Double Dating with the Dead (15 page)

“There's only one way to find out.” He walked over and wound the machine, then placed the needle on the record.

The slow strains of a waltz filled the room. Scratchy, but it worked.

“May I have this dance?” he asked with a slight smirk. “Or would that be considered consorting with the enemy?”

His look challenged her. She never ran from a challenge. And just maybe she wanted to feel his arms around her again.

“I would be honored.”

Placing her hand in his, she let him lead her to a small area that was free of furniture and trunks. He turned, taking her into his arms. The heat of his hand on her dress burned all the way to her skin. Ahh, but it was the kind of heat that inspired naughty thoughts.

Was he feeling the same thing that she was?

Trent glanced down into Selena's face, but she quickly looked away. Why? Was she afraid to be this close to him?

No, she wasn't afraid of him. He had a feeling she was afraid of her body's reaction when he was this close. Maybe her dreams had been as raunchy as his. Something to think about. She'd certainly been giving him the impression she was interested.

Or maybe it was just wishful thinking on his part. Who'd have thought she'd make him want her so badly he'd be having fantasies? He closed his eyes and let her scent drift over him. Lilac. Different from the scent she usually wore. Lilac and leather. Odd combination. It must be coming from the clothes they wore.

A queasy sensation washed over him. His stomach churned. It was all he could do to stay upright. He closed his eyes, fighting the nausea.

What the hell was happening?

He opened his eyes, blinking rapidly.

The attic was different. Not as cluttered—cleaner. Everything looked newer. The music wasn't scratchy anymore.

He'd never passed out, but right now he felt as if he might. Something was happening. Something he couldn't explain.

“Trent?”

Selena said his name, but it seemed to come from very far away.

T
rent forced himself to concentrate, but it seemed to be a losing battle. He looked down at Selena, but it wasn't her face he saw. The woman he held had blond hair.

“Wesley,” she whispered, tears forming in her eyes.

Everything went dark. What the hell was going on? God, he couldn't breathe. Was this what death felt like? Had Selena poisoned him? Damn, he shouldn't have eaten her mother's enchilada casserole.

Sweat broke out on his forehead. The room was growing darker….

“Dixie.” Wesley looked into her face before lowering his head, his lips brushing across hers. She tasted as sweet as he'd remembered. Lord, he'd missed holding her like this. He deepened the kiss.

Sweet. So sweet.

If only they could stay like this forever. They'd been so stupid. Why hadn't they admitted how much they cared for each other rather than playing such foolish games?

Weakness suddenly swept over him. Ah, no. Too soon. Not enough time.

Don't leave me, my love
.

Dixie heard his thoughts. They wrapped around her, holding her close as her strength ebbed.

“No, I won't ever leave you, my darling. I'll always be right here. Forever. Just like we promised.”

Dixie succumbed to the weakness with a sigh. Being in Wesley's arms had been worth the drain on her spirit….

Trent tasted Selena. Her lips felt so right against his. He pulled her tighter against him when he sensed her pulling away. He ended the kiss, sheltering her in his arms. He wouldn't let her go.

He was losing her.

Ah, God, don't leave me. Hopelessness filled him.

No, it wasn't Selena. It was someone else.
He
had been someone else. He looked down into Selena's face. Blond hair, now black hair. It
was
Selena. Wasn't it?

Her eyes fluttered open. “What happened?”

He could feel the blood drain from his face. His hands dropped to his sides, and he took a step away from her. She caught the edge of a desk to steady herself. Emotions warred within him: fear, dread, anger.

What happened? He glanced around the attic. It was as dusty as it had been when he'd first opened the door and walked inside. The mirror was still where it had been, the trunk where Selena had gotten the clothes…

Selena.

When his gaze returned to her, his eyes narrowed. “That was a pretty good trick. How'd you do it?”

“Trick?” Her brow furrowed.

She was good. Damn, was she ever good.

He looked around the attic, a little closer this time, moving to the nearest wall. “Yeah, trick,” he said as he tested the boards, looking for wires. Looking for anything that would explain what had happened.

Nothing.

“I think Dixie borrowed my body,” she said.

He noticed she looked a little pale. No, it was just another trick. “You won't convince me we were possessed by ghosts.”

She opened her hands. “Then how do you explain Wesley being in your body? And don't even try to deny you felt him using it.”

“I don't know, but I will explain it.”

“They used our bodies. Why won't you believe there are things you can't explain?”

Cons. They were all alike. Did they get some kind of thrill from making fools of people? Of course they did.

She looked as if she wanted an explanation. Okay. Fine. He'd let her know exactly why he wasn't going to fall for her games.

“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 her. 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.”