fireplace. How can I get my hands on that journal?

  "Isn't that right, Jared?"

  "Hmm?” he mumbled, turning toward the voice that had interrupted his thoughts. “I'm sorry, what did you say?"

  "I said it's good that we're a week ahead of schedule,” Angie replied tartly. “Right, Jared?"

  "Yeah, that's right.” His tone was cool, and he turned back again to the fireplace, but not before he saw Angie wink at Alan. Something is wrong with this picture.

  "I have one more piece of good news, and then I'll let you get back to work,” Alan told them.

  "There's more?” asked Angie, pleased.

  "Uh-huh.” Alan smiled. “Do you remember Kimmie Turner, Angie?"

  "Yes, of course."

  "Well, it seems she's marrying the Wiles boy."

  "Really? Which one? Randall or Barry?"

  "Barry."

  "I can't believe Kimmie's getting married!” she exclaimed. “Time really does fly. I still think of her as a freckle-faced teenager, I guess. It's been a long time since I've seen her."

  "Well, I haven't got to the best part yet,” Alan went on. “You know how Mrs. Turner has her nose into everything?” He chuckled. “Well, she heard about the renovation. Seems Kimmie wants an outside wedding, and her mother thinks holding the ceremony under the big sycamore tree would be just about perfect. She's getting married on Saturday, August eighteenth. Do you think we can have the place ready in time?"

  "It'll be ready, just you wait and see.” Angie beamed. “And if she wants me too, I can help Kimmie with some of the planning. Just for what we'll do here, of course. Mrs. Turner will love it since she's always pumping me for information."

  "Great.” Alan turned to Jared. “Jared, what do you think? Will your part of the project be finished by then?"

  Jared glanced between the two of them. “Yeah, sure."

  "Then I'll call Kimmie when I get back to the office and let her know the wedding can be held here.” Alan's gaze pierced Jared's. “Is everything okay, Jared? You seem distracted."

  "Oh, I'm fine.” Still looking at Alan's concerned face, he felt Angie's eyes on him. “I was just thinking about the work I still have to do.” I must be more careful.

  Reclaiming the love seat, Jared shook off his darker feelings and smiled brightly. “I'm sorry. I got lost in my thoughts for a moment. Let's continue, please."

  Alan took a notepad out of his briefcase. “I need to know, time wise, where each of you are in your part of the renovation. There are only three weeks until Kimmie's wedding. We have to make this as perfect as we can. It'll help the business if we set a high standard now."

  "Ladies first.” Nodding his head toward the only female in the room, Jared leaned back in the love seat and smiled at her.

  "I'm ahead of schedule,” Angie retorted, squinching her nose at him rebelliously. “The upstairs is complete and I have a crew coming in next week to refinish the wood floors. Then I need to paint and put up wallpaper in the office. I'm doing the office last because we're still using it, but I'm moving it to a smaller room."

  "Where are you putting it?” said Jared.

  "In that closet beside the library.” Angie held her palms six inches apart and giggled.

  Just looking at the happy glow on her face made him feel warm, inside and out.

  "I'm kidding, Jared. The room's bigger than a closet. The tricky part was wiring it for phones and Internet access but the telephone company pulled it off.” She addressed Alan again, “There's one more shipment coming in but I should be completely finished in two weeks. The last week, I'll do the Davis house and help Kimmie with her wedding."

  Alan stopped taking notes to flip the page. “What about you, Jared?"

  "We found some sections of termite infested wood in the structure of the main house and a lot more in Clyde Davis's house,” Jared said. “We replaced the wood, had both houses treated and contracted with a pest control company for monthly services. The main house is complete, and about ten days are left on Clyde's house. The remaining time will be used to fix up the sites of interest along the riding trail."

  "The additional horses are due for delivery on Saturday the eighteenth,” Jared told them, “but I'll move that to Friday morning so it doesn't interfere with the wedding."

  "Very good,” Alan said, closing his notebook. “I have an antique hay baler at my place, Jared. If you want to use it on the trail, just let me know."

  "I will,” agreed Jared.

  "I want both of you to know how pleased I am with the work and commitment you've put into this project. You two have done a great job.” Alan stood up.

  "Thanks, Alan.” Angie got up to hug the older man.

  "Thank you, Alan.” Jared shook his hand. “And now I've got to get back to work. I'll call you about the hay baler. Oh, and I'd like to see that journal sometime soon."

  "Well, there's not much in it, you know.” Alan broke the handshake, and put both hands in his pockets. “I still haven't received the actual journal back. We can talk about it when I get it."

  "Great.” Without waiting for a reply, Jared left the house.

  Damn it! If he couldn't read the journal, it might mess up his plans. He had to act fast before they dug too deep. But what can I do?

  "You want me to saddle Thunder, Boss?” Burt yelled from the workbench.

  "No, I'll walk,” Jared shouted back. Glancing toward the house he saw Angie and Alan framed by the window, watching him.

  Burt took off his cap and ran a red bandanna across his face. “You sure, Boss?"

  "Yep,” snapped Jared.

  Shrugging his shoulders, Burt picked up the planer and went back to work on a board.

  Inside the house, Angie turned away from the window. “Did you notice how he reacted when we talked about the journal?” she asked Alan.

  "Yes, he seemed a bit uneasy didn't he?"

  "Have you found out anything about the descendants of Sally or Mary?"

  "The genealogist should have the reports back soon. I'll call you for a meeting when they arrive."

  "Do you think Jared's related to them?"

  "I don't know. Something is going on with him."

  "The sooner we find out what Jared Maxwell's hiding, the better,” Angie said, taking his arm. “Come on. Let me give you the grand tour."

  * * * *

  Angie stood in the ballroom alone, tilting her head back for a better view of the domed ceiling. She found it enchanting. A brilliant idea if she did say so herself.

  A moon glowed against a night sky. Stars twinkled down upon her. Thanks to an awesome electrician and modern technology, this man-made sky made you want to dance.

  She let her gaze trail down to the walls. The artist had created three-dimensional gardens on them that looked real. The lilac blossoms of wisteria hung like grapes from white archways. Illuminated by the full moon above, masses of multicolored flowers lined pathways of stone. A person could lose themselves in the atmosphere of the room. It was relaxing and oh so romantic.

  Angie felt more relaxed too. She hadn't had t
he Jared nightmare in at least two weeks. It seemed to have gone away, even though nothing bad had happened in real life. She almost couldn't believe it. This had never happened with one of her observer dreams before. But this time ... She breathed in deeply, slowly, and then released the breath. Maybe this time was different.

  Spreading her arms wide, she twirled around the floor. She hadn't felt this free in seven months. This is wonderful, she thought in delight.

  "Nice dance."

  Angie jerked to a standstill then turned toward the voice.

  Jared lounged against the doorjamb.

  How long has he been standing there watching me?

  Her pulse quickened, looking at him. He'd torn the sleeves and collar from his t-shirt. The neckline was ripped in the shape of a Vee. His hair was damp and a sheen of sweat covered his body.

  "Why do you always sneak up on me?” she asked.

  She looked around the floor for her briefcase, determined to leave before Jared ruined the happy feelings of the last few minutes, the first taste of freedom she'd had in ages.

  Locating it, she retrieved both the case and some file folders scattered on the floor.

  "Going somewhere?” Jared asked, fixing her with an intense gaze.

  "Yes.” Damn! His eyes always seemed to pierce right through her, making her feel so uncomfortable under his scrutiny.

  "But you looked so beautiful twirling around like a ballerina.” A Cheshire cat grin lifted the corners of his mouth. “Can you do it again?"

  "Not a chance. I told you that I don't like it when you sneak up on me.” Angie tried to pass by him but he shifted his stance, effectively blocking her.

  "Move out of the way, please."

  "What if I don't want to?” he answered smugly. His eyes glinted as his gaze continued to bore into her. His eyes held the same darkness as they had in her dream. She shuddered at the memory, even though her anger flared at his refusal. “Move over, Jared."

  "Password."

  What? She stared at him in wide-eyed disbelief. How can he look at me so darkly, and then make a joke?

  "Jared. I have work to do. You're in my way. Now move!"

  A deep rumble started low in his chest, moved through him until he exploded in a full-blown, boisterous laugh.