Ghostly Liaison (25 page)

“Relax, will you? I’m not looking for a cheap grope. But I won’t stop you if that’s your inclination.”

She closed her eyes and stopped herself from laughing. Although groping him was kind of appealing.

When he’d guided her hand to his side, she relaxed. His skin was hot and smooth until her fingers trailed over the bumps of a scar, a good four to five inches long.

“Feel that? That’s what happens when you’re young and stupid. And showing off. Saw got me good. Certainly took enough stitches. Dad thought for sure I’d bought it that day.”

“You almost died?”

“But I didn’t.” He tilted her chin in his direction. “You didn’t either.”

He cupped her jaw, his touch scorching and leaving a trail as he caressed her neck. She held still, her heart beating overtime. She
had
died that night, but came back and her body was very much alive, screaming for release. If this was so wrong, why did it feel so right, right, right?

He leaned forward and kissed her. All rational thoughts left her head. His lips were soft, imploring and she opened for him, their tongues dueling. He tasted good with just a hint of chocolate. He explored her mouth while his hand trailed down her shoulder and rested on her breast. She wore no bra—it was at Kate’s—but her jacket provided some protection. Still, her nipple hardened and her sex throbbed. She could kiss him forever.

The sound of a zipper brought reality back with a crash.

Her hoodie. Oh God, not that. She struggled in his embrace.

He stopped and broke the kiss, but held on to her tight. “Bridget, when are you going to trust me?”

She trusted him, but could she trust herself? If she let him continue he would expect more. Hell, she needed more but wasn’t quite ready for that…yet. If ever. “I like you.”

He smiled. “That’s good to know. I’m pretty crazy about you, in case you hadn’t noticed. But do you trust me?”

“Yes, but….”

“But?”

She pulled free and looked him in the eye. “I’m not ready for this yet.”

“Then we won’t. Not until you’re ready. Bridget, I’ll do anything for you. You gotta know that.”

And that was the problem. If she stayed any longer, she would only hurt him more, when the only person who should feel pain was her. He deserved better. Once she helped Charlie move on, she would be out of his life for good. Until then, she’d keep her distance.

“Can you take me home? Please?”

“Bridget, you don’t have to leave. I’m sorry. We’ll just watch a movie.”

His pleading wrenched her heart. What had she done? “I’m tired. I want to take a bath and then crash.”

“I guess you have been through quite a bit today. Forgive me for being selfish. I just want to be with you.”

No more than she did with him, but she’d already let it go on too long. She stood and went to her backpack.

“What about Carl?” he asked. “You’re not going to do anything foolish are you?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll keep my distance.” She’d faced death once and won. The second time she might not be so lucky.

“Good, because I might hire a private investigator to check into some things. Maybe find the proof we need.”

Thank God he wasn’t getting involved. Her stress lightened significantly. “That’s a good idea. My investigative skills suck.” She slung her pack on her shoulder.

He grabbed his keys off the counter and they walked to the truck. Barnaby hopped in first and she took the seat beside him. He nosed her hand. Clearly it wasn’t working as it should. She hugged the animal and rubbed his back.

Rob drove a short distance and stopped. No cars had passed so she took a peek and immediately wished she hadn’t.

* * * *

Out of all the women Rob had dated in the past, not one had ever made him feel so helpless. Not until Bridget.

When would he learn, being with Bridget meant slow and steady, not fast and reckless? But damn, she drove him wild with desire. He had to go and get greedy, didn’t he?

She appeared on the verge of bolting and he couldn’t have that. Not after all the progress he’d made. He still had the house to fix. Getting her involved in the next project might be one way to get back on her good side. He needed to do something fast or he’d lose her for good.

“Why did we stop here?” she asked.

He blinked. Hell if he knew. He’d stopped at the sign and then his mind wandered. He glanced at her and her pale face, but she wasn’t looking at him. She was staring out the window, across the street, to the river. Horror etched across her pretty face.

Shit. Good going, Rob.
Got any other ways to blow this relationship? Of all the places he could stop, he chose the site of her accident. And without even trying.

“Sorry. Mind wandered.” He turned left and she lowered her head. “How about I work in the living room next? You don’t have a problem with that, do you?”

“It’s your house. I’m just house-sitting. Remember?”

Yeah, he’d moved back a few steps. Hopefully not too far back.

He drove up the driveway, and she jumped out before the truck had finished rolling. He scrambled to meet up with her at the door.

“I hope you feel better.”

“Thanks.” She unlocked the front door and stood in the doorway, her head lowered. “Let me know how the private investigator goes. Hopefully it won’t take long.”

With that attitude, he wanted it to take a good long time. True, nothing would give him more pleasure than seeing the bastard put away for killing his baby sister, but Rob got the impression Bridget would dump him the minute that occurred. And while it might seem unfair to Charlie, she’d understand. Wouldn’t she? He couldn’t lose the only woman he’d ever loved. He needed more time so Bridget could see how good he was for her.

He leaned over for a kiss good-bye, but stopped at the last minute. No need scaring her away any more than he already had. “I’ll call you about the next project. Okay?”

“Sure. Good night, Rob.” And with that, she was gone.

He hit his forehead with the heel of his hand. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. He’d played with fire and got burned. Royally. He only hoped he hadn’t scorched the whole relationship.

* * * *

No sooner had Bridget closed the door when pain slashed through her temples so intense her eyes watered. She turned her back to impending doom and rested her heated head against the cool door.

“Hey, roomie. Did you have fun with my big brother? You were gone long enough.”

The headache may have triggered the waterworks, but remembering the hurt look on Rob’s face kept them flowing.

“Any idea when you’ll go find Nick? Good thing Mr. Murdock was watching the Reds game. I’ve been going crazy waiting.”

Yak, yak, yak. Bridget had had enough. “Can you give me an hour? I’d like to take a bath in peace.”

“Why are you crying?” Charlie spun Bridget around. “Was Carl at the party? Did he hurt you?”

Bridget wiped her eyes. “He was there, but he didn’t do anything.” Except maybe scare the bejesus out of her. “I just don’t feel well.”

“Oh. I keep forgetting I give you a headache.” She floated back a few feet. “I’ll go watch the rest of the game. Enjoy your bath.” Charlie dematerialized out of the room.

Bridget felt a tinge of regret letting Charlie assume her ghostly presence caused so much grief. She tossed her backpack on the couch and headed for the bedroom. A bath would be nice, but having Suzie around would be nicer. Then she could be with Rob guilt-free.

She unzipped her jacket and slid it off her shoulders. What if Suzie were still around? As a ghost? Damn. Forget the bath. She was going for a walk.

After quickly changing into something a little less revealing—scrubs had their purpose, but weren’t meant to be worn without underwear—she grabbed four bottles of water and stuffed them in her backpack. Thank goodness Charlie was next door. She could only follow so far, but Bridget would prefer to avoid the incessant questioning that was sure to come. This trip had nothing to do with Charlie and her problems and everything to do with Bridget’s future.

The heat had let up a bit, but still hugged her body. A hot breeze blew from the west, and clouds formed on the horizon. This trip would have been a lot quicker with her bike, but Carl must have taken it after he bopped her on the head and the cops couldn’t find it anywhere near the construction site. The walk might do her good. Her headache was down a couple of notches—more like a dull throb—but the possibility existed she’d be sore in other places before the day was through. That way she could share the wealth.

She pulled her iPod out and put in the earbuds. Thirty-seven songs later with her shirt stuck to her back and her thighs chafed, she arrived at the river. The sun hung low on the horizon. She blocked the rays with her hand and looked both ways before crossing the street. A new guardrail lined the road. Maybe if that thing had been there before, Suzie wouldn’t have drowned. Then again, she might have been squished to death.

After stepping over the railing, she inched her way down the grassy slope, being careful not to slide to the bottom. Be just her luck to end up in the river and drown, not her purpose at all. Suicide was the coward’s way out and Suzie deserved more than that.

If the car had left any sign of rolling, it disappeared long ago. The river breached the banks, still high from last week’s rain, and a branch traveled past at a good clip. Unimpeded, it would reach the Ohio River at the Indiana and Kentucky borders by daybreak.

Bridget ventured to the water’s edge, in an isolated spot deep in shadow, where no one in their right mind would wander. So what did that say about her mind?

She turned off the iPod, removed the earbuds, and listened. Birds chirped. Water lapped at the shore. An occasional car drove by.

“Suzie?” she whispered.

No answer, but what did she expect? Even the birds didn’t flee.

She cupped the sides of her mouth. “Suzie!”

Her voice echoed and she waited. Each second that passed, her hopes sunk deeper. Bridget sat on the ground with a
thud
. What a foolish trip. Suzie’s only unfinished business was her unborn baby, who had died right along with her. Of course she would go with little him or her. Wouldn’t any mother?

“I’m so sorry, Suzie.” She rested her head on her knees and wept.

Her cell phone rang. After wiping her eyes, she slipped her backpack off and fished for the noisy item. Devin. Would he ever give up? She pressed the ignore button. If it weren’t for the fact her mother might call, she’d turn off the phone. And while she had no desire to speak to her mother, she certainly didn’t want an argument as to why she’d turned off the stupid thing.

No sooner had she deposited the phone back into the pack, when it rang again. Would he ever get the hint? Her thumb hovered over the ignore button. Not Devin. Rob.

She should have never agreed to dating. Now she would only hurt him. She took a deep breath and hit the ignore button. She might as well have stabbed her heart with a stick. The result was the same.

As she placed the phone back in her pack, pain slashed through her temples. Only one thing had been known to do that and her hopes rose. “Suzie?”

Not Suzie, but a woman wearing a black dress with white-polka-dots that came straight from the sixties.

“Who are you?”

Her eyes widened. “You can see me?”

Bridget rubbed her temples. She’d come to find a ghost and got her wish. Too bad it was the wrong ghost. “Yeah. How long have you been here?”

“Not long. You were playing with some strange device when I arrived. My name is Mary Alice Walker. Who are you?”

“Bridget Quigley. But I meant, how long have you been dead?”

Mary grinned. “Hello, Bridget Quigley. I don’t know. I lost count.”

The woman seemed much too cheerful for a ghost. “When did you die?”

“That would be June thirtieth, nineteen sixty-three. How long ago was that?”

“About five decades.”

Mary’s mouth opened. “Five? I guess my baby girl isn’t a baby any more, huh? How is it you can see and hear me? Are you a ghost, too?”

“No. I just see them.” No need to mention touching.

“Who’s Suzie? Is she your little girl? Did you lose her? Is that why you’re crying?”

“Suzie was my friend. We were in a car accident a little over a year ago and she died here.”

The woman floated closer and squinted her eyes before widening them in surprise. “That
was
you! I thought you looked familiar. What a night. I don’t think I’ve seen so many people since.”

“You saw the accident?”

“I heard the crash. By the time I got here, your car had rolled into the river and the other car on top. Were you hoping you’d see your friend as a ghost?”

“Something like that. Why are you still hanging around? How did you die?”

“I jumped off that bridge.”

The little bridge didn’t seem tall enough to cause a death. But then, the river was rather shallow. “Was there a reason you jumped?”

“Seemed like the right thing to do at the time. If I had known what I was getting myself into, I would have stuck around. Can’t say this life is any better than the previous one.”

“Was life really that bad?”

“Having the baby wasn’t anything like I thought it would be. I should have been happy to be a mother, but all the baby did was cry. I couldn’t shut her up and no one would help. I was expected to do it all and I couldn’t. I just couldn’t take it anymore.”

Bridget had seen patients with postpartum depression. Thankfully, they’d been treated successfully. Back in the sixties, it probably wasn’t even diagnosed. Was that why Mary Alice hadn’t moved on? Was suicide a big no-no?

“Suzie tried to wake you, did you know that? But I guess you were too badly injured to hear, huh?”

“I don’t remember anything after stalling the car.”

“And the guy who hit you? I think he was drunk.”

“Yes, I had heard that.” Bridget stood and slipped on her backpack. Staying here wasn’t doing her any good and she still had quite a walk home.

“You’re leaving? You can’t leave. You just got here.”

“I came to find Suzie and she’s not here. I’m sorry I can’t help you.”