The Gift (6 page)

“Right. No matter what,” Ty repeated, unable to look away.

Pearl rose from her rocking chair near the hearth. “We’ll all be glad to know the truth. That’s for sure.”

“Your turn.” Still holding Beth’s gaze, Ty arched both eyebrows. “What happened to you? Why did I find your car out front with the lights on and the driver’s door standing open?”

She looked down for several seconds, then met his gaze again and held her hands out to her sides, palms upturned. “The big, bad investigator is afraid of thunderstorms. All right?”

This tough-as-nails woman afraid of a little thunder
and lightning? He didn’t buy it. “If you say so.” His tone dripped sarcasm.

“I was at Rick Heppel’s when Sarah called, and—”

“Heppel’s?”

“He was on the list you gave me. Remember?”

He nodded. Why had she started with the only man on the list? And, more importantly, why was that knowledge eating a hole in Ty’s gut? There were plenty of people in town Beth could have talked to this evening, without driving back out into the country. In the dark. During a storm.

Afraid of thunderstorms, my ass.

“So how’d you get the goose egg?”

“I—I’m not sure.” She gingerly put her index finger on the purplish bump, puckered her brow, and winced. “Ow, that hurts.”

“Some aspirin before bed is a good idea,” Pearl said.

“Yeah, I have some.” Beth unwrapped her legs from the quilt and looked around. “I probably left my backpack in the car.”

“You still didn’t tell us how you got the goose egg,” Ty reminded her.

“Oh, yeah.” The look she gave him said she might have stuck her tongue out at him—or worse—if they’d been alone. “I remember knocking on the front door, but the storm was so loud, no one heard me. I kept pounding on it, and it flew open. I must’ve been leaning on it when it did, and I stumbled through.”

All the color drained from her face and she seemed short of breath.

“You all right, honey?” Pearl felt the side of her
face farthest from her injury. “No fever. Is your tummy upset?”

Beth shook her head. “No, really. I’ll just head back to the hotel now. I’ll be fine. I’m sorry I’ve been so much trouble.”

“You got no business driving tonight.” Pearl had that stubborn set to her jaw that told the world the battle was lost before it began. “Since your tummy’s all right, I’ll fetch you some aspirin.”

“So…” He had to keep talking. “You fell through the front door and landed on your forehead?”

“Flat on my face. I think.” Beth pressed her lips together, as if trying to remember. “I might have tripped. Or something. Maybe my forehead made contact first.”

“You thought someone was hitting you,” Sarah said.

“What?” Ty waited for Beth to explain, but she didn’t. The expression on her face said more than words. Something or someone had scared the holy crap out of her. Heppel? “Who hit you?”

“No one. I just fell.”

“She was out cold, Ty,” Pearl said as she handed Beth two aspirin and a glass of water. “Hallucinatin’, I think.”

Hallucinating? Ty didn’t like the sound of that, and he sure as hell didn’t like the look on Beth’s face. She was hiding something. But what?

Sarah interrupted his thoughts. “It could’ve been worse.” She collected the empty cocoa cups and placed them on the tray. “I’m sorry I brought you over here in the storm.”

“It’s not your fault. Really, Sarah. I was already out,” Beth said.

“I’m still sorry.” Sarah looked at Ty. “Honest, Daddy.”

“I know you are.” Ty had to drop the other shoe—the one he knew about that they didn’t. The one that had been tormenting him ever since he saw Beth’s car in front of his house when he came home this evening.

She pushed herself up off the couch and grabbed her head. “Whoa, not a good i…de…a.”

Ty caught her before she fell again. “Definitely not.” She blinked up at him, completely alert. “Just dizzy. Don’t get any ideas, Malone.”

He couldn’t suppress his chuckle. All his ideas had been born a hell of a lot earlier. “You sure about that, Dearborn?”

Ty remembered Sarah, where he was, what he was doing. Damn. He was losing it. Carefully, he eased Beth back onto the couch, though he liked the feel of her against him. Too much. Way too much.

“Like we said, you got no business driving tonight,” Pearl repeated.

“Besides, you wouldn’t get very far, unless you’re planning to head toward Knoxville instead of Brubaker.” Ty barely suppressed a shudder, remembering his harrowing drive home.

“Knoxville’s in the opposite direction. Why would I want to do that?” Beth lifted her chin a notch, sensing a challenge. “And I’ll have you know I’m an excellent driver.”

He held up his hand to silence her. “I’m sure you are, but unless that heap of yours is equipped with a rudder and oars, you won’t be driving it to Brubaker tonight.”

“Oh, no. The bridge is out again.” Pearl moaned.
“Last time we had to drive to Knoxville for groceries for nearly a month, before—”

“A
month
?” Beth started to stand again, but grabbed her head and slumped back onto the couch. “A month? You can’t be serious.”

“Bridge washed out right behind me. It was too dark to see the water heading toward me. Was only dumb luck that saved me.”

“More than dumb luck, Tyrone Malone,” Pearl admonished. “And don’t you be forgetting it. I’ll say an extra prayer of thanks for God bringin’ you home safe tonight.” She gave him a peck on the cheek. “I’m just gonna go make up the guest room. Sarah, you’d best run along to bed. It’s gettin’ late.”

“ ‘Night, Daddy.’ Night, Ms. Dearborn. I hope you feel better in the morning.” Sarah hugged Ty and Pearl, then headed up the stairs.

“Thanks, Mrs. Montgomery,” Beth said. “You’ve been very kind.”

“Pshaw. No bother at all, but no more of this
Mrs. Montgomery
nonsense. Call me Pearl.” She patted Beth’s arm.

“All right, if you’ll call me Beth.”

“Beth it is. I’m just glad you were on this side of the bridge when it went out, and not in town. We don’t want anything to keep you from findin’ the truth ‘bout Lorilee. Do we?”

“Good point.”

“Now I’ll see to the guest room, then I’d best get back home before Cecil comes lookin’ for me. Don’t want him out at this hour.”

Beth seemed to relax and leaned back against the sofa, her expression almost smug. “If I’m going to be stranded, I guess this is the best place for it.”
She crossed her arms beneath her shrink-wrapped breasts.

And aimed her nipples right at him again.

His blood supply redirected itself so quickly that now
he
was dizzy.

A month of having Beth Dearborn—and her nipples—in his home full-time? All day? Every day? All night? Every night?

A month?

Hell, he wouldn’t survive the first week.

Silt and sewage from the Chicago River coated the inside of Beth’s mouth. She forced down the urge to gag—or worse—and cleared her throat.

Where the hell am I?

She half-opened one eye. Sunlight slammed into her pupil and arrowed straight to a nuclear headache. She closed it again fast.

Think, Dearborn.

My God. Had she fallen off the wagon? The way her head pounded and belly churned were agonizingly familiar. But, no…Her mouth would definitely have tasted more like puke than pollution if that horrible nightmare had come to pass.

The storm. Lightning. Thunder. Wind.
Terror.

A shudder rippled through her, and cold sweat coated her body. Gingerly, she touched her forehead. The golf ball-sized knot she found there explained the headache. Okay, but how the hell had—

The foyer.

She opened both eyes and stared at the ceiling fan rotating slowly overhead. The Malone house.

Don’t hit me.

Bile scalded Beth’s throat as the memory pierced through her headache with scalpel-like precision.
Again, a presence had confronted her at the Malones’ front door. And again, she’d experienced pain. Fear. Now there was no doubt. No more denial.

Shit.

Her so-called “gift” was staging a comeback. Bigtime.

Panic launched her heart into hyperspeed, but she willed herself to remain still. To remember more. Whoever the spirit was, it seemed confined to the foyer. The voice had belonged to a woman. Beth seemed safe from her memory here, in this part of the house. But why hadn’t she returned to the Brubaker Arms last night? She closed her eyes again, drew deep breaths through her nose, releasing them slowly through her mouth. In. Out. In. Out.

Her bedroom door clicked open, but she deliberately kept her eyes closed. She had no idea where her backpack was, exactly where in the Malone house she was now, or how vulnerable she could still be to the presence inhabiting the foyer. Her old precinct captain would have said she was playing possum. Whatever worked, was Beth’s philosophy—then and now.

“Do you think she’s dead?” someone whispered. Loudly.

“Nah. She ain’t dead. She just looks dead.”

“Don’t say ain’t, or Pearl will wash your mouth out with soap again.”

Kids. Damn. Beth opened her eyes to narrow slits and tried to focus on the human forms near the door.

I’ve landed in Oz and these are the Bumpkin Munchkins.
Of course, if that were true, then she was the
wicked witch, and Dorothy had dropped a house on
her
head.

“Pearl
ain’t
here.”

“I’m gonna tell.”

“You’re such a baby.”

They sure as hell weren’t whispering now. Beth opened her eyes all the way and checked out the intruders while they bickered back and forth. The smaller of the pair was a brown-eyed blonde who looked like a younger version of Sarah. The boy looked like a miniature of Ty.

“I am not a baby.”

“Are so.”

“Am not.”

“Are so.”

“Hey, hey, hey.” Beth struggled to a sitting position. “Keep it down to a dull roar, will you?”

“See? Told ya she ain’t dead,” the miniature Ty said.

Man, kid, you’re lucky you’re cute, or somebody would’ve done more than wash your mouth out with soap by now.

Beth sighed and then glanced down. “What the…?” Someone had taken her clothes and dressed her in…ruffles. The neckline plunged halfway to China, she could see actual body parts through the filmy fabric, and—worst of all—the thing was
pink.
”Whoa! Somebody snuck in here and dressed me like a freaking Barbie doll.”

The little girl giggled. “That’s just a nightgown.” She came closer to the bed. “What’s your name?”

“Apparently, Barbie. Er, Beth. I think.” She grimaced and rearranged some of the silly ruffles and
lace so at least her nipples were no longer visible. The boy was old enough to at least be curious. “What’s yours?”

“I’m Grace, and I’m nine.”

“A baby,” the boy said.

“Nine is not a baby,” Beth interrupted before they could start the yo-yo bickering again. Her headache couldn’t take it. “And what’s your name, smart man?”

His face and ears turned the shade of a ripe tomato, and his blue-green eyes flashed fire. “I’m Mark, and I’m twelve today.”

“Happy birthday, Mark.” Beth studied the kids for a few seconds. They seemed healthy and well cared for. With Pearl around, how could they be anything less? Of course, she’d seen Ty’s apparent dedication as well. “So…do you always spy on guests, or only on your birthday?”

“Sorry.” Mark lifted a shoulder. “Didn’t mean no harm.”

“
Any
harm,” Grace corrected. “And I’m sorry, too.”

Beth rolled her eyes. “You’re forgiven, then.”

“You, uh, won’t tell our dad.” Mark glanced over his shoulder at the half-open door. “Will you?”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

“Because he’ll be
mad
at us.” Grace’s eyes grew round and her lower lip quivered.

“Because it’s my birthday?” Mark ventured, a dimple appearing in his cheek.

Definitely a lady-killer.
Beth cleared her throat and managed not to grin. After all, they had invaded her privacy, and even if she wasn’t exactly the maternal
type, she knew kids shouldn’t be rewarded for that. “Okay, I won’t tell your dad
if
…”

“Ah, man.” Mark snorted in disgust. “I knew there’d be a condition. Grown-ups always got ‘em.”

Grace blinked and wisely waited in silence.

“You promise never to spy on anyone again. Deal?”

The kids’ eyes lit up like downtown Chicago on Christmas Eve. “Sure!” they said in unison.

“And…”

“I knew it was too good to be true,” Mark muttered.

Beth’s lips twitched. She could get to like this kid. “You tell me what I’m doing here and how I ended up dressed in”—she plucked at the pink froth just above her breast—”this…this
thing.
”

Grace giggled again. “Haven’t you ever worn a nightgown before?”

Beth probably shouldn’t tell innocent children she preferred to sleep in the buff. “Maybe when I was too young to decide for myself.”

“It
is
kinda silly lookin’,” Mark said, though his gaze kept dropping to where Beth had strategically arranged the ruffles to cover her chest.

“Is not,” Grace shot back.

“Is too.”

“Is not.”

“Is too.”

“Is—”

“Do you suppose you can stop arguing long enough to tell me why I’m here instead of at my hotel in town?” Beth interrupted. It seemed a little less controversial than gagging both children with bedsheets.

“Sorry.” Grace inched closer to the bed. “Daddy said you’re going to stay with us until they fix the bridge.”

Bridge…Last night’s events roared through Beth’s aching gray matter in a maddening, horrifying flash. Oh, my God. Was she really stranded here with the Malones and the foyer’s invisible Welcome Wagon?

She swallowed hard. Her stomach twisted into knots.

“You look kinda green,” Mark said from right beside her. “You gonna barf or somethin’?”

“Or something.” Beth shoved back the quilt and swung her legs to the floor, drawing long, slow breaths. “Wonder how long it’ll take to fix that bridge.”

“I dunno, but I wish school was on the
other
side instead of this side.” Mark sighed and looked as though he’d just been dosed with castor oil.

“I like school,” Grace said.

“That’s ‘cuz you’re teacher’s pet,” Mark chided.

“Just because I’m smart doesn’t make me teacher’s pet.”

“That’s why Andy never wants to sit beside you on the bus.”

Grace lifted her chin, thrust out her lower lip. Her eyes glistened, and Beth thought for sure she was about to have a bawling kid in her room, when Grace redeemed herself by doubling up her fist and punching her brother right in the nose. Whoever the unknown Andy was, the kid had definitely motivated Grace to action.

Mark howled as blood spurted from his nose. Beth lunged across the room and grabbed a hand towel
from the dressing table, sat Mark down on her bed, and scrambled through her pitiful memory for basic first-aid training from the academy. Tilt his head back or down? Ah, hell. She settled on back and hoped for the best.

“What in blazes is going on in—” Ty stared at Beth, his mouth open in stunned silence.

“I didn’t hit him, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Hit who?” Ty’s Adam’s apple traveled the length of his throat, his gaze riveted on her.

Ty had stumbled into the Twilight Zone. Either that or he’d followed a white rabbit down a hole. This gorgeous, soft, feminine creature couldn’t be the hard-as-nails insurance investigator who’d driven him to distraction all day yesterday,
and
invaded his dreams.

“Take a picture, Malone. It lasts longer.”

Then again…“I thought I’d join the party.” He looked at his son, then at his daughter, before bringing his gaze back to Beth. “Did you forget to invite me?”

She snorted. Yep, definitely the same Beth. He grinned.

“What are you laughing at? This nightgown wasn’t my idea. And where’s my backpack?”

“Hold on there.” He removed the towel quickly and checked his son’s nose. “Grace do that?”

Mark nodded.

“You deserve it?”

Another nod.

“Doesn’t look broken to me. Go tell Pearl you need some ice before your party guests get here.”

Towel clutched to his face, Mark darted from the room. Ty could have sworn he heard Beth mutter
“Coward” after his son’s retreat. Smart was more like it. “I think he’ll be all right by party time.”

“Birthday party?” Beth asked.

“Yep.” Ty knelt in front of Grace. “Haven’t we talked about punching your brother’s lights out before, honey?”

Grace bobbed her blonde head and shuffled her feet.

“I know Mark’s rotten more often than not, but try a little harder to resist the urge to belt him next time. Okay?”

She heaved a long-suffering, Southern-belle sigh that would have made her momma proud. “Okay, Daddy.”

“Now go tell your brother you’re sorry for breaking his nose.”

Grace’s eyes widened and her mouth formed a perfect circle. “Really?”

“Well, almost.” He gave her a quick hug. “No need to look so proud of yourself for it either.”

“Sorry, Daddy.” Grace dropped her gaze, but her lips twitched as if struggling not to smile.

“Go tell Mark that. Not me.”

“Okay.”

Beth applauded as Grace scurried from the room. “You’re good, Malone. Damn good.”

“It’s Ty. Remember?” He straightened to his full height, his gaze raking her. The nightgown must have belonged to Lorilee, though he couldn’t remember his wife wearing that specific one. Thank God. Still, it was just the sort of thing she always wore—soft and feminine. “You look nice.”

“Heh.” Beth folded her arms and tilted her head to one side. “
That’s
a matter of opinion.”

“Yes. Mine.”

She arched an eyebrow and walked toward the window, where sunlight streamed through the lace curtains and flowed around her. The woman clearly had no idea what she was doing. She might as well have been standing in front of a spotlight wearing nothing at all.

Ty’s mouth went dry and his blood supply took the direct route straight to his cock. After a few moments, she turned to face him again, hands on her hips.

“So where’s my backpack?”

Flustered, he shook his head and dragged in a shaky breath. “It must still be in your car.” He wanted to cross the room to get a closer look at, and his hands on, her. But he didn’t. He reminded himself who she was and why she was here, and managed to stay put. Barely…

“Okay.”

She turned sideways, her profile toward the window, outlining her firm breasts for his simultaneous pleasure and torture. Damn.

“Your son reminded me what you said last night about a bridge being washed out between here and town.” She shook her head. “I didn’t dream that. Did I?”

“Nope. It’s all true.” Sweat trickled down Ty’s neck and into his collar. He swallowed hard and raked his fingers through his hair. It was next to impossible to carry on a conversation with a practically naked woman while sporting an erection hard enough to spade through drought-baked summer soil.

She spun around to face him again and he managed a nod. “Figures,” she muttered. “Just my rotten
luck. Which bridge was it? The one between your farm and Heppel’s place?”

Ty clenched his teeth. Why was she so damned interested in Heppel? What was it about that man? First Lorilee, and now…

Knock it off, Malone.

“Earth to Ty Malone.” Beth waved her hands in the air. “Earth to Ty Malone. Come in, Malone.”

“Ha. Ha.” He drew a steadying breath. “No, not that bridge. The big one across the river right outside of town.”

Her expression grew sober. “You
were
lucky. You could have been killed, Ty.” She licked her lips, her hazel eyes soft for once.

He didn’t say a word—he didn’t dare. All he could do was stare and concentrate on his breathing. She looked so kissable right now it was all he could do not to cross the room and do just that. Just grab her and do the deed.

Shit.

She met his gaze and arched an eyebrow. One corner of her mouth twitched. “You staring at my breasts again, Malone?”

His breath rushed from his lungs, the spell shattered. Thank God. “Damn straight.”

She laughed—actually laughed—out loud. “At least you’re honest about it. I’ve been doing my share of staring at your, uh, package myself.” She winked and walked back to the bed and sat on the edge.

“My…package?” Ty’s voice broke.

“Well, hell, Malone.” She glanced pointedly below his waist. “You didn’t expect me not to notice
that.
Did you?”

“If that don’t beat all.”

“What? It’s okay for men to ogle women, but not okay for women to ogle men?” She laughed again. “I’ve got a news flash for you, Ty. Women ogle all the time. Most of us just won’t admit it.” She bit her lower lip and gave him a sexy smile. “I’m admitting it.”

“Shit.” He was in bigger trouble than he’d imagined.