Ghostly Liaison (11 page)

Rob lifted her by her armpits and she cried out a little, but he got her upright. “Try and put your weight on it.”

He put an arm around her waist and she did the same to him, his hard muscles against her body. She did as he suggested and her leg relaxed. Finally. Her breathing returned to normal as he walked with her around the small living room. Well, she limped while he walked. She sat a couple of times, but each time the cramp resurfaced. Tired and weary, she wanted to sleep, like, forever.

After the fourth attempt at sitting, her leg quieted down. She breathed a sigh of relief. Her achy muscles relaxed.

Rob went to the kitchen and brought her back a glass of water. “You feeling better?”

Nodding, she took the water and downed it. She couldn’t look him in the face. Embarrassment heated her cheeks. That he’d witnessed one of her cramping episodes was humiliating to say the least. But, oh, how he had helped her. Offering gentle suggestions instead of barking orders, like her physical therapist always had, did the trick for her. Maybe he should take some lessons from Rob.

A sound of wood hitting wood caught her attention. He had gone back into the kitchen, searching through her cabinets.

“Don’t you have any food in the house?” he asked.

“I have some frozen dinners.” One, but then maybe he wouldn’t…look. Crap.

He opened the freezer, reached in and pulled out the box of Lean Cuisine Chicken and Broccoli Alfredo. “This is all you have?”

“I planned on doing some shopping this weekend.” As if it was any of his business.

“But it’s Wednesday. There’s not enough here to last the week.” He tossed the box back into the freezer and shut the door. “Do you need me to get you something?”

“Nooo. I’m perfectly capable of getting my own groceries, thank you.” Tentatively she stood, being careful with the weight on her left leg. Having a cramp was like pulling a muscle, and she had pulled a major one.

“Sit down.”

Okay, now he was beginning to sound bossy.

“I don’t want to sit down.” She took two steps, limping. Damn, she wanted to sit. “Thank you for your help, but you can go now. I can manage by myself.”

He appeared in her face faster than she anticipated and she teetered backward. Quickly, he grabbed her waist. “I’m sure you can, but I’ll feel better knowing you ate a semidecent meal. I’m gonna get a pizza. What kind do you like?”

His scent engulfed her. Damn. Her physical therapist never smelled this good.

“Pizza is a decent meal?” Her question came out breathless. What had he done to her?

“I said semidecent.” He smiled and her resolve melted.

One pizza wouldn’t kill her and she hadn’t eaten any in over a year. Of course, she was in a coma during most of that time. And would it really be that bad spending time with him? He was going to be working there anyway. Might as well get used to him. “Fine. Surprise me.”

His smile turned into a grin. “Can I leave Barnaby with you? I don’t trust him with food in the truck.”

She chuckled. “Sure, why not?”

He was so close—she was so weak—he could kiss her now and she wouldn’t stop him. Instead, he placed his hands on her shoulders and pushed her onto the couch.

Rob fetched Barnaby, who bounced in toward her. He placed his head on her lap.

“Anything else you’d like me to get?” Rob asked.

“How about some beers?” Beer and pizza. Couldn’t get any better than that.

He placed his hand on the doorjamb. “Surprise you?”

She nodded, petting the top of Barnaby’s head. His fur was soft and comforting against her fingers. How the hell had Rob finagled his way to having dinner with her? And why was she thrilled at the idea?

He wasn’t gone a minute when pain slashed through her temples.

* * * *

“Hey, fur face!” Charlie clapped her hands and the dog whipped his head around.

Bridget, on the other hand, held her head in her hands. “You’re back.”

“I never left. I guess it’s not an exaggeration if you say I’m a pain in the head, huh? Is that better or worse than being a pain in the ass?”

“Ha-ha,” Bridget deadpanned. Slowly, she raised her head. Her eyes widened. “Barnaby can see and hear you.”

The dog ran through Charlie. “I thought you knew that from the other day.”

“It didn’t register. Remember, I thought I was going crazy.”

“Does that mean you didn’t ask about Nick?”

“Then again, I could have a brain tumor and I’m just seeing things. Why else would I have these headaches?”

Charlie went to Bridget and knelt. “I’m sorry I give you the headaches, but you’re not crazy.” She placed her hand on Bridget’s knee. “You feel me, don’t you? How can you say I’m not real?”

“A damaged mind can trick you into all sorts of things.”

“Damn, you’re stubborn, you know that? What do I have to do to get you to admit I’m not a hallucination?” Barnaby bumped into her. Instinctively, she pet the mutt with her free hand. His fur was soft through her fingers. “Holy shit! I can touch him.”

Barnaby licked Charlie’s face. More like slobbered. Charlie hugged the dog with both arms and Barnaby fell through her, landing at Bridget’s feet.

“What did you do?” Bridget asked. “He touched you, didn’t he?”

“Give me your hand.”

Once they connected, Charlie reached out. The couch became solid. The dog became solid. Keeping her hold on Bridget, she sat on the couch and sunk into the cushions. What a rush. She stared at her dog and slapped her thigh. “Come here, boy.”

Barnaby lobbed over and jumped up, his front paws landing in Charlie’s lap.

“Sweet Jesus!” She bent down and nuzzled the top of the beast’s head. His fur tickled her face and he smelled just like she remembered. “Oh baby, how I missed you.”

Barnaby slobbered some more and wagged his tail.

She turned to Bridget. “You’re a miracle. I knew it the minute you saw me. But this is just…wonderful. Thank you.” Her vision blurred and she blinked back tears. Damn, she could cry?

“Don’t thank me, yet. I haven’t done anything.” Bridget rubbed her temple.

“So you didn’t find anything about Nick?”

Bridget shook her head. “I didn’t have enough time during lunch. I’d ask Rob, but how do I bring up Nick without sounding crazy?”

“Yeah, that would be a problem, unless….” Charlie stood, breaking the connection. “Follow me.” She led the way to the desk in the spare bedroom. “Open the top drawer.”

The desk, one of those old wooden monstrosities, had belonged to her father back at his office. After he died, Rob hadn’t wanted it, but Charlie had no problem keeping it.

Bridget tugged and freed the drawer. “It’s empty.”

“Not quite. Look inside.”

Bridget turned on the lamp. Her eyes widened.

“Can you use that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” Bridget rubbed her temples.

“Then I’ll give you a break.” Charlie willed herself to the backyard.

It wasn’t fair. Spending months being invisible and soundless had been sheer agony. Now when someone broke those barriers, and more than that, made her world solid once again, her mere existence was painful to that person.

What was a ghost to do? Maybe Bridget just needed to be eased into her ability—small doses of Charlie. Yeah, that was it. No reason to bombard Bridget.

Charlie clenched her teeth. But, damn, that would be hard. Like rehab all over again. Who knew her addiction would evolve into a ghost-seeing woman?

Rob closed the box on the half-eaten pizza. “You like leftover pizza?”

Bridget drained her beer. “Nothing better than cold pizza for breakfast.”

Lots of things were better. Such as kissing her, or loving her, or waking up beside her. Hell, anything to do with her. Right now he was thankful to have had dinner with her.

He slid the box into her empty refrigerator. As tempted as he was to buy her more groceries, it wasn’t his place. Instead, he’d use it to give him some leverage in asking her out again. She had to eat and she clearly wasn’t doing that at home.

“Who’s Nick?”

Rob sat back at the table. “Nick who?”

“The Nick of Charlie and Nick. I noticed the engraving inside the desk drawer.”

Ahh, Dad’s desk. “That would be Nick Anders, Charlie’s boyfriend.”

“Do you still see him?”

“No. He died before….” Damn, were they going to talk about dead people all the time? Of course, it didn’t help that most of his friends and family had passed.

Bridget placed her hand over his, warming his heart. “Was she there? Did she witness it?”

“No. She was spared that.” He needed to change the subject to something cheery if there was any possibility of finishing the kiss he had started yesterday.

“How did he die?”

“Could we not—”

She withdrew her hand. “I’m sorry. If you want to go home, I’ll understand.”

In an instant he missed touching her. But home? How did that happen? “I don’t have to go anywhere.”

“Is talking about Charlie painful? Should I drop it?”

“Why are you so fascinated?”

She shrugged. “Curiosity? I guess because I’m living in her house I feel some kind of connection.”

If staying meant talking about death, he’d do it. Maybe if he shared, she’d feel obligated to do the same.

* * * *

“Why don’t we move this conversation to the couch?” Rob stood and offered his hand.

If guilt were food, she’d be stored up for several winters, but how else could she get the information she needed without sounding like a raving lunatic?

Bridget took his hand, warm and comforting. If she weren’t careful, she could easily lose her heart to him. She was already hankering for him more than she liked. To keep her distance, she sat on the far end of the couch, turned, and placed her knee on the middle cushion, using the back as an armrest.

He frowned as he took the other end. “So, what would you like to know?”

Ah, straight to the subject. Well, at least she didn’t have to hem and haw. “How did Nick die?”

“He fell at the Rialto job site. Although I have no idea why he was there.”

“He wasn’t an employee?”

“He was, but not on that job. Carl thinks he went out there looking for equipment. Or maybe he went out there looking for Carl. I guess we’ll never know.”

“Who’s Carl?”

“He’s my head salesman slash foreman. Nick’s father.”

“You know him long?”

“All my life. He’s like an uncle to me. He was there when my parents died and when Charlie passed, even though he still grieved for Nick. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

Oh crap. How could she attack Carl without Rob shutting down? She needed information, not him defensive. Maybe if she had studied how to interrogate without being insulting, she’d have better luck. “It’s nice you have someone you can confide in. Did Charlie feel the same way toward him? After Nick died?”

Rob sighed. “Carl and Charlie had an up and down relationship. She made the mistake of hanging around the wrong crowd and using drugs, and Carl voiced his opinion on that subject. When she became involved with Nick, she and Carl became more at odds. Then Nick helped Charlie get clean and Carl began to relax around her. I think Nick was the glue that kept her and Carl amicable. I just wish I’d known….”

“Known what?”

He pulled a loose thread on the couch. “That Nick’s death would trigger her addiction. Carl had warned me.”

Carl had warned him? Well, wasn’t that convenient. “How did he know?”

“He told me she’d gone off the deep end when she learned there wouldn’t be another investigation.”

“But there
was
an investigation.”

“Yeah, but there was no proof of foul play. Nick had no enemies. I think Charlie wanted to blame someone and couldn’t handle that there wasn’t anyone to blame.”

He scooted closer and placed his hand on her knee. “The whole incident was in the papers. Could we please talk about something less depressing?”

Her heart sped up from his touch. “Like…like what?”

“I don’t know. Movies, TV, the weather.” He removed his hand from her knee and stroked her fingers. His warmth zinged through her extremities.

Her heart went from double-time to whoa-baby-come-to-mama. She had to stop his advances and sitting with her legs wide open was probably inviting him in. She lowered her knee and straightened. Wrong move. That only gave him more room and he scooted closer.

He smelled good—of soap and wood—and grasped her hand before she could pull it away. “What are you afraid of, Bridget? Did some guy break your heart?”

“Sure, what girl hasn’t had her heart broken.” She stared at his lips. Would it be so bad if they kissed? Kisses were just kisses, not a commitment. “How is it you’re still free? You a playboy?”

His smile made his eye gleam. “Not a playboy. Never found the right woman. Until…maybe…now.”

He held the back of her head. With the sound of blood rushing in her ears, she closed her eyes. He brushed his lips across hers and she leaned into them. What started out soft gradually became hard, almost as if he was staking a claim. She opened to him and he thrust his tongue in, exploring. He tasted better than she imagined, a mix of beer and pizza and something uniquely him.

He rubbed his thumb against her nipple and she moaned into his mouth. It had been too long since someone had last touched her. She craved everything he had to offer.

Slowly, he trailed his hand down her body, ending at her core. Frozen in place, she gradually thawed as he stroked her. She grew wet for him. Tentatively, she placed her hand on his chest, wishing the shirt would disappear. The buttons were at her fingertips. Could she slip her hand in?

He was nuzzling her neck when her mind cleared. Shit! Charlie was probably in the room.

Watching.

“I see dead people.” Hell’s bells. That had come out all wrong.

* * * *

Rob backed up and blinked several times as if someone had poured cold water over him. His heart was racing overtime, but his erection was slacking. “What? Isn’t that a line from a movie?”

“Is it?” Bridget pulled away and stood, averting her eyes.

“And I’m not dead.”