Must Love Ghosts (4 page)

Her lips tasted like the red wine she'd been drinking. He told himself not to rush her this time—they were always in such a crazed hurry back when they were together—but her mouth opened and he dove in, tangling his tongue with hers, tasting, drowning. Kissing her was like coming home on a cold night.

Too soon, she pushed him away. Behind her glasses, her green eyes were hazy with desire. “Stop. I can't think clearly right now. My body is confusing the adrenaline swamping my system with, uh, my former feelings for you.”

He massaged the nape of her neck. “I love it when you talk dirty.”

She gave him another little shove. “I already told you I'm seeing someone else. Nothing is going to happen between us.”

He sighed and stepped back. “Our biggest problem was you thought I was a con artist. Now you know I'm not.” He lifted her left hand and kissed her fingers. “No ring. You're not officially engaged yet.”

She pulled away and grabbed her glass of wine. “Dec, I like you very much, but this isn't going to work between us. I knew that even before you broke into my office.”

His whole body went rigid. “You knew what exactly? Because I thought things were pretty fantastic between us.”

Her eyes went from hazy to angry, but being Tia, she drew a deep breath and made a visible effort to stay calm. “All we did was have sex. We didn't have a real relationship.”

She had that let's-be-adults-here tone that made him want to yell. Instead, he pulled out one of the slatted-wood chairs at her kitchen table. He sat and stretched his legs in front of him like he didn't have a care in the frickin' world. “That's not the way I remember it. Took me a while to figure it out. I've never been in a relationship where the woman was slumming.”

“Slumming? What's that supposed to—” Her mouth fell open as his meaning sank in.

He felt a dumb pulse of satisfaction at her outrage. He didn't want to be her dirty little secret anymore. “Slumming, sweetheart. You never wanted to go anywhere public. You never introduced me to any of your friends, and the one time I showed up on campus, you made it clear I wasn't welcome. Embarrassed to be seen by someone without an advanced degree and a retirement plan.”

Each word dug into his own chest, but he ignored the old pain. He was used to this. As a kid, he'd been ridiculed for having a flaky mother who claimed to talk to the dead. As an adult in the same profession, he got his own share of condescension. Tia wasn't any different.

“You—” Her face reddened, and she blinked like a furious owl behind her glasses. She clenched her fists at her sides, took a deep breath, then another, obviously fighting for control.

He hated when she shut him out. “Go ahead, tell me what you really think for once.”

“Who do you think you are? How dare you call me a snob? I…I…” She gave a strangled scream, then her arm shot out and she tossed the contents of her wineglass in his face.

He shook his head like a dog flinging water droplets from its fur. He blinked and opened his eyes, unable to believe she'd actually done it. “Good aim.”

Tia's hands flew to her mouth. “Oh my God, I am so sorry. I can't believe I did that. I'm so, so sorry.”

Dec started laughing. Tia grabbed a dish towel and gently blotted the wine from his face and hair. All the while, she kept apologizing until he pulled her onto this lap and wrapped his arms around her waist.

She settled back against him as though she belonged there. “I never did stuff like this before I met you. Never.”

He chuckled against her hair. “Name like McGarry, how could you not have a temper?”

“I don't.” She twisted until she could look him in the eye. “Dec, I wasn't hiding you. I was hiding
me
. Anyone who saw us together would know…” She pulled away and stood up. His body immediately missed her warm weight. She grabbed another towel and tossed it to him. “I got your shirt wet too.”

He toweled off the wine as best he could, but ruby red spots stained his gray shirt. “What would everybody know?”

“You, me. One look at my face and they'd know how I felt about you. How out of control I was.”

“Who cares what other people think?”

“My life's work is convincing people to overcome their out-of-control emotions. To make mature commitments they keep for the rest of their lives. To avoid the lust trap, and the chaos and pain that wreak havoc on people's lives and the lives of their children. Our relationship made me a hypocrite.”

She tore off a wad of paper towels from the roll and started wiping up the floor.

He knelt, took the paper towels from her. “Let me do that. How exactly did our relationship make you a hypocrite?”

“You and I—we were too crazy about each other, too hot for each other. A lot of people get caught up in the initial lust stage of relationships and mistake that for love. Relationships that last are built on friendship and a mature, companionable love. It makes sense to look for that instead of fireworks. The hotter the burn, the faster the flameout.”

He sat back on his heels and took a moment to decipher what she was saying. “You don't think a relationship between us would work long-term because we're too attracted to each other. Do you really believe that crap?”

She got up. “I knew you wouldn't understand. It makes sense not to waste time on fleeting emotions. Not to get addicted to the rush.”

“You want a man who
bores
the pants off you. I'm sure that'll make for a great marriage.” He tossed the paper towels in the trash and leaned against the counter while she rinsed out her glass and placed it in the sink.

“We had fireworks, but look what that got us. I got mad enough to throw a glass of wine at you.” She reddened again, a horrified look on her face.

He grinned. “Only because you bottle up all your anger. If you yelled like a normal person, you wouldn't need to throw things.”

She shook her head. “I'm not going to spend my life at the mercy of destructive emotions. It's healthier to be with someone with whom I can live in peace. You and I are too different.”

“While you and Richard are like two peas in a pod. Compatible. Friendly.”

“I wouldn't have trusted my feelings for him if I'd been as crazy about him as I was about you.” She drew in a sharp breath. “I didn't mean that the way it sounded. Richard and I have the perfect relationship.”

“That's the dopiest thing I've ever heard.”

She slapped her palm on the counter. “Not everyone thinks it's dopey. Richard agrees with me. We're going to help people find contentment in their long-term relationships, as soon as I land this grant from the Jameson Foundation.”

“Right.” He didn't want to talk about the dickhead she expected to marry or the perfect, boring life she had planned. “I think you owe me an apology.”

She laid a hand on his arm. “I do. I am so, so sorry I threw that wine at you. That was unforgivably childish.”

He laughed, and took her hand, ran his thumb along the sensitive skin of her palm. “I don't care about that. I meant, I won our bet. I figured out who was behind all the stuff happening to you. You owe me a groveling, on-your-knees apology, Dr. McGarry.”

She yanked her hand back. “Not so fast. You also promised to put a stop to it. Uncle Billy is a little too comfortable in my home. Like he plans to stay for the duration. He needs to be gone before my dinner party tomorrow.”

The steel in her spine was back. Wine and anger must be fueling her speedy recovery.
That's my girl.

“Never thought you'd be so uncharitable toward your own homeless relative.”

“If I recall correctly, you once told me it's not good for ghosts to hang around on the mortal plane for too long.”

“So I did. And here I thought you never bothered to listen to anything I said, given your out-of-control lust for my body.”

He left the kitchen before she could throw something else at him.

In the living room, Billy had opened up the Mission-style armoire where Tia kept her small television. On screen, Mary Astor had her desperate, pleading eyes fixed on Humphrey Bogart as she begged for help. Tia walked in, the kitchen door banging shut behind her, and he knew exactly how Bogie must have felt. The woman was the kind of trouble you'd never escape. He hated
The Maltese Falcon
.

“I love this picture.” Billy turned up the volume on the remote. “Saw it when it first came out, the night I met…”

Dec grabbed the video camera. “The night you met who?”

Billy kept his eyes on the screen. “Just a girl. All us guys would go out in our flight jackets and have them lining up around the block.”

“The good old days,” Tia said dryly. She picked up the remote and switched off the TV. “We need to talk.”

Billy kicked his feet up onto the cocktail table. Tia put her hands on her hips and glared at him. He put his boots on the floor and sighed. “Talk away. I ain't got nothing better to do.”

Dec focused the camera on Billy. “What tied you to the mortal plane? I'm sure you loved your sister, but that emotion usually isn't strong enough to keep someone here past their time, let alone seventy years. You had plenty of time to apologize for putting frogs down her dress or sticking her pigtails in peanut butter or whatever you did.”

Billy laughed, a big, infectious sound that had Dec laughing along with him. Even Tia cracked a smile.

“Yeah, I did all that.” Billy wiped shimmering ghost tears from his eyes. “I don't know why I'm still here. Maybe the big guy upstairs doesn't want me. You're the expert, you tell me.”

Billy stared at Dec, the challenge obvious. The ghost was hiding something.

Dec stared right back. “I think there's something you're not telling me.”

“There's a lot I ain't telling you. Between my life and my afterlife, I got over ninety years' worth of stories. Want me to tell you one?”

Tia closed the armoire doors. She faced Billy, arms crossed. “Tell us the one that will help us smooth your way to the other side.”

“You don't want me around? I'm hurt.”

“I don't like pranks.”

“Life with you is going to be a barrel of laughs,” Billy said sullenly.

A frown creased Tia's forehead. “Why are you here with me? I'm not Nana's only living relative.”

Good question
. “Ghosts are usually tied to some personal object. Like the dog tags. Or the urn. However, your great-uncle has an unusually long tether, since he was at least able to get to my apartment to snatch a business card. That's two miles away. If we moved those objects far enough away, he couldn't haunt you anymore.”

Tia tapped a finger to her lips, both eyebrows raised. She'd gone full prissy schoolteacher. “We could drop his ashes and dog tags in the ocean.”

Billy's young face went slack with shock. “And doom me to wander, lost and alone, for all eternity?”

Dec lowered the camera. Exactly how bloodthirsty was Tia?

“Would serve you right.”

Billy jumped to his feet. “Well, how do you like that? My own grand-niece.”

Tia sat down on the armchair across from Billy and pulled the urn closer to her. She lifted the lid, then looked up to give Billy a grim smile. “I've got an important dinner here tomorrow night. My guests like pranks even less than I do, and I need my guests to be happy so I can get a grant that's very important to my work. Do you understand what I'm saying?”

A gleam shone in Billy's eyes. “You bet. I make nice for your guests, or you're dropping me in the ocean.”

“I'm glad we understand each other.”

“The only thing is, dollface, I think you're bluffing.” Billy sat back down in the armchair and faced Tia like a gambler anteing up to a poker game. The family resemblance was unmistakable. “You're too much of a softie to do something like that.”

“Don't be too sure,” Dec said. “She tried to get me arrested.”

“This is fantastic!” Dec's cousin Ryan chuckled around a mouthful of jelly doughnut. Powdered sugar fell like snow on his Broncos jersey. “Best video ever. I can't believe the footage you got last night.”

“Yeah. I can't wait to publicize this video.” Dec switched on the space heater. Ryan had staked out a corner of his unfinished basement and used it as an office for his tour-guide business. The temperature hovered around sixty degrees all year long. Overhead, the rafters shook with the footfalls of Ryan's three kids getting ready for school. Fortunately, all his tour bookings were done online or on the phone.

“This is the clearest evidence of paranormal phenomena ever recorded,” Dec said.

He'd have to get Tia's consent before he took the video public. She wasn't going to like that idea, but maybe if he promised to keep her identity a secret…

“Are you kidding me?” Ryan sputtered, coughing on a big bite of doughnut. “Look, cuz, you and I know this is a phenomenal video. But you put this out there, people are going to think you put some glowy paint and a flyboy jacket on an actor and fed him some cool lines. No one is going to believe this is an interview with a real ghost.”

Dec raked a hand through his hair. “You're saying the evidence is too
real
to be believed?”

Christ.
Ryan thought Billy was too corporeal to be taken seriously as a ghost. Tia thought they were too attracted to each other to have a long-term relationship. And people claimed paranormal investigators were strange.

Ryan propped his jeans-clad legs on his messy desk and grinned. “Afraid so. Our line of work's a bitch, huh? Have another doughnut.”

Dec ignored the doughnuts and walked to the back of the office where Ryan kept a line of milk crates containing office supplies, framed photos, and trophies to be put on display when he found time to finish the office. The exhaustion of being up for twenty-four hours straight suddenly hit him, a bone-deep ache nearly pulling him under.