How To Bring Your Love Life Back From The Dead (15 page)

No.

She already felt as tied to this
library as he was. She couldn’t.

“What?” he asked, cupping her cheek
with his hand. “Penny for your thoughts.”

She grinned. “I don’t believe you
have a penny.”

His laughter, deep and rich, made
her heart skip, and it seemed the most natural thing in the world
to lean forward and kiss him. It all felt so right. Her mind kept
begging her to be cautious, but her heart was saying, “Go, Ana. Go
for it.” Then, there was her body, which curled around him, and her
mouth which drew his lower lip between her teeth and bit
down.

Shane jerked against her before
sliding his arms around her. “Ana,” he murmured against her
mouth.

*****

His energy was pouring from him. He
needed to stop. But there had never been anyone like Ana. She
kissed with such wanton abandon. Perhaps this was the behavior of
all modern women, but it seemed a contradiction in one as cautious
as his Ana. One more kiss turned into two which slipped into three
which ended in him wanting to bury himself in her and never leave.
This couldn’t be happening. Her hands slipped into his shirt,
touching his ribs, skimming across muscles.

He’d never attended church and
perhaps this was payment for a certain amount of hedonistic
carelessness. Perhaps this was actually hell disguised as paradise
because he could feel the minutes of solid form flying. His hours
with Ana were being spent in minutes. Yet, he couldn’t stop. It had
simply never felt this good.

When the tingle of intangibility
began, he pulled back, knowing that he’d waited too long. Taking
several steps back, he said, “I’m so sorry, Ana. I wanted to talk
with you, but my energy is waning.”

Ana’s eyes nearly broke his resolve
to spend his last few minutes talking. She cared for him too
deeply. How would he ever be able to tell her not to come here?
Perhaps he’d have to start a fight to end it. Maybe he’d need to
break her trust of him and force her to hate him. Wouldn’t that be
ironic? It wasn’t too difficult to recognize that he was falling in
love with her, and it might just take her hatred to save her life
from being wasted with an apparition.

He cleared his throat. “You said
there was one more thing?”

Her eyes flew to the open book—the
one about the local occult practices. “Yes. That woman—Agnes
Weatherby?” She flipped a few pages and pointed.

He was nearly smoke rather than
flesh and blood, and if he got next to her—he wouldn’t be even
that. “Read it to me, little mouse.”

Nodding, though she frowned at his
six foot distance, she read, “It was commonly believed that the
deceased Agnes Weatherby was the town’s one true witch, and she’d
mentioned just days before her death that Charles Franklin would be
making a payment on a curse she’d enacted at his request. Whether
this had anything to do with his partner’s recent disappearance or
not was never discovered as Charles killed the old woman days
later.” She glanced up from the book. “Did you believe her to be a
witch?”

“Honestly I only vaguely remember
her. I never believed in the occult, so I ignored her presence in
town. It seemed small-minded to buy into such things. I seem to
remember she was a thin, wiry, old woman who’d always reminded me
of a crow. She had these beady, black eyes that would look into
your soul.”

“Creepy,” Ana remarked.

“Indeed.” The end of his energy was
looming. “Ana, I have only a few breaths left. I’m so sorry. You
should go home and get some sleep.”

It was a sad smile that she gave him
as she said, “Perhaps I’ll dream of you.”

Then he was gone in form and voice.
The essence of his mind was still present enough to ache as he
watched her gather up everything. At the door to leave, she turned
and blew a kiss to the room, saying, “Good- night, Shane Blythe,
resident spook.”

Analise woke up and stretched in her
bed. It had been a long time since she’d slept that well. Plus,
she’d had an incredible dream about Shane. Somehow she doubted that
most people had good dreams about ghosts. She also had an idea. A
really good idea.

An hour later, she walked into work.
“I have an idea,” she announced to Jenny.

Jenny held up an energy drink with a
look of inquiry.

Brushing the offer away, Ana said,
“Okay, so you know how we hit a brick wall yesterday with finding
out how Shane died?”

“Yes,” Jenny said slowly while
narrowing her eyes. “You met that guy last night again, didn’t
you?”

Ana brushed this away with a wave of
her hand also. “Okay, so we decided that my great, great
grandfather might have been involved, right?” They’d brainstormed
on this—with Ana acting like her interest was purely in its
connection to her family history.

Jenny shrugged.

“What if Charles hired Agnes to
poison Shane?”

“Wait, did we ever figure out why we
think Shane is at the library—if that’s even true?” Jenny
asked.

Oh, it was true. Kissing him had
been amazing. No wonder Ana had good dreams. “I think it has
something to do with his painting being there. It’s got to. That’s
the only way it makes sense.”

“Makes sense?” Jenny
repeated.

“Well, he wasn’t killed there. So,
it’s got to be the painting, right?”

“You just uttered the words ‘it
makes sense’ while talking about a ghost who haunts a library. We
may have parted ways with sense. Normally, I’m the one coming up
with the crazy stories and wild fantasies. I’m not sure I’m
comfortable with being the sane one,” Jenny said. “Also, on that
subject, Nathan left a message saying that he won’t be able to do
that local history presentation at the retirement home later today.
He’s come down with a nasty bug, and he doesn’t want to give it to
a bunch of elderly folk.”

Ana blinked, trying to focus on the
business, instead of this wild hare idea of hers. “I think I have a
copy of the notes for that one. I guess I can go do it.”

Jenny looked at her watch. “Okay, so
we have thirty minutes to devote to whatever weird research plans
you have for today before I have to go meet with the tour bus
driver and talk with him about making more stops for the senior
tours. We had a complaint that he just drove by that old Cary Grant
movie site rather than letting everyone get out and take pictures
for an hour.”

Ana stared at her friend. “This is
really creepy. It’s like we’ve done a brain trade.”

Jenny threw her hands up in the air.
“That’s what I’m telling you. I’m half-tempted to let you run the
haunted tours. Ever since you got onto this research, it’s like
you’re obsessed.”

“Not obsessed…intrigued,” Ana
corrected, wincing.

“Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s
cool that we’ve found something you’re excited about. You’ve been a
little dead to the world since Keaton. But, having you so excited
about ghosts—is almost less believable than actual ghosts. I expect
words no one sees outside of the dictionary and then this
relentless attack on the bottom line so you can tell the entire
Franklin clan what they can do with their money. That’s what I
expect from you. I’m the one who believes in ghosts. I’m the insane
one who rams us down every conversational tangent I
can.”

“It’s an interesting
subject!”

Jenny laughed. “It is fun to make
you all defensive about it too. Okay, what’s the plan for
today?”

Ana pulled out the book. “Okay, so
I’m hitting a dead-end with both my family and Shane’s history, but
I was thinking…what if we tried the history and journals of some of
the other people around during that time?”

“Like?”

Ana pointed at the book again.
“People involved in the occult in those days. If Agnes was involved
in Shane’s death, maybe she told someone.”

“Okay, start throwing out names, and
I’ll look them up,” Jenny said, opening her laptop.

*****

The librarian he didn’t like, Catty,
was standing in front of his painting, staring. He hated it when
she did that. She had one of those things in her hand—a phone—and
she was talking at it.

“That’s what I’m telling you,” she
hissed. “She’s your relative, and she’s been here a lot lately.
Lara said she took a book on the occult history of Seaside with
her.” She tapped a foot and glared at his painting.

He blew a cold wind across her neck.
She swatted around and looked suspiciously in his direction. Shane
decided to do the same thing from the other side. Hah.
Fun.

Catty kept talking. “I didn’t get a
chance to deal with it. It must have come in while I was with you
in Cabo. If this goes south, I still expect payments.” She gasped.
“You wouldn’t dare tell anyone about that!” She snarled at
something the phone said. “Easy for you to say. How am I supposed
to get her kicked out of the collection when she is his great,
great grandchild? Had you thought of that?” Another pause and she
started pacing. “Yeah, because that won’t seem suspicious if you
call and insist!”

Well, he couldn’t blow on her neck
if she was moving. Shane blew a book off the shelf and then laughed
when she went to pick it up.

Another person entered the
collection room. Not the red-headed woman he wanted to see. Maybe
she had a pencil. Was he still collecting pencils? That might be
fun.

Lowering her voice, the librarian
woman said, “Ana is staying after hours at night. I’m watching her
during the day already.”

Ana. That was her name. She came at
night. She was his. Ana. His Ana. Shane focused on the
conversation.

“Okay, maybe that’s possible. I can
tell Lara she spilled something in here or destroyed books and
shouldn’t be allowed in here at night. Oh! I can make a huge
mess—make it look like she went insane and yanked everything off
the shelves before splashing it with soda. Something serious she
could be prosecuted for. Of course your family’s lawyers could get
her off.” She sniffed. “That’d be good. Just leave her there a few
days. What? Oh, I think it’s difficult to get someone declared
insane…even with your money…even if she is acting crazy already. I
can look into it, though.”

He blew another book off.

Catty looked around with a frown as
she picked it up. She cleared her throat. “I can’t do it this
morning. It’ll have to wait. Lara’s already been in here this
morning, so she’d know I was lying. Tomorrow. I’ll get here early
tomorrow and really mess stuff up. Still, I can’t watch her every
day. I have days off. Besides…she’s your cousin. I’m not getting
enough out of this to become her stalker.” Her mouth dropped open,
and she pulled the phone back to stare at it before putting it back
up to her ear. “You wouldn’t dare. You’re in it up to the top of
your precious Franklin head.”

She didn’t want Ana here at night.
Shane concentrated on that. He’d need to remember that so that his
night self could do something about it.

The librarian poked the phone and
strode off.

Catty is trying to get Ana in
trouble. She doesn’t want Ana here at night.
Concentrate, Shane.
This is important. You really, really like Ana.

The other person in the collection
room dropped a pencil—it rolled across the floor, distracting
Shane. A pencil. Did he need a pencil?

*****

Ana was half-way through the
presentation at the retirement home when something about one of the
older women caught her eye. It was a necklace; she’d seen it
somewhere before. It was a moon made of large pieces of polished
jade, segmented in pieces to resemble the phases of the moon. She
knew she’d run across it in her research. The rest of her
presentation couldn’t go quickly enough and after she’d answered
all their questions and been invited to stay for luncheon, she
sought the woman with the necklace out.

The elderly woman was sitting in a
corner, staring through a window. The plate of small sandwiches lay
forgotten as she twirled the necklace with her fingers. Her
cheekbones were defined and sharp and, perhaps it was that and her
white hair, but her dark eyes seemed more intense than any Ana had
ever seen. They were nearly black and when she’d turned to stare at
Ana as she approached, it felt as if she was staring right through
her. That niggled a memory too.