The Ghost Exterminator (22 page)

Jo looked past Karma to the front lawn where she could see her phone in the grass, blinking frantically at the volume of missed calls. Now did not seem the best time to go retrieve it. “I dropped it.”

Karma turned her gimlet gaze on Wyatt. “And you? You have a reason for not answering your phone?”

“I threw it against a wall,” he explained. Jo turned her head to stare at him questioningly and he shrugged. “The battery was dead.”

Karma didn’t appear overly surprised by that revelation. “The ghost energy in your body was probably disrupting electronics that were too close to you for extended periods.” She looked them both over from head to toe, taking in the grass stains, kitchen rubble, and attic dust at a single glance. “Busy night?”

“We destroyed the talisman that was drawing the ghosts, released the ghosts from Wyatt’s body, and transcended a houseful.”

“Good.” All about the lavish praise, her boss.

Jo shrugged, tossing Karma a cheeky grin. “You know how Halloween is.”

“This day is the bane of my existence. Have you scanned the house?”

“I was just about to.” Jo extended her awareness, searching through the house for any stragglers. Basement, kitchen, dining room—all clear. Second floor, third floor—clear. Then she came to the attic room. The toy room. Where two small ghost energies lingered. Angelica and Teddy.

“What the hell?” Was something wrong with her mojo?

“Not hell,” Karma said calmly, clearly having no appreciation for Jo’s faulty-mojo panic. “Not heaven either, apparently. At least, not yet. It appears it isn’t their time.”

“They’re dead,” Jo protested. “How can it not be their time?”

Karma merely shrugged. “They are not ready. Perhaps some other day.”

“That’s it?” Jo exclaimed, her gaze shuttling back and forth between the irritatingly calm Karma and the house where two ghosts were still alarmingly present on the mortal plane. “Perhaps some other day? That’s your response?”

“I’m afraid I have a busy night still ahead of me, Jo. My response will have to suffice for now.” She turned and walked back toward her car.

Jo turned to Wyatt for reinforcements, but he just shrugged.

“I don’t see what harm it could do to leave them in the house tonight. Two little ghosts probably don’t have enough energy to attract bad witches.” He shot her a grin. “It is Halloween, after all. I heard somewhere that ghosts in a house on Halloween are festive.”

“There? You see,” Karma called, already climbing into her car, clearly unperturbed by Jo’s elevated stress-levels. “It’s festive. Have a good night, Jo. Mr. Haines.”

“Karma, wait!” Jo ran down the path after her, grabbing the edge of Karma’s partially rolled-down window before she could pull away. “Moonbeam got the talisman from Prometheus. It was triggered by a Latin phrase about luck, but the power of the spell was wrapped around the words
In turbo veritas
. Does that mean anything to you?”

“Loosely translated, I believe it means ‘In disorder, truth’.”

“He sold it to her knowing what it would do. He might even have been the creator—”

Karma held up a hand to stop her. “Let me handle Prometheus.” She looked past Jo to the house and the grass-stained, bedraggled CEO. “You have your own worries tonight.”

Jo was grateful it was too dark for Karma to see her blush. “What do you mean?”

“You two have a lot to talk about. Just try to go easy on him about the powder blue suit.” Jo’s jaw dropped as Karma put the car into drive. “Oh, and Jo? Next time? Answer your damn phone.”

Chapter Thirty-Two: Trick My Treat

She found Wyatt among the remains of the kitchen, picking through the rubble. As she watched, he crouched and picked up a small, shiny object, slipping it into his pocket. Her first thought was that he was saving a piece of the talisman, but she quickly discarded that idea.

That troublesome little bauble was responsible for a lot of things over the last week, but not all of them were horrible. It had brought her to Wyatt, and even knowing that what they had was about to end, which could only be bad for her heart, Jo was still grateful for that.

Saving a souvenir was the type of thing she would do, but Mr. Big Business wasn’t the sentimental type.

He straightened and a small sound escaped Jo’s throat. His white button-up shirt, torn and grass-stained, stretched across his shoulders as he moved. Jo’s mouth watered at the play of denim over his ass. Did he have to be so damn gorgeous?

If only the only thing she liked about him was the way those jeans fit. It would be so much easier to walk away if this was just sex. Why did he have to be stubborn and surprisingly fun to be with? Why did he have to be uncompromising and honorable, loyal and hard working? Why did he have to have so many admirable traits? Life was so much simpler a week ago, when Wyatt Haines was just another prejudiced, uptight, corporate asshole she despised.

When had his frown become so endearing? When had his laugh become as necessary to her as oxygen? Somewhere between the bubble gum and the handcuffs, she’d fallen head over heels for the worst possible man in the world for her.

He looked over at her, standing in the doorway watching him. His smile lit up as if in reflex to her presence. “Hey.”

Jo’s heart thudded like a teenager at a
Twilight
premiere. “Hey back. Sorry about your kitchen.”

He shrugged. “We needed to remodel anyway. You saved me a mint on demolition costs.”

A memory sprang into Jo’s mind as she saw her goodie bag, half-buried in the rubble. She picked her way over to it, kicking away a piece of metal that had once been part of the stove. “The first time you saw me, you thought I had explosives in here.”

“What
is
in there?” he asked, not denying her accusation.

Jo shrugged and flipped the pack onto her back. “Incense, candles, that sort of thing. It’s more for the clients than for me. Some people really get off on the paraphernalia.” She carefully navigated a path back to where he waited near the door. “So, what do you do now?”

She wanted him to announce that he was walking out that door and back to his normal, everyday life. She had to hear him say it. Jo held her breath, anticipating the words.
Well, it’s been fun…

“I was thinking of Trick or Treating.”

“What?” That wasn’t what she’d been expecting.

“Trick or treating. You know, get in touch with my inner child.”

Jo snorted. “I thought we just got the inner child out of you.”

“Come on, Jo. Live a little.”

He couldn’t be serious. She started to turn away from him, but he caught her arm. He stepped toward her, catching her other shoulder and pulling her flush against him. The movement was so quick and unexpected, Jo didn’t have time to do more than gasp. Then his mouth was there, holding hers, coaxing her. His arms came around her, his hands spread on her back, pressing her into him. One hand ran up her spine to cup the back of her neck as the other slid down to skate over her ass.

“So what’ll it be, Jo?” he asked against her mouth. “Trick?” His hand squeezed her ass. “Or treat?” He kissed her, sweet and drugging.

It was just sex to him. She
knew
it was just sex, but was that really so terrible? Jo
liked
sex. And her feelings regarding sex with Wyatt were even more favorable. Even if he was just using her. She could use him too. Even if he did just want her body. She wanted his right back.

Trick or treat?

“Can’t we do both?” she mumbled into his mouth. Wyatt answered her by tightening his hold on her and deepening the kiss.

Jo wrapped one arm over his shoulder and hooked her calf around his hip, needing to get closer, wanting nothing more than to melt right into his body.

He lifted her and Jo wound her legs around his waist, locking her ankles at the small of his back. Wyatt took two steps and leaned her against a wall. Jo shivered, delighting in being trapped between a wall and a
very
hard place.

She plunged her fingers into his hair, holding his mouth steady for her to devour it. She couldn’t help the edge of desperation to the kiss. Knowing that he might tire of her at any moment added an edge of panic to her desire, making it sharp enough to cut her.

He tasted so good, hot and spicy, temptation and sin and everything she’d never let herself want all wrapped into one.

Above their heads, the timbers creaked and moaned eerily.

Jo wrenched her mouth away from his. “Angelica and Teddy.”

Wyatt glared at the ceiling. “I am really getting sick of those damned ghosts.”

Jo licked her lips, wanting nothing more than Wyatt’s back on hers. “I could try to transcend them again.”

“No.” He groaned and dropped his forehead against hers. “As much as I hate to delay this for another second, we should probably move to a venue that is less likely to come falling down around our ears.” He set her back on her feet and stepped back, catching hold of her hand. “Come on. Let’s get out of here. Let the ghosts have the house for tonight.”

Jo fidgeted restlessly as the world flew past outside the window of the Bentley. She wanted to keep the banter light and flirty, as uncomplicated and frivolous as their relationship supposedly was, but her tongue had turned to lead as soon as she stepped foot outside the Victorian.

She couldn’t think of a thing to say that wouldn’t somehow turn into, “I love you,” on the way out of her mouth. God, if she said that, he’d probably throw her out of the car without even bothering to pull over first.
I love you
had never been part of the deal. Though, they hadn’t ever specifically stated what the deal was between them, sexually speaking. The temptation to ask, to have him spell it out in the most basic terms, ate at her from the inside out.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Jo kept her eyes on the window. If she looked at him, she was going to blurt out the Unspeakable Truth. She forced a lightness she didn’t feel into her voice and said, “These are expensive thoughts, buddy.”

He laughed, low and easy. The bastard didn’t seem even slightly aware of her traumatic battle over here in the passenger seat. “I’m good at negotiations,” he said. “Make me an offer.”

Love. Marriage. Babies.
Jo flinched at her own thoughts. That wasn’t her. That wasn’t what she wanted—except maybe the love part. Love sounded pretty damn good. But marriage and babies? She was twenty-six years old! She wasn’t ready to be responsible for another human being. Had some parasite in the water at Bethie’s suburban paradise gotten into her brain and infected her? Jo shook her head. She wanted Wyatt. Not marriage.

“Jo? You okay?”

“Fine.” Losing her mind, but just dandy.

Wyatt gave a chuckle. “The ghosts ruined the mood, eh?” He pulled the Bentley into the garage space reserved for his condo and cut the engine. He climbed out of the car, but Jo couldn’t seem to make her limbs function properly. She was still sitting there, arguing with herself over the wisdom of going inside with him, when he opened her door. She looked at the hand he held out to help her out of the car.

Jo kicked herself. What the hell was she waiting for? She was a risk taker. An adventurer. What was she so afraid of?

She put her hand into his.

“We could watch
Star Trek
,” he suggested as he led the way into his building, waving casually to the night security guard as if he wandered in covered in kitchen debris and grass stains every night.

Jo rolled her eyes as the elevator doors slid shut behind them. “Wow. It’s true. A man really will say anything to get a woman into bed. Sure, you’ll watch
Star Trek
tonight, but it’ll be
Sportscenter
again in the morning.”

“I see myself buying a second television in the near future.” When they arrived on his floor, Wyatt unlocked the condo and held the door for her.

Jo stopped in the foyer, dropping her dingy goodie bag onto the cream-colored carpet. Did he mean what she thought he meant? Was he thinking of them as more than a one-night stand?

Before she could think of how to ask him that without actually
asking
him, he was there in front of her, standing too close and looking at her in a way that made her skin feel two sizes too tight. She shivered under his blue-eyed gaze and he gave her the slow, dirty smile of a man who knew he was about to get laid.

A bolt of heat shot through her body. So much for second thoughts.

Jo answered that smile with one of her own. One that said she knew exactly what she did to him. She leaned her shoulder blades back against the wall and arched her back to show the Girls to their best advantage.

Wyatt crowded closer, his eyes locked on her breasts. He braced his arms on the wall on either side of her head, leaning over her. Jo brushed a light, teasing kiss across his lips. That was all the invitation he needed.

His mouth found hers, firm and commanding. It was the only point where they touched, but Jo felt it like a brand over every inch of her skin. She was
his
. His tongue forced its way into her mouth and she welcomed it, drawing it in and tangling it with hers. It wasn’t enough. At this moment, she felt like nothing would ever be enough. He was heat and lust, but he wasn’t
close enough
.

Jo looped her arms around his neck and twined one of her legs around his. He pressed his body into hers, his hands finding the Girls and letting them know they were about to get to come out and play.

Jo stopped thinking, stopped doing anything other than feeling and reacting. He grabbed the backs of her thighs and lifted her until she hooked her legs around his hips. She clung to him, their kiss never breaking, as he walked to his bedroom. They fell together onto the king-sized bed that dominated the room.

She loved his weight pressing her into the soft mattress and tangled her arms and legs around him when he tried to lift his body away from her.

“Minx.” He caught her hands and pinned them above her head, but he didn’t move the luscious weight of his body off of her.

Jo cradled him between her thighs, rocking up against him as the firm weight of his erection pressed against her through the layers of their clothing.

He tried to kiss her into submission, but she would not be subdued, pushing against him, her legs wrapped around his waist, her body arching against his until her breasts flattened against his chest.

“Jesus, Jo,” he gasped into her ear, the broken words sending another jolt of want through her. He trapped both of her wrists in one of his hands and slid the other down her arm, teasing over her collarbone to palm one of her breasts. His grip would have been too rough if she wasn’t already panting with need. Her nipple hardened in a rush, stabbing against his palm as he buried his mouth against the curve of her neck and pulsed his hips against hers. The pressure between her legs bowed her spine, her mouth falling open on a strangled gasp.

Wyatt’s hands yanked at her shirt, ripping it off over her head before she’d even noticed he’d freed her hands. Her bra quickly followed. Wyatt muttered something that sounded like “Fuck
me
” at the sight of the Girls, his mouth closing tight over one taut nipple as his hands fumbled frantically with the buttons on her jeans. Jo didn’t bother to tell him that was exactly her plan.

Wyatt lifted his head to glare at the fastening of her jeans, swearing fervently. “Why don’t you wear jeans with a zipper like a normal person?” he growled.

“Why are you wearing so many clothes?” Jo countered, her fingers working at the buttons on his shirt.

Wyatt leapt off her, yanking his shirt over his head with a careless jerk that sent buttons flying. The accompanying sound of ripping fabric was heady evidence of his need for her. He threw aside pants and boxers almost as quickly as the shirt, another frantic yank. He was back on top of her before she could appreciate the view, but she could sure appreciate the feel of hard, hot male pressing her down into the mattress.

“Wyatt, my jeans,” she reminded him, a bubble of laughter pushing at the back of her throat. God, she felt so
good
. Who knew sex with Wyatt would be so fierce and frantic and
fun
?

“I’m on it.”

She thought, given his wild urgency, that he would yank them off her as fiercely as he had his own clothing, but he continued to surprise her. He savored every inch, lips, teeth, and tongue sampling her skin as it was revealed. Her eyes were as lust-clouded and urgent as his by the time he nipped at her ankles, throwing her jeans over his shoulder.

He wrapped one hand around each ankle, and bent her legs, opening them until she was sprawled before him like an offering, naked save the skimpy scrap of pink lace that was her panties.