It wasn’t the way he wanted it to end. As he continued to watch her an idea started to form.
Why should he back down?
He could use his special brand of persuasion to convince her to see his point of view. What did a ring matter? At the least he could convince her to spend one final night with him. It would give him a chance to persuade her to see his point of view, and now that she’d had enough time to cool off, he doubted she’d be able to resist him if he turned up the charm.
Oh, yeah, he’d turn it up, all right. To boiling. He’d convince her she couldn’t live without him, and a piece of paper wouldn’t change what they meant to each other.
He could do this. He smiled to himself, suddenly feeling damn good.
* * * *
Still dressed in her flannel pajamas, Lavender chopped some green peppers and onions for omelets. As her reddened eyes teared up she was grateful to use the onions as an excuse. She’d been crying all night.
She could tell from the way Kelsie frowned at her she wasn’t fooled, but her friend didn’t say a thing as she scrambled the eggs and fried some bacon. Mac and Rachel had run to town to buy more groceries while Estie tidied up the bedrooms.
The two women worked in silence, which was just fine with Lavender. She didn’t feel like talking to anyone right now, especially not about tears and Tyler Harris.
Zach walked in, shirtless, scratching his chest and sniffing the air, obviously following his nose. “That smells damn good. What are you cooking?” Zach put his muscular arms around Kelsie’s waist and leaned into her.
Kelsie elbowed him in the gut and got a groan for her efforts. “Get out of the kitchen. We’re not feeding you.”
“You’re brutal, honey.”
For a split second, Lavender thought Kelsie would cave, then her eyes narrowed and that temporary softness turned hard. “And you’re invading our space. Out.” Kelsie pointed toward the door with her spatula.
With a mournful sigh, Zach lumbered away, casting a backward glance longingly at the bacon sizzling in the frying pan, and then he looked with even more longing at Kelsie.
Kelsie didn’t seem moved in the least. In fact, she rolled her eyes. Once Zach disappeared down the hall, she turned to Lavender. “I’ll be right back.”
Lavender took over and flipped the bacon and turned down the flame under the eggs. Kelsie seemed to think the burners had only one setting and that was high.
As if Lavender’s morning hadn’t gone badly enough already, Tyler strode in like he owned the place—which he did. Lavender kept her back to him. She heard the scrape of a chair on the hardwood floor. Frowning, she turned around. Big mistake.
He stared at her with a puppy-dog expression, so unlike him and way too vulnerable. “Are you okay, Lavender?”
“Of course, I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be?” She struggled to keep her tone neutral.
His expression changed as fast as a runway model changes clothes and a predatory grin slid across his face as he slipped into his usual Tyler persona, the one laced with bullshit and bravado.
Tyler propped his bare feet on the table and leaned the chair back so it balanced on two legs, his favorite juvenile sitting position. He crossed his muscular arms over his bare chest—didn’t any of these guys believe in shirts?—and grinned at her, his patented cocky, “aren’t you lucky I’m gracing you with my presence” grin.
“What’s for breakfast?” He lowered his voice to that husky rasp that caused her to think of anything but breakfast, unless it was in bed after a sweaty night of wild lovemaking.
“Nothing you’ll be eating.” Lavender stomped over to him and shoved his feet off the table, causing his chair to crash forward.
“Now what the hell was that for, honey?”
“I’m not your honey. Not anymore.”
Tyler stood and stalked toward her. “Are you sure?”
Lavender backed up until her butt hit the counter. “I’m positive.”
Tyler leaned on the counter, one hand on each side of her. His bare chest very close to her pajama-clad chest. “I’ve always thought you were the sexiest thing in flannel.”
“I’m going to knee you in the nuts if you don’t back off.”
Tyler didn’t take her threat seriously. In fact, he leaned in closer, the fresh smell of soap from his recent shower filling her nostrils. “Honey, I like you better as a redhead. It matches your fiery temper.”
“Good, I’ll be sure to stay a blonde.”
The teasing expression slipped from his sinfully handsome face. He studied her, his eyes like hard chips of blue ice.
She couldn’t hold his gaze, afraid he might read the truth in her eyes and realize she missed him, which would make him even more insufferable. Looking down, she stared at his chest, another big mistake. Her gaze followed that line of dark hair, past the ridges of his abs, his flat stomach, to the noticeable bulge in his low slung sweats. Lavender swallowed. She knew what heaven lay beneath those sweats and the things that talented, inventive man could do with that heaven.
She heard him chuckle, and she jerked her head upward, her cheeks hot and her mouth dry.
“You’re not fooling me.” One corner of his mouth kicked up in satisfied grin.
“The bacon’s burning.” She put her hands on his chest and pushed.
“That’s not all that’s burning, darlin’.” He drawled, not moving an inch, most likely just to make a point that she couldn’t force him to do anything. His blue eyes burned into her, taking a leisurely tour down her body and back up again. With an arrogant wink, he moved away from her, stopped in the doorway and half turned. “I hope you have plenty of wine to go with that attitude.”
Before she could flip him a smart comeback or the finger, he slipped out the door. She could hear his bare feet padding down the long hallway. A few seconds later, the TV blared with the sounds of a car chase.
* * * *
After a day of shopping at the little boutiques in Friday Harbor, the women returned to cook dinner. Lavender frowned as she held open the refrigerator door. “Where’d the steaks go?” she leaned down and peered in the refrigerator.
“They’re right there on the middle shelf.” Mac pointed at the empty space and did a double take. “What the hell?”
At the same time all five women turned toward the deck and the aroma of barbecue wafting toward them.
“You have to be kidding me.” Lavender was fighting mad. “They stole our steaks?”
“Now that’s low.” Kelsie headed for the door.
Lavender grabbed her arm and held her back. “Let me handle this. I’m one-hundred percent certain I know the ringleader of this little gang, and I’m taking him down several notches.”
Hips swaying, Lavender sauntered onto the expansive back porch where the men had gathered round the brick barbecue, drinking beer. When they saw her, they adopted innocent expressions and looked to Tyler.
The culprit wore a chef’s apron and held a pair of barbecue tongs in one large hand. “Hey, babe. Miss me?” He winked at her and grinned his disarming grin. Only it didn’t disarm; in fact, if anything she reloaded and went hunting for a nice rack of abs and ass.
Revenge was a dish best served with a scoop of crazy.
She stalked over to him and ripped the tongs from his hand before he knew what was happening. He took a step toward her, and she snapped the metal tongs at his crotch.
“Hey, honey, watch out for the package.” Tyler jumped back a few steps and eyed the tongs warily.
“Your package is in dire danger of being shipped elsewhere.”
“You can return to sender, honey. I’m all yours.”
Lavender sighed. Tyler was such a charming ass, but she needed to feed the irritation, not the amusement. “You’ll end up in my junk mail, which I throw in the trash.”
Tyler held his hands over his chest. “You’re breaking my heart here, Vinnie.”
“Just don’t bleed all over the floor.” Lavender held her groun
d, being strong even though she didn’t feel like being strong. Her girl gang backed her up. Kelsie poised herself as if ready to jump into the fray along with the rest, except Rachel, who was licking her lips and staring at Derek as if he were a large hunk of Ghirardelli chocolate. Derek stared back, literally panting.
Lavender snapped the tongs at Tyler again as she approached the barbecue. He backed up another few steps. “Nice of you to cook our steaks for us. We’ll take over now.”
Tyler opened his mouth to argue but changed his mind when the tongs came within an inch of his crotch. Obviously deciding to live another day, he motioned to his posse. “Let’s head to town and get something to eat. These ungracious ladies are begrudging their men a meal.”
“We’re not begrudging you anything. We’re taking back what’s ours, and furthermore, while I may be ungracious, I am not your lady.”
“Ouch, honey. Now that really hurts.”
“Go away.” Lavender snapped the tongs several times. Throwing his hands in the air, Tyler backed through the door into the house, laughing all the way.
Now that really made her angry.
Chapter 5—Ghost Hunt
Fat and lazy from a big dinner at the diner in town, the guys lounged in the den, watching an old James Bond movie.
Something thumped on the porch. Tyler looked up from the drink he’d been nursing for the past hour. Hell, he couldn’t even get a good buzz going. After dinner and few drinks, they’d come back to the mansion to find the kitchen clean, not a leftover or the females in sight.
Zach, who’d commandeered the remote again, muted the TV. “What the hell was that?”
Derek moved Coug from his lap to the wide arm of the chair. Rising to his feet, he pressed his face against the glass on the French doors and stared outside. “Hey, man, we’ve got company.”
Tyler didn’t even bother to look. “Like duh. What are those women up to now?”
“I’m not really sure. It’s weird.” Derek frowned as he stared out the window. “You need to see this, Ty.”
Tyler got to his feet and stalked to the door, followed by Brett and Bruiser. Even Zach deserted his prime viewing post to join them.
“What the hell?” Brett stared at several dark figures milling around on Tyler’s veranda. The odd group squinted at the iPhones and Androids clutched in their hands, as if tracking something.
“I can’t believe it. They know how I feel about this. They’re doing it to piss me off.”
“Doing what?” Derek turned to his cousin for an explanation.
“Fucking ghost hunting.”
Derek threw back his head with a hearty laugh. “No shit?” The man’s obvious amusement irritated Tyler even more.
“That’s stupid.” Ever practical Brett called it as he saw it.
Tyler applauded the man’s cynicism. It beat the hell out of his cousin’s amusement.
Derek yanked open the door, a welcoming grin on his face. “Hey, how goes the spirit search?”
Tyler cringed with dread over what scheme this crazy-assed group had concocted now.
Zan, the obvious instigator, stepped forward and introduced herself along with the small group of ghost hunters, consisting of Lavender, her female cohorts, plus Homer and rest of his geriatric gang fondly known around the island as the Brothers.
“We’re getting quite a few reads outside, but now it appears the spirits have gone into the mansion.” Zan studied the device in her hand which was running some kind of ghost-hunting software. On that note, the entire group spilled into the den without an invitation, and the weird situation got weirder. Homer tapped on the walls as if expecting a secret panel to reveal itself. Cliff, the group mooch, especially involving alcohol, slipped behind the bar and rummaged through the liquor cabinet. Tyler rescued the good Scotch and hid it behind a chair.
“This is absolute bullshit.” Zach snorted his disapproval. Tyler never thought he’d see the day he and Zach would be on the same side of any argument, but that day had come.
Zan faced Zach and looked him up and down. Tyler knew what was coming next. He pushed his annoyance to the side in exchange for the amusing pastime of watching Zach squirm. “You are a sensitive soul confronting demons.”
Zach leaned forward, but his size didn’t intimidate Zan one bit. “You’re one crazy lady.”
Tyler interrupted, not wanting blood shed on his antique carpet. “She tells that to all the guys. Especially the ones with attitude. Welcome to the club, brother.”
Derek, Brett, and Bruiser muffled their laughter, and Tyler shot them a warning glare.
“Nonbelievers.” Zan sniffed and dug in the bag she’d placed on his coffee table, pulling out several unidentifiable electronic devices.
Derek, traitorous cousin that he was, had sidled up to Don, who appeared to be showing him how to download the ghost-hunting app onto his phone. Control of the situation had been wrenched from Tyler’s fingers, if he’d ever had any control in the first place.
Lavender cast an innocent smile his way. His entire body reacted with a surge of lust, while his mind raced ahead to visions of Lavender in a schoolgirl outfit with that same smile. He’d never been into that scene, but with her, everything excited him. Hell, she breathed new life into the old and mundane. He shifted his stance, tried to unobtrusively pluck the material of his sweats away from his crotch. Instead the soft fabric clung to his hard-on.
Lavender noticed and actually smirked. He smirked right back, despite the warning sirens blaring in his head, and gave her that look. You. Me. Tonight? Got it?
She tossed him a sassy, come-hither look and left his cock willing to hither for all it was worth. His feet carried him closer, and he was unable to stop their progress. She shook her head, telegraphing she’d come to her senses after her momentary lapse. His Purple Lady made a show of studying her device, as if she believed in this crap one hundred percent. Maybe she did. Hell if he knew. Hell if he cared.
“What the heck is that?” Zach’s snorted question advertised his disbelief and jerked Tyler from his daydreams.
“I call it a ghost scanner. It’s a device which allows spirits to speak to us through radio frequencies. It scans several different frequencies to pick up messages the spirits are attempting to convey to us.” Zan’s feigned patience didn’t fool Tyler one bit. Sparks of mutual dislike arced between Zan and Zach like a bad short in electrical wiring.
Tyler’s gaze shifted back to Lavender. She made a show of ignoring him, but he knew better.
He hated what was going on. One minute he was avoiding her, the next he wanted to jump her bones.
Zan placed the box on the coffee table, turning dials and pushing buttons. To Tyler it resembled a police scanner and crackled like an AM radio with crappy reception. The group lounged around his den, making themselves at home on his furniture and with his liquor. Someone flipped off the TV. The lights were dimmed. The hunters spoke in hushed tones if they spoke at all.
Tyler stood next to the bar, arms crossed over his chest with a scowl as wide as the Pacific Ocean on his face. Zach stood next to him wearing a twin expression. His idiot cousin and the other two idiots in his group sprawled on the couch next to Homer and joined right in. Tyler would never get rid of Zan and the Brothers now.
“Did you hear that?” Don cupped a hand over his ear.
“You can’t hear a fucking thing even with your hearing aid. How could you hear that?” All Tyler heard was static and the fading in and out sounds of a radio frequency too far away to pull in a good signal. But then if they were ghosts, that would make sense.
“I heard it.” Jim pushed his glasses up his nose and squinted at his phone.
“The spirit is asking for TJ.” Zan interpreted the static. “Does anyone know TJ?”
A cold knife blade of shock cut through Tyler. His mouth felt filled with cotton, while his throat constricted. Across the room, Derek stiffened, his shocked gaze slammed into Tyler’s. Tyler knew he’d probably gone white. He could f
eel it. His stomach dropped to his toes, and his heart drummed against his rib cage. All the eyes in the room followed Derek’s gaze.
“You’re TJ?” Zan spoke softly, her tone disbelieving.
Tyler’s brain did flashback to his younger self, cuddled in his father’s lap listening to him read a story. He could smell his father’s unique smell, something like Dial soap and wood smoke from the fires he loved to build on cold nights in their massive stone fireplace. He could hear the deep timbre of his voice, feel his strong arms around him.
Shit.
Battling those fond, yet painful memories, Tyler gritted his teeth and adopted his best indifferent expression. “Only my dad ever called me that. T. J. for Tyler Jackson Harris.”
You could’ve heard a pin drop in an empty football stadium. In the stifling silence permeating the room, the ghost radio spit out static and the occasional identifiable word.
Zan cleared her throat and clutched her hands together. She refused to meet Tyler’s hard gaze. “Your father is in the room.” Even Zan seemed a little disconcerted.
“I thought you retired your psychic abilities?” Tyler gritted his teeth. He didn’t need this bullshit. The women were trying to drive the guys out. What better way to do it than to insinuate this mansion might be haunted by the ghost of his father? Tyler shook off the peculiar emotions invading his senses and steeled himself against an overwhelming feeling of loss, the huge hole left in his heart after his father’s untimely death.
“Some things can’t be ignored.” Zan spoke calmly, but nothing calmed the storm raging inside Tyler, waves of pain he’d suppressed for years drowned out the numbness, and left him wondering which was worse: apathy or personal turmoil. Zan motioned everyone to sit down.
Derek glanced at Tyler, asking silent permission for them to continue. If Tyler said no, he was pretty damn sure his posse would kick these people out on their skinny asses. Tyler nodded tersely. “It’s all bullshit but go ahead. Get your jollies. You’re not driving us out of this mansion until we’re ready.”
Everyone settled back, except Tyler, who stood with fists clenched at his sides and his jaw locked. Even Zach sat on the nearby barstool, at a loss for words. Tyler grabbed another beer and guzzled it, still unable to get a good buzz going.
Roughing the Passer Page 4