“Is there anyone here?” She walked the perimeter of the room juggling the voice recorder and flashlight in one hand while taking arbitrary pictures with the other. She was never a good juggler, but since the vandalism in the master bedroom, Ryan had closed and chained the hatch. The only light came from her flashlight.
“What’s your name? Can you show yourself?”
This is ridiculous. There’s nothing here.
The air was cool, not icy, and she certainly didn’t sense another presence.
No, wait. She did feel another presence. Something that made her heartbeat quicken and her lady parts tingle. Something that brought with it that wonderful woodsy scent that smelled like—
“What are you doing down here?”
Ryan.
Emma had to do a fancy little dance and rather impressive juggling act—and she’d thought she couldn’t juggle—to avoid dropping all the items in her hands. Her heart accelerated even more, but she knew it had nothing to do with Ryan’s sudden appearance.
Surreptitiously, she hid the gadgets behind her back.
“Well?” he asked expectantly.
“I…uh, I was feeling much better so I thought I’d get some work done.”
Ryan crossed his arms in a suspicious gesture. He looked so strong and dangerous. God, he was sexy.
“What do you have to do down here? There are no fireplaces or heating systems, nor is the coal bin in any real need of major—what are you hiding behind your back?”
Thinking quickly, Emma held up the camera, hoping the small recorder was invisible in her palm. “I was taking pictures. For my company’s website, so people can see what a real nineteenth century Brooklyn brownstone looks like. I asked Mrs. Morris, and she said it was okay.”
Ryan’s stance didn’t relax a bit. “You were taking pictures?”
“Yes.”
“In the dark?”
“Well, I—” Emma gasped when he clutched the wrist that had the camera cord wrapped around it. With his eyes locked on hers, he pulled her toward him. Breathing was impossible as he inched her closer to his rock-hard body. His impressive height dwarfed her, making her feel small and vulnerable and very, very feminine.
Please kiss me. I so want to feel those incredible lips against mine.
Instead of kissing her, the bastard, Ryan turned her hand over and took the recorder from it. He didn’t say a word. He simply held up the damning evidence, his eyebrows raised, waiting for a response.
Emma’s shoulders slumped and she swallowed her pride. “Okay, okay, I was doing a little bit of ghost hunting.”
“With a digital camera and a voice recorder?”
“Yes.” She raised her chin, daring him to belittle her.
Ryan studied the small device, turning it over as if to reflect the thoughts he turned over in his mind. “Can I help?”
Emma couldn’t have been more shocked than if he’d declared he’d been born a woman. “What, you—you want to help me?”
“Yeah, sure, why not?”
“It doesn’t seem like something you’d waste your time on.”
He gripped the recorder. “Look, there’s something going on in this house. If there’s anything here that could harm Betsy Morris in any way, I want to know about it.” He stared, his eyes boring into her. “So, can I be your ghost-hunting partner?”
Oh, thank God. She so didn’t want to do this alone. She swore it had nothing to do with the electricity emanating from him, pulling her in like opposite sides of a magnet. “Yes, please, I’d really like the company, and a witness to the fact that I’m not crazy.”
With a hesitant hand, Ryan reached out and stroked her temple. “How’s your head?”
Instinctively, she reached to brush his hand away, but instead she dropped her arm to her side. “It’s perfect. Thank you so much for what you did.”
His hand didn’t move, but his thumb brushed over her skin. His lips parted, eyes lowered. The air grew heavy with the tension that seemed to follow them everywhere, waiting for an opportunity to make itself known.
Suddenly, he jerked back and gasped for air.
“Ryan!” she called in alarm. “What’s wrong?”
Cold seeped into her bones and prickles erupted over the skin on her neck. Ryan heaved long deep breaths, like puffs of smoke in the air.
“I don’t know.” His voice was a bit frazzled. “Something pushed against my chest.” Stretching out his arm with the recorder in his hand, Ryan asked, “Who’s here?”
She didn’t hear anything, but from what Sheila said, she wasn’t supposed to. Electronic voice phenomena, or EVPs, could be heard only over an electronic device. What she’d heard yesterday was a disembodied voice.
The only sound came from the clicking of her digital camera.
“What’s your name?” Emma asked.
Ryan scanned the room. Still they heard nothing.
The smell of musk attacked her, making her gag.
Emma waved the flashlight from side to side. “Show yourself.”
Ryan stood beside her and gripped her hand as they waited for something to manifest. Her nervousness was apparent from her trembling hands and heavy breathing.
“Why do you hate me?” She blurted out the question, surprising even herself.
Ryan snapped his head around to look at her. “Why would it hate you?”
Emma shook her head. “I don’t know. The question just popped out.”
The musk dissipated, and the room grew warmer.
Quiet.
“Well, that was interesting.” Ryan handed the recorder back to her.
She clenched it tightly. “Just so we’re clear. You smelled it too?”
“The musky smell? Yeah, I did, and it got really cold. Other than that…” He shrugged, seeming a bit disappointed.
They made their way out of the cellar and up the stairs.
“I wish we’d seen something,” he said.
“You mean like an actual ghost?”
“It certainly would’ve made me less of a skeptic.”
Emma paused at the kitchen door. “If ghosts showed themselves on demand, there would be a slew of pictures of them, and their existence would no longer be in question.”
“Or maybe there’s no such thing.”
She twisted her lips in annoyance. “Well, all I know is whatever I felt down there didn’t give me warm fuzzies.”
“Warm fuzzies?” His eyebrows shot up.
She smiled, thinking of her daughter. “It’s a term Nicole and I use to describe certain feelings.”
“Really? Like what?”
Surprised at the personal direction the conversation had taken, she reflected before answering. “Well, like holding a puppy. Or waking up on Christmas Eve after Santa has visited.”
Ryan stepped closer. “Or the feeling you get right before you kiss a beautiful woman for the first time?”
Heat crawled up into her face. “I don’t know. I’ve never kissed a beautiful woman.”
Much to her dismay, Ryan stepped back. If only she had some duct tape handy…so she could slap it over her big mouth.
“So you’re saying you’ve kissed an ugly woman?”
Her answer was to glare at him.
Ryan grinned. “You’re no fun.”
Oh, she could be fun. More fun than he could handle. Emma blamed the thoughts in her head for the words she blurted out. “Would you like to come over for dinner tonight? I think I have something you’d be interested in seeing.”
Ryan’s eyes lowered to her chest for a split second before raising them. His cheeks grew pink when he realized she’d noticed his less-than-appropriate glance.
She burst out laughing. “Knock it off! It has to do with our investigation.”
Stroking his chin, Ryan had a look of uncertainty on his face. “Yeah, sure. What time should I be there?”
“Seven, okay?”
Ryan nodded, looking as if he’d just made a deal that would change the rest of hi
s life. “Seven’s fine.”
Chapter Eight
“TAG IS COMING over again?” Nicole stuck her lower lip out so far Emma had to bite hers not to laugh. “He was just here yesterday.”
She shook her head as she set the table for three. “No, it’s a man from the job site I’m working on. He’s coming over to help me with some work.”
Nicole narrowed her eyes. “What kind of work?”
Emma paused, deciding how to answer. She didn’t want to lie to her child, but she certainly didn’t want her daughter believing in ghosts. She’d never sleep alone again.
“Research on the house we’re renovating. It’s important to know about the building so we can do a good job restoring it.”
“What’s his name?”
“Mr. Atkinson.”
Nicole smiled a smile much too knowing for a child her age. “He must be your boss or something.”
“Why do you say that?” Adjusting the flatware next to Ryan’s place setting, she fought a grin.
“Because you said Mr. Atkinson. You didn’t do that with Tag.” She ended her sentence with scorn in her voice.
Emma cringed. Damn, this kid was smart. “He’s not my boss, exactly. He’s a client.”
“Oh! I better be good then, huh?”
Yanking her daughter into a hug, she gave her a noogie. “Best behavior, young lady.”
Nicole laughed. “Okay, okay! I promise I’ll be good, but I won’t promise I’ll talk to him.”
Emma figured after the Tag debacle that was the most she could ask for.
Ryan arrived twenty minutes before seven looking good enough to eat, much to Emma’s chagrin. She should’ve realized he’d do something to annoy her, like showing up early so she wouldn’t have time to primp herself.
“You’re a little early.” She led him into the living room, trying very hard not to have an accusatory tone. “Dinner isn’t quite ready yet.”
“Hey, no worries, it was an impromptu invitation anyway. I can help if you want.”
Just the idea of having Ryan hovering over her while she tried to cook made her tremble. “I’ve got it covered, but you can sit in the kitchen while I finish up if you like.”
“Sounds great.”
Nicole sat at the table, sneaking an olive from the relish tray, when they walked in. Trying to make this seem like less of an occasion, Emma had opted to eat in the kitchen. Since she and Nicole often ate there themselves, she hoped it would help her daughter relax at the idea of having another guest.
“Nicole, this is Mr. Atkinson.”
Her daughter got up from her seat and, after wiping olive juice on the leg of her jeans, held out her hand to him. “Hello, Mr. Atkinson. It’s nice to meet you.”
Ryan squatted down on his haunches and took her hand as respectfully as if he were meeting a new client. “Miss Hopkins, it’s a pleasure to meet you too.”
He didn’t wipe his hand on his leg. Apparently, her daughter noticed.
She giggled. “You don’t have to call me Miss Hopkins. Call me Nicole.”
“In that case, I insist you call me Ryan.”
“It’s a deal.”
Emma stroked her daughter’s shiny brown hair. “Why don’t you two sit at the table while I slice the skirt steak?”
She smiled as Nicole and Ryan bantered about the kids at Nicole’s school. He impressed Emma with how relaxed he was with her daughter. Tag had been somewhat stiff. By the time Emma was ready to bring the serving dish with the steak to the table, their banter had subsided.
Then she turned around and nearly dropped the platter.
There, sitting at her kitchen table, Ryan was making funny faces at Nicole, who attempted to mimic him. The sense of déjà vu nearly buckled her knees.
What was with her lately? She’d never been prophetic. She didn’t even believe in that kind of stuff. So why was she having visions of things that were actually happening?
“Mommy, are you okay?”
She’d been so lost in her disbelief she hadn’t realized Ryan had stopped making faces and both pairs of eyes were on her.
She shook herself back to reality. “Oh, yes, I just forgot to cook the broccoli.”
“No you didn’t, it’s in the steamer.”
“I—oh.” Putting down the platter in the center of the table, she turned away before either of them noticed her dismay.
“You okay, Em? You seem a little distracted.”
Em? Had he just called her Em? She hated that name. So why did her stomach do flip-flops when she heard it fall from his lips?
“Yes, I’m fine.”
Oh God, this was so not a good idea. Why, why, why had she invited him over?
She gulped at the idea of being in her small office, Ryan leaning over her shoulder as she showed him the photos. She should have put the damn pictures onto her laptop and brought them to work. Better yet, you dolt-head, you could have printed them out, or emailed them, texted them, sent them by friggin’ carrier pigeon. So, why hadn’t she done any of that?
Stop asking questions I don’t want to answer, her heart scolded.
Maybe she could open the files and let him look at them while she cleaned the kitchen. Yes! That was a good idea. She’d just make sure she wasn’t stuck in the room with him.
Fat chance.
By the time they’d finished dinner, Ryan had not only helped clear so they could have dessert, but he’d also insisted on helping Nicole empty out the dishwasher to make room for the dirty dishes.
It was all too surreal.
Nicole never stopped talking, not even to take a breath. “Mommy has me leave the bowls on the counter because I can’t reach the tall cabinets to put them away. I keep asking her if I can use the stepstool but she says no I might hurt myself but I don’t think I will. I mean she goes up on roofs all day long and she never gets hurt how can I get hurt up on a stepstool?”
“I think I know a way we can fix that,” Ryan said mischievously.
“How?”
With a shriek of glee from her daughter, Ryan whisked Nicole into the air, holding her in front of the cabinets so she could put the bowls away.
“That was fun!” Nicole said when he put her down. “You need to come over every night and do that for me.”
Ryan chuckled. “Well, I can’t do that, but I promise I’ll do it whenever I’m here.”
“Awesome!”
Ryan caught Emma’s horrified look, and the delighted smile melted off his face. Nicole moved on to wiping down the table, but still he leaned close so she wouldn’t overhear. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have promised her that. I wasn’t thinking.”
“It’s okay.” Emma waved away his apology. “I think maybe it’s time I let her use the stepstool now, anyway.”
He grinned that grin that made her tummy flip-flop. “Can I tell her I talked you into it?”
Emma laughed despite her inner turmoil. “Why don’t we say we discussed it and I decided it was okay? I don’t want her taking advantage of you in order to get her way with me.”
“I didn’t think I had that much pull with her mother.” His grin disappeared, replaced with an expression that doubled the flip-flops.
Emma swallowed hard and attempted to make a joke out of the whole thing. “I’m not unreasonable. Besides, you hired me, so, technically, I have to do what you say.”
Throwing his head back, Ryan let out a loud whoop. “Oh please. You’ve been defying me from day one.”
His reaction stunned her. She’d never heard his laugh before. What a beautiful sound. “I meant, within reason.”
He stepped so close she could almost feel their electrons merging. “And what do you consider within reason?”
Breath was suddenly an absent friend. Okay, breathing is real easy. You do it all the time, so…why aren’t you doing it? “Coffee! Would you like some with the cake I made?”
Ryan didn’t seem fooled. “I know better than to say no.”
Moving away, he walked back to Ni
cole and swung her through the air before settling her in his lap. She sat on his knee, talking as if she were giving her Christmas list to Santa Claus.
When the coffee was ready and the cake served, the three of them had a lively conversation about what Nicole should be for Halloween.
“I want to be a angel, but Mom won’t let me.” Nicole pouted.
Ryan looked at Emma, horrified. “Why on earth wouldn’t you let this beautiful young lady be an angel? She sure looks like one.”
Nicole blushed and giggled behind her hand.
“My dear daughter neglected to mention she’s been an angel for the last three years. I want her to try something different, to use her imagination and come up with something really special.”
“But angels are special,” Nicole argued.
“Yes, they are, but there are other special things you can be.” Emma got up, clearing the dessert dishes. When Ryan rose to help, she put a hand on his shoulder. “No, you sit and finish your coffee.”
Ryan sat back, staring into space, as if trying to decide something. “I don’t think I’ve ever worn the same costume twice.”
Nicole’s eyes narrowed. “You still get dressed up for Halloween?”
“Of course I do. I can’t answer the door to trick-or-treaters looking like this.” He waved a hand down his torso. “I always come up with an idea and build it. One year I was a robot. Now that was an awesome costume, but not very easy to get around in. And a real pain in the…well, let’s just say it was hard to use the bathroom.”
With the dessert dishes done, Emma poured herself another cup of coffee and listened to their chitchat.
“You must think I’m boring then.” Nicole sank in her chair.
“Nah, you’re like my brother.” Ryan tweaked her nose. “For as long as I can remember, he was the same thing every year.”
Nicole sat up straighter. “Really? What was he?”
“A hobo. A quick and easy costume, and no one ever cared if you or your clothes got dirty.”
“Hmm.” Nicole cupped her chin in her hand. “Maybe I should be a hobo. But it’s not really a girl costume, is it?”
Emma took her seat, her beloved coffee in her hand. “At least it’s different.” She took a sip before turning to Ryan. “I didn’t know you had a brother. Is he a contractor too?”
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