Ghostly Liaison (19 page)

He was definitely that and more. And she liked him, but it didn’t matter. He could do so much better than her. “I’m sure they’ll come around. They value Kate’s opinion.”

“But not yours?”

“Right now?” She shook her head. “No. Not so much.”

* * * *

Rob placed the plate of pancakes in front of Bridget and sat across from her. He’d eaten many pancake meals in this dining room when he was a kid, back before his parents had moved into the house he now called home. His parents were gone now, and he might have felt a twinge of sorrow if he wasn’t staring at his future. He wanted her in the worst way, but he needed her to want him, too. Somehow he’d get her to come around.

She still looked awfully pale, the bags under her eyes were darkened, and her father’s visit hadn’t helped with her mood any. After she cut the stack into little pie shapes, she poured syrup over them then stabbed a portion and shoved it into her mouth.

“I think pancakes made by someone else are always the best,” she said with a mouthful and maybe a hint of a smile. “These are really good.”

He placed an elbow on the table and rested his head in his hand. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to talk with your mouth full?”

His bout with teasing backfired. That little curl at the end of her lips bent downward. “Don’t you start now. Next you’ll be telling me I shouldn’t have gone off on my own.”

He placed his hand over hers. “I’m not blaming you for getting attacked.”

She pulled away, her rejection stinging a bit. “I swear, as soon as I saw someone was living there, I headed for the door. Which reminds me, I need to go back.”

“What? Getting hit once wasn’t enough?”

She stabbed another pile of pancake and stuffed it into her mouth and then proceeded to talk. “I don’t plan on going alone. Will you take me back? I don’t know who else to ask.”

His temples throbbed, a sure sign his blood pressure was on the rise. He willed himself to calm down. While she couldn’t be thinking straight, at least she’d asked for company. “I’m not taking you anywhere until you tell me why you were there in the first place.”

“Oh…well…you see.” She took a drink of her milk. The longest sip he’d ever seen. All the while, she averted her gaze.

He was normally a patient man, but he’d given her enough chances to come clean. When she speared more pancakes, he held her hand, stopping her from taking another bite. Maybe he could prod her along. “Were you hoping to find Nick’s ghost?”

She sighed and nodded. “I thought he wasn’t there, but then I talked to Charlie—”

“What? When did you talk with her? When you were in the bathroom?” He still couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact Charlie could be sitting in this room with them, listening to their conversation. Did Bridget feel the same way? Was that why she kept pushing him away?

She put her fork down. “No. At the vet’s. She reminded me if someone was there to attack me, then there was no way I could have seen Nick.”

“Because you can’t see ghosts if someone is watching?”

“Exactly. At least, that seems to be the way it works.” She forked the pancakes into her mouth.

Which meant she couldn’t tell if Charlie was here now or not, except… He glanced at Barnaby, who slept against the wall. Well, he was no help. “Why are you looking for Nick anyway?”

This time she finished swallowing before speaking, probably thinking about what she should say. “Charlie thinks he might have some information about her murder.”

Again with Charlie’s murder. And all this time he’d been blaming himself for a suicide that never was. “Does she know who killed her?”

“She says she does.” Bridget stabbed another portion of pancakes and stuffed them in her mouth. Slowly, she chewed, as if she were savoring every bite instead of stalling, which he assumed was her plan. What wasn’t she telling him?

“Who killed her?”

She stabbed another stack and lifted it. Oh no, he wasn’t having any of that. For the second time, he reached across and held her arm, the forkful of pancakes hovering over her plate, dripping syrup.

“Bridget….”

“What?” She kept her attention on her food.

“Look at me, please.”

After what seemed like forever, she finally lifted her head. Concern filled her eyes. “Please don’t make me say.”

“You don’t think I should know?”

“It’s not that. I need to talk to Nick first. That’s if he’s even there. You’ll take me, won’t you?”

He released her arm. “You don’t believe he’ll be there?”

“I don’t know what to believe anymore.” She put the fork down, having only eaten half of her cakes. “I’m seeing the world differently and I’m not so sure I like it.”

He was seeing the world differently, too. One with her by his side. And he liked it a lot.

* * * *

Bridget lost her appetite and not because the pancakes weren’t any good. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d enjoyed a batch more. But if Rob wouldn’t take her back, who could she ask?

“Okay, I’ll take you.”

She smiled and her appetite returned. “Thank you. Do you think we could go tomorrow, or rather, later today?”

He glanced at his watch. “I don’t know. Kate said you should rest.”

“What part of talking is exertion? I’m not going to wrestle the guy.”

“Can I answer you after you’ve had some rest, then? When you don’t look like you’ve been hit by a bus?”

Ouch. It was one thing thinking she looked bad, another coming from his mouth. She went back to eating her pancakes. “Look that bad, do I?”

“You just look tired.”

Well, she wouldn’t go back to bed. Two nightmares were enough for one night. “I’ll feel better once I get Charlie off my back.” Oh, crap. She was talking about his sister. “That’s not to say I don’t like her. I do. It’s just…”

“She won’t leave you alone unless she gets her way?”

“Oh. And I thought it might have to do with her being dead and all.”

He shook his head.

“I can’t really blame her, though. She’s lonely and technically only has me to talk to. But if I can help her move on, then I want to.” Same with Nick—provided he hadn’t already—but if she told Rob that, he might figure out who killed his sister. She would protect him as long as she could. “I mean, why else would I have this ability if I wasn’t expected to use it.”

“You think what you have is an ability?”

“Well, I certainly don’t know what else to call it. It’s not like I always saw ghosts.” She polished off the rest of the pancakes and pushed the plate away. “Those were really good. When did you learn to cook?”

“I wouldn’t call making pancakes cooking, but I was a Boy Scout and I earned that cooking badge.” He took the plate and carried it to the sink. “You think your accident had something to do with this newfound ability?”

She froze as panic inched its way up her throat. “You know about…”

He sat back in his seat. “You told me to talk to Kate.” He took her freezing hand in his warm one. “But I talked to Brian instead. He told me what happened. You’re lucky to be alive.”

Yeah, luck. “I’d have been luckier if it never happened.”

“But then you wouldn’t be able to see my sister. Right?”

She shrugged, but continued holding his hand, taking some comfort from his touch. But how could she admit earning her ghost-seeing ability was worth the death of her friend and unborn baby?

“You ready to go back to bed?”

“No. I’m not sleepy,” she said in the midst of a yawn. Damn traitorous body.

“Sure you’re not. Want to watch TV instead?”

She stood. Her leg objected to the movement, having stiffened from sitting so long. “You don’t have to stay.”

“Will you stop? I’m glad to do it. Besides, there’s nothing for me at home except a bed, and I can use the couch here.” He placed his hands on her shoulders and pointed her toward the living room. “Now go see if there’s anything good on that TV, while I clean up in here.”

Of the five stations she could pick up over the air, her choices included
Law & Order
,
Entertainment Tonight
, a blooper show, an infomercial, or an old horror flick. At least she assumed it was a horror movie. Some big, slimy creature was oozing through the theater and kids were running away screaming. She picked the movie as it seemed the most promising.

After Rob finished in the kitchen, he sat on the couch beside her—much too close. “Oh, wow. I haven’t seen this movie in ages.”

She scooted to the arm rest. “You know it?”

“Yeah, It’s
The Blob
. Haven’t you ever seen it before?”

“No. Is it good?”

“I liked it.”

Good enough for her. She sat back, but couldn’t get comfortable. The back cushion irritated her wound, forcing her to lean against the armrest away from Rob. She was more tired than she imagined and nearly dozed herself off the couch. He grabbed her by the arms and pulled her close beside him.

Her heart raced from the intimate embrace. She pushed away and sat up straight. It wouldn’t take much to get comfortable around him and then she’d lose whatever willpower she had left.

“Is it me, or is it Charlie?”

Crap, she hadn’t even thought about Charlie. Was she in the room watching? “I think it’s best I keep my distance.”

“Why? Am I not good enough? Is that it? Is it because I didn’t go to college?”

Like college had done her any good. “There’s nothing wrong with you. Any woman would be lucky to have you.”

“Then why do you keep pulling away?”

“Why do you keep getting close?”

“If you haven’t realized by now, I’m attracted to you. In a big way. I’m not looking for a one-night stand.”

Her heart pounded in her throat, making it hard to speak. “You could do so much better,” she whispered, staring at her lap.

“No, I couldn’t. But if you can honestly say you’re not interested, and I mean say it to my face, look me in the eye and not lie, then I’ll drop it. It won’t be easy, but I know better than to make an ass out of myself.”

Could she say that and not make it sound like a lie? Because it would be. The biggest one she ever uttered. She looked into his dark brown eyes and drowned in their depths.

“What are you afraid of, Bridget?”

“That I won’t live up to your expectations.”

“If you could relax around me, that would surpass my expectations. Right now I just want you to lean on my shoulder so when you fall asleep, you don’t land on your head.”

“I’m not tired.” Again with the frickin’ yawn.

“Sure you’re not. But don’t be surprised if you wake up in my arms.”

Wake up in his arms? No way. She’d stay awake if it killed her.

Rob opened his eyes, taking a moment to get his bearings. The TV displayed a church service of some kind and sunlight filtered through the curtains. He was nestled on a pillow against the armrest with one foot on the floor and Bridget lying on top of him, out to the world.

Toward the end of the movie, she’d finally succumbed to sleep. As she had drifted off, he’d pulled her close, made a few minor adjustments to make her more comfortable, and it worked. For him as well.

He looked at his watch. Eight AM. So much for waking her every few hours. Gently, he shook her by the shoulder.

She mumbled something unintelligible and moved her hand down his body. He gasped as a rush of excitement flowed through his extremities. One in particular as her hand brushed against it.

She opened her eyes.

“Good morning,” he said.

She pressed against his straining erection as she stared at him. He held his breath.

“Morning?” She pushed up and looked around, putting her weight on that hand. He’d never lost control over his orgasms, but there was always a first time.

“Are you okay?” she asked. “You look like you’re in pain.”

Words failed him. He nodded. No wait, that was wrong. He shook his head. Wait. What was the question?

“Did I hurt you? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to….” His dick jerked and her eyes widened. She lifted her hand as if she’d touched fire. And in a way she had. “Oh, God. I’m so sorry.”

The breath he’d held exploded outward. “I’m not.”

She scrambled to climb off him.

“Bridget, stop.” He sat up and she froze, her face mere inches from his. Taking advantage of such an opportunity, he swooped in and kissed her, sending even more blood to his throbbing erection.

Her lips were soft and warm. She held still for just a moment and then moved forward. She wrapped her arms around his neck and ran her fingers through his hair. Without any prodding, she opened to him. He explored her mouth and tangoed with her tongue. Damn, was he dreaming or was this real?

He found a breast. Her nipple pebbled through the cloth. She was curvy in all the right places, and soft everywhere. He kissed his way to her neck, feeling the rapid fire of her pulse. His heartbeat was doing a good job of keeping up with hers.

“I want you, Bridget. Let me make love to you.” Wanting to feel her skin, he found the bottom of her shirt and pulled.

She placed her hand on top of his. “No…don’t.”

He was losing her. Cupping her face, he brought his forehead to hers. If she was going to reject him, he would make sure she said the words. “Don’t what?”

She closed her eyes and one lone tear escaped. It wrenched his heart.

“I can’t do this. I’m sorry.”

“Bridget… The last thing I want to do is hurt you. If you’re not ready, I can wait.” He might have blue balls, but it was a small price to pay. “Please, don’t push me away.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

“Don’t say that. You like me, don’t you?”

She nodded, ever so slightly. Hope wormed its way into his heart and he relaxed. He brushed the tear from her cheek.

“Then we’ll take it slow. I promise.”

“But—”

“No buts. I like you, you like me. Don’t over think this, Bridget.”

“Slow?”

“Yes. Slow.”

She opened those beautiful blue eyes and stared at him. “I guess I can try slow.”

Ah, victory. A minor one, but he’d take it. He smiled and lightly kissed her lips. She didn’t back away and his heart soared.