Double Dating with the Dead (3 page)

“You're hilarious.” She grabbed her end of the mattress and started out the door. “That's the problem with this family. Everyone wants to be a comedian.”

Of course she wouldn't fall prey to Trent Sanders. Not after what he'd said. And she didn't plan on losing their bet. She'd make a believer out of him before the two weeks were up.

But in the meantime, it didn't hurt to look.

 

Trent glanced up when he heard a thump. Selena and Paige were lugging a cumbersome mattress down the staircase with Selena in the lead. The way they dragged and pushed at the same time it was a wonder they didn't both come tumbling down the stairs, the mattress landing on top of them.

He took the stairs two at a time and grabbed the mattress from Selena. “Why didn't you call one of the men to help?”

“We're almost to the bottom.” She snatched the mattress back. “And we didn't ask because we don't need a man's help.”

“You're right, if you fell and landed on your head, it might knock some sense into it. Now, wouldn't that be a damn shame?” He firmly took hold of the mattress again.

“Then you need to fall down a lot.” She seized her end back.

He'd never met a more obstinate woman in his life. He latched on again, but she didn't turn loose. “I said I'd help.” He clamped his lips together.

“I don't want your help,” she spoke between gritted teeth.

“Well, hell,” Paige drawled. “You can have my end if it means that much to y'all.” She let go and marched back up the stairs.

The mattress wobbled. Trent lunged up the stairs, catching Paige's corner before it fell.

“There, are you satisfied?” Selena began dragging the mattress down the stairs.

“It's your fault. All you had to do was let go. You still could. I can get it without your help.”

“That's not the point. It's
my
bed.” She huffed, jerking it forward.

They stopped at the bottom of the steps, glaring at each other.

“I didn't ask for your help,” she reminded him.

Obstinate
and
stubborn. “You got it anyway.” He took a firm grip on the mattress, tucked it under his arm and hauled it toward the front door. This time she backed out of his way.

He knew he'd win.

“There's always round two,” she said.

He glanced over his shoulder, watching her saunter away. Yes, he was counting on round two…and three…and…

“You pickin' out a place to sleep tonight?” Tye asked as he came inside.

Trent dragged his attention away from Selena. “What?”

He pointed to the mattress. “I asked if you were going to sleep in the lobby tonight.”

Trent frowned and got a better grip. Tye grabbed the other end. “It needs airing. Selena and her cousin were trying to get it downstairs on their own.”

Tye stopped on the veranda and shot Trent a look of amazement. “And you got between them?” He laughed. “I'm surprised you made it out alive.”

“I was beginning to wonder if I would.” He started to see the humor in the situation. His family mostly consisted of men. Not having any sisters or female cousins, he had only his mother and aunts with whom to compare other women. His father always treated his mother like a queen. A lot of the females Trent had dated seemed to enjoy being pampered.

The James women apparently didn't.

They went down the porch steps and tossed the mattress across the dilapidated wooden fence. Just before they went inside, he glanced up, toward where Selena would be sleeping. There was a shadow at her window. Odd how it just appeared, then was gone in a flash.

“You okay?” Tye asked.

“I thought I saw…” He shook his head. “Nothing. It was nothing.”

“Or maybe a ghost. WoohooOOOoooo…”

“Or maybe you're losing it. Come on, you don't actually believe in that nonsense?”

“Did you know Paige is a witch?” Tye abruptly changed the subject.

“So she told me.”

“Pretty cute, too.”

“Do you think of nothing else besides women?”

Tye grinned. “What better subject is there?”

“You're hopeless.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Tye started back toward the house, Trent right behind him. Trent couldn't help looking one more time at Selena's window. A trick of the eye? Or something else?

Damn, he really needed a vacation.

 

“Bye,” Selena called, a smile plastered on her face as she waved to her departing relatives. She wanted to call them back, but not to the point she'd forfeit the challenge.

Trent wrinkled his nose. “What
is
that smell? It's almost as bad as the Ft. Worth Stockyards in the middle of summer.”

She'd hoped he wouldn't notice. “Uh…gris-gris.” She refused to look him in the eye. “Mom went to New Orleans a few years ago. She took the voodoo tour.”

“What'd she do, dig up a dead body as a souvenir and haul it back with her? A corpse doesn't count as a ghost, you know.”

“Not funny.” She untied the leather string at the back of her neck and brought the small bag from her shirt-front. “It's an amulet. You know, to ward off evil spirits.”

“Ward them off? Hell, it'd kill them. What's in it?”

Her nose scrunched up. “I was afraid to ask,” she admitted. “I'm pretty sure garlic.” Lots and lots of garlic.

Enough that her eyes watered.

“Please tell me you're not planning on wearing that for the next two weeks.”

What did he think she was? As if she didn't know the answer to
that
. “I thought I'd put it under my pillow,” she snapped.

“Oh, honey, I can think of much better ways to keep you safe from evil spirits.”

He stood too close. She could feel the heat emanating from his body. Images of her and Trent making wild, passionate love filled her mind.

Damn, he was tempting her again. So not fair!

She stiffened her spine and cast a glare in his direction that would've had a lesser man begging for mercy. It didn't seem to faze him, but she wouldn't back down.

“I doubt I'll ever need your protection. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to soak in a tub and get rid of some of this dirt.” She whirled around and went inside.

His mocking laughter followed her.

Trent thought this was all some grand joke. By the end of the two weeks she'd prove him wrong. Then who would have the last laugh?

She tromped upstairs and down the hall to her room.

Every bone in her body ached, but they had most of the hotel cleaned. At least, the areas they'd be living in. It would take a lot longer to clean the whole place.

She grabbed fresh clothes and made her way to the bathroom. Just for good measure, she hung the gris-gris on the outer knob. Lord, only her mother could concoct something that stunk as bad as that gris-gris.

After turning on the water, she added a large dollop of tropical-scented bubble bath. Coconut and mangos soon blocked the odor of garlic.

She stripped out of her grungy clothes and climbed into the claw-footed bathtub.
This is nice,
she thought, sliding down until her shoulders were submerged in bubbles. Heavenly….

Her nose twitched as a new aroma invaded the room, and it wasn't the smelly amulet or her tropical-scented bubbles.

Leather?

She held her breath and waited to see what was about to happen. Usually, an odd or different smell meant only one thing.

Excitement shimmied up and down her spine as a mist began to rise, different from the steam coming from her bath. It settled comfortably on the counter by the sink.

A spirit! She knew it.

I'm going to win the bet! I'm going to win the bet.
The words singsonged inside her head. She started to sit up.

Oops, not a good idea.

Coconut-and mango-scented bubbles were not on her fashion list. It didn't matter. Selena was quite content to lie back and wallow in her victory. She bit her lip to keep from laughing out loud.

Calm down.

She didn't want to scare the spirit away before Trent had a chance to see it. Not that he would get the chance to see it while she was in the bathtub, but once she was dressed—look out!

The vapor grew thicker, taking on the shape of a lanky cowboy as he became more solid. Selena guessed him to be in his early thirties. Not bad looking: blondish hair, strong chin.

With one finger, he pushed up the brim of his cowboy hat and looked into the fogged mirror. “You know, I've aged pretty good.” He turned toward Selena. “Wesley Cole, ma'am, at your service.” He crossed his arms in front of him and leaned against the counter, a roguish grin on his face.

S
elena knew her smile was smug. But just knowing there was a spirit inhabiting the hotel was, well…. Her smile widened. The feeling was priceless.

“Hello, Mr. Cole.”

“You can call me Wesley, ma'am.”

“Wesley it is.”

His gaze slowly moved over her. She frowned. Could he see past the bubbles? An uncomfortable heat spread over her as something occurred to her: the older the spirit, the stronger their powers.

Wesley looked like a gunslinger straight from an old west movie. It was probably too much to hope that he might be an actor who'd died during the shooting of a film and not a gunfight. No, she had a feeling he was a real-life—or in this case a real-dead—cowboy, probably from the last century.

So maybe he
could
see past the bubbles. She grabbed the towel and brought it in front of her. “You could've introduced yourself at a more appropriate time.” She scowled to get her point across. Just because a person died didn't mean their manners were buried with them.

He leaned against the wall. Or at least he had the appearance of leaning against the wall. A spirit didn't actually have substance.

“But, darlin', it's been a long time since I've seen a woman as beautiful as you, and I just couldn't help myself.” His devilish smile said it all. The man was a flirt. When he was alive, he'd probably had a whole string of silly females lusting after him.

It might not be so easy to convince Wesley that he should make himself known to Trent. Ghosts could be quite stubborn sometimes. She wondered what he would want in return. Before she could ask, a soft pink light began to glow in the corner.

Another ghost. Technically, she needed only one. Two of them usually meant trouble when they put their heads together. Not a great situation.

Okay, she could handle two of them. No problem.

But did it have to be while she was taking a bath?

Uh-oh, the pretty pink light of only a moment ago was beginning to shimmer dark red. This one wasn't happy. A deep red glowing light was not a good sign. And it didn't help that the water in the tub had started to cool considerably. Another bad sign.

“Ahh, Dixie, can't you just appear like any normal ghost?” Wesley asked, shoving his hat a notch higher on his forehead and frowning at the red light.

The light began to take shape, and a young woman appeared. She wore a flaming red dress trimmed in black ruffles. The hem fell just past her knees. A matching black feather adorned her blond hair.

“Unlike you, I like to make a statement when I arrive. It's not like we have a reason to show ourselves these days.” She raised a haughty eyebrow, then turned to Selena. “I'm Dixie Raye. Why'd you wake us? I was having the most sensuous dream before you and that man arrived.” She sighed loudly. “Do you know how long it's been since I've had sex?”

You and me both,
Selena wanted to tell her, but decided to ignore her comment about sex and introduced herself instead. “Hello, Dixie. I'm Selena James—”

“She didn't wake us up,” Wesley interrupted. “I told you, it was the fella yelling at the top of his lungs. Then that odd-looking woman with the orange hair showed up cursing him. A whole bunch of people came next and started stirring up all the dust.”

“I saw them. You don't have to go into a long, boring explanation.” Dixie frowned. “What I want to know is why are we in the bathing room?”

Wesley sighed and shook his head. “Because she's the only one who can hear or see us. And everyone has left except her and the fella.”

Dixie grinned. “He jumped when I pinched him. I'd say he felt my presence just fine.” She chuckled at her little prank.

Great, Dixie pinched Trent, but Selena had gotten the blame.
Thanks for nothing
.

“You know, it was your shenanigans that got us killed in the first place,” he reminded her.

Dixie snapped open a feathered fan that suddenly appeared in her hand and began to flutter it rapidly in front of her face.
“My shenanigans?
It's
your
fault we're dead! If
you
hadn't been flirting with every skirt in town, we'd still be alive. Have you forgotten about Prissy Lou McPhearson? Or Jane Billings? And what about little Miss Samantha—”

“Enough!” Selena said before they could say another word. Her teeth were already chattering from the cold chills sweeping over her.

Cripes, the water had long ago lost any of its warmth, and she was freezing while they were arguing about something that had happened at least a hundred years ago!

“Can you take your quarreling elsewhere? I would like to finish my bath if you don't mind.”

Dixie raised her chin. “See what you've done now. You've angered her. She'll leave, and we'll be alone for the next one hundred or so years in this horrible place.” In a poof, she was gone.

“Women.” Wesley shook his head, but left right behind her in a flash.

“Finally!” Now maybe she could get out of the freezing water! She had so many chill bumps she looked diseased. She hurriedly jerked the plug and jumped out, reaching for a dry towel.

Warmth. She needed to get warm.

 

Trent straightened from the bathroom door where he'd been listening to Selena talk to herself. It was worse than he could've imagined. He might not have been far off the mark when he told his brother that Selena was demented.

She'd been arguing with someone called Dixie and Wesley. Her voice was the only one he'd heard, though.

Maybe she knew he was out here and thought she could convince him there were ghosts in the bathroom. That was really lame. He thought she'd be smarter than that.

The door suddenly swung open. Selena stood before him wearing only a pair of black lace panties that barely covered anything at all.

He couldn't move. Not that he wanted to.

She gasped and grabbed for her top. It was too late. He'd already seen her luscious breasts, the dusky areoles, her hard nipples.

Damn, what did she do, take a cold bath? Did he turn her on so much that she had to cool her ardor? Nice thought. Almost as nice as the gentle curve of her hips and the way they tapered down to her long legs. In an instant, he'd taken in a lot more of Selena James than she probably wanted him to see.

His reaction was immediate.

She slammed the door in his face.

And so, apparently, was hers.

“Most people knock before they open a door,” she yelled.

His eyebrows drew together. Now what was she trying to pull? “I'm not the one opening doors. That only leaves you. But hey, if you wanted to impress me with your nakedness, it damn sure worked.”

“I didn't open the door!”

“I suppose Wesley or Dixie opened it.”

Silence.

Busted, and she knew it.

Finally, she answered. “You may not have opened the door, but you're definitely guilty of eavesdropping.”

Right, like she hadn't meant for him to hear every word. “And I suppose you're going to try to convince me there were two ghosts in there with you.”

The door flung open again. This time Selena was fully dressed. If you could call little black shorts and a yellow halter top dressed. Not that he minded. Hell, she was just as tempting with clothes on, even though naked was much better.

She shoved her damp hair over her shoulder and glared at him. “By the end of two weeks you'll be convinced,” she huffed and marched toward her room.

Convinced the hotel was haunted? Not for a second. Convinced she was giving him a perpetual hard-on? Hell, that was a gimmie.

He knew her game. She had a bagful of tricks. Did she think to seduce him into believing in ghosts? Okay, the thought was tempting, especially when he couldn't take his gaze off her tight little ass as she stomped to her room. She didn't even look in his direction as she went inside, slamming the door behind her.

He drew in a deep breath, gathering his wits about him. Man, this lady was a first-rate con artist. And he'd better not forget it.

He left the hall and entered the bathroom. Hell, what did he expect? Conning people was probably as natural to her as breathing. Just look at her family. Her mother was certifiable. The whole time she was cleaning, she'd glared at him as if he'd crucified her daughter. And maybe he had—on television at least—but with her profession, she deserved it.

Then there was Selena's father, the lawyer. Probably an ambulance chaser looking to help someone sue some poor unsuspecting sap. No telling what his influence in Selena's life had been.

After shutting the bathroom door, he paused. Her father hadn't looked like a shyster lawyer. Hadn't acted like one, either. From the little he'd been around the man, he'd found him pleasant.

That could also work to her father's advantage—reel in the unsuspecting fish, then scale it down until there was nothing left but the bones.

Since his father's heart attack fifteen years ago, Trent had been conned plenty. He wasn't quite the gullible nineteen-year-old he'd been back then. It wouldn't be so easy this time. No, Selena had met her match. Things usually went bump in the night because someone was doing the bumping.

He turned the water on and began stripping out of his clothes. Just as he turned to shut the water off, the door creaked wide open.

“I suppose you wanted to tempt
me
with
your
body?” Selena's words dripped with sarcasm.

He grabbed the towel and spun around to face her. Her heated gaze traveled over him. His gut clenched. He quickly wrapped the towel around him and knotted it at his side.

“Not bad,” she casually stated.

Not bad? What the hell did that mean? It wasn't as if he stayed glued to his computer. He had weights and worked out every day. He could think better when he lifted a dumbbell. His abs were tight and his biceps defined. He'd been told his gluteus maximus looked pretty darn good, too.

Not bad?

He had been a little lax lately. He could've been lifting more often if he hadn't been doing all the publicity…

He frowned. What the hell was he thinking? He didn't care what she thought about him or his body.

It wasn't good his body was missing the damn message. “Like you said, most people knock before they open a door.”

She chuckled. “But then, I didn't open the door. Did you?”

“Hell no!”

“Then maybe Wesley or Dixie opened it.”

“Your ghosts? Yeah, sure. I'll believe it when I see them. Would you like to point them out to me?” Damn, why was he even arguing with her in the first place? Especially considering he stood in front of her with only a towel around his waist.

But then, he was looking at the answer. And Selena looked good. Damn good.

His gaze flicked over her, but lingered as it traveled back to her face. Damn, she was hot, and apparently not shy since she'd wanted to get a glimpse of him. Blaming the door opening on a pair of ghosts was flimsy at best. His eyes met hers. How badly did she want him?

One, maybe two steps and he could take her into his arms, pull her lips against his. He'd show her not only how his body looked but how it felt. Real up close and personal.

But when she crossed her arms in front of her, a barrier was thrown up between them, and Trent came to his senses.

Man, she is so conning you
, his inner voice laughed at him. His gaze turned hard. “Like I said, point them out to me, honey, and we'll end this charade right here and now.”

Point them out to him? Oh, she'd like to do just that! If Wesley and Dixie weren't already dead, she'd strangle them. Now Trent thought she'd opened the door—both times.

Grrr.

“Whatever,” she threw over her shoulder and traipsed down the stairs. Once at the bottom, she turned in the direction of the kitchen.

This was one of the first rooms cleaned. A good thing because she was starving. She opened the refrigerator. Damn it, she always ate when she was angry.

“Thanks a whole hell of a lot, you two!” She'd probably gain ten pounds while she was here.

Her nerves were stretched taut. She desperately needed to relax. Feed the mind not the body. That was what Paige's mother had told them years ago, and it worked—most of the time.

She closed the refrigerator and rummaged through the cabinets until she found what she was looking for, then smiled. Her wanna-be psychic mother believed scented candles helped invoke the spirits. Selena just enjoyed the aroma. She had enough trouble with spirits without calling them to her.

Closing her eyes, she inhaled. Ahh, vanilla. She loved the soothing fragrance. After setting the candle in a saucer, she lit it. For a moment, she let the scent tickle her nose. This was nice, and she was already starting to feel calmer.

She turned on the radio her father had given her in case there was an emergency broadcast of some kind. Her father always saw to every detail. That was why he was such a good lawyer. He left nothing to chance.

But rather than the emergency station, she turned it to a station that played the classics. She let the romantic strains of Bach wash over her, further relaxing her tense muscles before she continued on her search.

The first cabinet yielded bounty. Bless Paige's heart. Her cousin knew exactly what kind of wine she liked. Selena brought down the bottle of Merlot and a long-stemmed glass. What more could she ask for? Unless it was the yummy fettuccini Alfredo her mother had stuck in the refrigerator.

The dessert she could do without. Yuck, black cherry gelatin. Her mother was always trying to foist it on her. Selena didn't eat anything that wiggled in her mouth.

Her forehead puckered in thought. She shook her head. Nope, she wasn't even going there.

But she loved fettuccini.

Her stomach rumbled, letting her know it was time to eat…angry or not.