Ghost of a Chance (Banshee Creek Book 2) (9 page)

"I'll do it," he said. "You go stand by the cars."
 

Elizabeth handed over the key. She had to admit she didn't want to go anywhere near the Hagen House. Not that she believed in the curse, of course, but she'd lived in L.A. for years and was a firm believer in aftershocks. She pulled Gabe's jacket tightly around her. It smelled like soap and shirt starch and a faint hint of shaving cream.
 

It was a nice smell.

Elizabeth watched Gabe as he approached the door, expecting a new disaster. But he calmly and uneventfully locked the door and put the key back in the lockbox.
 

Elizabeth stared at his back. A dark stain marred the whiteness of his shirt. She leaned to get a closer look. Gabe tested the door and stepped back, satisfied. Then he turned around, almost bumping into her.
 

"I'm not buying this house," he said firmly.
 

"Can we stop talking about the house?" She craned her neck to look at his shirt. "You're bleeding all over your Brooks Brothers shirt. Let me look at your back."
 

She peered at the dark red stain on his shirt but couldn't see much. Could the glass still be there? She felt self-conscious examining him, but she couldn't let him go about his day with a glass shard embedded in his shoulder. She ran her finger lightly over the bloodied shirt, and he didn't flinch. She didn't feel a shard, just warm, firm muscle.
 

"We need to go to the clinic," she said.

"It's nothing, Elizabeth." He sounded amused by her concern. "I've been hurt worse. Hell, I looked like a porcupine Liberace after your stupid disco ball fell on me."
 

Her hands fell to her sides. "You did not," she scoffed. "That thing missed you by a mile. And it wasn't a disco ball. It was an airship piñata. My sweet sixteenth birthday party had a Jules Verne theme."
 

He totally deserved to remain impaled on chandelier debris, but she couldn't just let him walk around with a bloody wound. What would people think about Hunt Realty's customer service? But he was so stubborn, he'd skip the clinic just to spite her.
 

"You keep telling yourself that." Gabe looked up at the house. "Well, we can cross this house off the list."

"The chandelier can be repaired," she suggested, but her heart wasn't in it. She couldn't argue on behalf of the Hagen House anymore.
 

He turned to look at her, brows raised. "So the house can improve its aim? I'd rather not."

"It was an earthquake, Gabe."

"One with very suspicious timing."
 

All of the Banshee Creek earthquakes had suspicious timing, but she didn't say that out loud. As a stunt director once told her, never argue with a client while he was bleeding.
 

"Fine," she said. "The chandelier will have to be repaired anyway. I'm going to have to call Liam and break the news to him."
 

"He's going to blow a gasket." He clearly relished the prospect.

"Don't worry. I'll find you another house," Elizabeth said, accepting defeat rather gracefully, even if she said so herself.

"Middleburg has nice houses," he replied.
 

Okay, maybe not so gracefully.
 

"Don't be ridiculous. Don't you remember the jeers and catcalls during the Friday night football games? The semifinals game where all the Middleburg kids wore hockey masks? The night they drenched us in orange slime and called us pumpkin-heads?"

"They used water guns, so it was more of a spraying. And it was kind of cool."

"Cool? Pumpkin pie sludge splattered in your hair is cool?" Though Gabe had looked pretty good covered in orange slime. He'd looked even hotter after his mom had him take off his shirt for the drive home.
 

 
"That was a long time ago," he said with a dismissive shrug. "Can we stop the rivalry now that we're adults?"

"No, we can't. Some of us are trying to move this town forward. You're the town's ultra-famous success story. You can't move to Middleburg. They have plenty of rich people. We don't. You have to buy your house here. It'll be good for the town."

"I don't care. I'm not buying a cursed house."

"This was an earthquake," Elizabeth said through clenched teeth. "There's a reason why they're called
natural
disasters."
 

Gabe looked down the street. It was calm and peaceful. The trees, the fences, even the porch columns were untouched. "An earthquake?" He smiled. "You're not in L.A. anymore, Elizabeth. This is Virginia." The kryptonite smile did something to her. His nearness was suddenly uncomfortable, and she was painfully aware that she was wearing his jacket. It held remnants of his warmth, reminding her of the hardness of his body and the heat of his touch.
 

"It's a normal occurrence," she stammered. She felt like she should step back, but she couldn't. She stared at him, hypnotized. "Just a small earthquake. They happen."

He leaned forward. "Small earthquakes happen?" Was he still laughing at her? That was so unfair. She couldn't stop thinking about his mouth, and he was cracking jokes.

He was a jerk.

 
A jerk who needed to be taught a thing or two.

"Yes." Her tone was firm. "They do."

And then she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. His lips were warm and soft.
 

He stiffened with shock, and she felt his muscles tighten, as if he were at war with himself. But he surrendered and wrapped his arms around her. The gentle touch of her lips wasn't enough for him, so he took her mouth with undisguised hunger, as if he too had waited a lifetime for this kiss.

She dug her fingers into his hair and lost herself in the experience. The kiss went on forever.
 

It was heaven.
 

Until Gabe broke the kiss and pushed her away. She felt bereft. He looked conflicted, then remorseful, but Elizabeth's thoughts weren't as coherent. She struggled to find her footing. Her nervous system had blinked out after that kiss.
 

Time to reboot.

A long silence, then Gabe sighed. "I'm not interested in buying a house with localized seismic phenomena, Elizabeth." He smiled ruefully. "Although, small earthquakes do have their upside."

Why was he talking about the house? And was she trembling? Ridiculous. It was just a kiss. She had kissed before. She'd taken several acting classes to perfect her kissing technique and had the accolades to prove it. She was certified as a kissing expert.

But she'd never kissed like this. She was practically shaking. Or maybe it was the aftermath of the fallen chandelier. Delayed shock, that had to be it.

Gabe looked at her intently. Elizabeth licked her lips. She struggled to focus on what he was saying. Then she remembered—she had to find him a house. And she had to sell the Hagen House too. But she had trouble collecting her scattered thoughts because she was hoping for another kiss.

"Unfortunately," he said, sounding pained. "I can't take advantage of the upside." He took a deep breath. "That's why I'm getting a different agent."
 

Elizabeth looked at him in confusion.

"I'm fired?" she asked.

C
HAPTER
T
EN

"I'
M
F
IRED
?"

Elizabeth's shock was swiftly turning into anger. He tried to focus on that anger. Anger was good. Kissing was bad.

He repeated the phrase like a mantra, but it had little effect on his libido.
 
She looked rumpled and delicious and that, he knew, was a spectacular kiss. The sight of her wearing his jacket made his chest feel tight and he was having a hard time shaking off the effects of their embrace. Was it the adrenaline rush caused by the chandelier crash? He'd dated women who were just as beautiful, and a hell of a lot more pleasant and agreeable. They didn't have this effect on him, though.

He didn't like feeling like this—confused, out of control. He should've stopped that kiss.

Why hadn't he?

He wanted to kiss her again, and if she kept staring at him with flushed cheeks and swollen lips, he would. He was pretty sure that she'd let him. But kissing Elizabeth would lead to an unexpected place. A place where he'd find himself looking into the mirror, staring at a man he didn't recognize.

That was why he needed a new plan.
 

"You can't fire me." She enunciated her words carefully this time. "Our families are friends."

That word again. It concerned him. His family already thought he was a soulless corporate toad. He tried to visualize their reaction when they found out he'd "fired" little Elizabeth Hunt, who'd left a successful acting career to take care of her sick mom. He'd probably lose his exalted toad standing. He might be demoted to salamander status or perhaps even cockroach.

"You're not exactly fired," he explained. "You're not an employee. I can't dismiss you. I'm just going to use someone else."

"You know, you could have a thriving career as a Hollywood casting director. I know fired when I hear it, Gabe." She paused, tasting the word and finding it unappetizing. "I'm fired because you're a superstitious idiot?"
 

"Please stop using that word. And avoiding a tainted property does not make me superstitious, Elizabeth. It's just not a good investment."

"See?" She squeaked the word out in surprised glee. "That's what the ghost stories do. That's what those ridiculous Haunted House Tours do." She stabbed her finger into his chest. "That's what PRoVE does." Another stab. "It turns our town into a bad investment."

"It does not. The Hagen House is an outlier."

"It does so. And it's all thanks to your Fox Mulder wannabes. PRoVE's Hagen House documentary has three hundred and fifty-seven thousand, six hundred and twenty-two page views in YouTube," she snarled. "As of this morning."

"Really? That's good news."
 

Good for his Haunted Orchard project, that was. But he still wasn't sinking seven figures into a cursed, or even haunted, house. Amazingly, Elizabeth didn't seem ready to accept that. She looked like she was ready for a fight.

"You're firing me because you know I'm right. You're firing me because I'm showing you exactly what your stupid marketing scheme is doing to this town."

"Don't be ridiculous, Elizabeth," he said, fighting the urge to strangle her, or kiss her, he wasn't sure which. "The Hagen House is just one building with a particularly pernicious history. The rest of the town is doing well. The local legends add to its, um, charm."
 

"Really?" Her eyebrows were raised in Muppet-like skepticism. "Then there's no need to go house hunting in Middleburg. Banshee Creek has plenty of charming houses with picturesque local legends."

"I want a house that isn't trying to kill me. Is that too much to ask?"
 

"I've told you a million times," she was practically screeching now. "The house is not cursed."

"Think whatever you want. I'm still buying in Middleburg and I'm still getting a new agent."
 

"Oh, I hope that doesn't happen," she drawled, crossing her arms over her chest. "Hell freezing over wouldn't help with our ghost problem. But I suppose you have a replacement in mind, then?"

"Yes." He took a breath. Best to get it over with. "Your mother." It was the only solution. Mary Hunt was his mom's best friend, which meant he couldn't abscond to a rival firm. He could, however, get rid of Elizabeth. But he didn't expect her to go gently into the good night. He fully expected an explosion.

Elizabeth stood perfectly still. "My mother?"
 

"Yes. I expect she'll be a lot more objective about my requirements."

"My mother?" She kept repeating that. His spider sense buzzed.

"Mary is a very practical person. I'm sure she'll find me something suitable."

"And I'm not?" Gabe flinched at the sharpness in her tone.
 

"You tend to get a little stuck on your causes." To put it mildly.

"My mother hasn't come back to work yet," Elizabeth said in an eerie, meditative tone.
 

"Then she may have to return for this." The firmness of his tone belied his growing unease. She was thinking hard, and that gave him pause. Elizabeth Hunt thinking hard would make any man nervous.

"Yes." The word was a thoughtful sigh. What the hell was she planning? Now he was really worried. "She may have to return for this." She nodded, and a happy smile lit up her face. "Very well, Gabe. It's a deal."

"It is?" What the hell? She was happy to be fired? It made things less unpleasant, to be sure, but now he felt vaguely wounded.
 

"Yes, I'll ask my mother to take over the search." Elizabeth's eyes narrowed. "No, I'll
tell
my mother to take over the search. She won't be able to say no to you. This will work nicely." With a final nod, she shrugged out of his jacket and handed it back to him. Apparently, the showing was over.
 

"Well, yes, it will," he stammered, grabbing the jacket. He was confused and annoyed. Why was she so happy about this? A few minutes ago, she'd been kissing him like she'd never let go. Now, she couldn't wait to get rid of him.
 

"Excellent," Elizabeth said as she walked towards her car. She didn't look very stable in those sexy heels, so he stepped forward to steady her. She tensed when his hand wrapped around her arm and then pulled away.
 

"Well, it was nice to see you again, Gabe." She gave him a cheerful wave. "I'll tell Mom to call you."
 

Gabe frowned at the driveway. "You're still driving that?"

"Of course." A confused look crossed her face. "It's my car."

"I know it's your car. Cole and I went to the used car lot to pick it up. The targa tops were so unpopular, they stopped making the car." The license plate read Virginia Vintage Motors. Elizabeth's tiny rattletrap was vintage? Man, he felt old.