by Karen Kelley
“Right after my father had his heart attack, a woman convinced me that she could help my family. I trusted her.”
Damn, he’d been so friggin’ young and stupid—not even out of college. But Celeste had been so beautiful with her flashing dark eyes and gypsy looks.
“She promised to help my family. She had connections, investors. Our money was running low. I trusted her by giving her all we had. The FBI was doing a sting operation or she’d have completely wiped me out, including the money my mother trusted me with.”
Celeste had laughed at him even as they were leading her away in handcuffs. He’d felt like an idiot. A feeling that he still remembered as if it were yesterday.
“But I’m not that other woman.”
“And let’s just say I’m not quite as gullible as I was back then.” He sauntered toward her, stopping only inches away. She didn’t step back. No, she wouldn’t show any sign of weakness. Cons were like that.
“I’m not her.” She raised her chin.
Damn, how could one woman be this tempting? Even knowing what she was, he wanted her.
He lowered his head, his lips tasting hers. He’d meant the kiss to punish, to bruise, to warn her away, but something happened. He deepened the kiss as her hands wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer.
She tasted like mint toothpaste: fresh, clean. But when she stroked her tongue against his, she tasted like heat. Hot, searing heat. She tasted like Selena.
And he wanted more.
But he couldn’t have her.
He ended the kiss, more shaken than he was willing to admit.
“Like I said, you’re good, but I won’t fall for your tricks... ” He let his gaze slide over her, his lip curling. “Or what you have to offer.”
She stomped her foot as he turned and left the attic. He should feel triumphant that he’d won, but for some strange reason he didn’t feel as though either one of them was a winner.
He went down the stairs to the hallway, walked past his room, not stopping until he stood on the front porch. Planting his hands on his hips, he drew in a deep breath.
There was rain in the air. The clouds were heavy, dark. The wind picking up, blowing leaves across the yard. A storm was brewing.
It suited his mood.
Something had happened in the attic. Whether her crazy family had rigged up something with mirrors or she’d drugged him or whatever, he knew damn well he hadn’t been possessed.
He snorted.
The idea was ridiculous.
Then why did he feel as if everything he knew and trusted, his belief structure, everything was shaken by this one incident?
No, there were no such things as ghosts. There couldn’t be. If there were, then everything he stood for was a lie. He would actually be the one feeding the public a load of bull, and Selena would be the innocent one.
Yeah, sure. There wasn’t a damn thing innocent about Selena. The woman had drawn him into her web. She wanted to devour him. He’d seen her sideways glances. How many other men had she chewed up and spit out?
Yeah, he knew the real Selena. When she had what she wanted, she’d discard him like yesterday’s trash.
“You look like you have the world’s problems on your shoulders.”
His head jerked up. Matilda. He let out his breath. He was getting too jumpy. Selena’s fault again.
“I was thinking.”
She glanced up. “Bad weather’s coming.” She looked at him. “The old hotel has made it through a lot, though. Not to worry that it’ll fall down around your ears. Might want to set some candles out in case you lose those fancy lights. Candles, you can depend on. Leastways, that’s what my Hiram tells me, and he’s pretty smart.”
“I’ll do that.” He smiled at her description of electricity. She’d probably lived through the depression as a kid. Tough times, but it made for a tough generation with strong values.
“Besides, there isn’t anything like snuggling with your girl during a storm. I remember when me and Hiram would sneak off and go sparkin’.” Her grin was mischievous, and there was a twinkle in her eyes. “I best be gettin’ back. I’ll want to make sure we have plenty of candles.”
He smiled as he watched her go around the corner of the house. She did have a way with words.
He would be the last person Selena would want to snuggle with, though. Not that he would trust her to get close to him. Hell, if she’d stooped low enough to slip something in his coffee this morning, what the hell would she attempt the next time?
Without really thinking, he reached up and ran a hand across his neck. A boom of thunder echoed. He jumped.
“Trent is an idiot,” Selena mumbled as she searched for bones behind another trunk. Nothing. She stood, swiping a stray curl behind her ear. The attic had gotten hotter as the day wore on.
Why couldn’t Trent admit what had happened? The ghosts had borrowed their bodies. He’d felt the same thing she had. Now he was angry with her again because something had happened that he didn’t understand.
She plopped down in a chair, coughing and waving away the cloud of dust that rose up around her. Dixie and Wesley were so going to pay for this.
Sure. What exactly could she do to hurt two people already dead? The worst had already happened.
Well, she could at least tell them how much they’d pissed her off. Just as soon as they appeared to her again.
Not that she could even be that mad. Right before the darkness had enveloped her, Selena had felt Dixie’s longing to be physically near Wesley. The deep, aching need to be wrapped in his arms again.
What would it be like to know you were so close to someone but couldn’t touch them? It would be like... like dreaming about making love all night, then waking up to find she was snuggling a pillow? Okay, maybe she did know a little of what they were feeling.
She came to her feet. There was nothing she could do about it now. Trent thought she was scamming him. She knew differently.
She had to find those bones. Maybe then, Dixie and Wesley would show themselves. Then Trent would have no choice except to believe her.
Methodically, she continued her search in the opposite corner. She didn’t stop again until she’d covered every inch of the attic.
Hours slipped by.
Nothing. Not one bone. She jumped when lightning split across the sky, illuminating the attic. A loud roar of thunder followed.
The thunder and lightning had increased since Trent had left. At first it had been only a low rumble, but it was so dark now in the attic that she wasn’t sure she would be able to see bones if she ran across them.
Dixie must have been wrong about the location, Selena thought as she tramped back down the stairs. Not that she’d actually said they would be there. Only that it would be a good place to start the search.
Had she wanted them to find the clothes? To make the transition easier when they borrowed their bodies? Probably. Ghosts could be really devious sometimes. She had a feeling Wesley and Dixie were no exception.
After she shut the door to the attic, her gaze wandered to Trent’s room. Was he in there? Maybe writing in that little black book of his. She wished he could just accept what had happened. It was only going to make it more difficult when the ghosts did appear.
She grabbed clean clothes and headed for the bathroom. By the time she’d finished bathing, the first pings of rain began to hit the windows. It was late and she was hungry. She hadn’t really thought about food while she was working.
Not that she’d really wanted anything. Not after Trent’s accusations. All afternoon she’d tried to tell herself not to let it bother her.
So what if he thought she was scamming him. What else was new? He’d come to the hotel because he thought she was ripping off the public. Why would he change his mind now?
Once she was in the kitchen, she slapped peanut butter on a slice of bread and folded it over.
Damn it, couldn’t he see who she really was? That was what was bothering he
r. He couldn’t see she wasn’t like that other woman. That bugged the hell out of her.
She crammed part of the sandwich into her mouth and chewed. Not easy with a PB sandwich. If she choked, he probably wouldn’t revive her.
Too bad they’d finished off the wine.
She opened a cabinet, and there was a bottle of her favorite wine. He’d replaced it. Now he’d really pissed her off. You didn’t share someone’s food and drink, accuse them of lying to people, then replace everything. It just wasn’t done. It was too... too thoughtful.
But she really needed the wine.
She poured a glass and downed half the contents.
Note to self: PB sandwich and wine do not go together. Blech!
Footsteps came toward the kitchen. Trent. She braced herself. He walked into the kitchen, but stopped as soon as he saw her.
“I didn’t know you were in here.” He started to turn around.
She squared her shoulders. “Don’t go on my account. It’s not my kitchen. You have as much right to be here as I do.” He acted as if he’d rather be anywhere than in the same room with her. Fine. It was no skin off her nose.
He barely hesitated before going to the cabinet and bringing down a glass. She picked up the wine and handed it to him. Technically, it was his bottle.
“Thanks.” He took it, started to pour a glass, but stopped at the last second. His face lost some of its color.
It took her a moment to realize what he was thinking. Must be all those dust bunnies she’d inhaled in the attic, but her psychic ability was really getting weak not to have realized sooner what he thought.
“I didn’t drug you if that’s what you’re wondering.” She grabbed the bottle from him and splashed some of the dark liquid into her glass, then swallowed a drink before handing it back to him. She raised an eyebrow. “There, are you satisfied?”
He poured the wine into his glass. “I didn’t think you’d drugged me,” he growled.
“Ha! Didn’t you? Wouldn’t that neatly explain everything away? Like the fact you felt Wesley possess your body?” She waved her hands around. “Do you think you were on a bad trip? LSD or something?” She sighed. “Sorry, but I’m on the council for public awareness to stop illegal drugs. It just wouldn’t look right if I went around giving narcotics to people who really piss me off.”
“Did I say you had?” His frown only deepened. “I told you I don’t believe in ghosts, and that little episode in the attic hasn’t changed my opinion.”
“So how have you explained it?” She boosted herself up on the counter, swinging her feet. “Please tell me. This should be good.”
He shrugged. “What’s there to explain? The clothes, the antiques, add a hot, stuffy attic. I got a little dizzy. Embarrassing, but it doesn’t mean I was possessed.” He took a drink, then lowered his glass as he ambled closer to her. “Unless you count that I was possessed by your beauty. That your eyes captured and held mine. That the heat from your lips sizzled all the way down to my toes. Is that what you want to hear?”
She could barely breathe as he set his glass down and eased his body between her legs. The nylon material of her shorts slid easily across the tiled surface of the counter as he brought her closer to him.
“There’s something about you,” he murmured as his gaze caught and held hers. He slid his hand behind her neck and pulled her toward him.
She should wrench away, slap his face... or something. He certainly had his nerve.
But his breath was hot on her face, and suddenly she couldn’t breathe. Her heart pounded in her ears as his lips drew closer to hers.
Run! her mind screamed.
In a minute, she told herself. In a minute, there would be plenty of time to stop. But first she had to taste the heat of his lips. As soon as she did, then she would tell him to go to hell.
Chapter 18
Trent called himself every kind of a fool, but damn it, he couldn’t stop himself from kissing her again, and she wasn’t pulling away. His lips met hers.
The first touch, the first whisper of her breath, her sigh against his lips, bathed him with desire. He ached for her. He wanted to see all of her, touch all of her, taste all of her.
He moved his hands to her shirt, unbuttoning each button, his hands brushing against the lace of her bra, then fanning the sides open.
He ended the kiss and leaned back, staring at the lacy pink cups of her bra. Only Selena could wear lacy pink and make it come off sexy as hell. He hardly noticed when she placed her hands on his chest.
“Trent, we can’t,” she said on a breathless whisper.
“Why?” He barely recognized the raspy words as coming from him. He lightly rubbed his thumbs over the thin swathe of material that covered her breasts. Her nipples immediately tightened into hard little nubs. He continued to outline them in a circular movement.
She moaned, her eyes closing as she bit down on her bottom lip. Then she seemed to rouse with valiant effort.
She met his gaze head on. “Stoppp... ”
“Are you sure?”
Silence.
“Stop what? This?” He flicked his fingers over her nipples. “Or this?” He lightly pinched them between his thumb and forefinger, rolling them back and forth.
She jumped. “Trent... please... ”
“That’s exactly what I’m trying to do... please you. Maybe you’ll like this better.” With one snap, he’d unhooked her bra and slid it, along with her shirt, down her arms so that she was bare to the waist. “Magnificent.”
He cupped her breasts. They fit perfectly into the palms of his hands, the aureoles dusky, the nipples not too small. Just the right size for him to roll one around on his tongue, pulling against it with his teeth.
“Do you still want me to stop?” He raised his head. “I will if you insist, but you have to tell me the truth.”
“This is so wrong.”
“But it feels so right.” He continued to fondle her breasts. “I want to do everything I’ve dreamed about since I first met you. I want to kiss every inch of your body.”
He lowered his hands, sliding them over her ribs, over the satiny pink nylon of her shorts. He didn’t stop until his fingers were pressing against her sex. She arched her back, her breasts thrusting toward his face. He didn’t lose the opportunity to take one ripe nipple into his mouth and suck.
“Oh, oh, damn.” She grabbed his head, pulling it tighter against her breast.
He slid his fingers beneath the hem of her shorts, wiggling inside until he touched her sex. He drew in a deep breath. Damn, she was already hot and damp.
He buried his face between her breasts. “Do you want me to stop?”
“Stop now and you’re dead meat, buster,” she hissed.
“If I stop now, I’ll definitely be dead meat.”
He slid his fingers from her shorts. When he glanced up, he saw the look of panic on her face. “Don’t worry, we’re just getting started. I don’t care who comes through the front door, either. We are going to have sex. Lots of sex.”
Lightning ripped through the sky, followed by the boom of thunder. The lights went off. The candles were still on the counter and on the table.
“Don’t move.”
She didn’t speak, but he knew she would still be there when he returned. One thing he’d learned about her was that she didn’t run away.
After he’d lit three of the candles, he returned to her. Damn, she was even more alluring as the flickering light played over her features. And she wasn’t embarrassed by her nudity. She sat there, bare-chested, on the counter. Perfectly shaped breasts, the nipples tight, ready for him to give them more of his attention. He intended to do just that.
She squirmed. It was barely noticeable, but he caught it. Anticipation could be a powerful aphrodisiac.
Trent didn’t hurry as he poured more wine into his glass and took a leisurely drink. “I want to see all of you,” he said, his words echoing in the cavernous room. He set the glass on the coun
ter and tugged on her shorts. She raised her hips. Shorts and panties came off together.
She sucked in a breath. “The counter’s cold.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll heat you soon enough.” His gaze moved downward. “Spread your legs.”
Another slight hesitation, then she opened her legs wide. He stepped closer, staring at the dark curls, the flesh poking out at him. Very slowly, he tilted the glass and let the wine run over her breasts, down her stomach. It puddled between her legs.
“That’s good wine you’re wasting,” she said, words trembling.
“Oh, I don’t plan on wasting a drop.” To prove his point, he licked the wine from between her breasts, flicking his tongue over each nipple.
She closed her eyes, arching toward him, silently begging for more. For a moment, he could only stare at the picture of pure passion that she presented. As if sensing his gaze upon her, she opened her eyes.
“I want to see you,” she said, her words filled with desire.
“Are you going to drink wine from my body?” Man, the vision that brought forth was almost enough to make him come.
She reached forward and unbuttoned his shirt. “You think I won’t?” She tilted her head to the side. “You think I haven’t been dreaming about you? Had a few fantasies of my own? I want you just as much as you want me, and it’s been way too long since I’ve had really hot sex.”
The psychic had become the seductress. She was like a cat as she languidly stretched her body toward his so she could reach each button.
And he liked the way she purred. “Okay, then I guess this would be a truce?”
She grinned and shook her head. “Oh, no, we’re still at odds with each other, but that doesn’t mean we can’t come together now and then... and I plan on coming quite a few times tonight.” She jerked his shirt down his arms. “Just don’t underestimate me.”
“I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that. I think we both know where we stand.”
She slid her fingers into his jeans and jerked the button loose. “Good. Then let’s stop talking. I want you.”