Double Dating with the Dead (4 page)

What she wouldn't give for a microwave right now. The oven was definitely antique. Early fifties? She lit the pilot light and was gratified to see it still worked. After popping the casserole in the oven, she opened the wine and poured herself a glass.

“Did you enjoy the view?” Dixie asked near her, but hadn't materialized yet.

Selena jumped, spilling some of her wine. “Can't you warn a person?”

“I did. I asked if you enjoyed the view. I could've appeared beside you. Would you rather I do that in the future?”

“No, I wouldn't rather you just appeared.” She looked hopeful. “Unless you want to show yourself to Trent. Then we'd leave and never bother you again.”

“Boring. I think I want you to hang around for a while. You two make life more interesting. Wesley can be so dull.”

Selena grabbed the roll of paper towels and tore one off. After wiping the outside of her glass, she swiped across the small spill and tossed the towel in the trash.

Great. She'd have to hope Dixie tired of having them around before the two weeks were up, or she'd be stuck here for the duration. She could've used her vacation days lazing on the beach. Tanning…soaking up the sun, the men. Oh, Lord, the men. Muscled bodies. A smorgasbord of tempting male flesh.

“Well, did you?” Dixie materialized. She sat on the counter with her legs crossed, waiting patiently for Selena to answer.

“Did I what?”

“Enjoy the view?” she asked on an exasperated sigh.

“The view of what?”

“Why, Trent Sanders, of course.” She gave a throaty laugh. “I know I certainly did. All that delicious hard male nakedness.” Her smile grew wicked. “And, honey, I got to see a lot more than you did. A whole lot more, and his delicious male nakedness was most definitely hard. You certainly couldn't go wrong with him. Not very many men tempt me, but if he twitched his finger in my direction, I'd certainly come running.” She closed her eyes and sighed.

“Like you could do anything with him,” Wesley said as he popped in. “I bet pinching him drained you. That'll teach you to fool around.” He looked at Selena. “Her fooling around is what got us killed in the first place.”

Dixie glared at him. “It was your fault and you know it.”

“Does it really matter?” Selena asked. Their arguing was starting to get on her nerves. She couldn't imagine listening to them for the next two weeks. “It's not like you died yesterday or anything.”

“I suppose not,” Dixie conceded with a shrug of one shoulder. But when she looked at Selena once again, there was a naughty twinkle in her eyes. “But you do have to admit he has a body that could make a…ahem…dead woman hot.”

“Funny.” But Selena knew Dixie was right. Trent had certainly left her wanting more. He'd looked even better naked.

Ohhh, and he had a nice firm butt. He had a
really
nice butt. One you could grab hold of and squeeze, pulling him in closer…tighter.

Her body tingled as heat swirled inside her and settled in the juncture of her legs. She closed her eyes and bit her bottom lip as she imagined him entering her. He'd probably slide in slow at first, making sure she was ready….

“Yes, I can see you did enjoy me opening the door.” A knowing smile curved Dixie's lips, then just as quickly drooped. “If only sex were an option for me and Wesley.” Just as quickly, she brightened. “We'll just have to feed off all that lovely energy you two are going to create. You know, live vicariously through you.”

In an instant, they'd vanished.

Live vicariously through her and Trent? Not if she had anything to say about it!

Lord, this was going to be the longest two weeks of her life. Especially if Dixie continued with her childish pranks. Not only did she have her ghosts, but apparently they were horny.

Well, she wouldn't let them trap her into doing something she shouldn't do. Trent was her enemy. She was almost certain it was taboo to like him, and she didn't have sex with anyone she didn't like. She was pretty certain lusting would be okay, though.

Heavy footsteps sounded in the hallway leading to the kitchen.

Suddenly, the lights went out, leaving her with only one candle. Make that three. One on the table and one on the counter flamed to life. The vanilla scent swirled around her senses just as Trent stepped over the threshold. There was enough light that she could see one of his eyebrows rise in question.

Her gaze swept the room, knowing exactly what he was thinking—that she was trying to seduce him. Who wouldn't think that? Soft candlelight sensuously scenting the room with a soft vanilla aroma, the bottle of wine she'd left out, romantic music, dinner cooking in the oven.

Great.

“It's not what you're thinking,” she said.

“And what am I thinking?” His words held a husky timbre telling her that he was thinking exactly what she thought he'd be thinking…and it didn't bode well for her. Damn it, she didn't want his body.

Okay, maybe she did, but that didn't mean she'd act out her fantasies.

She'd kill Dixie and Wesley, except they were already dead so it wouldn't make her feel a bit better. It was a nice thought, though.

“Could you hit the light switch?” she asked.

He clicked it a few times, but nothing happened. “The bulb must've burned out.”

She wanted to tell him, “I told you so,” but figured her silence said it all.

“I thought I'd run to the store and grab something for dinner. Did you need anything?”

Rat poison?

Guilt washed over her. Here he was offering to run to the store, and she was thinking ugly thoughts. They were going to be living together for the next two weeks, so they might as well be civil. After all, he was going to lose. She should cut him a little slack.

“Mom made plenty for dinner. There's no way I can eat it all, and I hate leftovers. If you'd like to join me, then you can.” That was the lamest invitation she'd ever extended.

He barely hesitated. “Okay.”

She motioned toward the bottle of wine. “It's nothing expensive. There's a glass in the cabinet.”

He strode forward and opened the cabinet door. She hadn't realized how close she was standing to the bottle. How close he would be to her when he poured himself a glass. Or how great he would smell as he stood near her.

She inhaled. Gio. She had a very sensitive nose. Why the heck did he have to wear one of her favorite colognes? Just in time, she caught herself from leaning closer to him. She was practically plastered against him now.

She should be doing something…anything. Trent was the enemy. She couldn't go soft. Dixie said Trent certainly hadn't been soft. She almost groaned as that vision filled her mind. This wasn't good. It was as if Trent filled her every thought. She wouldn't let him have the upper hand….

Her gaze wandered to his hands. The way he held the stem of the wineglass, his thumb lightly caressing before he raised it to his mouth…. Her nipples tightened.

She turned on her heel and went to the equally antiquated refrigerator and opened the door.

Think about something else!

Vegetables. That was a good topic. Safe.

Bless her mother. “Eat your vegetables” was her favorite saying. When Selena had asked why, her mother had told her so her eyes wouldn't fall out.

She still didn't understand the answer, but she'd been so afraid her eyes
would
fall out, she'd eaten all the icky leaves on her plate. Now she loved salad. Her mother might be a little ditzy at times, but she had a heart of gold.

Come to think about it, Selena's eyes were still firmly in place, too. Well, they had been until Dixie opened the bathroom door and she'd caught more than a glimpse of Trent's backside. That had almost made them pop out.

Darn it, she had to stop thinking about Trent, dressed or undressed.

Okay, salad it is,
she thought as she brought the bag of greens to the counter. Even in the dim light, she was able to find a bowl, but for the life of her she couldn't tear open the plastic bag. When she was just about to give up and use her teeth, Trent took the bag from her.

“Here, let me.”

His hand against hers was warm, sending tingles up and down her arms.

“Thanks,” she muttered and grabbed the oven mittens out of the drawer before hurrying to the stove and opening the door.

More heat. As if she needed any.

She set the fettuccini on a hot pad in the middle of the small kitchen table and removed the lid. The wonderful aroma of the creamy sauce drifted upward. Trent had followed with the salad, and they both inhaled at the same time.

Trent cleared his throat. “It smells wonderful.”

“Mom makes the best fettuccini. She takes it right from the box, dumps it into a bowl and heats it in the oven.” A gourmet cook her mother wasn't.

He shrugged. “It still smells good.”

“I'm pretty sure that after thirty-two years of marriage my father has guessed Mom can't cook diddlysquat, but he always praises her culinary skills.” She smiled. That was what she wanted someday—a marriage just like her parents'.

It took her a few seconds to realize they'd just carried on a civil conversation. Apparently, he realized it, too, because he quickly took a seat. She pulled out the chair across from him.

The silence that followed was more than a little uncomfortable. Finally, Trent laid his fork down.

“Since we're going to be together for a couple of weeks, I think we should call a truce.”

In the candlelight, he seemed…dangerous. Dark and sexy. She quickly clamped her knees together. She didn't want to call a truce. He was too tempting as it was. But she didn't want him to think she was afraid, either.

She cocked an eyebrow. “A truce in the middle of a war? You're trying to ruin my career, and I'm trying to ruin yours. I'm not sure a truce would work.”

“I'm not trying to ruin—”

“What? You're going to sit there and tell me you're not trying to defame my reputation and ruin my career?”

“You're the one who offered up this stupid challenge.”

The nerve! “After you called me…let's see if I can remember your exact words: delusional, you said I have a vivid imagination and my column is amusing!”

“There were better ways to get even than staying here for two weeks. I mean, you do have a vivid imagination. Surely you could've come up with something better than this.” He slammed his hand on the table.

She wondered briefly if her mother might have packed some arsenic. “I didn't issue the challenge,” she said between gritted teeth. “My mother did. You started it, and she thought she was helping me.”

The air seemed to have suddenly left his sails. “Oh.” He grabbed up his fork and stabbed at the pasta on his plate. His mouth was set in a grim line. Finally, he looked up. “I'm sorry about the television interview. I admit that I shouldn't have said what I did on TV.”

She relaxed against the back of her chair. He was admitting he was wrong? That was something she'd never expected.

“At least, not without proof,” he continued.

She sat forward. “And what's that supposed to mean?” Damn it, you couldn't admit you were wrong in one breath, then practically steal back the apology in the next.

“It means that I'm not sure if you're out to bilk the public or if you really do believe in ghosts. Only time will tell.”

“And if it's the latter, then I guess you'll say I'm delusional.” She crossed her arms in front of her and once again leaned back, glaring in the face of his ignorance. She would not lose her temper and throw her plate of food at him.

Deep breaths. Relax.

“Who were you talking to before I came into the kitchen?” he asked without missing a beat.

She opened her mouth, then snapped it closed. Hell, she'd already admitted to talking to ghosts. She jutted out her chin and squared her shoulders. “I was speaking with Wesley and Dixie.” She picked up her glass of wine and took a dainty sip. “Not that it's any of your business.”

“Your ghosts.”

“They're not mine.”

“You don't see me talking to…the air. So that would make them yours.”

“Dixie was the one who pinched you,” she blurted out, then promptly realized her mistake. If he didn't believe in ghosts, then he certainly wouldn't believe Dixie had been the one to pinch him.

A slow grin curved his lips. She should've known what he would think. Was that a twinkle in his eyes? She was surprised he could even smile without cracking his face.

Her eyes narrowed. This time her psychic abilities were kicking in big-time. She had a suddenly strong premonition that he was going to say something she probably wouldn't like.

As if he would say something she did like. He hadn't since he'd arrived. Why the hell would he start now?

Even so, she braced herself for what he was about to say. She refused to let him get the better of her.

“D
ixie pinched me?” Trent raised a mocking eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Selena countered, daring him to tell her one more time that ghosts did not exist. She could almost see the wheels turning inside his head.

He picked up his wineglass and took a drink, then carefully set it down. “So tell me about these ghosts of yours,” he said, meeting her gaze without flinching.

It took her a second to realize he was actually asking her about Dixie and Wesley. Then another to realize he was humoring her.

Keep the crazy lady happy so she doesn't slit my throat while I'm sleeping.

She knew exactly what he was thinking. “They're not
my
ghosts. They don't
belong
to anyone.” She finished her fettuccini and carried her plate to the sink.

“Tell me about them anyway,” he said.

She didn't want to talk about them, and she opened her mouth to tell him exactly that, but stopped at the last minute. Maybe if she talked about Dixie and Wesley, they would seem more real to him. Then when they finally decided to do something that would make a believer out of him, he wouldn't have the crap scared out of him. He looked healthy enough, but the shock might cause him to have a coronary.

Wouldn't that be a damn shame
, she thought with more than a little derision.

“Fine, I'll tell you what I know, but not in here. It's too stuffy.” And he could take that any way he wanted.

She started out of the kitchen, but he held up the bottle of Merlot.

“Refill?”

Sure, why not
. She raised her glass, and he topped it off. Again, she mentally thanked Paige and her thoughtfulness; then she headed toward the front porch.

Summer was drawing to a close. The temperature was still in the high seventies to low eighties. Pleasant, not as hot as it had been in July.

October was her favorite time of the year. The leaves were turning a golden hue. The colors of fall. A new season, a new beginning.

The sun was low in the western sky as she sat in one of the rockers and pushed it into motion with the toe of her sandal. Someone was cooking on a grill. For just a second she closed her eyes and drank in the sounds and smells of the day. The spirit of the old hotel washed over her, bathing her in peacefulness.

Like people, sometimes a place or object had an essence of its own. She sensed that about the hotel. It had a good soul, wrapping her in a sense of peace. For a moment, she let her anger toward Trent fade.

“Do you know anything about the hotel?” she asked as she opened her eyes and took a drink of her wine. She leaned her head back against the top rung of the chair, the mellowness of the wine further relaxing her.

“I've heard all the wild tales about it being haunted if that's what you're asking.”

She shook her head. “No, I'm talking about the history.” She looked at him. His mocking expression changed, and she caught a glimpse of the man he could be. Who had made him so cynical? So untrusting?

“I know some. Not a lot,” he hedged.

She caught the way he hesitated. Did he think she'd lie? Probably. Skeptics were often like that. Just waiting to pounce on one wrong piece of information so they could condemn someone. She'd done her research and read up on everything about the hotel.

“It hasn't always been a hotel,” she began. “It started out as a saloon. Some say Jessie James slept here. Can you imagine that you might be walking across the same floor that the notorious outlaw once crossed?”

“Any relation?” he asked with more sarcasm than she cared for.

She wouldn't let him goad her into losing her temper. She wouldn't. She slowly exhaled, releasing all the bad vibes that were around her. Only a few seconds passed before she felt calmer. To hell with self-help books, she had to remember to thank Paige for the wine. It worked wonders.

“My grandmother claimed we were related to the James gang, but who knows. It doesn't really matter. Don't you feel there's more to the old hotel than wood and nails?”

No, Trent didn't, but he could imagine what it would be like to lie next to her. When she closed her eyes and began to speak, it was all he could do to pay attention. Her voice was like music to his ears. The soft melody of her words caressed his senses and filled his thoughts with sensuous visions.

He took a deep breath and straightened in his chair. It wouldn't do to get too comfortable around her. So far, what she'd told him was what he'd discovered on his own. Of course he'd researched the hotel. He'd be a fool not to know something about where he'd be staying. If she lied about anything, he'd catch her. Then let her try to explain herself.

“There was a shooting,” she continued. “A man and woman were killed.”

“I suppose that would be your ghosts.”

When she frowned, she looked even more tempting. Maybe that was what he'd have to do to keep her at arm's length—keep her pissed off at him. So far, he was doing an excellent job.

“I'm assuming the spirits here are the same ones who were shot. I haven't had a chance to ask.”

“Are they here now?” He looked around.

“No.” She drained the wine in her glass and leaned forward to set it on the rail. Her top pulled taut against her breasts, and he realized just how sad his social life had been.

He dragged his gaze away from her breasts and looked across the yard. He really needed to focus on something besides her body.

Like maybe the condition of the place?

Okay, he could do that. The hotel wasn't as run-down as he'd first thought. In fact, this wouldn't be a bad place if it were cleaned up a little. Not a bad investment with the history behind it.

“It hasn't sold because the buyers always back out at the last minute,” Selena said.

Now she was reading his mind. Not good, seeing as where his mind had been earlier.

“After the shooting it was turned into a hotel. The town had grown over the years, and the good citizens were trying to get rid of the riffraff.”

“And did it work?”

“The hotel never really took off because everyone said it was haunted. The owners barely scraped by making a living. When they died, the place closed. Garvey County finally took it over for back taxes, but it was never developed or reopened.”

“A shame,” he murmured as he let his gaze roam.

“You think so?”

“You sound surprised that I would.”

“I was positive you wouldn't see beneath the shabbiness.”

“Ouch.”

“I don't kiss and make it better. Get a Band–Aid.”

“Cute.” He wouldn't rise to her baiting.

“I think I'll go to bed. It's been a long day.” She stood and started toward the door.

Oh, yeah, like he wanted that vision in his head. Selena in bed. Did she wear pajamas or sleep naked?

He bumped the floor of the wooden porch with the toe of his shoe to set the rocker in motion and let his fantasy take over. Now that he'd seen her naked, it didn't take much of an imagination to picture her lying in bed, the sheet down to her waist, her breasts exposed.

He gripped the arms of the rocking chair and drew in a deep breath, reining in his thoughts before draining his glass.

Yeah, she was good all right.

But he was better.

“Hey, there,” a woman called out to him.

He jumped, then realized it wasn't a ghost, only a neighbor walking around the side of the hotel. Apparently, there was a gap somewhere in the fence.

“Hello,” he responded.

“For a minute I thought the ghosts were stirring.” She was motherly, a little plump. She wiped her hands on the floured apron she wore and smiled. “I was fixin' Hiram's dinner and saw you out the window. You can call me Matilda. You gonna be stayin' here a spell?”

“A couple of weeks.”

She nodded. “Be careful you don't make Dixie and Wesley mad. They can be flat ornery if you're not careful. I just wanted to say hello. Just bein' neighborly and all. I best be gettin' back to Hiram. Nice to meet you.” She waved and left.

Trent wondered how much Selena had paid her to drop by. He laughed. She'd even called the ghosts by name. As if that would convince him they were real. Selena's little plan wouldn't work.

He stood and went inside. After taking his glass to the kitchen, he went upstairs, but before he opened his door his gaze strayed down the hallway. There was no light showing from beneath her door. Was she already asleep and dreaming up new ways to make him believe in ghosts?

“Let the games begin,” he said softly beneath his breath.

For a second, he thought he heard a soft feminine chuckle. Now who was letting their imagination run away with them? He shook his head and went inside his room.

After changing into his pajama bottoms, he took out his black notebook and began to write.

I think Selena might truly believe in ghosts. Either way, she's feeding the public lies, and she has to be stopped….

He continued to write for a few more minutes, then put away his notebook and climbed into bed.

She was going to despise him. That caused a twinge of regret which he quickly tamped down. He couldn't let himself think like that.

Sleep, that was what he needed. Nice, restful sleep. Everything would look clearer in the morning.

Selena had made him ache to slide between her legs, but he'd be able to restrain himself from pouncing on her luscious body. And in the end, he would win because he didn't lose. Not anymore.

 

“What are you doing, Dixie?” Wesley asked from somewhere behind her.

“Damn it, Wes. It's an unwritten law you're not supposed to scare another ghost.” She turned and glared at him. He even looked good dead. If she'd had substance, her heart would be pounding right now. Just like it had when she'd been alive.

She missed the way he'd held her in his arms. The way he'd made love to her all night long.

“Seems to me like you've come up with a lot of unwritten laws since you got shot,” Wes broke into her thoughts.

His timing was really off, though. “Did you have to bring that up? I'd just as soon forget about the night we were killed.”

He chuckled. “Kind of hard since you're a ghost.” He nodded toward Trent, who was sleeping. “What are you up to?”

A delicious swirl of heat swept through her. “They like each other. What would be the harm?”

“You're messing in people's lives again. You always get into trouble when you do that. Remember the last time? When those kids sneaked in here and began making out? You scared them out of their wits when you started moaning.”

She shrugged. “Couldn't help it. The energy they produced was so…so nice.” She closed her eyes, remembering the intensity of the moment. Just as quickly it flitted away, leaving her feeling unfulfilled and wanting…needing more.

“Don't you miss it?” She floated over to him, a hazy mist swirling around him.

“You know I do.” His voice cracked. “I miss it every damn time I see you, but getting inside someone else's head, into their thoughts and dreams, well, that just ain't right. And if you're thinking they might loan us their bodies, then I'm thinking you're probably getting your hopes up for nothin'.”

“It could happen. That one couple almost let us borrow theirs.”

“Talk about scraping the bottom of the barrel! His breath smelled worse than I did after I'd been dead a few weeks.” He raised his eyebrows. “And did you
really
want to crawl inside her? The woman was cross-eyed, didn't have a tooth in her head and weighed at least four hundred pounds.”

“But I need to make love!”

“You know as well as I that you can't enter someone's body unless they let you…at least not for longer than a few seconds, and that alone will drain you for a good hour. You'd only be more frustrated.”

She hated it when he was right. “I'm not the only one who's going to be frustrated.” She faced Trent. The sheet was down to just below his waist. What she wouldn't give to be alive for an hour. Damn, he looked good enough to eat.

She raised her hand and blew across her palm. Pale pink light spun around him. Trent shifted his body and moaned. A smile curved his lips as he snuggled the extra pillow to him.

“Dixie…” Wesley began.

“I'm only having a little fun. You can't complain about that.” She disappeared in a huff.

Her next stop was Selena's room where she did the same thing. Selena sighed, pushing the covers down to her hips and parting her legs.

Dixie chuckled. Life in the old hotel was going to be exciting. Her laughter trailed behind her as she waited to see what would happen in their dreams. It would still be their fantasies…with a little encouragement from her.

She sighed. It was their own fault. Selena should know the living were more susceptible to spirits visiting when they were asleep. They were more vulnerable, and they let their guards down. So why shouldn't she take advantage of the night?

Laughter trilled in the air.

Being dead wasn't so bad sometimes.