by Karen Kelley
And for dessert. Chocolate syrup and strawberries. He planned to drizzle the syrup over her body, then drag the strawberries through the chocolate.
He sucked in a deep breath as he imagined her body arching, her nipples tight little nubs begging for his mouth. Her legs spreading in invitation for him to look, to touch... to bury himself inside her hot little body.
Damn, now he’d be walking inside the hotel with a major hard-on.
Yeah, right. As if she didn’t already know he wanted her. No, they both had sex on the brain.
He killed the engine and climbed out of the car.
His mouth was dry. He hadn’t been this anxious on his first date. Selena had certainly turned him inside out. Which reminded him, he’d call his agent tomorrow and tell him to go screw himself. He wasn’t going to write any book about Selena.
He grimaced.
There was still the matter of what would happen when Selena lost the challenge. He’d cross that bridge when he came to it.
The foyer light was on, but no Selena. He shifted his sack and headed for the kitchen. She was probably in there. He couldn’t wait to see her.
He paused in the doorway when he saw her at the table. Even from this angle, with her back toward him, she looked pretty darn tempting, and he wanted her in the worst kind of way.
A slow grin curved his lips.
Apparently, she wanted him just as bad. She’d lit the candles. There was a circle of them on the table and a couple on the counter casting an eerie glow about the room. She hummed softly to herself, but he didn’t recognize the melody. It still sounded sweet coming from her.
She began to sway to the music. “Spirits of the dead, I invoke your presence. Come to me,” she spoke in a raspy voice that was like running sandpaper over bare skin, then raised a knife above her head with both hands.
He swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat.
“Slice through the barriers of Trent’s mind and free his soul that he can see clearly.” She took the knife in one hand and made a slicing motion.
He took a step back. Sweat beaded his brow. It was getting damned hot.
This wasn’t his Selena. She was possessed. Not that he believed in possession, either. But something... scary had taken over her body. Hadn’t he said all along there was a good possibility she might be crazy? All his fears were finally revealed.
Her back stiffened. “Open him up to the reality of the afterlife!” she intoned in a voice that cracked like a whip.
He eased out of the room and hurried down the hallway and up the stairs. He didn’t breathe easy until he was in his room with the door firmly shut.
This was just great. Just frigging great! He dumped the sack on the bed and planted his hands on his hips. What the hell had happened between the time he’d left to go to the store and now?
Looking for those bones had warped her mind. Yeah, that was it. Staying in this hotel and her crazy mother putting all kinds of ideas into Selena’s head. Angela even had his mother thinking crazy thoughts.
He drew in a deep breath, arms dropping to his sides, shoulders slumped in defeat.
It wasn’t any of those things. He knew it, but didn’t want to admit the truth. He’d begun to care for Selena. Now this. What the hell was he going to do?
He snorted. The first woman he’d cared for in a long time and she was crazy... ready to do him bodily harm.
Did that tell him anything about his love life? The first woman he made love to in months and she wanted to kill him.
He glanced at the door. Exactly how safe was he? The lock was flimsy at best. A vision filled his mind of Selena slipping into his room, a gleaming knife tucked close to her body.
Ah, damn, what had he gotten himself into when he’d done the television interview and said Selena was delusional? Stupid!
He reached for his cell phone and quickly called Tye. It rang once, twice.
Answer!
“Did you know that you have the worst timing? I’m with someone.”
“You’re always with someone, so that’s nothing new. Listen, I think Selena has gone off the deep end.”
“The deep end?”
“Yeah, I think she wants to kill me.”
Tye chuckled. “She wouldn’t be the first.”
Trent ran his hand through his hair. “It’s not funny.”
“You’re serious?”
“Why the hell do you think I’m calling?”
“I can’t see it.” The humor left Tye’s voice. “From the little I was around her today, she didn’t strike me as being even a little crazy. Are you sure she’s not pulling your leg? That would be a lot more plausible.”
What he’d seen in the kitchen hadn’t been plausible. No way, no how. Selena had acted like an escapee from an institution that housed the criminally insane.
“She might be trying to scare you away. Did you think about that? If you run, she wins.”
He opened his mouth, then snapped it closed.
That had to be it. But why had he seen desire in her eyes before he’d left. He knew damn well she’d wanted him as much...
Paige!
Her cousin had probably reminded her of why Selena was at the hotel. Why else would Selena go from hot to cold? Paige had warned Selena away from him. This was all her fault. He was such a fool—again.
“I guess you’re right. Sorry to bother you.”
“Hey, that’s what brothers are for.”
They said goodbye, and Trent closed his phone.
Was Selena crazy or just trying to win? She definitely had a competitive streak. But did he want to take that chance?
He looked around the room, stopping when his gaze landed on a ladder-back chair. He carried it to the door, jamming it under the knob, then testing to make sure it wouldn’t give. He damn sure didn’t want Selena sneaking into his room tonight and slicing his throat—just in case she had lost her mind.
Damn, how could he be in such a good mood when he got back to the hotel and have everything turn to crap in the space of a few minutes?
He brought the bottle of wine out of the grocery sack. What he wouldn’t give for a corkscrew.
Damn, it suddenly occurred to him that he wouldn’t be having sex, either. Bummer.
Ah, man, he could picture Selena naked and beckoning him to make love to her. He sank into the fantasy. He would lower his body down to hers. She’d be naked, biting her bottom lip in anticipation.
As he reached to caress her breasts, he caught the glint of metal from the knife that lay beside her, and his daydream became a nightmare.
Life could be a real pain.
Dixie examined her fingernails. “When I was alive we didn’t have that pretty stuff you paint on your nails. The world has made a lot of progress since my time.” She looked across the kitchen at Selena. “You do realize Trent thinks you’re ready to slice him open, don’t you?”
Selena folded the mirror closed. Oh, yeah, she’d watched his expression change from pleasure to pain to fear. She knew without a doubt that he’d planned a very different night for them, and a deep burning ache spread through her. If she hadn’t pretended to be crazy, they’d be having sex right now. Hell, maybe she was crazy. She’d denied herself a night of sensual lovemaking just for revenge.
But damn it, he was planning to write a book about her! The challenge was one thing, the book something entirely different.
“You’re regretting what you did.” Dixie told her what she already knew.
She’d still had time to convince him that ghosts existed. Not anymore. Nope, he was going to keep his distance. She’d squashed whatever was starting to blossom between them.
Squaring her shoulders, she looked at Dixie. “I don’t care.”
She blew out the candles and marched down the hall and up the stairs. When she was even with Trent’s door she stopped, an evil smile forming. Oh, she’d give him something to write about. She’d give him enough to fill three books.
He was moving abou
t in his room. Her smile widened. More like pacing. Yep, he was worried. Did he think she’d slit his throat while he was sleeping? He tempted her to do just that.
She scratched on his door. His pacing stopped. By the time she got through with him, he’d think twice about writing his slanderous book. He’d be too worried about retribution.
“Trent?” His name trembled from her lips with just enough scratchiness in it to send apprehensive shivers up his spine—she hoped. Linda Blair from The Exorcist had nothing on her. “Trent?”
“Uh, yeah? Did you need something?”
“I want your body,” she said in a low, throaty voice.
Silence.
“Don’t you want me, too?” she asked, her voice gravelly.
“I’m kind of tired. You know, all that searching for... uh... bones and... ”
“We could have hot sex. I could do a lot of new... things to your body. I could set you free.”
Silence.
“I have a... headache.”
She grinned, leaning against the door. “Would you like me to call Paige? She could brew you a potion.”
“No!” He cleared his throat. “What I mean is that I took an aspirin a few minutes ago.”
“If you’re sure.”
“Positive.”
“Good night, then.” She could almost hear his sigh of relief. There was no sense in letting him off the hook this easy. Before she walked away, she jiggled the doorknob for good measure.
Did he really think she would slice and dice him during the night? She certainly hoped so. If not, he would by the time she was finished. She’d teach him it wasn’t nice to mess with a psychic. She hoped he didn’t get a bit of sleep!
The next morning she went downstairs as if nothing unusual had happened the night before. Just like the other mornings, Trent leaned against the counter while waiting for the coffee to finish dripping into the glass pot.
“Good morning,” she said cheerily.
He jumped, and turned. Damn, he really looked like crap. His hair was mussed, and dark stubble gave him an almost sinister look. Way beyond Miami Vice sexiness. No, this look was more as though he’d been chewed up and spit out—several times.
She might be a little leery of him in this condition except for his bloodshot, red-rimmed eyes that told a different story. The man had gotten very little sleep.
Damn, she was good.
She pretended concern. “You look terrible, Trent. Didn’t you sleep well last night?”
“No, I didn’t sleep well last night,” he growled.
“Bad dreams?”
“You could say that.”
She clicked her tongue. His look grew darker before he turned away and reached inside the cabinet for cups.
He hadn’t seen nothin’ yet! She was just getting wound up. Her eyes narrowed as she looked around the room and landed on the loaf of bread.
Perfect.
While he poured the coffee, she sauntered to the cabinet drawers and opened one. Reaching inside, she pulled out a knife and held it in front of her. When he faced her again, he almost dropped the cups.
“What the hell are you doing with that knife?” he bellowed.
She innocently widened her eyes and picked up the loaf of bread. “Toast and jelly. Want some?”
“No, I don’t want any.” He eyed the knife. “Yes, I do. Put the knife down and I’ll fix it.”
She shrugged, but laid the knife on the counter. “Whatever.” She took her coffee to the table, wondering if she could get him to fix lunch if she wielded another knife in his direction. It was an idea.
Yum, her own personal slave. Now, that was revenge at its best.
Once she was seated, she leaned back in the chair and watched as he moved around the kitchen. Trent looked quite at home. She sighed. If only he didn’t have to be such an ass.
After the toast popped up, he buttered it, slathered jam on one side and sliced it down the middle.
“Here.” He set the saucer of toast in the middle of the table.
“Thank you,” she replied sweetly.
“You’re welcome.” His words were gruff, but he seemed a little more relaxed than when she first came into the kitchen. That wouldn’t do. Not at all.
She waited for him to take a drink. “There’s a full moon tonight.”
He choked.
“Are you all right?”
He coughed, then cleared his throat. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“What’s what supposed to mean?” she asked.
“The fact that there’s a full moon.” He set his cup on the table. “What does that have to do with anything?”
She shook her head. “I was just making idle conversation.”
He looked skeptical but let the matter drop. Not that she planned to, though.
“It’s called Hunter’s Moon. Some call it Blood Moon,” she nonchalantly stated.
He choked again.
“Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I’m fine,” he growled.
“You know full moons are associated with insanity. That’s where the term lunacy comes from. Lunacy... lunar.”
“Yeah, I get it. I still don’t know what that has to do with anything.”
She straightened in her chair. “Well, you don’t have to get so testy. I thought you might be interested in knowing more about what you were criticizing.”
“Well, I don’t want to know more.”
“Fine. Then consider the matter dropped.”
“You are so bad,” Dixie said when she popped into the room.
Wesley was right behind her. “I thought he deserved it.”
She stirred her coffee, pretending two ghosts hadn’t just entered into the conversation. Wait, why should she pretend anything. Why not perpetuate the situation?
“You’re so right, Wesley. Everything, plus some.”
Trent glanced around, then returned his gaze to her.
“Wesley and Dixie are here,” she explained.
“The ghosts?”
She nodded and reached for a piece of toast. She took a bite and slowly chewed.
“Why don’t you ask them where their bones are? Wouldn’t that solve your dilemma?”
“They don’t remember everything that happened.”
“How convenient.”
Wesley stretched his legs out on the counter, leaning back on his elbows. “Maybe if you hit him over the head with a frying pan, he’d listen to you. My ma did that to my pa once, and he never gave her a bit of trouble after that.” He frowned. “Course, he wasn’t quite right after that day, either. Used to mumble to himself a lot.”
“Maybe the mumbling is an inherited trait,” Dixie said.
“You sure are getting a smart mouth, woman.”
“Why don’t you tell them to show themselves to me? That would also clear up a lot of things. Plus, you’d win the challenge.”
“They don’t like you.”
“Now, I never said that,” Dixie said.
“You like that city slicker?” Wesley frowned.
“He’s not hard on the eyes.” Dixie moved closer. Trent shivered as if a cold breeze brushed over him. “Actually, I think he’s rather handsome.”
“Don’t that just beat all I ever heard.” Wesley jumped off the cabinet and swiped his arm through the air. The roll of paper towels that was on the island rolled off and thumped softly on the floor before he left in a poof of dark gray.
Trent jumped and turned.
Dixie grinned. “There’s nothing like a little jealousy to spice up a relationship.” She vanished in a split second.
“The door must’ve blown open. Did you feel that cool breeze?”
She came to her feet. “The door didn’t come open. Wesley got mad when Dixie said you were cute. He knocked the paper towels off. The cool breeze, as you call it, was from the energy they created.” She stomped out of the room. Cute yes, smart no.
Plan A complete.
Now on to
Plan B.
When she got through with him, he’d think twice about messing with an angry psychic.
Chapter 24
Selena had disappeared.
Every little squeak, every little bump, had Trent jumping. Hell, he didn’t know if the next corner he went around would be his last. What if Selena was crouched down just waiting to plunge a knife into him?
This was ridiculous. Selena was not a lunatic.
He slipped outside, thankful for the cool breeze as the evening waned and nightfall descended around him. But just to be on the safe side, he did a cursory look in his immediate vicinity.
No knife-wielding anything, only a foraging squirrel beneath one of the trees. He soundly scolded Trent for disturbing his meal-hunting expedition, then scurried off.
Trent stepped closer to the edge of the porch and looked up at the sky. The moon was exactly as Selena had said. Even as he stared at it he could almost see blood dripping from the deep orange orb.
“That’s a Hunter’s Moon... Blood Moon,” Matilda said.
His heart pounded inside his chest. Damn, he was jumpy as a downed electrical wire. He drew in a deep breath. “Yeah, I’ve already been told that once today.”
Matilda nodded. “Strange things happen when there’s a full moon, but you got to watch yourself when it’s a Blood Moon.” She cast her gaze around as if a ghost might pounce on her at any second.
“I don’t think you need to be too worried.” Damn, had Selena been filling this sweet old woman’s head with stories meant to spook her? Selena could cause Matilda to have a heart attack if she wasn’t careful.
Matilda shook her head. “Tonight’s a night that a person should tread careful-like ’less they get in over their head.”
She wiped her hands on her flowery apron, her eyes narrowing as she looked around.
“Mark my words, things will happen tonight. There’s a powerful wind in the air. Don’t know if it’s evil or good, but you and the girl best be watchful of the night.”
He started to gently explain that he didn’t believe in what he couldn’t see with his own eyes, but a horn honked down the street, drawing his attention. When he turned back, Matilda was gone.