Must Love Ghosts (8 page)

Adele sighed and dug into her salad. “I'm teaching an adult ed class on the romantic poets. You should sign up. I've never met a person more in need of romance and poetry.”

“This thing with Dec won't last. I need to find someone else like Richard.”

Adele waved her fork violently and a chunk of tomato dropped onto the table. “A pretentious jerk who co-opts your research, and cuts you out of the project instead of standing by you? That's your grand plan?”

Tia swallowed. All of a sudden, she wasn't sure of anything. The foundation she'd built her life on was crumbling at her toes. “No. But I don't want just the physical attraction either.”

“Why don't you, for once, not worry about the grand plan? Relax, enjoy this thing you've got with Dec, and see what happens.”

“Because I can't shake the feeling that I'm being led around by my hormones.”

“And hallelujah for that. Every woman needs a little lust-filled joy now and then.”

“But what if I think I've fallen in love with him and it's just dopamine?”

“A rose by any other name smells like denial. Or something like that.”

Tia shook her head. “We're talking about Dec here. One look at him and every woman feels the same way about him that I do.”

Adele rolled her eyes. “I don't.”

“What?”

“Honey, Dec is a good-looking guy, no doubt about that. But I have absolutely no desire to jump his bones. Or, as you might put it, my girl parts are not demanding I make babies with him. Face it. You're in love with Dec and have been for a while.”

“That's ridiculous. I know better than to fall in love.”

“Uh-huh. That's why you took the breakup so hard. Don't look at me like that. I'm your best friend. I know exactly how hard it was for you.” She paused. “What happened anyway? You never did tell me why you two split up.”

Tia shook her head. “It doesn't matter anymore. It was mostly a misunderstanding.”

“There you go. Get back together with the hunk. That's my advice.”

It was stupid, illogical, reckless. He stirred up every tempestuous feeling she had, every firestorm she'd promised herself she'd avoid in life. And yet…

And yet she'd missed him for six long months.

The grim residue of her conversation with Richard all but evaporated. She exhaled and between the sun and the hint of flowers on the breeze, she felt like she was cleansing herself of a body full of bad juju, as Adele might say.

“The only problem,” she said, “is I'll have to throw out the research on which I've built my career.”

“Yes, but think how much happier you'll be without trying to fit your love life into some boring theoretical model. When are you going to see him again?”

Tia swallowed as she thought of the long hours she'd spend with Dec in Nana's old attic. “Tonight.”

Adele cast a critical look over Tia. “Wear something I gave you. That black pant suit makes you look like you're in mourning.”

Dec gave the wine reduction sauce a quick stir. The mushrooms were nearly done. Asparagus ready to put under the broiler. He'd wait until she arrived to put the salmon on the grill. He had the stuff prepped for the chocolate sauce, strawberries cleaned and hulled and ready to dip.

He couldn't give Tia the kind of expensive gifts and vacations Richard could, but he could make her a hell of an impressive dinner.

The only problem was going to be keeping his hands off her afterward.

Billy sat on the tiny counter space next to the stove, his ghostly glow working better than the stove's overhead light, and peered into the saucepan. “God Almighty am I glad I'm not your age. The men do the cooking now?”

Billy had drawn enough power to explode a transformer and he was still corporeal nearly twenty-four hours later. Amazing.

Dec popped a mushroom in his mouth. “Not just the cooking. Half the household chores and half the dirty diaper changing too.”

Billy shuddered. “For once, I'm grateful I'm in the afterlife.” He pulled his knees up and gave Dec a stern look at odds with his youthful face. “I've noticed a few other changes in the way things are done, and you and me need to talk.”

Dec tapped the wooden spoon on the side of the pan. He was about to get lectured on his sex life by a ghost. Ryan would laugh his ass off if Dec were ever dumb enough to tell him about this. “I'm not good enough for Tia, but I'm a selfish bastard so that's not going to stop me. I think we've got a future together. Now butt out. Everything else is between Tia and me.”

Billy's stern look fell away, and his usual grin lit up his face. “Good. I didn't want to have to haunt you.” His face turned serious again for a moment. “Don't sell yourself short. You and I, we'd have been friends if I were alive. You're a guy I'd trust in a firefight.”

“She could do better.”

“The good ones always can.” Billy stretched and hopped off the counter. “It's about time for me to skedaddle. Bogie and Bacall marathon will be starting at the old folks' home soon. Although the search for Cassie's letters would go a lot faster if you let me help.”

“Forget it. Tia and I need some time alone.”

“No hanky-panky.”

Dec put a lid on the pan and turned the heat down to low. “Not that it's any of your business, but that's not what tonight is about.” He meant it too. He'd rushed Tia the first night they'd gone out, and every night after that. He'd made her happy, of course, at least right up until he'd broken into her office.

But she was a woman who wanted a slow courting. He'd finally heard her—really heard her—when she talked about building on a solid foundation of friendship.

So that's what he was going to give her. Friendship. A slow build. Time to convince her they had more than crazy-hot sexual attraction. They weren't going to bed together tonight, no matter how many hours they spent alone searching for those letters.

In the meantime, he had something else to discuss with Billy. A reality TV producer had called, and Ryan had told him all about Billy. The man was flying in later this month to discuss the possibility of a show. This kind of publicity could drive business to Ryan's Ghosts of Boulder tours, could mean new clients for Dec's investigation business, and, if a national audience saw what he did on a daily basis—not only the investigations, there were plenty of TV shows about that, but the actual manifestations—this opportunity could grant their field the recognition it deserved.

“Listen,” he said. “There's something I want to ask you. You're the most corporeal ghost I've ever encountered. If you went public, the world would know the paranormal exists. There's a guy who's interested in stories like yours.”

Dec couldn't decipher the look Billy gave him, but, for once, the ghost's eyes showed all Billy's ninety-plus years. “How do you think Tia's going to feel about you outing her ghost?”

“I'm sure I can talk her into it,” he said with much more confidence than he felt.

“Bull hockey.” Billy studied Dec for a long moment. “Tell you what. Get the okay from Tia, and I'll help you get the public recognition you're salivating for.”

“This isn't about me.”

Billy snorted, but before Dec could respond, a knock on the door interrupted them. Tia walked in and all thoughts of the paranormal and his underrated profession fled.

Her blond hair tumbled in soft waves to her shoulders. She wore some kind of floaty dress the same green as her eyes, and high heels that made her toned legs look a mile long.

“Hi Dec. Uncle Billy.”

Billy grinned broadly. “Look at you, doll. Pretty as a picture. Too bad I can't stay. Bet this will be a fun night.” He slapped Dec on the back and disappeared, his snickering laughter bouncing on the air after him.

Dec swallowed, unable to speak. Tia moved into the kitchen. A green sash was tied in a bow at her waist, like she was a present waiting to be unwrapped.

“Wow, Billy was in a hurry tonight,” she said. “Mmmm, dinner looks fantastic.” Ignoring the pans on the stove, she went up on tiptoe to kiss him lightly on the lips. He breathed in the scent of some dark perfume, like night-blooming jasmine.

His arm wound around her waist to hold her there for a lingering moment. “Hi yourself.”

Seductive intent gleamed in her eyes.

Slow, romantic courtship. He had to stick to the plan.

Tonight was going to be torture.

Nana's attic was a large, dormered space that ran the length of the house. Tia's grandfather had added insulation and a pine floor, now cluttered with boxes and random pieces of old furniture. He hadn't run electricity up here, though, so Dec had placed a couple of camp lanterns on top of boxes. The dim light cast shadows around the cold room. No heat up here, either. Nana had been kind of a neat freak, cleaning even the attic as part of her regular routine, so at least the place was free of dust and spider webs.

Tia sat on a crimson velvet fainting couch, wishing she'd worn a sweater over her sleeveless dress. In her hands, she held a stack of faded, yellowing letters tied with a red silk ribbon.

It had taken three hours, but they'd found the letters in a box that also held an old doll, Nana's high school scrapbook, and a collection of matchbooks from dozens of roadside hotels. One of these days, she was going to have to sort through all this stuff, determine what to throw out, put the house on the market. For now, she couldn't bear to part even with one matchbook.

Dec sat on the floor near the shuttered window, repacking an antique train set. He'd fed her an incredible dinner while they'd each shared stories from their day. Afterward, they'd worked side by side searching for the letters, with Dec ignoring every not-so-accidental brush of her body. When she got too close, he moved away.

She couldn't figure out what had gone wrong.

“Thanks again for making dinner,” she said. “Everything was wonderful.”

“Don't mention it.” He didn't look up from his packing.

He'd been more than willing to kiss her the last couple of nights. Now he didn't want to touch her? That was a first.

So much for Adele's advice.

She flipped her thumb through the packet of letters. She hadn't consciously planned a seduction tonight. She'd planned to go with the flow, like Adele had advised. From the signals he'd sent yesterday, she'd assumed they'd flow right into bed. Without pondering too deeply on the why, she'd scrambled to get in a wax, a mani/pedi, and generally taken the time to look—and smell—her absolute best. She'd even donned a spectacular bra and panty set under her gauzy green dress. Black lace demi cups with shimmery silver threads woven in. Matching thong currently riding up her ass. She shifted uncomfortably on the seat. When that didn't help, she ignored her underwear and crossed her legs, letting her high-heeled sandal dangle from her foot.

Dec rewrapped a model steam engine in bubble wrap and paid no attention to her.

“I guess this is it,” she said, depressed. “Tomorrow I'll call Cassandra and somehow convince her to come to my house to retrieve the letters. She meets Billy again, he tells her whatever he's been holding onto for seventy years, and he moves on to whatever comes next.”

Dec placed the steam engine in the box. “More or less. He might linger for awhile, but it won't be long for him now.”

With her ghost gone, there was no reason for Dec to keep hanging around. Was that why he'd grown distant tonight? Was he mentally moving on already?

She pushed her foot back into her sandal. “I guess you'll be hunting other ghosts soon. I'm going to miss you.”

Finally, Dec looked up, met her eyes, his face so serious her heart clenched.

“Maybe we can be friends,” she offered.

“I don't want to be your friend, Tia. And I don't want to go back to what we had before.”

“Oh. Well, that's blunt enough.” Stung, she looked down at her lap, one hand twisting in her skirt. God, no wonder he'd been distant tonight. He'd taken a single look at her sex-me-up outfit and had to figure out a way to let her down easy. She felt a flush spreading across her face and neck. She'd misread him badly, which made sense in a horrible way. Every time she thought she understood Dec, he did something that flummoxed her.

She heard him move, and then he was sitting next to her, his weight on the couch tipping her toward him. “I'm saying this all wrong. I care about you, Tia. A lot. I think we have something special between us. I don't want to screw it up. When we were together before, we rushed things. And that was a mistake. I don't want to make the same mistake again. I think we should…date.”

His dark eyes melted with an emotion she didn't want to name. She reached up and brushed a lock of hair off his forehead, a smile starting deep within her. “You want to date me?”

“Yeah, I think we should take things slow. Build a friendship first, like you're always saying. You're not making that easy.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her palm. “Tomorrow night we'll be dealing with Cassandra and Billy. How about the night after that I take you out to dinner?”

“I'd love that.” Something an awful lot like joy sang through her body.

He uncurled her fingers, kissed her fingertips. “I should take you home.” He didn't move though, and she wasn't about to make this easier for him by going along with his plan.

Plans had been her problem all along.

She pressed her hand to the warmth of his cheek, loving how he looked at her just now, like she was something unbelievably precious. She'd been a fool. In a rush of images, she saw how things could have been between them if she hadn't been so intent on explaining away her feelings as nothing but hormonal drives. He would have been a friend, a partner, a much-needed balance to her need to over-intellectualize everything.