Hunting for Love (3 page)

She didn’t have it in her to slap her gift in the face and
pretend she hadn’t heard Garrett.
 
In the
years since they’d split, Garrett returned, checked in on her even though his
essence was so like Gavin’s it almost stung to have him in her head.

Not even if it meant gaining the forgiveness of the one man
she’d ever loved.

Loved.
 
Stupid word.
 
Is my pride worth more than his love?

She wasn’t sure anymore.

“You’re not full of bullshit.” His whispered words were
almost like a ghost’s voice, carried on the evening breeze.

She shook off the need for him, the desire to run into his
arms and hug him because he was there and she’d missed him.
 
Instead she tugged at her reserves of strength
and kept her chin high.
 
“I wish that was
how you really felt but I know differently.
 
I’m still staying tonight, by the way.”

If she thought, even a little, this would dissuade him from
going through with the date, he quickly squashed that idea.
 
“I’m staying too.
 
My gut says tonight is important.”

Funny that he said that.
 
She thought the same
thing,
still felt the
prickle of anticipation even through the
clusterfuck
of emotion swirling inside her.

“In this, at least, we can agree.
 
Too bad our fascination with the dead is the
only thing we share now.” The words felt like a lie even as she said them.
 
She might be nothing more than a liar and a
fake to him but he was so much more to her.
 
So very much more.
 
If only there was a way to get past their
differences.
 
If only.

Chapter Four

“Well, hello!
 
You
both beat me here!”
 
A perky woman he
hadn’t noticed pull in and get out of her car made her way up the stairs.
 
“Ready for your night of
haunting?”

It was a chance.
 
To
make right what he’d flubbed so horribly.
 
The dating service couldn’t know, not possibly, how much Heather meant
to him.
 
How happy he’d been with her.

How much he regretted his explosion.
 
If she believed in him, in his work, who was
he to dispute hers?

“Yes,” he answered and shifted his green bag.

Without another word, he offered a hand down to Heather, an
olive branch disguised in polite civility.

She ignored the offered hand, and walked the long way around
to climb the stairs.
 
“So, you lock us in
there for the night?”

“Yes, this house has long been known to have an extensive
and rich past.
 
The paranormal elements,
though, are mostly confined to two areas.”
 
Unlocking the front door she waved them in and Gavin took in the wide,
sweeping stair that curved up to the next floor.
 
Dust lay like a protective blanket over every
available surface but didn’t hide the richness of the woods, intricately carved
and with much attention to small architectural details that spoke of the wealth
of the owners.

“The first is the staircase.
 
Many have spotted an elegant woman, garbed in period attire, sweeping
down the stairs to gaze at the door as if waiting for someone.
 
In the upstairs, if you’ll follow me, the
second bedroom is also an area of interest.
 
A fire in the early nineteenth century swept through that room, damaging
others around it, and killing the owner's daughter and her lover.
 
Tragic past, but a lot of action seems to
happen in that room.”

Heather stopped dead, halfway up the stairs and Gavin turned
back to her.

“You okay?” he asked.

Her nod was slow and her face looked pale.

“You’re staying, right?” he spoke softly, only for her ears.

“You have no idea how much I have to.
 
I’ve been looking for this house for
years.”
 
Her mysterious answer seemed to
give her back her strength and she bounded after the caretaker, a look of
excitement chasing away the shadows that for a moment haunted her expression.

Chapter
Five

To have finally found the house of her dreams, to have the
answers that eluded her for so long now at her fingertips, elated Heather. When
she was younger, the fire freaked her out and waking up choking?
 
Horrifying.
 
It was like she died every time she dared
close her eyes.

With this many years into the haunting, she was more curious
why they called out to her, again and again, reliving the moment they died in
her head each night.
 
She understood
enough about the dead to know they were begging her for help.

But what could she do?

Her hand rested on a door, having raced ahead of the
caretaker, and she knew this was it.
 
This
was the room.

The door was different, more modern than the one in her
dreams but that would make sense.
 
The
door in her dream burnt up.

The caretaker touched her arm.
 
“Yes, this is the room.
 
Supposedly the lovers met in this room and,
somehow or another, a fire started. No one knows how or why but the wardrobe—”

“Henry pushed it against the window to keep her from getting
out.
 
They were arguing." The words
seemed pulled from her, as if she had to say them.
 

“Uh, yes.
 
So you’ve researched the history of the house?”

Meeting the caretaker’s gentle gaze, Heather bit back a
hysterical giggle.
 
“You could say that.”

“Well, there is food downstairs in the kitchen and modern
appliances to make your stay comfortable.
 
Is there anything else you need from me?”
 
The caretaker looked at Gavin, drawing
Heather’s attention back to him.

Locked
in this house.
 
Of all the houses in the
world.
 
With
Gavin.

But even if she would have run from him, escaped the painful
memories of him leaving, she couldn’t run away from this chance to finally have
answers.

He shook his head.
 
“No, we’re good.
 
Have a good
night.”

He didn’t move as they both stood and listened to the
caretaker’s heels click down the stairs.
 
The door closed behind her and the lock engaged with resounding finality.
 
Neither moved or
spoke as the sound of an engine in the driveway faded into the distance,
leaving the silence of the house to settle around them.

“We should talk,” he finally whispered.

She shook her head this time.
 
“No, let’s not.
 
It’s done. There’s no use rehashing the
past.
 
We came for a date and it’s not
what we expected.
 
We
both
want
these ghosts, though, so let’s put it all behind us and enjoy this
for what it is.”

He looked, briefly, like he was going to argue.
 
The silly, girly part of her wanted him to
refute her words.
 
To say something
romantic like, “I can’t forget the past, or you.
 
I still want you.”

He didn’t, of course.
 
Men only said things like that in books.
 
Real men did what he did.

He ran a hand through his hair and nodded.

“So,
you getting
a feeling off this
place?”

She grinned.
 
“You
aren’t going to believe me.”

“Try me.”

“Remember the dream?
 
The fire dream I told you I’ve had as long as I can remember?”

“Oh, shit!” Excitement lit his features, animating the
carved beauty of a face she’d never forgotten.
 
“This is it?
 
Henry
and Louisa?”

She couldn’t resist the grin that split her face.
 
Her hands shook as she stroked the door.
 
“Yeah, Henry and Louisa.
 
I think we’ve found them.”

“I brought instruments for measuring things…heat, sound,
motion—”

“Well, get out a recorder and let’s go in.
 
Save all your other toys.”

He dropped the bag, rummaging, and then held up a small,
handheld device.
 
“Got
it.
 
I’m bringing the camera,
too.”

“Whatever.
 
Are you
ready?”
 
She trembled, curiosity
overwhelming caution.

“Let’s go.”

She opened the door and was overwhelmed with the smell of
roses.
 
In the dream, the only scent she
ever smelled was the acrid burn of the smoke as it choked her—Louisa, not
her—but in this room, roses.

“They died in here,” she whispered to Gavin.

“Would it be totally weird if I told you I could feel
that?
 
Can you smell the flowers?”
 
Gavin’s voice trembled, giving away his
excitement.

“Roses.
 
Not just flowers, roses.
 
I never
smelled roses in the dream.”

The room was empty save for a huge bed, surrounded by a
wooden canopy.
 
In the dreams, the canopy
was gauzy material that ignited when the flames licked them to life, fluttering
in shreds as the flames engulfed them.
 
Now, heavy wood surrounded it, arching to a gothic style peak that
wasn’t period for the house at all.

“What’s in that box?”
 
Striding across the room, past the bed, Gavin headed toward something
she couldn’t see.
 
Then again, he topped
out at six four and had a good foot on her.

She followed him around the bed and saw a large steamer
trunk on the floor.
 
Before she could say
anything, he’d thrown it open.

“Sex toys?” he muttered.

Glancing inside, she realized he was right.
 
The box was filled with interesting things
from nipple clamps to cuffs to…

“What the hell is that?” She nudged it with a finger.

“I would have to say that is a golden dildo.
 
Is it real gold?”

A shiver of need shot through her.
 
Sex
toys plus man you desire does not a platonic conversation make.

Pressing a button on the toy, it came to life, filling the
room with the sound of its vibration against the box.

“I would say yes, real gold and yes, fresh batteries.”

“Who has a box like this?” He looked intrigued.
 
“And in a haunted room.”

A voice seemed to whisper in Heather’s ear.
 
They’re
things I wanted.
 
It’s amazing what you
can make people buy with little nudges. They think, well, it was their idea but
aren’t sure why they did it.
 
But I
wanted it.
 
I’ve always been excited by
erotic things.

“We’re not alone, Gavin.”

He looked up at her, his close proximity making her breath
come just a little more harshly.
 
She
could smell him, over the roses, a tempting blend of soap and man.

“Someone talking to you?”

She nodded and listened but the ghost, Louisa she would
guess, didn’t add more.

“About the toys?”
His half assed grin stung her
with its familiarity and she brushed hair from his brow, an automatic response
to that smile.

“Yeah.
 
Apparently we’ve got a horny ghost.”

“Never met one of those.
 
This could be fun.” He stood, looming over
her and running hands down her arms.
 
“You’re still in, right?”

The feel of his skin on hers brought back memories of how
wonderful that skin felt heated by passion.

“Yeah, but what could a ghost want with a golden dildo?” She
pondered it but the answer came quickly.

I want to tell him I’m
sorry.
 
I was a fool, a proud fool, and I
want to show him how much he meant to me
.