How real damned cozy. She headed toward the front of the store, shoulders straight. No matter what they found out, Jenna was going to keep loving Paul for what he was to her. Mitch followed her, trying to squash the awful jealousy with a paraphrase of words he’d heard in church often enough: Thou shalt not covet thy twin’s wife. Or her devotion.
Jenna watched Mitch standing by the grill from the safe distance of the kitchen. He was wearing jeans and a white T-shirt, looking as delicious as those ribs smelled. She squeezed her eyes shut at the thought and forced herself to go upstairs and shower. She’d let Mitch take his shower first and gave the water heater enough time to warm the water again.
To her chagrin, she found herself putting on a pretty sundress (with a high neckline), then standing in front of the mirror brushing her hair just so, applying a little color to the mouth Mitch had said was born to smile. To the mouth he’d brought to life with his kisses. She stared at her image and sighed. What was wrong with her?
Paul had often told her how pretty she was, but with Mitch … well, she could see those words in his eyes, could feel his appreciation. Surely Paul had meant what he’d said. But he’d only complimented her when the occasion called for it, like the times she’d prettied herself up for dinner. He never glanced over at her during a quiet moment when she looked plain and told her that he saw beauty.
“This is crazy.” She rubbed off the lip color with her palm and changed into a long T-shirt and leggings, turmoil twisting in her stomach. The turmoil turned to a snaking warmth that curled through her feminine regions. She wanted more of that kiss, and she wanted more than that kiss.
She pulled up her shirt and studied the scar that ran from the top of her collar bone to just below her ribs. The doctor had said it would fade over time, but she hadn’t worried. She had been sure no one would see it but herself. What would Mitch think of it?
“No one’s going to see it,” she whispered. “Especially not him.”
On the way downstairs, she found herself pausing outside the nursery door, as she often did. Something was different. She took inventory. Everything was still there. Then what?
It was her. She didn’t feel the anguish of loss anymore. Was it because Mitch was offering her the hope of having a baby now? She felt more turmoil at the thought of going through with it. Having a baby meant keeping in touch with Mitch, letting him get involved with their baby’s life. Their baby?
No, she couldn’t do it. When his quest for the truth was sated, she needed to cut ties. Once he was out of her life, she would forget all about him and go on. For the first time, she felt she could go on. Something was stronger inside her, as though she had faced the devil and walked away unscathed.
Without the bargain, you can stop this search into Paul’s past, a familiar voice said inside her. The voice she’d lived with all her life, she realized. Run, coward, run!
She wasn’t going to hide from the truth anymore. Paul wasn’t a murderer, even if he was a liar. She was going to follow this through, because she knew he wouldn’t allow her to let it go. Nor would Mitch. She was strong; she would find the truth and put it behind her and still keep her cherished memories. The truth wouldn’t give her the strength to carry on. Only her memories would.
“Dinner’s ready!” Mitch called from below.
How had he insinuated himself into her life and home so easily?
Just as she reached the bottom of the stairs, she caught a glimpse of something on the front porch. Jenna narrowed her eyes. Gray, curly hair. Atop a tiny woman who leaned against the front window and peered in.
Millie.
Jenna pulled the front door open, startling the woman. “Millie, what are you doing?”
The lady was acting like a geriatric spy, peering behind Jenna, whispering, “Is he around?”
“Who, Mitch?”
She nodded emphatically, drawing Jenna out to the porch and closing the door behind her. “The spirit, whatever it is that you call him.”
Jenna tried not to laugh. “He’s not a spirit, Millie, but I apprec —”
Millie grabbed hold of her hand. “It’s worse than I thought, Jenna. It might be that …” She glanced around again and whispered, “I think Paul’s come back to claim his heart. Maybe he can’t rest until his body parts are buried with him. It happened, you know. Man went around killing everyone who got his organs so he could rest in peace.”
“Oh, Millie, I think you’ve taken your love of the X-Files a little too seriously.”
“Don’t laugh my words off. I know Paul wanted you to have his heart, but maybe he changed his mind. Maybe a person can’t go on without his body parts intact. We don’t know, Jenna. We don’t know how it works. But you’ve got to listen to me.”
Jenna was sure she was going to have some lovely dreams that night. But she decided to humor Millie, if just to get her on her way. “Who should I call?” It was all she could do not to utter, “The Ghostbusters?”
“Here’s what you got to do.” Millie looked around again. “He’s got you under his spell. It’s understandable, you and Paul being so close and all. You have to break the spell.”
That was the most sensible advice yet. “How?”
Millie shoved a brown paper bag at her. “There’s a candle in there. The next time … he appears, I want you to burn this candle, and say the following verse three times: As I watch this candle burn, your peace my heart will yearn; And when the flame dies down, our souls will no longer be bound. Go on. Repeat it.”
Jenna did.
“When you’re finished saying it, extinguish the flame with your breath. Don’t let him blow it out.” Millie squeezed her hand. “Good luck.” And then she was off, scurrying down the walkway and across the street. Jenna wasn’t sure whether to laugh or shake her head. She did both as she headed back into the house.
When she walked into the kitchen, she was startled to find the table set, a pile of beef ribs smoking on the table, drinks, and her bottles of pills all lined up in front of her plate. He was standing next to the table setting the last bottle in place.
Mitch said nothing, holding her chair out and waiting for her to sit down. She pushed herself forward, catching that lemony, spicy cologne he wore.
He sat down across from her. “What’s that?” he asked, nodding toward the crinkled bag she held in her hand.
“Mm. Well, it’s a candle.”
“Candle?”
“To make you, er, go away.” She pulled the peach candle from the glass holder and inserted the purple one. Then she lit it and repeated the vow, or at least as much as she could remember. Particularly, though, about their souls not being bound anymore. Mitch simply watched her, concentrating especially on her mouth as she pursed and blew out the candle. “There.” Then she looked up at him, tilting her head. “It didn’t work. You’re still here. Maybe I said it wrong.” At his perplexed look, she added, “Millie stopped by a few minutes ago.”
“Ah, that explains it.”
“She thinks you’re Paul’s ghost, here to either comfort me or take my heart back. Remember, she has a cousin who fixed meals for her husband’s ghost for fifteen years.” She didn’t mention the spell she was supposed to be under.
“Is that right? Well, did he fix meals for her, too?” He gestured toward the spread in front of them.
“Er, no.”
“And I didn’t disappear when you blew the candle out. That only means one thing?”
“You’re not a ghost?” she ventured.
“That lady’s elevator does not go all the way to the top floor. Can we eat now, or are you going to start spraying me with holy water?”
Jenna lifted an eyebrow at him. “Don’t tempt me.” She reached for the smaller rack of ribs on the platter. He buttered his corn and covered it in salt and pepper. She watched those fingers that so easily reached out and touched her, then forced her attention to the pills she had to take. Mitch had touched each of these bottles, had placed them here for her. It was an
odd gesture, one she didn’t know how to interpret. No matter, it made her feel strange anyway, both giddy and uncertain and … touched. He didn’t watch her as she took all those pills, instead busying himself with tearing the meat off the bone with his teeth.
Stop watching him, Jenna! She started working on the food in front of her. Using her fork and knife, she cut the meat away from the bone. The first bite was heaven. She was sure she hadn’t eaten anything this good in years.
He grabbed the loaf of crusty bread and ripped off a piece of it, then tossed it to her. Surprised, she barely caught it.
“This is finger food, Jenna. The best way to enjoy it is to dig in with all your senses. Just pick it up and tear into it like the cavemen used to do.” He demonstrated, making pleasurable noises that vibrated in her stomach.
“But it’s messy to eat it that way.”
“Your point?”
“It doesn’t feel right to eat that way in front of … others.”
“It’s not like we’re getting naked.” He peeled a strip of meat off the bone by moving his whole head. “Did you eat with your fingers in front of Paul?”
“I … er, I don’t know.” She honestly couldn’t remember ever eating anything like this with him.
“Try it.”
She set down the hunk of bread and pulled one of the ribs free from the rest. As daintily as possible, she took a bite. Warm grease coated her lips, and she wiped her mouth with a napkin.
He shook his head. “You’ve got the heart of a Texan, remember? We love our meat. Just imagine you’ve been out riding horses all day, working up a sweat, and now you’re eating your first big meal of the day. You’re starving, tired and hot. All you want is to dig in. You don’t care how it looks because no one else cares.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Because you don’t look like you’re really enjoying it. Eating satisfies one of your base needs, and you ought to be getting satisfaction from it. No wonder you’re so thin.” He leaned closer. “Eat like you haven’t had anything for years.”
Her body responded to his words, but food wasn’t the base need it was craving. She picked up the rib and sank her teeth into the meat, tearing a piece away like Mitch had done. He looked pleased, only then taking up his own rib again.
His lips were slick with grease, wet and soft-looking. When he reached for his corn cob, she tossed her rib bone in the extra bowl and did the same. She didn’t reach for her knife to cut the kernels off, instead slathering them with butter and sprinkling on salt. Peppered butter ran down between Mitch’s fingers, and she soon felt the warm liquid sliding down hers.
The succulent kernels burst in her mouth as her teeth punctured them. Eating could be an experience, she realized, taking in the feel of the nubs against her lips, the smell of butter and the smoky ribs, the taste of the salt on her tongue.
He dropped the naked cob into the bowl and picked up the loaf of bread, breaking off a piece and dipping it into the puddle of butter and pepper the corn had left behind. The butter ran down his freshly shaved chin. She wanted to reach over and run her finger down the indent of his chin, wipe away the butter and lick it off her finger.
She found her finger running along her own buttery chin, found her tongue licking it off. He was watching her, a feral glaze in his brown eyes as he ripped away another piece of bread. She watched his mouth move, imagining how their lips would slide against each other if she kissed him now.
The usual blue serenity she felt while eating in this kitchen was replaced by red, a hot red that flowed through her body and drugged her senses. Her movements were slow, heavy; Her eyes felt full and liquid as she put the cob in the bowl and cut another rib from her rack.
Who knew eating could be so sensual? Who knew she could feel so sensual? What this man was doing to her she couldn’t explain, and at the moment, didn’t want to. Their eyes rarely left each other. Their movements picked up in speed. She felt an intense awareness of her body, where warmth pooled, where their legs barely touched beneath the table. She felt alive, more alive than she’d ever felt in her life, as though she were being reborn, coming into the world for the first time.
He threw a stripped rib bone into the bowl and sat back in his chair, head tilted. “The way you look at me, Jenna … do you see him? You still want him, don’t you? Even after all he’s done.”
Jenna blinked, trying to push away the sensual haze around her. She hadn’t been thinking of Paul, hadn’t been wanting Paul when she’d been looking at Mitch. What had she been telling him with her eyes as she’d stared at him all hungry and hot? “Yes,” she answered to all of Mitch’s questions, guilt replacing those crazy things she’d been feeling moments before.
Mitch winced at the word, as though she’d slapped him. His eyes burned into hers. “I’m not Paul. I’m nothing like him.”
“I know that.” Her eyes were locked to his, unable to look away.
He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, making her feel even guiltier by reminding her of her thoughts about kissing that mouth.
“If you keep lookin’ at me like that, I’m gonna rip your clothes off and love you ’til you have no doubt which Elliot I am. And I’m gonna do it right here in the kitchen.”
Her insides jumped at the words soaked in a rich Southern accent. She should be shocked at his nerve to say something like that to her. She could see him peeling off her T-shirt, stripping her out of her leggings, laying her down on the kitchen floor and — she covered her face. It wasn’t Paul she was seeing; it was Mitch. She was betraying Paul with his own twin.
She dropped her hands and steeled herself. “You’re the one who came barging into my life and home, taking over like you live here …” She swallowed, pushing herself on. “Kissing me, telling me to get hot and bothered by eating —” She shook her head, thrashing herself for nearly admitting she had been hot and bothered. “I lost my husband only nine months ago, and I think you’re taking advantage of that, especially the fact that you look like him. Maybe you think you have some point to make, that you can kiss me or … even more. Is that your way of getting even with Paul? Trying to seduce me? No matter what you say about Paul, I’ll never stop loving him. And no matter what you try to do to me, you’ll never make me forget him. Don’t use me for some vendetta.”
He stared out the window, eyes narrowed. Finally he looked at her, and his voice was low when he spoke. “I’m here for one reason only, and that’s to find out if my brother killed our parents.” He came to his feet, and before she could stand too, he boxed her in by putting one hand on the back of her chair and the other on the table in front of her. He lowered his face to hers. How she craved his kiss, and how she hated him for making her want one.
His mouth was only a half-inch from hers, voice low and grainy when he said, “The reason I want you has nothing to do with Paul.” His eyes took her in, and she saw that he also hated himself for the way he felt. “It has nothing to do with it being wrong. It only has to do with you and me, and none of that makes it right. I’m a shit for feeling this way, but I’ll tell you this: I ain’t trying to take his place. So don’t look at me and think about him, because I will make that fire in your eyes burn for me.”
He tilted her chin up and slid his thumb over the slickness of her lower lip. “Maybe it’d be better if you hated me. It’d be better for both of us if the only thing I see in your eyes when you look at me is hate. Just don’t forget that hate and love are the strongest emotions; sometimes it’s easy to confuse ’em.”
He stood and grabbed the bottle of beer he hadn’t yet touched. “I’ll meet you in the office.” And then he walked out.
She wanted to believe that he wanted her only for revenge, but she could see in his eyes that he spoke the truth: he wanted her, period. That revelation shivered up her spine, made her fingers tighten on the edge of the table. No, he only believed he wanted her. It was this connection between them, that was all.
Even as he told her to hate
him, he touched her and made her want him instead. Love and hate … they were easy to confuse. They twined inside her, making her love and hate Paul, and … what about Mitch? She wanted to hate him, and she couldn’t let herself love him.
Slowly she pushed herself up from the table and cleared away the dishes. Afterward she paused in the doorway of the kitchen, trying to conjure up the hate she needed. Her gaze locked on a picture of her and Paul on their honeymoon in Miami. That’s where the anger came from, making her feel cold as stone.
You’ve done this to me. You brought your twin into my life, and now I’m so confused I don’t know what I feel. I’m not going to let you hurt me anymore by finding out you’re a murderer. Or that you were seeing this Becky White. And I’m going to take all this anger I feel for you and aim it at your brother, because I don’t want to feel guilty about him anymore.
And then she heard Paul’s voice inside her. Let your anger go. Let it go, Jenna, and live.
She frowned. I can’t. It’s all I have, and if I let it go, what will be left?
For the next two hours, Jenna and Mitch went through piles of papers in the office. She’d dragged down boxes from the attic, representing all the years of her marriage, now reduced to paper.
She sat at one end of the desk, and Mitch sat at the other. His hair fell down over his forehead as he leaned over a file. He looked wholly consumed by his task, studiously keeping his gaze from meeting hers. That was easy earlier on when a stack of folders in the center of the desk separated them; except for the one time they’d both reached for the same folder. Now the stack was low enough for her to see him try to blow the lock of hair out of his face and toss the folder on the floor.
Mitch had shut himself off, as though their earlier conversation had never happened. She found herself replaying his words in her mind just to make sure they had been spoken. Let them go, Jenna. He obviously has. But that bothered her, and she found herself wanting to discuss it again. Things were so much easier with Paul. He was always even, always just … there. She’d seen Mitch suspicious, angry, passionate, wolfish, and tender.
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