Must Love Ghosts (9 page)

She had some serious thinking to do about her career and where to go now that Richard had kicked her off her own research project. But that she'd worry about tomorrow.

Tonight she needed to prove to herself that great sex didn't preclude a great relationship. And if that was nothing but a weak rationalization, so be it.

Tossing the letters onto a nearby box, she stood, trailed her hand slowly out of his grip. “Did you know this is an authentic nineteenth century fainting couch? My grandparents found it on their honeymoon in Niagara Falls and brought it back. Nana recovered it several times.” She moved until she was right in front of him. “The velvet is my favorite. Very soft.”

Dec sighed. “Have I mentioned how insane with crazy lust hormones you make me?”

She giggled, feeling powerful and free and deliciously good.

The first time she and Richard had made love, he'd made her wait while he carefully hung up his suit so as not to wrinkle it. They'd progressed with the same lukewarm politeness in his bed, everything ticking along efficiently. When she'd left afterward, she had hardly a hair out of place and the sense that she'd had an out-of-body experience. Fool that she was, she'd assured herself they'd get better with practice.

Every time with Dec had been a crazed, talking, laughing, wet, hot, slick, heavy-breathing madness. She needed that again like she needed oxygen.

“Here's the thing.” She reached behind her and pulled the zipper of her dress down, the sound loud in the quiet attic. “I don't want to go slow.”

Hands still behind her back, she tugged the dress down past her shoulders and let it drop to the floor. Cool air washed over her bare skin, raising gooseflesh. And nerves. She'd always let Dec take the lead, sexually speaking. This was new territory for her. Adele would be so proud.

Dec shot up from the couch, stepped out of her reach. “You're killing me.” His gaze worked a slow path down her body. “I never in a million years thought I'd say this to you, but could you please put your clothes back on?”

She laughed and advanced a step.

He backed up. “I'm serious, Tia. You think we've got nothing but sexual attraction between us, and I want the chance to show you it's more.”

That stopped her. Shame made her close her eyes briefly. “I did say that to you, didn't I? I'm sorry. Even then, I knew it wasn't true. I wanted it to be true because then I wouldn't have to admit how stupidly wrong I'd been.” The camp lantern cast a flickering shadow around him, not bright enough for her to see his expression. She felt her nakedness, as though she were facing him without a shield for body or soul. “I tried to convince myself Richard was perfect for me. But he ignored and minimized everything I told him from the strange sounds in my house to the intruder. Then you barged into my life to find out what was going on. To protect me.”

She closed the distance between them and locked her arms around his neck. There was so much more she wanted to say, to tell him, but she couldn't find the words, so she gently drew his face down to hers and kissed him. There was something important here, something about her need to express her feelings with her body, but Dec's arms went around her waist, bringing the hard length of his body against her, and her rational mind shorted out before she could analyze anything.

His tongue met hers and she shivered, his hunger and hers trading back and forth each time their tongues slid against each other. His languid pace melted her against him. Suddenly she wasn't cold anymore.

He removed her glasses, placed them on the box next to the old letters. “You're right.” His voice thrilled across her skin, low and husky and a little ragged, as he moved his mouth down her throat. “There's more than one way to go slow.”

His hands framed her face. She sank into their kisses, long, lazy, and oh-so-welcome, better even than the fevered memories that had kept her awake nights. When she didn't think she could stand up any longer, not even with his strong arms holding her, she hooked a leg behind his knees, and he fell with her onto the soft, old fainting couch.

She rolled onto her side, cradled in one of his arms. Her fingers fumbled at the buttons of his shirt, but he swatted her hand away.

“No fair,” she breathed against his mouth. “You've still got all your clothes on.”

“Sure do.”

His wicked chuckle spread heat low in her stomach. The fabric of his clothes slid roughly against her smooth skin, unbearably erotic. One of his hands stole up to her bra and deftly unsnapped the hooks. Another tug and her thong slid over her bare legs. And then he pulled back, his gaze roaming over her body, taking his time with that, too, until she thought she'd go up in flames.

“Dec…”

He lowered his head and suckled one aching breast, then the other. She writhed underneath him, the crimson velvet soft on her back and his mouth warm and wet on her. She grabbed his head, dragging him back up for another hungry kiss. His hand slid between her legs, playing, tormenting, teasing until her breath came in pants and she was frantic with need.

She cupped him through his jeans. He groaned and she smiled against his mouth as she tugged at his button and zipper. This time he didn't protest. He stood up and pulled his clothes off, tossed them onto the floor. The camp lantern turned his skin golden, all six feet of hard muscled perfection. She could hardly wait.

And then an almost comical look of horror slackened his face. “No condom,” he said, raking a hand through his hair. “I thought if I didn't have any, I'd keep my hands off you.”

She propped herself against the back cushion and crossed her legs at the ankle, loving the look of frustrated longing on his face as he followed her movements. “Not your best plan.”

She let him stew for another moment before drawling, “Good thing I'm still on the pill.”

He growled, and she laughed until he pushed her thighs apart and lowered that hungry mouth again. He licked and teased, driving her right to the brink. “Dec, please,” she sobbed, twisting under his mouth.

“Not yet.” His voice was ragged. “I want to see you.”

He loomed over her and she shifted to take his weight. He entered her slowly, stretching her. The hot, slick slide of him nearly sent her over as she gasped in exquisite relief. God, she'd missed him.

She tilted her hips to take all of him and they moved together. He pushed her hands into the soft couch, their fingers clasped tightly together. He rocked into her, long, powerful strokes that sent heat blazing along every nerve ending, sent her body hovering on the edge of ecstasy. She locked her gaze on his and for one frozen moment, it was as though she could see herself and Dec not only as they were now, but as they'd be two decades from now—older, wiser, settled into a shared life and a lasting kind of love. Then the moment passed and a wave of pleasure like nothing she'd ever felt rolled through her, exploding in tremor after tremor of white-hot fire. His own release came a second after hers, and he gasped her name.

They made it back to Tia's house shortly before dawn and made love one more time before Tia fell asleep curled up in Dec's arms. He kissed her temple, breathed in the scent of her hair. Something had changed between them tonight, something he wanted to hold onto, and keep safe, but thoughts about the text he'd gotten earlier from Ryan intruded.

He needed to talk to Tia about the reality TV producer, needed to convince her to go public. But how? She was already worried about her standing with the university now that Richard had kicked her off their research project. And although she believed in what he did, that didn't necessarily mean she'd want her name associated with his work. He could try to keep her anonymous, but this kind of thing tended to get out.

His mind went another few rounds with the problem before he fell into an uneasy sleep. He'd talk to her about it in the morning.

A couple of hours later, Tia's alarm clock buzzed. Dec lured her into a steamy shower, and afterward held her hand while she called Cassandra. The old woman softened marginally when she discovered Tia was Billy's grand-niece.

“That went as well as could be expected,” Tia said when she hung up. “She said she didn't trust the letters to stay with anyone from
my
family—given my grandmother's eccentricities—and she'd retrieve her property this evening. Nana must have tried to convince her Billy's spirit was still here. I don't get why Billy didn't just appear to Cassandra himself all those years ago.”

“He couldn't. Ghost repellant, remember.” Dec sat next to her at the kitchen table. He flipped her hand over and traced a delicate pattern on her palm, wondering idly if he could get her upstairs again before her first class of the day. His plan to go slow had been an utter failure, but he couldn't say he was bummed about it. This was a much better way to go. “Billy needed someone like me to help him manifest, but Cassandra wasn't about to let a medium into the house.”

A soft smile curved her lips. “You really are good at what you do.”

He should bring up the TV producer now, tell her all about it and ask for her help. But something held him back. The moment was too fragile, too precious. He didn't want potential arguments to ruin it.

Leaning close, he kissed her, dipping in to lazily tangle his tongue with hers.

“Mmm, that's nice,” she said after a moment. “But I've got to leave for my first class.”

He kissed her again, and Tia decided she had some time before class after all.

He'd ask later. The producer wouldn't arrive in Boulder for another couple of weeks. He had plenty of time.

Chapter Four

“I apologize for being so hasty in my accusations last night,” Cassandra said. She sat on the sofa next to Tia, her gaze taking in the rest of the living room. She didn't look impressed. “Had I realized you were Billy's grand-niece, I would have made allowances. I know what your grandmother believed and no doubt she infected you with the same tomfoolery. I would have thought your science background would have drummed that out of you, but I guess not.”

Tia shot a look at Dec, who stood before the mantel. He winked at her.

She hoped Billy was ready. She wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible. “Actually, I only recently began taking my grandmother's beliefs about the afterlife seriously.”

Cassandra gave her a sour look. “I'd advise you to rethink that, Dr. McGarry. In any case, the other evening wasn't a total loss. The Jameson Foundation is pleased to be funding Richard's work, and I'm sure you'll find something more suited to your interests.”

She dug her fingernails into her palms.
Richard's
work? All those years of research, and he was going to get all the credit. Taking a deep breath, she forced her fingers to unclench. She'd recently begun to suspect that her theories on the nature of love and lust were crap. Maybe better to leave Richard to it.

Before she could enlighten Cassandra, Dec cut in. “Mrs. Jameson, we didn't realize until after you left that you and Tia's great-uncle knew each other. If I understand correctly, you met while he was in the Air Force.”

The old woman's eyes softened. “Yes. Back during the war. We were quite taken with each other.” Her voice trailed off and she seemed lost in memories for a moment. “I'm sure you'll understand why I'm anxious to get those letters back. When Bernice first told me she had my letters, I was too young and foolish to burn them. I'd like to correct that mistake.” She pulled her sweater tighter around her. “My goodness, Dr. McGarry, it's cold in here. Do you never close your windows?”

The temperature in the room had dropped. Tia met Dec's eyes and knew he felt the change.

Tia put her hand on one of Cassandra's withered ones. “It must have been awful when you received word of his death.”

“Yes.” In that one word was a world of pain, bound up like a package. “But it was a long time ago. May I have my letters now? I'd like to get back home, if you don't mind.”

Tia ignored that. “My grandmother bequeathed me Billy's urn and dog tags. I'd be happy to pass those on to you.” She gestured toward the objects on the cocktail table, and Cassandra's gaze followed greedily. “But there's something I need to explain. I found out only recently… That is…”

Tia glanced helplessly at Dec. He moved closer. Where was Billy now that she needed him?

The strains of
Stardust
started up again.

Cassandra didn't seem to notice no one had turned on the music. “That was our song,” she said, her voice thick with memories. “We danced to it the night we met…”

“At the Bluebird,” Billy said, suddenly in the room, staring at Cassandra with such a look of hope on his face, Tia felt like an intruder in her own home. “While I was on leave.”

Cassandra looked up and only a little gasp betrayed her surprise. And then Billy was pouring out the story of how he tried to get in contact with her after his death, how he gave up so she could live her life.

“But this isn't possible.” Cassandra pressed a withered hand to her heart.

Billy opened his fist without a word, like a magician performing a trick. Something glinted against the pale glow of his skin. Cassandra reached out, her blue-veined hand trembling, and Billy dropped what he held into her palm. A slim gold chain dangled from her fingers, a four leaf clover charm at the end.

“I climbed to the top of Bear Mountain by myself and threw this off the edge. That was decades ago. Right after I married Thornton.” Cassandra stared at the necklace. “I nearly threw myself off that mountain too. But something held me back.”

“Yes,” Billy said simply.

Tia sucked in a breath. Dec moved next to her, clasped her hand in his.

Cassandra titled her face up to Billy's, her expression softer than Tia had ever seen it. “My God, it is you.”

“It's me, Cassie. I couldn't leave with you still here.”

Cassandra rose, reached out with a wrinkled arm to touch his face. “Good gracious, you're cold,” she said.

Billy laughed, and by the look on his face, Tia guessed he must be seeing Cassandra not as she was now, but as she'd been the night they'd met.

“Let's give them some privacy.” Dec pulled Tia from the room.

The expression on both Cassandra's and Billy's faces was something Tia had never seen before. They loved each other, even after all this time. Love like she'd never believed existed. The kind of love a woman would be a fool not to want for herself.

The next few days fell into a comfortable rhythm. Tia taught her classes, met with her marital counseling patients, had a lunchtime walk with Adele around campus in the gorgeous spring sunshine. After work, Dec came over to her place and fixed dinner. Cassandra joined them. When night fell, they left Cassandra and Billy alone and retreated to the warm, private cocoon that Dec's place had become. In the morning, they had breakfast together, Tia left for work, and the cycle started over again.

Tia had never been happier.

Then one night, Cassandra didn't show up and didn't answer her phone when Tia called. After dark, Billy didn't show up either.

“Do you think they had a fight?” Tia asked Dec as they washed dinner dishes together.

“Maybe. Or maybe Billy moved on.” A fine line of worry creased his brow.

“Could you summon him?”

He grinned at her. “Listen to you with the ghost-hunter lingo. Let's leave it for now. I've got plans for us.”

A week passed and one morning, Tia poured herself a cup of coffee in Dec's kitchen, then padded out to the front porch to grab the newspaper. When she unrolled it, Cassandra's photo stared back at her.

An obituary.

She'd barely finished reading the column—a glowing account of Cassandra's good deeds in the community and of all the people who'd admired the ninety-one-year-old woman—when her cell phone rang. She answered as Dec wandered into the kitchen and gave her a sleepy smile. She pushed the paper over to him.

“Hello?”

“Dr. McGarry?” The masculine voice was tight with tension. Familiar, too, but she couldn't quite place him.

“Yes?”

“This is Jules Jameson. Meet me in my office at nine.”

She raised her eyebrows at the brusque command. “I'm teaching a class then. I can meet with you at eleven.”

“Fine.” The word rumbled out like a growl, at odds with the polite, polished impression she'd gotten of Jules during their brief acquaintance.

Why was he calling? Did he need urgent counseling after his grandmother's death? “I'm so sorry for your loss,” she said.

“Don't patronize me. Be here at eleven.” He ended the call.

Dec had finished scanning the obituary. “I guess this explains why Cassandra didn't show. She died in her sleep last week.”

“Yes.” Tia stared at the phone in her hand. She didn't know why Jules was so upset, but a sick feeling rose in her stomach.

“Who called?”

“Jules.” She told him about their conversation. “I don't know what's wrong.”

“It's probably nothing.” He leaned over, brushed his lips with hers. “Want to save some water and shower together?”

That banished worry about Jules from her head for a good long while.

At eleven, a steel-haired receptionist ushered Tia into Jules's lush office at the law firm. Diplomas and photos of Jules with everyone from President Obama to George Clooney decorated the walls. Jules sat behind a gleaming mahogany desk the size of the Titanic. He didn't rise, nor did he invite her to sit. She stood before him, feeling somehow like a penitent.

The worst part was Richard was here, lounging against the wall behind Jules's desk, a smirk on his face. How had she ever wanted to marry that idiot?

Jules pushed a deep blue ceramic urn across the desk toward her. “My grandmother left you this.” There was something behind his words that set off warning bells in her head.

Tia ran her finger over the delicate white flowers decorating the urn. “Mrs. Jameson's ashes? I don't understand. Why did she leave me this?”

“I should congratulate you, Dr. McGarry.” Jules's voice lashed like a whip. “You accomplished in a matter of weeks what no one has done in a century.”

His attitude infuriated her. She raised her eyebrows, but refused to play along by asking him a question.

Jules didn't wait long to enlighten her. “You conned my grandmother.”

Shock blanked her mind for an instant. “I beg your pardon?”

Richard stepped forward. “I knew you and Mancini were up to something as soon as I saw him at your place. It wasn't until Jules told me about his grandmother's will that I realized exactly what had happened.”

“I don't understand.”

Jules placed his hands palm down on the desk in front of him, as though controlling a strong emotion. “Don't play dumb with me. My grandmother changed her will right before she died. She included you and that con man.”

Richard smirked again. “Claiming my research as your own was bad enough. But I never thought you'd be so low-rent as to try to con an old lady.”

“Your research? Con an old lady? You know none of this is true. Why are you doing this, Richard?”

Jules continued as if she hadn't spoken. “Your scheme didn't succeed all the way. My grandmother left much of the foundation's money to the health and education initiatives she supported all her life. But she also left a sizable—and I must congratulate you on how sizable—contribution to establish an institute for paranormal research. With you and Mancini to head it up.”

Tia sank into one of the chairs. “I had no idea.”

“Nicely said. Anyone else might have believed you.” Richard made a
tsk tsk
noise. “I've been telling Jules how desperate you are to advance your career. My guess is that your ruthless ambition combined with lust-driven mania from this affair you're having with a con man pushed you to a life of crime. You'd make a great research subject once the Jameson Foundation approves my grant.”

“You're an ass,” Tia said flatly.

Jules propped his polished loafers on the desk. “I'm filing a complaint against you with the university, Dr. McGarry. Don't start spending my grandmother's money just yet. I'm also filing a lawsuit that will not only reverse my grandmother's will, but will destroy your career. And, if I can manage it, I'm going to make sure you and Mancini spend a good long time behind bars.”

Tia stared, unable to believe what she was hearing.

“Now get the fuck out of my office.”

Tia's heart kept up its racetrack pace as she cancelled her afternoon appointments and sped across town to Dec's house. This couldn't be happening. She was going to lose everything.

She ran up the porch steps to the second floor, and the sounds of voices floated to her through the open windows. She didn't pause, turned the knob and walked in without knocking.

Dec wasn't alone. He and two other men huddled at his small table. One she recognized as his cousin Ryan. The other was a stranger in an expensive suit.

“Tia. I thought you had appointments this afternoon.” He stood quickly, and she didn't miss the guilty expression that crossed his face. “Is everything okay?”

“I need to talk to you if you have a minute.” She forced a social smile. “Hi, Ryan. Good to see you again. How're Beth and the kids?”

Ryan gave her a hug. “Doing great. Only a couple more weeks of school and they'll all be underfoot for the summer. Beth was asking about you the other day.”

She returned his hug and gave him a peck on the cheek. She'd always liked Dec's family. “I've missed her.”

“We should have you over for a dinner soon. Looks like I'm going to be building a new patio.”

Tia furrowed her brow. “Oh. Well, that sounds nice.”

The other man stood and extended his hand. He was in his mid-forties, fit, with shining black hair and a wide smile. “I'm Wes Sutton, with Killian Film & TV.”

She shook his hand, glancing at Dec with a question in her eyes. “Nice to meet you.”

“Here, take my card. I recognize you from the video. Quite an adventure you've been having, eh?”

The bottom fell out of her stomach. “Adventure?”

“That ghost of yours is going to play incredibly well on TV. These two”—he jerked his head to Dec and Ryan—“have some great ideas for the direction of the show. I understand your ghost may have—how do you put it—departed the mortal plane, but we can use the video footage plus interviews with you and Dec. He seems to think you'll be a little hesitant to appear on TV, but I'm sure the two of us can work something out. If you don't mind me saying, you're very attractive, so you've got nothing to worry about in front of the camera.” He winked at her, obviously thinking she'd be pleased as all get out at his compliment and the chance to be on national television.

Slowly, she turned back to Dec, her heart squeezing to the size of a raisin and tears she could not,
would not
, shed pricking behind her eyes.

He'd never even bothered to tell her. He'd been so fired up about his paranormal investigations and his quest to show the world what he did that he'd disregarded her feelings and violated her privacy. At least it was just
her
privacy this time, and not that of her patients.

“Tia…” Dec's voice held guilt and regret, but the emotion flickering on his face was the panic of someone trying to figure out how to talk his way out of a tight spot.