N ine p.m., pouring rain outside, corn flakes for dinner, and the phone hadn’t rung all day. Brian tended to be a last-minute sort of guy, but normally, if he hadn’t called by nine, he wasn’t going to. For a while, she would get ready, just in case. She would blow off friends, invitations, everything, just in case he called. She still stayed home in hopes he would come by, but she’d stopped getting dressed and fixing her hair at night, because it was usually a waste of time. He would let weeks go by without a word, then call her and give her twenty minutes’ warning before showing up at her door. Sometimes he stayed a whole hour after the sex. Usually, he asked to borrow money before he left.

She was beginning to wonder if she was paying him for his services.

She wasn’t a stupid woman. She knew he was using her, but being in a man’s arms every once in a while felt good, and the sex wasn’t bad. Wasn’t great, but it wasn’t bad.

Caroline scuffed through the kitchen in her worn-out slippers and flannel robe, admiring the gleaming floor tiles that looked like mother-of-pearl and wondering how the hell she was going to keep from losing the home she’d just bought. Her job as a financial planner at a local bank didn’t pay enough to keep her afloat. She’d made a lot more as a partner in a two-person tax and accounting business, but her ex got that in the divorce. He was supposed to buy her out, but he had yet to fork over the money.

It had been two months since the closing on her new home, a year since her divorce, and six months since she’d started dating Brian, if you could call it dating. Mostly, it was a series of booty calls. She’d managed to ruin her life in what had to be a record-breaking period of time.

The telephone shrilled just as she sat down with her bowl of corn flakes at the island with the tiles that matched those on the floor. God, she loved this house. She slid off the stool and padded to the phone, saw the name on the caller ID, and felt like crap. But she picked it up anyway.

“Hello, Shawn.”

“Hi, hon.” That he still called her “hon” after ditching her for a younger woman, divorcing her, booting her out the door, and stealing her business made her stomach turn over. “I’m just calling to tell you—”

“That the check isn’t coming on time?” she asked, even though she already knew the answer.

“I’m sorry, babe. The business is suffering right now.”

He said “babe” the way most people would say “bitch.”

“Shawn, this is the third month in a row. You got the house and my half of the business, but you’re supposed to be paying me for my share of both.”

“I know, and I will. I’ll catch up.”

“Before or after I lose my home?”

He swore, and she felt him getting angry. Closing her eyes, lowering her head, she sighed. She hated confrontation and knew arguing with him would be like arguing with a stalk of corn. A really cheap and stone-deaf stalk of corn. “Look, I need the money. Try your best, will you, Shawn?”

“I will. Promise. Thanks for understanding.”

“Oh, I understand, all right.”

He hung up then, not a good-bye, not a question about her life or anything else. Probably because he didn’t care. Then again, he never had. She hung up the phone and stared at it for a long moment. Then she picked it up again and dialed Brian’s number. He didn’t answer. The machine picked up, though, and while she waited for the beep, she tried to rehearse the words in her mind. She didn’t want to make him mad or insult him, because her experience with men told her they didn’t hang around long if you pissed them off. And while Brian was no prince, he was better than no one. But damn, she needed some cash.

“Hi, Brian, it’s me. Listen, I’m in some trouble here, and um—well, I really hate to ask, but if you could pay me back some of the money I’ve loaned you, it would really help me out. I mean, no problem if you can’t, but you know, if you can. Even a little…well, like I said, it would help. Give me a call, okay?”

She put the phone down, gnawed her lower lip for a second, then sighed and headed back to her stool. But her corn flakes were soggy, and she’d lost her appetite.

Thunder rolled in, marbles over metal, in waves that got louder as they came nearer, until she felt it in her gut. She glanced toward the sliding glass doors that led onto the patio, and watched rivulets of rainwater streaming over the glass. To Caroline Connelly, it felt as if the universe were taking a giant, steaming leak on her pathetic excuse for a life.

Lightning flashed like a strobe light. For just an instant, it showed her an image—a woman stood on the other side of the rain-streaked glass. Caroline clapped a hand to her chest and jumped off the stool so fast it fell over. But she couldn’t see anything now. No dripping-wet form, no dark, straggly hair, no eyes staring intently at her.

Her heart was pounding, mouth dry, and she’d inhaled so sharply she thought she might have torn a lung. Shaking—just a little bit—she moved toward the glass doors, even though her feet were itching to run in the opposite direction. With a quick lunge, she reached out, locked the doors, then darted to one side and flipped on the outdoor light.

Illumination spilled over the flagstone patio, the empty brown wicker chairs, and the matching glass-topped table. It spilled across the sloping lawn and touched the edges of the kidney-shaped swimming pool. But it didn’t reveal a long-haired woman in a soaked white dress that hung down to her bare feet. There was no one there.

It must have been an illusion, a trick played by that flash of lightning and the shadows around it, or some kind of odd reflection. It must have been…

She lowered her head, and her heart stood still. There on the flagstone, just outside the glass doors, were two wet footprints. No sudden gasp or knee-jerk response this time. This time, she just stared at the hard evidence her eyes were showing her, not doubting it, clear on what she saw. Not clear on what it meant but perfectly clear on what she saw. Her feet carried her backward until she was pressed up against the wall by the phone. She took the receiver from the base almost in slow motion. Her hands shook so that she almost dropped the phone, but her eyes never left the patio as she hit the buttons.

When her brother picked up, he sounded as if he’d been laughing about something. “Yeah?”

Calmly—which surprised her—she said, “Peter, there’s someone here.” And yeah, maybe her voice sounded strained and oddly quiet. But calm.

The laughter in his voice died. “Caroline? What do you mean? Who’s there?”

“Hell, Pete, I didn’t ask her name, but from the looks of her, she’s either a half-drowned crack addict or that chick from The Ring. And I’m wishing to hell I’d never let you talk me into seeing that movie, by the way. She was standing outside the doors, staring in at me.”

As she spoke, she felt a chill and turned slowly. The woman stood in her living room, just beyond the archway, dripping all over the deep-pile carpet. “Oh, shit.” God, she looked like something that had just dragged itself out of a swamp. “Jesus, she’s in the house!”

“Get out of there, Caro. Get out now. I’ll call the police and be there in two minutes. Get out.”

Caroline was obeying before he had finished telling her the first time, turning to hang up the phone and running for the glass doors. She did not need to be told to get out of the house. Hell, if she were a cartoon, there would be a Caroline-shaped hole in the nearest wall right now. She started to yank the doors open, but they were locked. As she twisted the lock, she sent a frantic look over her shoulder. The woman was coming closer, entering the dining room now. She lifted a hand, reaching out toward her, moving slowly, her eyes intense, almost angry.

Caroline got the lock to release, slid the doors open, and ran out into the pouring rain. Her slippers slowed her, so she kicked them off and raced around to the front of the house, down the drive, and into the street. She didn’t stop running until her brother’s car skidded to a stop in front of her, its headlights burning her eyes. And even then, she had to shield them with one arm to make out the shapes emerging from the vehicle. Peter from the driver’s door, and from the passenger side…someone else. Someone tall, and very male.

The two men came around the car, which put them between her and the headlights, and a second later, the stranger was peeling his hooded sweatshirt off, bending slightly forward to do so. As he tugged it over his head, the shirt he wore underneath went up with it, giving her a glimpse of abs so spectacular that she noticed them, despite the situation.

He straightened and pulled his shirt down. Then, without warning, he put the sweatshirt over her head.

“The intruder still inside, Caro?” Peter asked.

“How would I know? I’m out here.” She didn’t look at him as she answered, though. Her eyes were fixed on the stranger, as she let him work the sweatshirt’s sleeves over her arms, as if she were helpless and in need of dressing. He held her gaze with so much force she couldn’t seem to look away. And she felt something primal stirring deep in her gut, which was ridiculous. He was clearly too young. Way too young.

He tugged the bottom of the sweatshirt down over her hips, his knuckles brushing her thighs on the way, and hell yes, she was wearing a flannel bathrobe, but she felt it anyway. Hot.

And then she cursed the fates for letting her wear flannel tonight instead of some sheer, damsel-in-distress peignoir number.

He tugged the hood up over her wet hair, still holding her eyes with his. “Are you okay?”

She nodded, feeling foolish now in the cold reality of the icy rain. “I don’t even know why I panicked like that. She looked more like a half-drowned cat than an intruder.”

“Hell, the way you sounded on the phone…”

“How do you know how I sounded on the phone?”

“The cordless was out of reach, so Pete just hit the speaker button to answer.”

“Don’t tell me. You were watching a game, and he didn’t want to move too far from the TV screen. So who was playing?”

“You sounded scared,” he said, ignoring her attempt to change the subject.

“I was. But I’m not anymore.” She couldn’t look away. She’d tried and failed, had no idea where her brother was right now, though she assumed he was checking the house. But there was something about this man. Something about the way his eyes held hers. Something compelling and vaguely…familiar. “Who are you?”

He finally broke eye contact, looking toward the house, then shifted his gaze away from the place again, his manner odd. As if he didn’t like looking at it. “Friend of your brother’s.”

“You’re too young to be a friend of Pete’s.”

He frowned. “Not true. ‘Cause that’s what I am.”

“Bull. How old are you?”

“Twenty-five. You?”

“Older than that.”

He smiled a little, one side of his mouth pulling up, as if he didn’t want to let it grow into a full-blown one, or as if he were trying to hide it and failing. “By how much?”

“Excuse me?” Pete said. “You two gonna stand in the middle of the road all night? Not smart in the rain, in the dark.”

The stranger was holding her eyes captive again. “You find anything, Pete?”

“No.”

Caroline studied the stranger standing there in the middle of the street, in the pouring rain, in the wet glow of headlights, and she thought the entire discussion they’d been having was kind of stupid and pointless. And then she wondered why she’d been enjoying it so much, batting words back and forth with him like tennis balls. She dragged her eyes from his long enough to let them slide down his body. He wore jeans, slightly worn and slightly baggy, a pair of Nike Air something-or-others, a baseball shirt, and a matching cap—Yankees, no less—and both currently getting wet.

Then she heard sirens.

“Do you have a name,” she asked, “or should I call you Fop?”

He frowned at her.

“For Friend of Peter,” she clarified.

“Ji—James,” he said. “James Lipton.”

She blinked, because the name was familiar. “Lipton, Lipton.” She knew him. She was sure she did. There was something about his eyes, the crinkles at the corners when he smiled. Not laugh lines; he was way too young for laugh lines. But still—they had a hint of mischief to them, those eyes. You could almost think he was interested—which was, of course, ridiculous. Or should be. But damn, he sure was acting that way. And the wetter that baseball shirt got, the more it clung, and the more she liked looking at him.

“You think you can get the hell outta the road before the cops get here?” Peter asked. “Come on, already. I’m gonna move the car. Get her off the road, Jimmy, and make sure her wet weirdo doesn’t get anywhere near her.”

Jimmy, she thought, turning it over in her mind, because that—not James—really rang a bell. He was putting his hands on her shoulders now, as if to turn her slightly, guide her out of the road, while Peter headed to the driver’s door, got in, and backed up the car. Jimmy’s hands on her shoulders were slightly more possessive than they needed to be to steer a frightened female politely out of harm’s way. They squeezed a little tighter than they had to, stayed a little longer, and he stood a little closer, too. And he wasn’t moving, or pushing her to move, or walking her off the road. He was just standing there, in the pouring rain, staring down into her eyes—no, at her lips now—as his hands sort of kneaded her shoulders and gave her chills. She felt herself closing the distance between her body and his, her body sort of swaying toward his in response to some unseen force, like gravity. You know, if it were the kind found on Jupiter, where the pull was so forceful that Paris Hilton would weigh in at about a metric ton.

So, yeah, there she was, swaying forward, closer to this gorgeous, hot, young, and apparently interested—in her, if you can imagine that—probably nearsighted, but whatever, hunk. So she was leaning in, and he was looking at her mouth the way a guy looks at a woman he’s thinking about kissing. And not ordinary kissing, either, but the steamy, open-mouth-insert-tongue kind of kissing—kissing like she hadn’t had in…ever. And that’s when it hit her. When their faces were about two inches apart. So close she could feel his breath on her lips. So close her mouth was starting to open for him. Just at that moment. It hit her, and she blurted it right out while her eyes tried to bug out of her head. “Jimmy Lipton! Little Jimmy Lipton?” As she said it, she jerked backward as if he were about to bite her.

He let his head fall forward, rubbed his nape with one hand. “I was hoping you wouldn’t remember that.”

“I used to babysit for you!”

“Not for me, for my kid brother, because my parents didn’t trust me to watch him myself. And to be honest, I used to pray my parents would go out more.” He sent her a half-sheepish, half-adoring look.

She slammed her palms on his chest, not hard enough to hurt him but hard enough to drive him a few steps backward and make him lose his balance. “You pervert! I was twenty-five years old, and you were—you were, what, fourteen?”

“Twelve.”

She lowered her head, pinched the bridge of her nose. She was going to hell. She knew it. Damn, damn, damn.

The cops had arrived, and somehow, during the ten seconds since that almost-kiss, Jimmy Lipton had maneuvered her off the road and onto the sidewalk, so the cruiser had room to, well, cruise past them and into her driveway. He had his arm around her waist, and he didn’t seem too eager to take it away. She probably should tell him to. She really should.

But she was enjoying it too much and was distracted by the thoughts making themselves heard in her mind. Probably because her libido had been talking over them. Talking, hell. More like screaming. But it quieted down just as he said, “They’re not gonna find anything, you know.”

She was watching her brother talk to one cop, while the other went snooping around the house, toward the back, with a Maglite held in typical cop style: overhand grip and not in the gun hand. But Jimmy’s words drew her eyes right back to his.

“You lived here when you were a kid,” she said. “Babysitting for you—”

“For my brother.”

“—was when I first fell in love with this place. I was so surprised and overjoyed to find it for sale when Shawn and I split up.”

“It was never supposed to be for sale,” he said. “But yeah, it’s had a few owners since then. I always hoped to buy it back myself one of these days, but you beat me to it.”

“Yada, yada,” she said, making a “speed it up” motion with her hands. “You wanna get to the point here? That cryptic, all-knowing comment about the cops not finding anything?”

He shrugged. “That girl you saw?”

She nodded, and a chill rippled right up her spine, from the small of her back to between her shoulder blades, just like an icy finger. She shivered, nodded at him to go on.

He held her eyes, steady, serious, sincere, and he said very softly, “I know her. She used to come around when I lived here, too. She’d stand by my bedroom window, soaking wet, that dark hair dripping, those big black eyes all hollow and haunted, and just stare in at me. Like she wanted something.”

“How can that be, Jimmy? I mean, the same woman, showing up soaking wet in the dead of night—after thirteen years?”

“Not after thirteen years,” he said. “I think she’s been coming around the whole time. Probably that’s why everyone who buys the old place decides to sell it again and move on in pretty short order.”

“But Jimmy—”

“I know. Impossible. And I used to swear there was evidence. Footprints, water on the floor, her wet handprint when she pressed her palm to my bedroom window glass. But there never was. The traces she leaves—the ones you see her leave with your own damn eyes—they vanish almost as fast as she does.”

She blinked up at him and wondered how little Jimmy Lipton got to be six-two, whipcord lean, sexier than sin, and certifiably insane, all in the space of thirteen years.

“Are you trying to tell me she’s some kind of a…ghost, Jimmy?” she whispered.

His eyes stabbed into hers, but before he could answer that question, Peter and the two cops were crowding up to her on either side, talking and asking questions and telling her there wasn’t a trace of anyone around. Not a footprint. Not any water on the floor in the living room, not even in that thick carpet that would have held it for hours. No handprints on the sliding glass doors.

Nothing.

Just as Jimmy Lipton said.

Caroline shivered hard and knew the eagle-eyed kid-turned-hunk saw it.

J im had really been hoping Caroline wouldn’t remember the past the two of them shared, because when he’d seen her, every fantasy he’d ever had about her had come rushing back—only this time, they were the fantasies of an adult male for an adult female. Not of an adolescent boy for his kid brother’s hotter-than-hell babysitter.

She still had it, though, whatever it was that had made her so attractive to him then. He didn’t know what it was. He did know that it seemed to be fading a bit. Or hidden, maybe, underneath the concerns of the moment. Her divorce, the apparition she’d discovered lurking in her new home, and so on. Seeing him again probably hadn’t helped. She’d been feeling something, he was sure of it. That tug in the groin, that twisting in the belly, that flutter in the chest—that something. He’d been feeling it, and he was sure she’d felt it, too. She’d damn near let him kiss her.

And that would have been brilliant, wouldn’t it? Right in front of her brother? He’d kind of lost track of common sense there for a few moments. Lost track of everything except sheer, long-term, fantasy-induced lust.

But then she’d put it all together, realized why she knew him, and, because of that, caught on to his age. It was a goddamned blow to his male ego that she thought he was too young for her. He’d really like the opportunity to prove otherwise. He was as much a man as any forty-year-old—more than most of them, he figured. So what was the issue?

Women. They managed to complicate everything. Sometimes you’d just like to strangle them.

Caroline was heading back to the house, walking barefoot between the cop—who was forty something and not taking his eyes off her—and her brother, who’d become Jim’s new best friend about two months ago, when he’d learned that Caroline, his childhood fantasy, was buying his childhood home.

“God,” he muttered. “It’s like the opening of a letter to Penthouse.”

Caroline turned sharply, as if she’d forgotten he was still plodding along behind them. “What did you say?” she asked.

“Nothing.” Hell, he didn’t know why she got to him the way she did. Her hair was dark and kind of wild. Her eyes were huge and green. Olive green, which didn’t sound as pretty as emerald or jade eyes might sound, but damn, they were hot. The way the green got gradually darker the closer it got to the center, so that by the time you got anywhere near the pupil, the iris was already so black you couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. She kept herself fit. Though you’d never know it, because she didn’t dress to show it. Frumpy was the word that came to mind.

She didn’t used to be that way, but life had smacked her down. Hard.

He’d always thought of her as the kind of woman who’d bounce right back again, come up swinging, and never give in. Maybe he’d pegged her wrong. Or maybe she was just taking a breather.

He’d made a point of hanging around ever since she moved in, glimpsing her when he could and hoping for an opportunity to talk, or…whatever. He’d been hoping for whatever. What he hadn’t been hoping for was to meet her like this.

He’d pretty much convinced himself the “wet lady,” as he’d called the bane of his childhood, had been a bad dream, maybe even a slight psychotic break. Okay, so maybe deep down, he’d known better. He knew why she came. And the guilt of past sins was crippling enough without her showing up to remind him. But it had been easy enough to ignore all that—until Caroline had clubbed him right between the eyes with it, that is.

Damn.

“Hey, pal,” Peter called. “You coming, or what?”

Peter, Caroline, and the two cops were going through the front door of his house—er, Caroline’s house. He gave a shrug, glanced both ways for any sign of her, and then headed along the sidewalk a little faster to catch up.

Caroline told her story to the cops, but the entire time, she kept shooting him looks—probing, searching looks. Almost as if she wanted him to confirm or deny or embellish her claims by adding his own. He didn’t. Bad enough they all thought she was nuts, he didn’t need to go earning that same rep for himself. Hell, he’d had his fill of cops suspecting he might be a little bit insane. Maybe criminally so. He didn’t need any more of that bull.

“You working this case, Lipton?” Officer Borelli asked.

“Not officially, Mike. Just a friend of the family.”

The cop nodded. “You come across anything—”

“I’ll let you know and expect you to do the same.”

“You got it.”

By that time, Caroline was looking a little pissed at him. Hell, this was not the reunion he’d imagined. Then again, the reunion he’d imagined involved tangled sheets, minimal clothing, and the sound of her moaning his name repeatedly.

“You know that cop?” Caroline asked, backing him into a quiet corner in the kitchen for which he could have come up with much better uses. “What did he mean about you working the case?”

“I know the cop,” he confirmed quietly. “I’m a PI. I work with them sometimes.”

“Caro?” Pete called.

She gave him a look that told him she had a lot more to say, then turned to go join her brother and the police.

When the police wrapped up, Caroline walked them to the door, even though they clearly thought she’d brought them out there for no reason whatsoever. They’d started out asking questions about the intruder, but toward the end, they’d been asking things like whether she’d been under any unusual stress lately and whether she’d had anything to drink or taken any medication or illegal drugs that day.

Hell.

Peter clapped a hand to Jim’s shoulder the second Caroline and the cops were out of earshot. They were standing in the kitchen, near the sliding doors where the wet lady had first appeared. He’d been so deep in thought he jumped a little.

“Easy, pal. You’re as nervous as my sister is, aren’t you?”

He sent his friend an easy smile. “I was drifting. Sorry.”

“I need you to do something for me, Jim.”

“Sure, name it.”

“Stay with her tonight.”

Jim’s throat went bone dry, and his mind shouted “Hell, yes!” He thought that maybe aloud he should try to sound a little more reserved about the notion. “I…I don’t know, I—”

“Look, you were gonna stay with me while your apartment’s being painted, right? I’d do it myself, but I’ve got the kids, and Mary’s under the weather. I abandon her, she’ll never let me hear the end of it. Come on, I’d do it for you.”

He heard the front door close, then Caroline’s footsteps as she headed back toward the kitchen. “If she’s open to it, yeah. I’ll stay.” Open to it. Right. Best watch the Freudian slips, moron.

“Thanks, pal.”

“You’re welcome.”

 

Caroline stepped into the kitchen, ready to give Jimmy Lipton the dressing down of his life for sitting silently while the cops decided she was just another hysterical female, when he knew better. She opened her mouth to speak, but her brother spoke first, and his words drove her own indignation right out of her mind.

“Jim’s gonna stay with you tonight, hon, just in case this lunatic comes back. I’d do it myself, but—”

“I don’t need anybody to stay with me.” Wanting was a whole different thing, of course, but nothing was more pathetic, in her opinion, than a needy woman.

“You’re kidding, right?” Peter asked. “There was a stranger in your house an hour ago, Caro. No way am I gonna leave you here alone.”

She rolled her eyes. “The cops think I imagined it.” She punctuated the words with a cutting glance toward Jimmy.

“Yeah, well, I don’t. I’m your brother, hon. I know you better than that. Someone was here. If you won’t let Jimmy stay, you can come back to my house and stay with us. Though I warn you, Mary’s in a mood, and the kids are—”

She held up a hand. She loved her nieces and nephews, but honestly, six kids under one roof for an entire night was a little more than she felt up to handling right now. She turned to Jimmy. “I don’t want to be a pain in the ass.”

“I’m out of my apartment for a week. It’s being repainted. I was gonna stay with your brother, but—well, hell, this would be a lot quieter.”

“You don’t strike me as the peace-and-quiet type.”

He lowered his head, shook it slowly. “You think you’ll sleep a wink tonight if you’re here alone? Be honest. Do you?”

No, but she doubted she’d sleep a wink with him under the same roof, either.

When she didn’t answer, the men took it as consent. Peter said, “I’ll run home and grab your bag. But your car—”

“Go with him,” Caroline said. “Get your car and your bag, and come back.”

“I don’t like the idea of you being alone that long,” Jimmy said. And he said it with a look in his eyes that seemed to suggest a whole lot more. “Ride with me—uh, us?”

“I think enough people have seen me in my comfort clothes,” she muttered, glancing down at the sweatshirt with her ratty flannel robe and bare feet below it, thinking sorrowfully of her fuzzy warm slippers getting soaked in the backyard. But not as much as she was thinking this guy must be nuts to be looking at her as if he wanted to eat her alive, when she was dressed like a homeless person. A wet, bedraggled homeless person.

“So go change. We’ll wait,” Jimmy said.

She rolled her eyes and wondered why she was letting herself be led by males, something she’d vowed never to do again, ever. But in this case, it was caring, not control, that motivated it. At least, where her brother was concerned. She had no idea what kind of deranged sexual appetite was driving Jimmy Lipton. Maybe he had a fetish for sloppy, wet, older women. Either way, she supposed she could relax and let herself be taken care of, just this once.

“I’ll change. Be right back.”

She didn’t meet either set of probing eyes as she turned and left the kitchen, but she felt them on her. They were wondering if she was too scared to go upstairs alone. And in fact, she was. But she wasn’t scared enough to admit that, so she forced herself to march up the stairs and closed her bedroom door behind her, despite the goose bumps rising on her arms. But maybe fear wasn’t the cause of the goose bumps. Maybe she had them because she was cold and wet.

As the apparition had been.

Hell. She peeled off Jimmy’s hoodie and her flannel bathrobe and draped both of them over a chair. She pulled on a pair of jeans, then tugged her nightgown off over her head and added it to the pile of wet things. She opened her dresser and reached for a bra and one of her standard-issue oversize T-shirts. She had a drawer full of them. But she paused with her hand in midair, bit her lower lip, and wondered if she was losing her mind to be thinking about Jimmy Lipton the way she was. Oh, she didn’t intend to do anything with him. He was way too young for that. Wasn’t he? But she couldn’t deny that his interest—if it was for real—felt good. And for some perverse reason, she wanted to feel more of that.

She pushed that drawer closed, opened another, and dug deep until she pulled out a tiny T-shirt. The kind she hadn’t worn since the divorce but hadn’t quite had the willpower to throw away. She pulled it on, grimacing at the snug fit and wondering just how bad it would look, then turned to the full-length mirror. Her eyebrows arched, and she muttered, “Wow,” and turned to one side.

She’d lost weight since the divorce. Exercise helped with the stress and filled the loneliness, and with no one to cook for, she often forgot to eat. Not a healthy habit, but the results didn’t look half bad. The baby T looked better on her than it ever had.

She headed to the bathroom off her bedroom and ran a pick through her wet hair, which was already curling crazily, and scrunched in a palmful of mousse to keep it from frizzing when it dried. Just as an afterthought, she dabbed on some of the fragrance she’d bought on a whim weeks ago: vanilla.

She looked good. Maybe ghostly visitations agreed with her. Certainly got her blood flowing. Or maybe that was Jimmy. And with the primping, she’d forgotten to be afraid for a little while.

She went back downstairs, where the men waited in the living room, and they both stared at her body from head to toe as she descended. Jimmy was quiet, just looking, but his expression was purely transparent. He liked what he saw.

Peter not so much. “You’ve lost more weight, haven’t you?”

She shrugged. “Maybe a little. I don’t really keep track.”

“I thought all women were obsessed with their scales,” Jimmy said.

“What did you eat today? You been skipping meals again?”

“Well, I was having corn flakes when the drippy chick showed up. Sort of.”

“Uh-huh. Cornflakes for dinner. You need a keeper.”

“Had one. Unfortunately, I wasn’t the only one he kept.”

“Must be a freaking idiot,” Jimmy muttered.

Peter swung his head around and speared him with his eyes.

“What? I’m just saying…” He stopped there, clearly embarrassed.

Secretly, Caroline warmed to the blatant compliment as she handed Jimmy his wet hoodie. His fingers stroked the back of her hand when he took it from her, and she was sure it hadn’t been an accident.

Peter looked at her again, and she hurried to school her expression to one of bland disinterest but feared she’d been too slow. Frowning, Peter said, “Let’s go. Caroline, you ride shotgun.”

She grabbed a jacket of her own on her way to the front door. Peter reached it first and went out ahead of her. Jimmy caught the screen door as it swung in, then held it for her. She caught his eyes on the way past and wondered why she was torturing the poor guy with the tight little T-shirt and vanilla perfume. It wasn’t as if this was going anywhere.

Ever.

T he kids were in bed, and Mary was nursing a glass of cola that, Caroline suspected, had more than cola in it, a box of Midol on the end table beside her. Her eyes looked puffy, and her blond hair was reminiscent of Albert Einstein’s. She got up when Caroline came in to give her a hug.

“Honey, are you okay?”

“Yeah. Just had a little scare. I’m fine now. Sorry to drag your better half away in the middle of the night.”

“Don’t be silly. He was just watching baseball, anyway.” She looked past Caroline to Peter. “So, did you find anything?”

“No, and neither did the cops. Jimmy’s gonna spend the night over there, just in case the nut comes back.”

“Oh.” Mary looked at Jimmy and then at Caroline, and Caroline saw her noticing the T-shirt and wished she had zipped up her jacket. “Oh.”

“I’ll just grab my stuff and my keys,” Jimmy said. “Be right back.”

Caroline nodded and tried not to watch him walk away. She failed, but at least she tried.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather stay here, hon?” Mary asked. “The kids are already in bed, and Jimmy’s here, but you could take the guest room. I’m sure he’d take the sofa.”

Caroline snapped her gaze back to Mary, since Jimmy’s tight backside had rounded a corner out of sight anyway. “Yeah, I’m sure. I’m not letting some ghost drive me out of my house.”

“Ghost?” Mary blinked, looking from Caroline to Peter, a question in her eyes.

Caroline pasted a smile on her face. “I’m being sarcastic, Mare. She was there, and then she wasn’t, and there was no trace of her anyplace, that’s all.”

Mary was still staring at her, probing, questioning, maybe getting a little worried about her mental state.

“It seems everything is conspiring to make me give up that house,” Caroline said, seeking to change the subject. “Shawn hasn’t given me a nickel in three months, and it’s getting tight.”

“And your boyfriend has just about depleted your savings,” Peter put in with a grimace. “Your taste in men is seriously deranged, little sister. Can’t you find even one who’s not a total loser?”

She averted her eyes, ashamed of the mess she’d made of her life. “Not so far. Anyway, if I can find the money to keep up the payments, I’m keeping that house. No wet woman peeking in the windows at me is going to make me give it up.”

“Good for you,” Mary said.

“You should let me get your money out of those two leeches,” Peter said.

She pursed her lips. “I don’t want it to get nasty, Peter.”

“You’re gonna lose your house, hon. It’s already nasty.”

Jimmy came back into the living room in time to hear that last bit, but he didn’t comment on it, just held up his keys. He had a backpack slung over his shoulder. “Ready?”

“Yeah.” She looked at her brother. “Stay out of it, Peter. I love you for caring, but I don’t want to stir up trouble or hard feelings. Okay?”

He rolled his eyes but nodded.

“Thanks. ‘Bye, Mary.” She gave her sister-in-law another hug, then turned toward the door and headed out, not up to any further lecturing or advice. She was several feet ahead of Jimmy, heading for the car that had to be his, a cute forest green Jeep Wrangler, when she heard her brother say, “Watch out for her, Jim. Make sure she’s safe.”

“I guarantee it.”

 

She rode back in the passenger seat of Jimmy Lipton’s Wrangler, not sure what to say. She was alternating between being pissed at him for not backing up her story with the cops and tingling all over with sexual attraction.

“You were wishing I’d tell the cops I’d seen her, too, I’ll bet.”

His voice drew her eyes to his face, something she’d been deliberately avoiding. “Wouldn’t you have been?”

“They would have just thought we were both nuts.”

“At least I wouldn’t have been the only one, then.”

“Wouldn’t have made a difference.”

“Would to me.”

He bit his lip, and it was sexy. Damn him.

“I’m sorry, okay? Cops don’t investigate ghosts. I just didn’t see what good it would have done.”

“You could have at least told Peter.”

“Peter believes you.”

She sighed and lowered her gaze to her hands, folded in her lap.

“You look great, Caroline.”

“Oh, right. Insincere flattery will fix it.”

“It’s not insincere. It’s just a fact.”

She pursed her lips. “Thanks.”

“What, no reciprocation?” His tone was light, teasing.

“You know damn well you look great. You’re supposed to look great, you’re twenty-freaking-five.”

“Still, it’s nice to hear you say it out loud.”

She rolled her eyes and turned to gaze out the window. “You’re missing our turn.”

“Yeah, well, we’re not going straight back.”

“We’re not?”

“No.” He kept going straight, then took the right that would lead them into the little town of Lakeside, Michigan.

“Well, do you mind telling me where we are going, then?”

“To Vincenzo’s. You need to eat, and I could use a bedtime snack myself.”

“Vincenzo’s? I’m not dressed for Vincenzo’s.”

“They do takeout. You don’t want to eat there, we’ll just order a meal and take it back to Spook Central.”

She would have argued, but she was damn hungry, and Vincenzo’s was a local legend for everything from its Italian cuisine to its steaks. Besides, she got a shiver at the thought of returning to her house, and not just because of the apparition.

“And by the way,” he added, “there’s absolutely nothing wrong with the way you’re dressed, except that it might distract the waiters.”

She met his eyes again. Big mistake. The attraction was crackling between the two of them, and she was worried as hell about her ability to say no and mean it, should he try anything tonight. And she had a feeling he might. And then she wondered what woman in her right mind would be so worried about saying no to a hunk like this one, anyway.

“Let’s eat there,” she said. “Screw my attire.”

“Atta girl.”

 

Vincenzo’s was a bad idea. She’d forgotten about the candlelit tables and soft, sexy music and the dark wood and red velvet, making the place seem intimate and erotic. Jimmy sat across from her, with the candle flame painting his face in light and shadow, its reflection dancing in his eyes, and she found herself pretending this was a real date, with a man who actually gave a damn about her.

Wouldn’t that be a novel experience?

She’d ordered pork loin basted in strawberry sauce with a touch of curry that made it almost too succulent to bear. He had prime rib—his idea of a bedtime snack, apparently. And he insisted on tasting hers and on her tasting his. She didn’t want dessert, so he ordered one, anyway, to share. He certainly made it easy for her to pretend this was a real date.

What the hell was he after? God knew it had to be something. Her experience with the male species had taught her that much, if nothing else. Men didn’t ever do anything without an ulterior motive. Not for her, anyway. Maybe for some women but not for her.

She had three glasses of wine with her meal, trying to take the edge off her nerves and secretly wishing for whatever Mary had been drinking instead. Maybe he was only after some easy sex. Maybe that was it. If he was after money, he was going to be sadly disappointed.

“You seem awfully distracted,” he said, breaking into her thoughts.

She glanced at him across the candlelit table, realizing he’d paid the check and there was nothing keeping them at the restaurant any longer. She’d zoned out on him. “Sorry. I was thinking.”

“About?”

She pursed her lips. “Stuff.”

“Ah, a woman of mystery. I like that.”

Yeah, right now he liked everything about her. He was coming off a little too good to believe. Fortunately, she didn’t. If he wanted a woman he could play—for whatever reason—he should have picked a younger one. The turnip truck she fell off, she thought, was currently rusting in a junkyard somewhere.

His hand slid over hers, where it rested on the table. “You don’t have to be afraid to go back to the house, Caroline. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”

Her heart went soft and mushy. Stupid heart. She tried to harden it back up again but was having trouble getting it past the stage of well-set Jell-O. He was that good.

“Thanks,” she muttered. “That’s really sweet of you to say. But I’m not scared.”

“Then why are we still sitting here?”

She took her hand out from under his and used it to take the napkin out of her lap and toss it on the table. “Let’s just get this out of the way, all right? I’m not going to have sex with you tonight.”

“Okay.” He put his napkin on the table, too. “So, you ready to go, then?”

Caroline sort of gaped at him, then clamped her jaw. That was it? That was his entire reaction? Okay? She filled her wineglass for the fourth time, emptying the bottle.

He got up and came around to hold her chair. She took her wineglass with her. Given the size of the tip Jimmy had left, she didn’t think the waiter would call her on it. Jimmy held a hand very lightly at the small of her back as they wound their way around tables to the exit. He opened the Jeep’s door for her. Good God, he was pouring it on. No male had manners this good.

She got in, buckled up, and sipped the wine, knowing damn good and well that she was breaking the open container law by drinking in the car, even though he was the one doing the driving. But damn, she needed bolstering.

Jimmy slid a CD into the slot, some hard-core band taking a shot at a ballad. It wasn’t half bad. She sipped more wine.

By the time they arrived back at her house, she was pleasantly full, much closer to mellow, and just slightly light headed. Okay, maybe more than slightly. She kept feeling the urge to giggle and squelching it. Women her age did not giggle.

He took her arm when they walked toward the front door, and she leaned a little closer, acting on pure instinct accompanied by the knowledge that she wasn’t very steady on her feet right then. Damn wine. He slid his arm around her waist. He didn’t take it away when she turned to insert the key and pushed the door open.

He kept that arm around her as they moved inside, and with the door still open, he turned her to face him and kissed her. Just like that. No leading up to it, no asking permission. He just did it, and it was so sudden and so hot that she kissed him right back. And then some. Her arms twined, and her hips arched, and her mouth opened. By the time she started to come to her senses, he was using his tongue, holding her hard, flush against him, one arm anchoring her waist, one hand buried in her hair. And damn, it was good.

She willed herself to push him away, but she didn’t want to, so that was as far as it got. She willed it, but she didn’t actually do it.

I really should, though, she thought. And then she thought, Why?

He must have felt her hesitation, though, because he lifted his head, those sexy eyes blazing down into hers. “Don’t think, Caroline. Just feel.”

“I’m feeling. Believe me.” Her words came out as whispers on broken, ragged breaths.

He smiled. “Me, too. I’ve wanted you for so long.”

“But Jimmy, you’re only—”

“You’re thinking again.”

She closed her eyes and wondered why the hell not indulge herself, just this once? They were both adults. She was a woman, a free, responsible, smart, independent woman. A woman who tended to fall from one lousy relationship to the next without much time in between. But this wasn’t a relationship. This was just…this. So why the hell not?

Working up every nerve in her body, she said, “Then make me stop thinking.”

He swore under his breath and kissed her again. Without breaking the kiss, he reached back to close the door. She heard the lock turn, and then he scooped her into his arms and carried her into the house, up the stairs. Carried her. She didn’t think any man had ever carried her anywhere.

Oh, God, what was she doing?

Jimmy lowered her onto her bed and pushed her T-shirt up, running his hands over her breasts despite the bra that stood in the way. She tingled all over.

Oh, God, this would be good. Please, let it be good, she thought.

He pushed his hands inside the bra, tugged her breasts out the top, and brushed his fingers over her nipples a few times before squeezing and kneading them. And then he lowered his head to attack them with his mouth, one after the other, sliding his hands lower, over her belly, to the button fly of her jeans. He undid them and wandered inside, touched her, rubbed her.

Oh, yeah. It would be good.

He had her closer to orgasm than good old Brian had gotten her in their entire time together, closer than Shawn had in their entire marriage, and he wasn’t even inside her yet. Damn, he knew his stuff. She wanted it to be good for him, too. Female pride dictated that. So she reached for his jeans, rubbed the sizable bulge in them, started working on the snap and zipper, but he covered her hand with his and stopped sucking long enough to kiss a path to her ear and whisper, “Not yet, baby. Let me take care of you first. Just relax. Relax and feel.”

“Huh?”

He didn’t take time to explain himself. Since when did any man want to take care of her first in bed? This just didn’t compute.

Jimmy kissed his way back to her nipple and sucked it in. He deepened the thrust of his fingers and added a swirling and pressing of his thumb right where it counted. The sensations that roiled up in her body shut her mind up once and for all. She let go of inhibitions, of doubts, of thought, and moved against his hand, arching and pressing to tell him the way it felt best, and he paid attention, responding exactly the way she needed. She clasped his head with her hands, and he sucked harder, nipped and tugged and flicked his tongue over her nipples, and she heard herself whimper and cry as her body strained. Let it happen, please let it happen, she all but prayed. She was so close, so damn close, and so used to disappointment.

“Relax,” he whispered around her breast. “I can do this all night, and I’m not stopping until you get there. So just relax. Don’t rush.”

In response to that assurance, she stopped trying to hurry, stopped straining for the peak, and just let him work her and work her. And when she started to shake, he intensified everything. Harder, deeper, faster. His teeth bit down a little harder, and she clasped his head so hard she thought she would crush his skull.

And then she was exploding, and he still didn’t let up. He kept going all the way to the very edge, pushing her, playing her, only easing back when the spasms started to ebb.

She came back to herself slowly, to find herself trembling and moaning as he curled onto the bed beside her, folded her into his arms, and held her warm and firm against him. He stroked her hair with one hand. “Now sleep.”

She was so incredibly relaxed, so sated in every way, that she couldn’t help but do exactly as he told her. Between the heavy meal and the wine and the shattering orgasm, her body was completely sated, warm, relaxed. She drifted to sleep right there, in Jimmy Lipton’s arms.

 

And that was where she woke. Right there, snuggled up against him, her head on his chest, his arms wrapped tight around her, warmer and more cozy than she’d ever been in her life.

And mortified beyond belief. God, she’d had her first nonself-induced orgasm with a kid half her age. Okay, more than half, but still. And she hadn’t even reciprocated. Oh, yeah, she was going straight to hell.

She lifted her head to find his eyes open and focused on her. He smiled, the sexiest sleepy smile she’d ever seen in her life, and her tummy tightened in pure animal lust. What the hell was happening to her? She’d never felt this kind of sexual attraction for a man. Never.

“Good morning, sexy,” he said.

She turned her head slightly, sure she had morning breath. “I’m sorry, Jimmy.”

“About what?”

Closing her eyes, she rolled onto her back and tugged the sheet up over her. “About last night, obviously.”

“Why? Wasn’t it good for you?”

“It was incredible.” That came out as a whisper as her eyes drifted closed and her body heated all over again. But she popped her eyes open and attempted to speak in a normal tone. “I mean, of course, it was incredible. But I didn’t—I mean, you didn’t—”

“I will next time.”

“That’s why I’m apologizing. I mean, you should have, because there isn’t going to be a next time.”

“Don’t hate me for saying so, but isn’t that what you said about this time?”

He was teasing, smiling in a soft, sexy way while trailing his fingertips over her cheek. “I mean it, Jimmy. This—it can’t happen again.”

“Oh.” He looked so disappointed she had to avert her eyes.

“I mean, it just doesn’t make sense. What would people think?”

“I’ve never been much for living according to what other people think. I didn’t think you were, either.”

“Of course I am.”

“Yeah? I don’t know if that’s true. You’re dating that jerk Brian, and no one seems to think much of that choice.”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“Dating a man my own age, no matter how big a jerk he is, is socially acceptable. Dating a kid I used to sit for is not. God, I feel like one of those teachers you see on the news.”

“I’m not a kid, Caroline.”

She looked at him and knew he was right. He wasn’t a kid. He was a man, inside and out, and so far, he seemed to be twice the man Brian or Shawn had ever been. Seemed to be being the operative phrase, of course.

Because maybe she was just seeing what she wanted to see, or worse, what he wanted her to see. And come to think of it, how the hell did he know about Brian, anyway? Damn her brother and his big fat mouth.

He leaned in and kissed her, and her entire body went into meltdown. Thoughts dissolved. She heated and trembled when he pulled her hips against his and whispered that he was throbbing for her. When he finally lifted his head, her heart spoke before her mind could stop it. “Well…maybe…just once more.”

“At least once more.” He kissed her again, then rolled out of bed, wearing only his shorts. She didn’t remember him undressing. In spite of herself, she couldn’t help but lie there and watch him pull his jeans on and wonder how the hell she’d ended up half naked in bed with a guy who looked like he did. Flat belly, hard thighs, ass to die for, and a chest that made her loins ache. Damn, he was hot.

What the hell did he want with her?

“I’m gonna hit the shower,” he said. “And, uh, you might want to get dressed. Much as I hate to suggest that.”

She frowned. “Why?”

“I think your brother just pulled in.”

“Shit!” She dove out of bed, never mind that she was stark naked from the waist up and her jeans were undone and slept in. She started grabbing up her clothes, then panicked at the thought of Peter seeing her in the same things she’d had on last night. But there was no time. She did up her jeans and was struggling to fasten the bra behind her back when she realized Jimmy was still standing there, staring at her. She looked up, saw the look in his eyes. He looked at her as if he liked looking at her, and that made her go warm all over, even though she doubted it was for real.

But hell, he was consistent, if nothing else. You’d think he would have slipped by now. Revealed something of the toad behind the prince mask. But so far, he hadn’t.

You don’t suppose he could be for real, do you?

She frowned as she tried to answer the question her mind had posed.

“Caroline, babe? Your brother?” Jimmy waved a hand before her eyes as if trying to wake a hypnosis victim.

She snapped out of it. “Will you get out of my bedroom, already? You want my brother to go home for his shotgun?”

He grinned at her and walked into the bathroom. When the door closed behind him, she finished fastening her bra and yanked a T-shirt from a drawer, leaving her baby T on the floor but kicking it and Jimmy’s discarded shirt under the bed on her way out of the bedroom. She ran down the hall to the spare bedroom, yanked the covers back, and rolled back and forth on the bed a few times to make it look slept in.

Peter was pounding on the door now. Hell. She headed into the hall, glancing back into her bedroom on the way past, just to see if any telltale signs remained. The bed was a mess, but that wasn’t really a dead giveaway, was it?

Trotting down the stairs, she spotted Jimmy’s backpack on the floor near the door. She ducked, grabbed it, raced back upstairs and into her room, yanked open the bathroom door to drop it inside, and froze there. He was out of the shower, dripping and naked, and the best thing she’d ever looked at in her entire life.

She actually felt dizzy, he looked so good. God damn, the man was a freaking hallucinogenic.

She swore, dropped the bag, and backed out. Then she tried to wipe the lust off her face and hurried back downstairs to open the door for her brother.

Peter looked her up and down and said, “What the hell did Jimmy do to you last night, sis?”

Her jaw dropped, and she stood there searching for words.

“You never sleep this late.” He brushed past her, heading for the kitchen. “Got any coffee made yet?”

“Uh, no, I was just about to put on a pot.” Relief almost made her limp as she followed him to the kitchen. She passed a mirror and caught a glimpse of herself. Damn. Her hair was all over, her eyes were glassy—almost sparkling—and her cheeks were so damn pink she didn’t recognize herself. It showed, dammit. How could Peter not see it? She was practically radiating sexual satisfaction.

She smoothed her hair with her hands and went into the kitchen, busied herself making coffee and keeping her back to her brother while he sat in a chair at the table.

“Where is Jimmy, anyway? He’s usually up at the crack of dawn.”

“In the shower, I guess.” Even as she said it, his footsteps were coming down the stairs, and then he was in the kitchen, and she glanced his way. He met her eyes and smiled, and she wished he wouldn’t, because it was the kind of a smile that spoke volumes. It said, I made you come last night, and I’m going to do it again. Where did he get off, giving her that kind of smile in front of her brother? And why did it make her knees weak?

“ ‘Morning, Caroline. ‘Morning, Peter.”

“ ‘Morning,” Peter said. “Anything interesting happen last night?”

She gaped, but Jimmy had more sense than she did at the moment. “Not another peep from the intruder.” Then he glanced at Caroline. “Thanks for the use of the guest room. I made up the bed so nice and neat no one would ever know it had been slept in.”

No you didn’t, she thought. I messed up the bed so anyone would know it had been slept in. Please, Peter, don’t go upstairs and check, please, please, please.

“You know, sis, staring at the coffee pot isn’t going to make it brew any faster.”

She pasted what she hoped was a casual smile on her face and turned to face her brother. “I’m just dying for a cup, that’s all. Maybe I’ll run upstairs and shower myself, and it’ll be ready by the time I come back.”

“Okay, kid,” Peter said. “I brought my toolbox and some new locks. Jim and I will grab a cup and get to work on installing them while you do whatever it is you women do in the shower that takes so long.”

“Cool. Help yourself to some breakfast if you want.”

“Right. I imagine you’ve got a regular feast full of possibilities in your fridge.”

She knew he was exaggerating and rolled her eyes. “I’ve got…stuff.”

Peter looked at Jim. “Eggs, probably. A couple of yogurts, some soy milk, and a box of microwave popcorn. Bet you five bucks.”

“I’ll take that bet, as I know for a fact she has corn flakes.”

She closed her eyes and left the room, wondering how she could ever be around her brother again without giving it away. But maybe not. Maybe he was dense enough not to see it. He was male, after all.

Mary wasn’t, though. She would see it. God, what was she going to do about Mary?

A fter the locks were installed, the guys said they had some errands to run. She didn’t ask what kind, didn’t really care, but she did notice that Jimmy left his bag behind. Which suggested he would be returning tonight. Which made her want to die from the mingled apprehension, excitement, nervousness, and heat that invaded her at the very thought.

She didn’t have much time to dwell on it, though, because Brian was knocking on her door twenty minutes after Jimmy and Peter had left.

Brian. Her boyfriend. The one who never came to her house, because he was “more comfortable on his own turf.” She always went to his place. And they never went anywhere else.

Like Vincenzo’s, for example.

Whoa girl. Comparing the two was ridiculous. Jimmy was just sex. He couldn’t possibly be interested in anything more than that, unless he had some ulterior motive she hadn’t figured out yet. Brian was interested in sex and money. Technically, that didn’t qualify as a boyfriend, either, did it?

So wait a sec. If she was going to be used, either way…

Brian pounded again.

“I’m coming, already.” Caroline crossed the room and opened the door. “This is a surprise. What are you doing here?”

“What, I can’t pay my girl a visit now and then?”

“Uh, well, up to now you never have.”

He sighed, lowered his head. “Yeah, I know. I’ve just been busy.”

“Yeah, it’s been a brutal six months for you.” She didn’t try to hide the sarcasm in her voice. He didn’t hear it, though.

He looked past her, around the house, as if he expected to see something, but there was nothing to see. “So, you gonna let me in?”

“Sure. C’mon in.” She stepped aside and held the door, watched him as he entered. He was a big guy, his hair a little too long. She couldn’t help mentally comparing him to Jimmy as she watched him walk through the house and plop down on the couch. No comparison, though. Jimmy was lean and tight where Brian was bulky and had the beginnings of a beer belly. Jimmy’s hair was short and neat, which she liked better than Brian’s sloppy, careless look. Jimmy even smelled better.

Her tummy clenched in pure sexual appreciation when she thought about the way Jimmy smelled, and she bit her lip until she tasted blood to get it to stop.

Brian glanced up at her. “What are you smiling about? Just glad to see me?”

Not particularly, she thought. “Did you happen to bring the money you owe me?” she asked.

“Hon, I told you, things are tight right now.”

“Things are tight for me, too, Bri. Too tight. I could lose the house.” He sighed, and she saw the beginnings of irritation creeping into his eyes, so she decided to change the subject. Getting money out of him would be like trying to bleed a rock, anyway. “So, if not that, then what did bring you by?”

“I wanted to see you. Thought maybe we could go out tonight, do something, you know, make some plans.”

She frowned. “We could have done that on the phone.”

“Damn, woman, you’re downright cold this morning.”

“Yeah, well, I have reason to be.” He was up to something. No question.

He nodded. “I heard the cops were out here last night.”

She raised her brows and wondered what else he’d heard. Maybe that a stranger’s car had been parked in her driveway all night long? Sure he had. He was best buds with the biker at the end of the block. Hell, she was surprised he hadn’t shown up sooner. And she wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t as concerned about losing her as he was about losing the money train he’d been riding.

Sadly for him, she’d figured out that she could do a hell of a lot better.

“So, what happened?” he asked.

“Had an intruder poking around. No big deal. They took off, and the cops didn’t find anything. Peter changed all the locks this morning.”

“Oh. You’ll have to give me a new key, then.”

She frowned at him. Not a hint of concern for her, not even an “Are you okay?” or “Were you scared?” Much less an offer of help. God forbid he put himself out. Just a request—no, a demand—for a key. “I don’t have an extra one yet.”

“Really? ‘Cause every lock I’ve ever seen comes with two keys.”

“Yeah, and I gave the extra ones to Peter.”

“Instead of me?”

“When I call my brother, Bri, he answers the phone. Or if he doesn’t, he calls me back the minute he gets the message. If I need him, he’s here for me. I’ve never been able to say the same about you.”

He didn’t look amused. But he digested her words and seemed to decide to ignore them. “So, what about tonight? You wanna go out?”

“You know what? I really don’t.”

“You don’t?” He couldn’t seem to process that. She’d never said no to him. About anything.

And that, she thought, is part of what’s wrong with me. God, what did I ever see in this idiot that I would agree to anything he asked just to keep him coming around? Loneliness, she guessed, and the certainty that she’d never find a man who wouldn’t use her. So she’d settled.

But today, she wasn’t content to settle. At least Jimmy made an effort.

Not to mention he could get her off.

Damn. She caught herself smiling again, wiped it off her face, and tried to focus on her guest.

Brian got up off the couch slowly and stood there, looking down at her really hard. “This have anything to do with the stranger who spent the night here last night?”

She licked her lips. Aha! I knew it. That’s the only reason he showed up. After a moment’s thought, she said, “I’ll tell you what it has to do with. I’ve come to the realization, Brian, that I can do a whole lot better. I’m getting the feeling that you’re just using me for my money, and I don’t deserve that.”

“How can you say that? I’m not using you!”

“Yeah? Well, if you decide you want to prove it, pay me back, and ask me out again with the understanding that there won’t be any more cash exchanging hands here. Not a penny. Not ever.”

His eyes narrowed. “You are one tough bitch, you know that?”

She almost smiled. She’d never been called tough before, and she felt rather proud of herself for earning it. “I’ve got stuff to do, Bri. Call me next week if you find the money to pay me back—all of it—and if you still want to go out after that, you’re buying.”

He turned on his heel and slammed out of the house so angrily that the windows rattled. He spun his tires when he left, too.

Well, hell. Good riddance.

“What took you so long?” a voice whispered.

She turned around, searching the area behind her, but there was no one there. And yet the voice—a female voice—had been vivid. Real. Audible. Not in her head, in her ears. “Mary? Is that you?” Dumb question. It hadn’t sounded like Mary, it had sounded like someone much younger.

No one answered. She shivered and went to pick up the telephone, flipped through the memory to find the number for the real estate agent she’d used to purchase the place, and hit the button. She had questions, and they were big ones.

 

She still didn’t have any answers several hours later, when she and Jimmy drove over to Pete and Mary’s for a Sunday night barbecue with the kids. It was something she did nearly every Sunday during the spring and summer and well into the fall. She’d brought Brian once, but that had been disastrous. He’d spent the entire afternoon sitting on his ass, slugging back beer, and scowling at the kids. No wonder her family hated him.

She probably should have taken their advice way sooner. That thought came with a grimace as she sat at an umbrella-shaded table enjoying the warmest day April had yet offered and sipping an iced tea while her nieces and nephews raised hell in the backyard. The grimace was because she was imagining what her family’s advice would be where Jimmy was concerned. They’d be scandalized.

And why was she even thinking that way? This was not a relationship. It was one night on third base, and she was making way too much out of it.

Ten-year-old Kevin was tossing a football back and forth with seven-year-old Katie. Kristen, who’d just turned four, was sitting on Jimmy’s back with her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck in what looked like a choke-hold, while Jimmy flipped burgers and said something that made the little girl laugh hilariously.

“He’s great with the kids, isn’t he?” Mary said. Krissie, her two-year-old, was on her lap, a bundle of golden ringlets and chubby cheeks. “They all adore him.”

Caroline dragged her eyes off Jimmy, realizing belatedly that they’d been glued to him way too often since they’d arrived. But even as she did, he glanced back at her, as if he could feel her looking, and gave her one of those smiles that made her insides start quivering.

She chose not to respond directly to Mary’s comment. “Where are the twins, anyway?”

“Inside, probably on the phone or the Net or both. Or more than likely, fighting over the phone or the Net or both. Kyle and Kenny are like oil and water these days. They’ll be out when the food’s ready, though.”

“Thirteen isn’t the most sociable age, I guess,” Caroline said.

“No, not really. But they love Jimmy, too. Hell, I don’t know why we didn’t think to invite him for Sunday dinner sooner. He really fits.”

Caroline looked at her sister-in-law. “Why didn’t you?”

“Well, I didn’t want you think it was a fix-up. You know, didn’t want it to be awkward.”

“Hell, Mary, I wouldn’t have thought that. At his age, I mean—”

Mary waved a hand as if brushing off Jimmy’s youth. “Doesn’t seem to bother him any.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Mary just smiled and sipped her tea. “Hey, guys, the womenfolk are starving over here. How close are we to being fed?”

Peter looked back at her. “Five minutes. Can you last that long?”

“Well, there’s a slim chance.” She got up. “Let’s get the salads and set the table. Maybe you can shame the twins into helping. God knows they won’t listen to me.” As Caroline followed her inside, she kept talking. “I take it Jimmy’s staying at your place again tonight?”

“Um…I…”

“I just noticed he didn’t bring his stuff back with him. And I know the apartment won’t be ready for him for a few more days, at least.”

“Oh.”

She opened the fridge, taking out salads, condiments, and hamburger buns and handing them off to Caroline one by one. “Do you mind having him there?”

“No.”

“And what about Brian?”

“Brian’s…um…well, I told him I wouldn’t see him until he paid me back in full. And we both know that’s not going to happen.”

Mary turned with a dish in both hands, shoving the fridge door closed with her hip. “You ditched him? And you tell me this now, when my hands are too full to hug you?” Her smile was huge. “I’m so proud of you, Caro!”

“Yeah, well, you shouldn’t be. It took me way too long.”

“Maybe you just needed the right motivation.”

Before she could even begin to guess what Mary meant by that, the door from the backyard opened, and Jimmy poked his head in, saw Caroline with her arms full of supplies for the meal, and made a beeline for her to begin taking items out of her hands. Even as he did, he called, “Boys, get your butts out here and pitch in, or you’ll handle cleanup on your own.”

The stampede of two pairs of feet down one set of stairs was almost deafening. “Hey, we didn’t know you were coming, Jimmy!”

“Yeah, you should have told us sooner.” The two gangly teens rapidly relieved Mary and Jimmy of everything they’d been carrying and took the lot of it out to the backyard.

Caroline lifted her brows. “Sure. They never get that excited when their beloved aunt comes to visit.”

“Ah, they’re just complacent. You’re here every Sunday,” Mary said. “Jimmy’s a novelty.”

Yeah, in more ways than one, Caroline thought. But she grabbed a dish of coleslaw the boys had missed and went back outside. Jimmy held the door for her and then walked close beside her. He sat next to her at the table. He paid attention to her as no one ever had, making sure she had tried every dish, refilling her iced tea glass when it got low, handing her a napkin just when she’d been needing one.

The guy was amazing.

And her sister-in-law was noticing all over the freaking place, damn her. Peter, of course, was oblivious.

They were driving home later, and she was trying really hard to ignore the female part of her that was practically singing all the way. So, he was great with the kids. So, her brother and sister-in-law adored him. So, he was attentive and polite and helpful and funny and smart and just fun to be with. So what? None of that mattered, because this was just sex, and there was no way in hell a guy like him—if he was for real—could be interested in her for anything…more.

“I had a ball today,” he said. “You guys do that every Sunday?”

“Pretty much, at least during the warm months.”

“What would it take to score a standing invitation, do you think?”

She swung her head toward him. “You’d be willing to do that every Sunday?”

“I’d pay to do that every Sunday.”

Caroline frowned, searching his face for signs of a lie but finding none. He looked really blissed-out. “Don’t you get the chance to do stuff like that with your family?”

“Tommy lives on the West Coast now. Still at UCLA. Mom’s in a nursing home about fifty miles away.” There was real regret in his voice and on his face as he went on. “Alzheimer’s. I took care of her as long as I could, but it got too bad. She needed someone with her twenty-four seven, and I’d have to work twenty-four seven to afford that kind of care.”

“I’m sorry, Jimmy. I didn’t know.”

“It’s a bitch. I don’t like her being that far away. There are three homes closer, but this one was the best, and I wanted her to have the best.”

“Do you see her often?”

“Twice a week without fail, three times when I can manage it.” He sighed. “She’s beyond knowing I’m there, or so the staff tell me. But I like to think she knows, somewhere way down deep.”

Add another notch to Jimmy’s list of pluses. He loved his mother. Good grief, was the man even human?

“What about your dad?” she asked.

“He died two years ago. Cancer.”

“God.”

He shrugged as if it were of little consequence, and she thought there was more there, something deeper to that part of his story, but she didn’t ask. He changed the subject, turning her own questions on her.

“How about your parents?”

“Retired, living in Florida, happy as clams. We visit them in the winter, and they come up here for a few weeks in the summer. It’s all good.”

“I’m glad to hear that. So we got off the subject, didn’t we?”

“What subject was that?”

“Me wrangling a standing invitation to your family’s Sunday barbecues.”

She smiled at him in spite of herself. “I think all you’d have to do is ask. Everyone adores you.”

“Really? Everyone?”

He said it with an intense look, and she had to look away. She didn’t answer. She was too busy kicking herself, because she was actually starting to believe he was for real. And believing that was insanely dangerous. No guy was as good as this one seemed. It just didn’t happen.

“Hmm. No answer. But that’s okay,” he said. He reached across the seat to trail his fingers along the side of her neck, and his touch gave her chills right to her toes. “I fully intend to see to it that you adore me, too, before the night is out.”

She closed her eyes and tried not to hear her body whispering to her brain, Hot damn.

I t was late when they returned from Pete and Mary’s, and the way Jimmy had been looking at her all the way home had her pulse racing long before they pulled into the driveway.

He got out of the car and came around to her side before she managed to get out herself. He took her by the hand and tugged her to her feet. She closed the car door behind her, and the next thing she knew, his arms were around her, her back pressed to the Jeep, his body pinning her there.

“I’ve had a hell of a time keeping my hands off you today.” His hands proved his words by running up her sides from her hips to her waist and back again.

“I’m glad you managed. I’m not sure what my brother would think.”

“We’re going to have to find out, eventually.” He said it as he was lowering his head to kiss her, but she was shocked enough to turn her head aside.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

He took her chin with one finger and gently turned her head back to face him again. “Come on, Caroline. You didn’t think this was just a fling, did you?”

Well, duh, she thought. “Of course I thought it was just a fling.”

He blinked as if his feelings were hurt but seemed to cover it quickly. “Is that…what you want it to be?”

“Jimmy, that’s all it can be.”

He lowered his head for a moment, let out all his breath. Then he inhaled and looked her in the eye. “Then it’s gonna be the best fling you ever had. And the only one you’ll never forget.”

Oh, hell, now he was ambitious. And not just the ordinary, I’m-gonna-impress-her-in-bed sort of ambitious, but something above and beyond that. It was more like an I’m-gonna-be-the-best-you-ever-had-or-ever-will variety. And she was feeling pretty selfish, because she couldn’t wait to see how close he would come. Or how many times she would. And all without even dropping him a crumb in return. Yeah, she felt mean and cruel, but dammit, she wasn’t about to leap into an actual relationship with a guy this much younger than her, one whose motives were still unclear. Not as many times as she’d been hurt.

She had to keep her distance here. She had to keep her head involved and her heart in the clear. Her body was already down for the count, so that didn’t even bear debate. He had her there.

“Is that okay with you?” he asked.

She’d lost track of the question. Oh, right. Was it okay with her if he was the fling she would never forget? “It’s a pretty big promise.”

“You know I’m gonna keep it.”

She smiled slowly. “Damn, I hope so.”

He kissed her then, right there, up against the Jeep, and it was raw and hungry and urgent. His hands kneaded her backside, and she arched her hips against his. Then he slid his hands down the backs of her thighs and pulled them up around his waist. Holding her that way, still kissing her to within an inch of sanity, he carried her into the house. He made it to the staircase and no further, just lowered her down there on the third step and started undressing her, hurrying so much he was clumsy. If she hadn’t known better, she’d have believed he was shaking. And maybe he was.

God, she was. When he pushed her blouse open and down her shoulders, bending to nuzzle between her breasts, she braced her arms on the step behind her, arching her back. He pushed the bra straps down, then the lace cups, baring her breasts, kissing and sucking them until she was shivering with pleasure.

“Jimmy,” she whispered. “God, Jimmy.”

He slid his hands lower, unfastened her jeans, and pushed them down. She lifted her hips up to help and kicked them off her legs. Her panties followed, and then he was sliding down her body, kissing her all the way; her belly, her thighs, and then in between. And when his tongue went to work on her there, she moaned and threw her head back. Her fingers tangled in his hair, her entire body shuddering with every flick of his tongue. He played her, God, he played her like a master, and she prayed he wouldn’t stop. Not until…and then he was pushing her over the edge, and she screamed his name over and over as her entire body erupted in spasms of mind-numbing ecstasy.

Gently, he kissed his way back up her body, paying extra attention to the crook of her neck, which made her shiver even harder. She was floating in a state of sensual bliss as he scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the bedroom. He laid her down again there on the bed and quickly undressed to join her there. And the moment he pulled her close and started kissing her, the passion she’d thought was spent began to build anew.

He took his time, appreciating every part of her with his hands, his fingers, his lips. He kissed her earlobes and whispered that she was incredible, and beautiful, and that she drove him wild with wanting her. And then he pulled her on top of him and slid himself inside her, and everything in her seemed to catch fire. She braced her hands on his shoulders and moved with him, over him, taking him deeper each time, moving faster. He clutched her hips and thrust up into her, his pace getting faster, more urgent. Locked together, they moved in unison as the flames built higher, and there was no room in her mind for thought or logic. Only feeling, only sensation, only passion. And when she came this time, he did, too, holding her and driving himself deep and then pulsing there.

She collapsed on his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her and cradled her, kissing her hair.

She had never felt so cherished in her entire life. And if this was a fling, then she was a blushing virgin. It wasn’t. She knew it wasn’t. And the knowledge terrified her. She tried to chase her fears away and just enjoy the sensation of falling asleep contented and safe in his arms.

“Now, remember, Pete,” Jimmy said in the sternest tone he could come up with. “No matter what, you do not tell Caroline about this.” He’d spent the entire morning with Peter, and the whole time, he’d been hoping his feelings for the man’s sister were not written all over his face.

But last night had been beyond anything he’d ever known before. Better than he had even imagined. And he’d imagined it a lot.

“I’m not gonna tell her,” Peter said. “I gave you my word. I just don’t know why. She wouldn’t be mad.”

“Yes, she would.”

Pete rolled his eyes. “Okay, she probably would. But she should be grateful instead.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t want her gratitude.”

Peter stared hard at him. “I’ve pretty much figured that out.”

“Figured what out?”

Peter shrugged and nodded toward the camera with the zoom lens that was currently sitting in the front seat of the Jeep, between him and Jimmy. “You knew her ex was cheating on his new wife. You knew where, and you knew when. Clearly, you’ve been checking into this for a while.”

Jimmy nodded. “Well, I am a PI, after all.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit, pal.”

He sighed. “Okay. I heard you and Mary talking about how far behind he was on the money he owes her for the business and her share of their house, and the fact that he transferred the title of their vacation cottage on the lakeshore to avoid having to pay her anything for that. It burns me. I thought maybe I could help. That’s all.”

“And being a PI by trade, you knew how to go about it.”

“We show good old Shawn these photos and tell him he can pay up or we’ll send copies to his wife. He’ll pay up. Then we’ll give him the negatives and all and forget we ever had them.”

“Right. And it’s not really illegal,” Peter said.

“It’s only blackmail if you’re extorting money that isn’t rightfully yours. All we’re doing is pressuring him to pay what he owes.”

Peter nodded. “Got all that. But there’s more going on here, isn’t there?”

“Like what?”

“You like my sister.”

“Sure, I like her. What’s not to like? She’s a nice person.”

“No, I mean, you like my sister.”

Jim bought some time to form an answer by focusing on finding a parking spot at the twenty-minute-photo shop. But when he shut the Jeep’s engine off, Peter was still waiting. He drew a breath. “Would that piss you off a hell of a lot, Pete?”

“It would depend. You’re a lot younger than her. I guess I’d do the old-fashioned thing and demand to know your intentions. You gonna date her till she starts to show signs of age and then ditch her for a fresher model? You gonna use her and break her worse than she’s already been broken? ‘Cause I gotta tell you, Jim, she can’t handle a lot more of that. And I’d have to kick your ass for it.”

Jim sighed and lowered his head. “I can’t predict the future, Pete, but I can tell you I’m not playing here. I’m serious about her.”

“And how about her? Where’s she in all this?”

“Scared shitless, I think.”

Peter pursed his lips, then lowered his head and shook it. “Yeah, well, she’s been burned. She’s smart to be gun-shy. Damn, Mary’s gonna have a freaking conniption over this.”

 

Caroline was working on some accounts in the study when her next visitor arrived. She opened the door, and Mary raised a hand in the air, saying, “High five! You go, girl.”

Caroline high-fived her sister-in-law but had no idea what she was being congratulated for.

“What’s going on, Mare?”

“Oh, come on. Don’t play coy with me, sis. Everyone in town saw you with Jimmy at Vincenzo’s the other night. They said he looked at you like he wanted to eat you alive. And then I get this call from Brian saying there’s something wrong with you, and I’d better check in. You ditched his sorry ass! Which I already knew. So clearly, you’re messed up. I say it’s long overdue. But don’t you even try to tell me this didn’t have something to do with Jimmy Lipton. Don’t even!”

“Mary—”

“I mean, I had my doubts until I saw the two of you together at the barbecue yesterday. My God, he’s clearly nuts about you. It’s written all over his face. So, what’s been going on with you two? I want details.” Mary took her hand and tugged her out the door.

Oh, hell, Caroline thought. She knows. She’s onto me. I knew damn well I couldn’t hide it for long. “Where the hell are we going?”

“Oh, honey, we’re going shopping. You’ve been on the shelf wearing widow’s rags long enough.”

“I would hardly call jeans and T-shirts widow’s rags.”

“Well, I would.” She opened the car door, and Caroline got in reluctantly.

Mary closed it and ran around to the driver’s side, started the engine, and backed up. “First stop, Victoria’s Secret,” she said, grinning from ear to ear as she hit the gas.

Caroline lowered her head and groaned. God, how was she ever going to live this down? But then she thought about modeling some ultra-sexy lingerie for Jimmy, and suddenly, she got warm all over. Damn, she had it bad.

 

By the time her sister-in-law had finished with her, the afternoon was waning, and she was loaded down with pink boxes and bags, Mary’s treat. Caroline had managed to get through the trip without admitting to more than a slight and possibly mutual attraction between her and Jimmy but she thought Mary could see right through her. She silently vowed to pay Mary back for the piles of sexy lingerie just as soon as she could. She dumped the stuff on the sofa and moved to the phone, which was ringing off the hook. The caller ID showed Case Realty and the number, and she reached for the phone, relieved. She’d left a detailed message about the wet lady and Jimmy’s claim that she’d been showing up there for thirteen years and demanded to know why that little fact hadn’t been disclosed before she’d bought the place.

She smiled as she picked up the phone. A couple of nights with a hunk certainly had done wonders for her inner strength, not to mention her self-esteem. She used to hate confrontation. Now she felt like shouting, “Bring it on!”

But she settled for a polite “Hello?”

“Caroline, it’s Sharon, your broker. Listen to me, whatever you do, just listen.”

“I’m listening. Fill me in, Sharon. Seems there are things about this house you never told me. Including some kind of apparition. Makes me wonder what else there is about this house that you didn’t tell me before I bought it.”

Sharon took a deep breath. “Just this. That James Lipton has been conniving and conspiring to get that place back ever since his parents sold it.”

Caroline blinked twice as the words sank into her brain like shards of ice, chilling her slowly from her head to her heels. “What?”

“Look, a few other owners have seen some kind of ghostly-looking woman lurking around. Then they get scared and sell, and he shows up almost immediately, with a low-ball offer to buy the place back. It’s him, Caroline. It has to be him. He’s probably got some lovesick girl working with him to drive people away so he can get the place back.”

“But why the hell would he want to?”

“You’ll have to ask him. But I’m telling you, Caroline. Don’t trust this guy. He’s up to something. I guarantee it.”

Caroline hung up the phone and closed her eyes. Pain, her old friend, settled over her like a shroud and relaxed as if it had never been gone. It was familiar, and yet she’d let herself believe she’d got rid of it forever. Fool. She was a stupid, blind fool.

Another man had played her. And she’d let him, believed that a young, gorgeous, incredible lover like Jimmy Lipton could really be interested in her. She was kind of pathetic, wasn’t she? She looked over at the boxes and bags on the sofa and thought she’d be able to pay her sister-in-law back sooner than she’d planned. Tomorrow, right after she returned every last bit of it.

J im stood at Caroline’s door, wondering if he’d somehow stepped into an alternate dimension. She was pale, and he thought her eyes looked a little red, as if maybe she’d been crying or something. He wondered if she’d been crying over him, then told himself that was stupid. She didn’t even care about him yet. To her, this was nothing but a fling, and yeah, he hoped to change that, but it was too soon, and she’d been too badly burned.

So, what was wrong with her, and why was she standing in the doorway as if she had no intention of letting him in?

“What’s wrong?” he asked, because it was the most applicable of all the questions swirling through his mind. He could feel the tension emanating from her in waves, and not the good kind, either.

“I don’t want you here tonight, Jimmy. Go back to my brother’s.”

Jim thought he took the blow well, though he felt it right to his gut. “You gonna tell me why?”

She lowered her head, saying nothing.

“Caroline, what happened?”

She drew a breath, lifted her head, and met his eyes. “A lot. You made me feel like I was worth more than Shawn or Brian, more than jeans and T-shirts. If someone like you could want me, then—then hell, I felt like I could do anything.”

“You can. And you are. And—hell, Caroline, what changed?”

“It’s kind of sad, really, that I let my self-esteem get so trampled that I needed validation from a hunk to get it back. But that’s what happened. It didn’t take much. I don’t think it was ever really gone, just dormant.” She shrugged and met his eyes, and he ached when he saw unshed tears in hers. “The funny thing is, it didn’t go back to sleep on me, even when I found out it was all a lie.”

“What was a lie?”

“You. You thought you could use me to get what you wanted. And I deserve better than that, and you know what? I’m done settling for less than I deserve. In a way, I guess I ought to be thanking you. If nothing else, you shook me out of my state of apathy and self-doubt. So thanks. And good-bye.”

She closed the door before he could utter another word, and Jim stood there feeling as if he’d just been struck between the eyes with a mallet. What the hell had gotten into her?

And where did she get off accusing him without even telling him what it was she thought he’d done, much less giving him a chance to defend himself?

“Screw this,” he muttered, and strode back to his Jeep to drive to Peter’s.

 

Caroline expected the phone call from Mary, asking her what Jimmy was doing back at their place. She’d been trying to come up with an answer that would satisfy her sister-in-law without really telling her anything. None of your damn business came to mind, but that would be kind of harsh. She was still struggling for an answer, and Mary was still shooting questions through the telephone line. What she didn’t expect was for her brother to jump into the conversation halfway through. She winced when she heard him say, “Give me the phone, Mary. Let me talk to her.”

“Mary?” Caroline whispered. “Peter knows about this?”

“Not from me, he doesn’t,” Mary said. “Here, talk to your brother.”

Then, “Caro, what’s going on?”

“Pete, hon, I love you, but this isn’t any of your business.” There. That ought to do it, and it wasn’t even all that harshly delivered.

“Is it that loser Brian again? You haven’t decided to take him back, have you?”

“No, and I’m not going to.” She’d been finished with Brian for several weeks now, she realized. She’d just been too damned lethargic to do anything about it. Half sleepwalking through her own life. Until Jimmy the hunk came along with a sexy wake-up call. Damn, she wished it could have been real.

“What, then?” her brother demanded.

“Look, I’ve decided I don’t need a man to make me feel worthwhile.” And inside, her mind was whispering that she wasn’t sure she honestly believed that. Because, damn, she wished Jimmy were there, holding her in those strong arms and making her believe the lie right now. It was dark and lonely, and she craved human contact. The carnal, sweaty, panting kind of human contact she’d only had with him.

“Well, yeah, that goes without saying. You don’t need a man. You never did, hon. What you have to get clear on is separating what you need from what you want.”

“I only know what I don’t want. And I don’t want to be used.”

“Yeah, so Jim told me. And what is it you think he’s using you for?”

“To get this house back. And I’m not saying more than that, only that I have it on good authority he’s been trying to get it back for years.”

“Well, shit, I knew that. But hon, he never put the moves on any of the former owners to accomplish it.”

She blinked, totally taken aback. One simple sentence that did no more than state the obvious, and she was speechless.

“Hasn’t it occurred to you that just because he’s always wanted the house back doesn’t necessarily mean he can’t want you, too? Does it have to be one or the other, sis? Could he possibly be genuinely interested in you?”

“I…no. God, why would he be?”

“Aha. So all this shit you’ve been spouting about rediscovering your self-esteem is bull, then.”

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t think he could want you just for you. You’re so used to being used by the men in your life—present company excepted, of course—that you can’t comprehend how any man could genuinely want you. Can you?”

She held the phone away from her ear and blinked down at it for a long moment. Her brother was right. That rotten, insightful, meddling dick was right, damn him. It hadn’t even occurred to her that Jimmy’s feelings might be genuine. Because she couldn’t see what there was about her that could attract a man like him.

Damn. She hadn’t experienced a miraculous overnight rebirth at all. She’d only been angry and hurt. What if he did want her? What if he really was for real? A decent, caring, sexy, wonderful man who actually gave a damn about her, and she’d just thrown him out of her life and slammed the door in his face?

Well, she shouldn’t be surprised. Her ability to screw up her life was second to none. She should get some kind of freaking award.

Something moved in her peripheral vision, and she glanced up to see the wet lady moving slowly across the back lawn. And that was all she needed right now, just to cap off a glorious day. “Oh, for the love of—I have to go, Pete. Someone’s here.”

“Give what I said some thought, hon. I know this guy. He’s decent, I swear it. Practically asked my permission to pursue a relationship with you, and I think he really cared about my answer.”

“Uh-huh.” She was distracted now. The wet lady was standing by the pool, pointing at something. “Say, where is Jimmy right now, anyway?”

“He went out. He was sulking, and I think he wanted to be alone.”

“Yeah. Okay. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Peter.”

“You call if you have any more trouble, sis. I don’t like you being there alone.”

“Don’t worry. I will.” She hung up the phone without taking her eyes from the woman, then walked to the patio doors and slid them open, flipped on the outdoor light, and stepped out onto the concrete.

The woman stared at her, wet hair in her face, eyes pathetic and huge.

“Hey, listen up. You can quit with this, okay? I’m not afraid of you.”

She stood there, didn’t move, just stood there, pointing at the water and waiting, God only knew for what.

“You’re gonna regret it if you make me come over there.” But there was no response, so Caroline stepped out, barefoot, into the wet grass and strode purposefully across the back lawn toward the pool. “You know, you could get arrested for this. Is he really worth it? I’ve just recently figured out how dumb and pathetic you have to be to let a man use you. And that’s just what you’re doing.”

The woman didn’t move. Caroline was closer now, maybe five feet from her. And she saw there really wasn’t much to be afraid of. She was small, maybe five feet tall, and barely over a hundred pounds, if that. She was pale, and the hollow cheeks and dark circles under her eyes said she wasn’t in very good health. Though she certainly didn’t look old enough to have been coming around for thirteen years.

Then again, she hadn’t been. Jimmy probably made up the stuff about her appearing to him as a child and then used whatever girl was currently infatuated with him to play the part over the years in between. Unless…

The girl lifted her hand, pointing again toward the pool.

“What the hell are you pointing at?” Caroline demanded. In about five more seconds, she was going to deck the scrawny wet chick and prove she was no ghost once and for all.

The girl jabbed her finger again toward the pool. Long, torn tendrils of lavender and pink trailed from the draping sleeve of her dripping-wet dress as Caroline’s gaze moved down it to her long, slender, almost bony finger, and then on to the water.

There was nothing in the pool. But then she caught it, a reflection in the water of a vehicle parked on the road that ran past her house.

She snapped her head up and turned to look toward the street, and sure enough, there was someone parked there, about a hundred yards down from her house. She could just barely make it out, shaded as it was by trees and ensconced in total darkness. But it was dark-colored, and she thought it was a pickup.

“Brian,” she muttered. She turned back to the woman, but there was no one there. Dammit, she’d wanted to grab the bitch by the arm and drag her into the house to hold her while she called the police. Well, hell.

“Wherever you are, you need to stop coming around here, okay?” She pursed her lips. “But thanks for the tip. Tell Jimmy a phone call would have done just as well.” She glanced at the surface of the water again, wondering how the hell it managed to reflect the pickup on the road at that angle. But now it reflected only the stars overhead.

Well, that was odd. Maybe a cloud had passed over, changing the reflection, or maybe—

“Hi, Caroline.”

She spun around to see Brian standing there, way too close for comfort. Shit. “What are you doing here, Brian?”

He shrugged. “Who were you talking to?”

“Some chick who keeps showing up unannounced.”

“Yeah? And who’s Jimmy?”

“A friend of my brother’s—and none of your business, by the way. Why are you parked clear down the road? What are you, turning into some kind of stalker?”

He reached out and gripped her upper arm so fast she never saw it coming. “I’m not gonna let you dump me for some other guy, Caroline. So you can forget about it.”

“I didn’t dump you for some other guy, I dumped you for me. And you’re hurting me, Bri. Let go of me right now.”

He only squeezed harder and jerked her up against him. “You’re mine, you got that?”

“Let me go, Brian.” She braced her hands on his chest and shoved, but he didn’t budge.

“No way in hell.” He mashed his mouth down on hers, and she tasted beer on his breath and twisted her head away in revulsion.

God, what had she ever seen in this idiot? “Get the hell off me!” She was starting to get scared, and when he grabbed her ass and thrust against her, she knew she was in trouble. She lifted a hand and raked her nails down the side of his face.

He drew back fast, pressing his palm to his cheek and blinking at her in shock and rage, and then he hit her, the back of his hand right across her jaw. Her head snapped back so hard she thought she heard bones snapping, and blobs of light exploded in her head as she hit the ground hard.

And then he was gone, and she didn’t know where the hell he went, until she blinked her eyes clear and saw for herself. Brian stood on the lawn, facing Jimmy Lipton, who must have yanked him away from her. Brian’s nose was bleeding, and his lip was split, and as she looked, Jimmy landed a blow that knocked him flat onto his back.

Jimmy bent over him and grabbed him by the front of his shirt to tug him up a little. “Get up, you son of a bitch!”

“Jimmy, don’t.” Caroline struggled to her feet, but she was still unsteady, dizzy, and her jaw hurt like hell. “Just get him the hell out of here.”

Jimmy let go, and Brian fell back into the grass again. Then he was at her side, his hands on her waist, helping her, supporting her as he scanned her face. “Are you okay? That bastard hit you. Are you—?”

“I’ll be all right.” She swayed a little on her feet, though, and thought maybe this was what they meant by the term punch drunk. She decided that she far preferred the regular kind of intoxication.

Jimmy scooped her up and carried her across the lawn, through the open patio doors, and into the kitchen, where he lowered her onto a chair. He grabbed the phone, punched in three numbers—911, no doubt—then cradled it between his ear and shoulder as he reached for a dishtowel and filled it with ice. He came to where she sat, knelt in front of her, and gently held the ice-filled towel to her jaw as he told the operator he was calling to report an assault and gave the address.

She heard a vehicle, tires squealing, engine roaring, and turned to look out at the lawn where Brian had been prone only seconds ago. But he was gone.

He’d been angry, furious, jealous. Now he was humiliated to boot and, she thought, maybe even more dangerous than he had been before.

B y the time the police took her report and left, there was a big purple bruise forming on Caroline’s jaw, and her neck felt stiff every time she moved her head. Jimmy was still hovering, and she couldn’t quite bring herself to throw him out.

He came in from the kitchen, carrying two mugs, and handed her one of them. “Tea,” he said. “Chamomile. The box says it’s supposed to help you sleep.”

“I think it’s going to take something considerably stronger.”

He sat down on the sofa beside her, and she glanced into his cup. “Coffee?” she asked.

“Yeah. I want to stay awake, just in case.”

“Ever the protector.”

“I’m trying to be.”

She pursed her lips, sipped her tea.

“You never told the cops what you were doing out on the back lawn in the middle of the night,” he said.

“No, I didn’t.”

“You want to tell me?”

She set the cup down on the coffee table with a clunk and a slosh of hot liquid. “Why would I tell you something you already know?”

“How would I know, Caroline?”

“Come on, Jim. Cut the baloney. I had another visit from your girlfriend tonight. What was the plan? She scares the hell out of me, and then you show up just in time to offer comfort? Soothe the poor, frightened female’s shattered nerves? And then what? I’m so grateful I give you the house?”

He just sat there staring at her, and he looked hurt. “You really think this is all some kind of a trick I’m playing on you? Caroline, that woman you keep seeing is the same one I saw when I was a kid. I never told anyone about that. No one. Not until you.”

“No? Not even the previous owners? Or the ones before them, or—”

“No one.”

She bit her lip and fought with the gut urge to believe him. It would be too damn easy. But God, she’d never wanted to believe anyone more. “My real-estate agent said you’ve been trying to get this place back for years, at considerably less than the market value. She said this wet lady thing was just a prank you use to scare people away from here, get them to sell.”

He nodded slowly. “So, instead of just asking me about it, you decided to believe it.”

He had her there. It was absolutely true. She drew a breath and decided at least one of them had to be honest here. And as was usual, at least in her experience, it would have to be her. “Men have been lying to me for so long that asking for the truth doesn’t seem like a very viable option anymore.”

“Not me, Caroline. I’m not lying to you. I’m not going to. It’s true that every time this house comes on the market, I try to buy it. I actually had enough to offer the full asking price this time, but when I found out you were the other person trying to buy it, I withdrew my offer.”

To say the statement shocked her would have been like calling the Mount Saint Helens eruption a hiccup. “You withdrew your offer?”

He nodded. “You can check that with the real-estate agent, if you want. It’s on the record.”

She stared at him, searching his eyes. “Why did you do that?”

“Because getting this place back was important to me, but the chance to get you back into my life meant a hell of a lot more. Do you have any idea how long I’ve—scratch that. It’s too soon. Damn, I only wanted the place so I could figure out, after all this time, what the woman is, what she wants, why she keeps coming back here.”

“Really?”

He averted his eyes, and she felt it right to her gut. He was hiding something.

There was more to this than what he’d said. It was the first thing he’d said to her that felt like a lie.

“It’s been driving me crazy for a long time, and I figure the only way to get past it is to solve the mystery. Find the answers. Put it to rest, maybe put her to rest, somehow.”

She searched his eyes, tried to find the truth behind the shadows, but they revealed nothing. “This is a lot to swallow, you realize that.”

“Yeah. I do. And I’m sorry I didn’t warn you about her before you bought the place. I just didn’t want your first impression of me after all this time to be that I was certifiably insane.” He smiled, but it faded, and he lowered his head. “I guess I should have been more worried you’d think I was a liar and a con artist.”

She gnawed her lower lip. His eyes locked in on it for a moment, but then he lowered his head. “Why don’t you sleep on it? Check out my story tomorrow, the parts you can verify, at least. And maybe, if you want, we can talk again after.”

Drawing a breath, she reclaimed the cup and took a long, warm drink. When she set it down again, it was half empty. “If you’re telling the truth, then…I owe you an apology. A big one.”

“I can wait. Been waiting a long time…for you.”

“That’s even harder for me to swallow than your ghost stories.”

“Yeah, well, we’ll work on that next. Go on, get some sleep. Brian isn’t going to get within a mile of you tonight. I promise.”

She nodded, finished her tea, and went to the stairs, then paused and looked back at him. “Thanks for staying tonight.”

“Thanks for letting me.”

Caroline was frowning when she reached her bedroom. She sank into the chair in front of her dressing table and stared hard at her reflection. He hadn’t hit on her. Hadn’t touched her. He’d beaten the hell out of Brian for her, even though Brian outweighed him by fifty pounds and maybe could have done him some damage, had he been sober. He didn’t even hesitate jumping on the big jerk. He took her accusations without getting angry, and then, to top it all off, he stayed in spite of them.

She looked into her own eyes. “You know what they say,” she whispered. “If it sounds too good to be true, it probably is.” Then she lowered her head. “Unless it isn’t. What if it isn’t? What if he’s really as great as he seems?”

She was almost afraid to entertain the possibility, because if she did, if she let herself believe it and he turned out to be just like all the rest—damn, she didn’t want to be hurt again. She didn’t want to go through the heartbreak, not again.

“But what if I miss out on something wonderful, just because I’m afraid?” she asked her reflection. She closed her eyes, lowered her head. “Maybe he’s worth the risk.”

 

Jim had to leave in the morning—duty called. He had to keep his PI business running by working the paying cases. She had to leave, too. She’d gotten away with working at home the day before, but a person had to show up now and again if she wanted to collect a paycheck.

Jimmy followed her to the bank and watched as she went inside, just to be sure she was safe before he left her there. He’d programmed his cell number into her phone, so she could call if she needed him, and he promised to keep it turned on all day.

He was either very special and very concerned or the best actor since Dustin Hoffman. She wished she knew for sure which was true.

By lunch hour, she’d confirmed his story with her real-estate agent and bitched at the woman for not telling her the whole story in the first place. He really had offered the full asking price for the house this time, and he really had withdrawn the offer when he learned who else was trying to buy it.

How could the woman have left out important details like those?

She also got the names of the previous owners and contacted them. They confirmed that not only had they never been told any story about a ghost, but they’d never even heard of Jimmy Lipton. One admitted to having “seen something” but refused to elaborate. Some of the others swore they’d never seen anything unusual and had moved for different reasons. Though the nervousness in their voices when she asked about the wet lady gave away the truth. They’d seen her, too.

At noon, Jimmy showed up at her office door, which she’d left open. “Free for lunch?” he asked.

She was, though she almost felt guilty for taking a break at all, when the only work she’d done all morning had been her own personal snooping. She’d delegated everything else, shuffled appointments, and basically spent the day trying to find a reason not to believe the dream man standing in her doorway was for real.

She hadn’t found one. Not one. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or terrified.

“Sure, why not?” She reached for the mouse to shut down her computer but froze with her hand on it, blinking at the screen.

“What is it?” Jimmy came into the office, around the desk, and leaned over her to look at the screen, where a photograph had just finished loading, a photograph that bore a striking resemblance to the wet lady.

“I was looking up former owners of the property, clicking on names for related links. I got nothing new, so I broadened the search to items pertaining to Mulberry Street. And this came up.”

She read the caption beneath the photo aloud. “Police still have no clues in case of missing girl.” Caroline lifted her gaze to meet Jimmy’s. “It’s her, isn’t it?”

He nodded, then covered her hand on the mouse with his own, its warmth taking away a bit of the chill that had suffused her body. He moved the mouse, pressed her forefinger to click on the “full story” link in the local paper’s archives. And there they read the tragic story of nineteen-year-old Natalie Bruscheau, who had vanished from her own home in the dead of night with her parents sleeping downstairs and had apparently never been heard from again.

“It happened before my family moved here,” Jimmy said. “How the hell is it I never heard about this?”

But there was something off about his voice. Something unsteady, insincere. Or maybe that was her skepticism about men in general rearing its head again.

She told herself to give him the benefit of the doubt for once. “Maybe you did and just didn’t make the connection. Or maybe your family kept it from you. I mean, you were a kid. They probably didn’t want to scare you.”

“But if I’d known—”

“What if you had? What could you have done? Jimmy, whatever happened to her, it had already happened. There’s no undoing it.”

He nodded, but there was a deep shadow in his eyes.

Time to change the subject. “You’re a PI, right?”

“Yeah. So?”

“You have friends in the police department. All PI’s do, don’t they?”

“It helps.”

“Call whoever it is you know there. See if they ever found anything further—had any suspects or clues or anything.”

“I don’t know that that’s going to help, Caroline.”

“Please?” She frowned, studying him, wondering why he would hesitate.

“Are you planning to try to solve this thing on your own?” he asked.

“Not if you’ll agree to help me.” She shifted her eyes back to the photo. It looked like a high school senior portrait, black and white. Natalie had been a pretty girl with too much mascara, long dark hair, and an innocent smile. Caroline thought of the way she’d looked when she’d shown up on the back lawn. That innocence, long gone, replaced in her eyes with a look of need, of longing, and of utter despair. Licking her lips, she looked at Jimmy again. Deep down, she felt that if she started trying to solve this thing, that would mean she believed it, and that would mean she believed him. And how was she supposed to keep a healthy skepticism in place if she started believing in him? If she believed this, then she’d end up believing everything else, and that might very well lead to heartache.

Then again, she was looking at the face of the girl she’d seen, or a damn similar one. Which didn’t mean he couldn’t have found this story on his own and made sure the girl he sent to haunt her house bore a strong resemblance. Still, she felt compelled, and she always trusted her gut.

Her cell phone rang before she got any further in justifying her plans. She answered without looking to see who was calling first, because it saved her from having to think any more about his motives or the reasons for his hesitation.

“Hi. It’s Shawn.”

She closed her eyes. Great. All she needed today was to hear from her ex. Hell, maybe fire and brimstone would rain from the sky next. It would fit right in. “Look, I don’t have time to talk to you today, Shawn. Not unless you’re calling to tell me my money is on the way.”

“I didn’t know you’d stoop this low, Caroline. But you can tell your boyfriend to lay off. The check is in your mailbox.”

“My what? What are you talking about?”

“Look, if you’re tough enough to play hardball, you ought to be tough enough to own up to it. You got your way, okay? I didn’t even waste time to mail it. And it’s all there. Half the equity in the house, half the value of the business at the time of our divorce. All of it. I don’t want to hear from you—or him—or your brother, either, ever again.”

“Him who? Who the hell are you talking about?”

“Good-bye, Caroline.”

He hung up without another word, and she was left standing there blinking in confusion—but only for a moment. A second later, she realized what this meant, and she felt a slow smile spreading over her face and a huge weight lifting from her shoulders. “I’m saved,” she whispered.

“Come again?”

“I can pay for the house. I don’t know what the hell happened, but Shawn says he’s paying me, in full. All of it. Today.”

“That’s great news. Congratulations.”

She frowned at him. “He kept saying something about my new boyfriend. You didn’t…you didn’t do anything to him, did you?”

“I didn’t know you considered me your new boyfriend. Now, this is progress.”

“Jimmy, I’m serious.”

“I didn’t touch him. I swear.”

She searched his face, thought that wasn’t a real answer, at least not a whole one, and decided to find out on her own. Because if he was responsible for this—and she had a feeling he was, somehow—well, hell, she owed him.

“You gonna help me dig into this case or not?” she asked.

He met her eyes and nodded. “Yeah, I’ll help you, Caroline.”

He sounded as if he thought it was a bad idea but seemed to be trying to hide that.

“We need to swing by my place first and grab that check out of the mailbox before Shawn changes his mind and goes over there to take it back. And we need to deposit it. Then we can go see your friend the cop.”

“How long is your lunch hour, anyway?” he asked.

“Long enough. I just decided to take the rest of the day off.”

She grabbed her purse and headed for the door. He stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. “One thing first.”

Caroline turned, and he tugged a small, flat box out of his pocket and handed it to her. “I picked this up for you on my way to work this morning.”

Frowning, she took it and removed the cover. A bracelet made of alternating clear and black beads glittered up at her.

“It’s quartz and onyx,” he said. “It’s supposed to be protective.”

“Against ghosts?” She took the delicate piece from the box, fingering the cool stones and going soft inside, in spite of herself.

“I don’t think our ghost is much of a threat. I was thinking more about Brian.” He took the bracelet from her hands and slid it over her wrist, his fingers caressing her skin as he did. She barely suppressed a shiver and knew without a doubt that she still wanted him. Maybe more than ever.

“Caroline, I checked with the cops this morning. When they went to pick him up last night, he wasn’t home. They haven’t been able to locate him.”

Her shiver changed in the blink of an eye, from one of desire to one of fear. She stared at the bracelet that surrounded her wrist, at Jimmy’s hands, still there, touching her skin, and then slowly lifted her gaze to his.

“He’s going to come after me, isn’t he?”

“He might try. But he’s not going to get to you. I’m not going to let that happen, Caroline. You have my word on that.”

And suddenly, more than anything else in the world, she wanted to believe him. Please, God, she thought silently, let Jimmy Lipton be for real.

T hey spent the rest of the afternoon at the police department and the library, poring over everything they could find on the case of the missing nineteen-year-old. Jimmy did the searching and printing up of documents and news stories, then divided them into two piles, one for her and one for him. But they didn’t find a hell of a lot more than they already knew. Girl disappears from her own bedroom in the dead of night, no clues, never heard from again. Case still unsolved.

It told Caroline nothing, least of all whether her ghost was for real or a fabrication of her young lover.

He was attentive as hell all afternoon—opening doors, doing all the driving, constantly aware of her every expression and mood. He was too damn good to be true. That was what worried her.

In fact, it wouldn’t stop worrying her. And maybe that was because she still got the feeling he was hiding something from her. Something big.

“You okay?” he asked, once again noting her pensive look as he drove them back to the house that night.

“Yeah. I’m okay. Just deep in thought.”

“Anything you want to share?”

She shrugged.

“No pressure. Just do one thing for me?”

“If I can.”

He reached across the space between them and trailed a fingertip down her cheek. She shivered right to her toes, and her eyes fell closed in spite of herself. God, she wanted him.

“All this stress and tension. Let it go if you can, just for tonight.”

“I’d like to do that. Just…it’s not going to be easy.”

“I can help,” he said. And his fingers curled around the nape of her neck, stroking her there until she almost groaned aloud. Her body heated, softened, and she thought maybe she could let go of everything tonight. Everything except him.

“I guarantee you’ll feel better after a solid meal,” he said.

“Oh?” she breathed. “Are we going out again?”

“Not this time. I’m cooking.”

“You sure are.” She opened her eyes and met his. She smiled, and he smiled back. And damn if she didn’t find herself falling a little harder than before. He was good.

They stopped at a grocery store on the way home to buy everything he needed; then he insisted she soak in a hot bath while he worked his magic in the kitchen. He even ran the water for her. By the time she got out of the tub, the entire house was filled with scents that made her stomach growl. She didn’t even bother getting dressed, just tugged on an oversize terry robe, cinched it closed, and headed down the stairs, barefoot, her hair still straggly and wet.

She stepped into the kitchen, eyes closed, inhaling the aromas. “God, what did you make?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, she felt his eyes on her and opened hers to find him staring at her as if she were wearing a sexy teddy instead of a baggy robe. His gaze heated, and he licked his lips.

“It smells really good.” Her words came out a little breathy. It was something, the way he could get to her with just a look.

He moved closer, bent his head toward her neck, and inhaled deeply. “Mmm. So do you.”

“I do?” Stupid reply, but she didn’t know what to say.

His breath fanned her neck, and she wanted to purr. Before she could tell herself not to respond, she was tipping her head back and closing her eyes. He answered that unspoken invitation by bending just a breath closer, until his lips touched her skin, and then he kissed a teasing path over her neck, from just at the shoulder all the way up to underneath her ear. Her knees went so weak she had to clutch his shoulders to keep from falling down.

He lifted his head, his eyes dancing from hers to her lips, where they lingered. “I don’t want to push…but if you don’t shove me away in the next second or two…”

She tightened her hands on his shoulders, pulled him just a little closer. He groaned, and then he was kissing her, and she found herself kissing him back. Her heart jumped to life and started hammering in her chest. Her breath came faster, just from a kiss. She opened wider to him, and he seemed to catch fire. His arms tightened around her, one hand burying itself in her hair while the other kneaded her backside and arched her tighter to him. She strained to get closer, twisting her arms around his neck to pull her body tighter to his, and even then she couldn’t get close enough.

He twisted slightly, never breaking his kiss as he scooped her up into his arms and strode toward the stairs. He didn’t stop kissing her, not all the way to the top, and then he did, just long enough to lower her onto the bed, tug loose the robe’s sash, and push it open. His gaze moved over her body, and she felt so exposed she wanted to yank the robe closed again, but then he said something that stopped her. He said, “You’re more incredible than I imagined, Caroline. And believe me, I imagined you a lot. My God, you’re beautiful.”

She just stared at him, taking in the words, and the sincerity behind them.

“What, you don’t believe me?”

“I…no one’s ever said that to me before. No man, I mean. Not…you know, like this.”

He looked into her eyes, and his own showed surprise. “Any man worth a damn would tell you that a hundred times a day, Caroline. And keep telling you until you stopped doubting it, and then keep telling you anyway.” As he spoke, he stretched out on the bed beside her, and his hand trailed heat from her chin, down the center of her chest, and over her belly, then slid lower, his touch light, teasing, maddening.

She closed her eyes, her legs parting involuntarily, and that simple movement seemed to give him a jump start. His touch deepened, penetrated her, and his mouth closed on one nipple without warning, sending a jolt of pleasure through her that almost made her cry out loud. He sucked and tugged and probed her. She moaned his name and moved against his hand, clutching his head.

And then she pulled back, just a little, staring into his eyes, panting, and whispered, “Make love to me. Now.”

He nodded, the movements jerky and rushed. She reached for his shirt, peeling it off over his head, and he struggled out of his jeans and shorts without getting all the way up, then rolled toward her again and picked up right where he’d left off. By the time he got on top of her, she was panting with need, and when he gripped her ankles and propped them up on his shoulders, she was damn near out of her mind. He slid inside her, and she saw stars.

It was fast, and it was furious. Not gentle, not slow. She didn’t want it gentle and slow, and neither did he. It wouldn’t last long, she thought, but God, she was already so close it didn’t matter. He drove into her, deep and hard, and she arched to receive him over and over, and then she was falling into screaming ecstasy, her entire body trembling with release. He eased back, let her come down slowly, stroked her, and made it even hotter. And then, just when she was coming back to earth and expecting him to collapse beside her, he was rolling onto his back, pulling her with him, so she wound up on top of him. He clutched her ass in his grip and thrust up into her, pulling her down to take every inch, slowly at first, but then building the fire, increasing the pace, sending her on that incredible journey to the peak all over again. Within minutes, she was so into it she’d lost every inhibition she ever had and was bouncing up and down on him, hands braced on his shoulders, head tipped back, eyes closed. God, she was almost there, almost…

And then she was, and she exploded even harder than before. This time, he drove into her all the way through it, over and over, making it go on and on, and he was there with her, spilling into her.

As the sensations ebbed, Caroline lowered herself onto his chest, still holding him inside her, sweaty skin against sweaty skin. He wrapped her in his arms and held her there, one hand lazily stroking a path up and down her spine, kissing her head every once in a while. He whispered, “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting to make love to you? These past few days have been—God, they’ve been a fantasy come true for me.”

“I hope it’s been worth the wait,” she whispered.

“It has for me. You’re amazing.”

She smiled, because it was yet another first. No man had ever told her she was good in bed. But then again, she didn’t remember ever being this good, this enthusiastic, this uninhibited, this turned on.

She slid off him, curling up beside him. And while they lay there snuggling like a couple madly in love with each other, her stomach made a rude growling sound, and Jimmy laughed beneath her head on his chest. “I’m sorry. I intended to feed you first, seduce you later.”

She lifted her head and kissed his face. “No reason you can’t still do that.”

His smile was slow and full of promises she had every reason to believe he would keep. He kissed her to seal the deal, and they got out of bed. She paused with her robe in her hand. “Hell, I’ve got all these sexy little numbers from Vicki’s Secret in my room. Why am wearing this old thing?”

“You were sexy in that old thing. But if you want to model one of those sexy little numbers for me after dinner, I’m not gonna object.”

She smiled slowly and felt deliciously sexy, desirable, wanted. Totally wanted. By a guy so hot it was damn near sinful. This night was just full of firsts.

 

“What’s all this?” she asked later, when she joined him in the kitchen. She’d washed up and put on one of the naughty nighties her sister-in-law had bought her. It was a black corset with matching thong panties and a black satin robe that came to mid-thigh. She wore the robe over the nightie, just to make him wonder what was underneath through the entire meal. And she’d put on high heels, black strappy ones, to complete the torture.

He looked her up and down, closed his eyes as if in some kind of exquisite pain, cleared his throat. “Chicken roasted with rosemary, baby potatoes, glazed carrots, and the best gravy you ever tasted.”

“I haven’t tasted it.”

He came closer, until he was standing right in front of her with a spoon. She tasted, and she groaned. “Okay, I admit it. Best I’ve ever tasted.”

“Good. I hope you plan to eat fast, because, uh—” He let his gaze move down to her toes and said, “Because damn.”

“Nothing to worry about there,” she told him. “I’m starved.” She sat at the little tiled kitchen table, which he’d already set, and he took her plate, filled it way too full, and brought it back to her. Then he did the same with his own and sat down across from her. Caroline dug in without another word.

She didn’t stop until she was too full to eat another bite. “That was pure heaven. I didn’t know you could cook.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” He reached across the table to lay a hand over hers.

She looked at him, and her stomach tightened, not from hunger this time. Whatever she believed or didn’t believe about him, he got to her. He got to her on a purely primal level where no one else had ever been able to touch her. She didn’t think it was wise or practical or even entirely sane. But there it was.

And she wasn’t ready for it.

She took her hand away as she rose from the table, picking up her plate on the way. “You cooked, so I’ll clean up. It’s your turn to relax for a while.”

“If you insist,” he said. “I’ll take a quick shower. Maybe try some of that cologne I just bought that’s supposed to drive women wild.”

“You do that just fine all by yourself, mister.”

He smiled, stroked her cheek with a fingertip, brushed her lips with his, and left her alone in the kitchen.

It didn’t take long to clean up. Apparently, he’d been doing it as he went along while cooking, so there wasn’t much. She put away the leftovers, loaded the dishwasher, wiped off the table, and that was all that was needed. She decided to busy herself reviewing what they’d learned today. The two of them had printed up, photocopied, and pored over countless documents, Jimmy taking half and Caroline the other half, filling each other in on what they found.

Since she’d read her half carefully, she reached for the folder that held his and sat down at the table with a cup of freshly brewed coffee.

A few minutes later, she stopped dead, a chill rushing down her spine, when she got to an article that he hadn’t mentioned. The headline read, “Twelve-year-old questioned in the disappearance of his babysitter.”

She quickly looked up the stairs. The shower was still running.

Then she read the article. The missing girl had been the Lipton’s next-door neighbor and favorite babysitter. This had been six months before Caroline’s own family had come to town and she’d taken over poor Natalie’s former job.

She blinked, stunned to her core. He’d lied to her. He’d said the girl’s disappearance had happened before his family even lived in this house.

He’d lied.

And she couldn’t think of too many reasons he would. But the ones she could think of scared the hell out of her.

He would be back down soon, Caroline thought. And she needed time, space, and more information. She couldn’t think straight when he was near her. She got up and ran to the living room, took her keys off the hook near the door.

“Hey. Where you going, babe?”

She stopped by the door and turned to look at him. He stood on the stairs, a towel anchored around his hips, looking so damn good he made her mouth water.

Too good to be true?

She’d hoped to erase her suspicion from her face and found that her body’s need for his touch did that for her. Heat. God, she wanted him. She was sick.

“I don’t remember if I locked the car. Just making sure.” That said, she pointed the key ring’s remote toward the driveway and thumbed the lock button. The car honked an affirmation, and she replaced the key ring on its hook. “There.”

“There.” He came the rest of the way down the stairs, and she turned and walked toward him, leaving the door, and logic, behind. She couldn’t act any differently right now. Not now. She would have time to do more digging. She didn’t need to jump to any conclusions. She needed to be practical and sensible, take her time, get all the facts.

Who was she kidding? She was terrified. He’d apparently been suspected of murdering his babysitter. And now he was having sex with her replacement, a woman he claimed to have been obsessed with for years. This was not healthy, and it was not safe.

He stopped, standing close to her but not touching. “You ready to show me what you’re wearing underneath that robe?”

She smiled, but it was shaky. She was nervous. What was he hiding from her? Why had he lied? Could a twelve-year-old murder his babysitter and hide it for thirteen years?

He stopped her thought processes by reaching out and tugging on the satin sash that held the robe together, until the knot slid free, and the robe fell open.

“Lord have mercy,” he whispered. His hands slipped beneath the robe at her neck and pushed it gently, until it slid down her arms and pooled around her feet. He just stood there, looking at her, drinking her in, not saying a damn thing.

“You’re awfully quiet,” she whispered.

His gaze rose to meet hers. “I’m not sure I can form a coherent sentence.”

“I guess I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You’re a goddess, Caroline. I should be on my knees.”

“I’m not. And you’re pouring it on a little thick, Jimmy. I know you’ve seen better-looking women than me. Younger, firmer—”

“Shut up, Caroline.” He snapped his arms around her and kissed her into obedience, and she couldn’t help but respond. God, he was only a kid all those years ago. Maybe he just made a mistake about the year his family had moved here. Maybe he really hadn’t heard about his murdered babysitter.

Right. None of that was very likely, was it? Even then, he had to have seen the printout. And yet he hadn’t told her.

His tongue swept into her mouth and drove every rational thought from her mind, and then he was kissing his way over her chin, her throat, to her chest, where he sucked and tugged on her breasts right through the fabric of the corset. And then to her belly, dropping down to his knees along the way. And then lower. Her pressed his mouth to her panties, kissing her there, blowing hot breath through the satin as his lips made it wet. She had to clutch his shoulders from the power of that sensation.

Then he was pushing the panties down, lifting her feet so she stepped out of them, and returning his mouth to her center, to kiss her there again as she shivered from her head to her toes. But that was nothing compared to when he pressed his thumbs to either side of her, pulled her secret lips apart, and kissed her again, his mouth touching the most sensitive hidden parts of her.

She could barely breathe, barely stand.

He used his tongue, snaking it over her, slowly at first, tasting her, taking his time. It was sheer, excruciating torture. But then he licked faster, hitting all the right places, over and over, as she began to pant and moan. Her knees went weak, but he knew it, felt it. He wrapped one arm around her hips to support her and continued plundering her with his mouth, parting her with his fingers, lapping deep and slow, then fast and ruthless. She felt devoured, possessed by him, worshipped, and on fire. Engulfed in sensation that was too much to bear.

And then she was there, right on the brink, at the edge of oblivion. Her hands closed on his head, and she strained, reached, felt with every cell in her body. It was as if he sensed everything she felt, because he caught her clitoris in his lips and sucked it hard, teeth scraping the throbbing nub as he worked it. She screamed when she came. Screamed and clutched his head and shoulders, convulsed deep inside. Then she was pushing his head away, because she couldn’t take any more. But he kept licking, kept taking, even then, until she fell to the floor and away from him, quivering and shaking, close to tears as she curled onto one side.

He joined her there, moving her body into the position he wanted. She didn’t resist, just lay there like a doll, too awash in sensations to do anything at all. He pressed her onto her back, parted her thighs, and lay on top of her.

God, he couldn’t. Not now, not yet, not until the spasms eased.

“Baby, I can’t—”

“Yeah, you can. Trust me.” And then he drove himself into her, to the hilt, all the way.

He filled her, and the orgasm that gripped her seemed to reset and start over. He thrust deep, as deep as he could, no slow build this time. Harder and faster than he had before, he took her, and in the space of a few heartbeats, she was coming again, and he was, too.

This time, he held her as she came back down, held her while the trembling eased. And she felt warm, safe in his arms. She felt cared for, cherished. But eventually, her heartbeat slowed, and blood started making its way to her brain again. She had to do some digging. She had to know the truth. And she had to get away from him. Soon.

“Why don’t we go on upstairs to bed?” she suggested.

“Just as long as you don’t think we’re finished.” He nuzzled her neck, and she laughed a nervous, tight little laugh.

“I can handle it if you can.” Bold words from a woman who had experienced more climaxes in the past few days than she usually did in a six-month stretch.

But she could, and she did. She handled it until he was exhausted and snoring softly on the pillow beside her. And then she slid out of bed and tiptoed out of the room, closing the door softly behind her. She headed down the stairs and retrieved the notes she’d been reading, scanning them until she found what she was looking for: the name of the detective who’d been in charge of the case of the missing girl.

She took the cordless phone and stepped out through the patio doors onto the deck in back. As she dialed directory assistance, she prayed the cop was still in the area.

He was. Or at least, a man by the same name was. She dialed the number, looking around nervously as she did. No sign of the wet lady. And no sign of the phenomenal lover she’d left asleep upstairs. She was feeling tense, despite the tingling satisfaction that suffused her body. This was mental tension, and all the great sex in the world wasn’t going to ease it until she knew for sure what he was hiding from her and why.

The man answered the phone in a sleepy voice.

“Detective Monroe?”

“Used to be. Who the hell is this? Do you know what time it is?”

“I’m very sorry to bother you at this hour, Detective, but it’s important. I promise not to keep you long. Do you remember the case of Natalie Bruscheau, the missing nineteen-year-old?”

There was a long pause. Then, “Of course, I remember. I retired without solving that one, and it’s haunted me. What do you know about it?”

“Not a hell of a lot. But I was wondering why it was that the boy she used to babysit for had been questioned.”

“The Lipton kid. Yeah. Well, I’ll tell you, I say to this day that kid knew something. I was a cop for a long time, I know when someone’s lying, and kids are the worst at hiding it. But I didn’t have any evidence. Nothing to back up my gut feeling. Well, almost nothing.”

“Are you saying you think a twelve-year-old kid was involved in a murder?”

“I’m saying that I couldn’t find evidence. Just one big coincidence and some drawings that could have been done after the fact.”

“What coincidence?”

“Kid used to live in Benton, Maine. Same town where another girl went missing, one who lived on the same street. Never nailed down a connection between them, don’t know if she babysat for him or not. His family said not, and hers said she babysat for everyone in the neighborhood but couldn’t say for sure if she’d ever sat for him. I never believed much in coincidence.”

“Did they ever find the other girl, Detective?”

“Never.”

She closed her eyes, lifted her head. “Tell me about the drawings.”

He grunted, hesitated, and finally spoke. “We found them in the kid’s room. Drawings of women, one with a knife in her chest, one with her head smashed in. Graphic. Disgusting. But not proof.”

Caroline lifted her head slowly as her heart turned to a chunk of cold granite. She gazed toward the patio doors. The wet lady stood near the pool, watching her. “Thank you for your time, sir.” She hung up the phone and stared for a long moment at the apparition. “I’m trying, Natalie,” she whispered. “I’m trying, okay?”

The girl didn’t respond in any way, just kept staring with those huge, haunted eyes. Caroline sighed and turned to go back into the house. She put the phone on its charger, then stood still and listened for any sign of movement from upstairs.

There wasn’t any. Quietly, she moved through the house, took her keys from the rack without jingling them, and made her way outside to her car. She got in, closed the door as softly as she could, put the key into the switch, and turned it enough to let her slide into neutral and roll out of the driveway. Only when she was in the road did she start the motor, flip on the headlights, and drive away.

She hadn’t gone very far when she looked up to see a leering grin peering at her from the rearview mirror. She screamed, and he pressed the tip of a blade to her throat, silencing her as fear blocked her airway.

“Keep it on the road, baby. We’ve got things to do.”

She straightened the car and did as he said.

J immy woke to find himself alone in the bed. He rolled over and looked around the room. “Caroline?”

She didn’t reply. He glanced toward the bathroom, but its door was slightly open, its light off. She hadn’t gone in there. “Caroline?”

He flipped on the bedside lamp, flung back the covers, and got up, still naked. He pulled on his shorts and jeans and went through the house, searching. When he got to the kitchen, he saw the files open on the table and rapidly scanned the pages she’d been reading.

Then he closed his eyes and kicked himself. She knew. She knew he’d lied to her about not knowing the missing girl. And if she’d contacted the detective whose name she’d circled on the page, she must know about the other girl as well. And maybe even those damned, morbid drawings the police had found in his room. Dammit.

Movement drew his eyes. He looked up through the patio doors, then sucked in a sharp breath when he saw her there—the ghost, the girl, his former babysitter. Natalie. She stood just beyond the glass, dripping and staring at him. He drew a steadying breath and met the girl’s eyes. “Where is she?”

She said nothing, just lifted a hand and pointed toward the front of the house.

Jim turned his back on her, hurrying through the house to the front, flinging open the front door. But Caroline’s car wasn’t in the driveway. He caught just a brief glimpse of taillights in the distance, wasn’t even certain it was her, but he grabbed his keys and cell phone anyway and jumped into his Jeep to follow.

She shouldn’t be out in the middle of the night alone, not with her maniac ex-boyfriend still running around and probably still furious with her. He cursed himself as he drove. He should have told her the truth. Not just about knowing the missing young women—but about the real reason he’d wanted the house back.

Now she was putting herself at risk, and he had no one to blame but himself. And dammit, he could not live with yet another woman’s blood on his hands.

 

Trembling—as much with anger as with fear—Caroline drove. “Why are you doing this?”

“Like you don’t know.”

“I don’t. I swear, I don’t.”

He glared at her, not answering. “Nice nightie you’re wearing. Where were you going dressed like that in the middle of the night, anyway?”

“None of your fucking business.”

“I don’t even care. Turn here. Take the highway to exit seven, then get off.”

A terrible fear was taking shape in the pit of her stomach. She knew what was off exit seven. She’d been there before—many times—with him. “Where—where are we going?”

He met her eyes in the mirror. “Can’t you guess?”

She didn’t know whether to guess or not. Would it give him ideas he didn’t already have if her guess was wrong?

“Come on, Caroline. Guess.” He pressed the blade’s edge harder against her skin, and she swallowed reflexively even as she drew her head back against the seat as far as she could.

“I can’t drive if I can’t see, you know.”

“Then tell me where we’re going before we crash.”

Crash. Maybe that was the best idea. Just turn the car toward a tree and stomp it. He was still pressing with the blade, though, and she felt something warm trickling from her neck, shocked to realize he’d actually cut her. She was bleeding.

“The lake house?” she asked.

The pressure eased. “Was that so hard?”

She shook her head, reached up, and pulled her seatbelt around her, snapping it, adjusting it. If she could work up the nerve to crash the car, she didn’t want them both flying through the windshield. Just him.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen the place,” she said. Maybe making conversation would help. Or maybe bringing up happy memories would change his mind. “We used to have good times there.”

“We’re going to have one more. Or one of us is, at least.”

She tried to breathe slowly and steadily, but panic was working hard to take hold. Every instinct in her gut, and every word he said, pointed to the same conclusion. He was going to kill her.

“Are you scared, Caroline?”

“Yes.” She searched his face in the rearview mirror and wondered, not for the first time, what she had ever seen in him.

“You should be.”

Her cell phone played the theme from Buffy the Vampire Slayer to let her know she had an incoming call.

“Don’t answer it. Just turn it off,” he ordered.

She nodded jerkily and reached to the center console, where her phone was still playing.

“Don’t even flip it open, Caroline. I’m warning you.”

“I hear you.” She thumbed the button on the side, which didn’t turn the phone off but instead turned off the ringer. Then she held the phone up. “See? All turned off.” She flipped it open as if to show him, knowing the action automatically answered the call, and without hesitation shouted, “Kidnapped! Help me!”

“Bitch!” Before she could say another of the key words she’d wanted to get out, like “my car,” and “knife” and “lake house,” he had yanked the phone out of her hand and snapped it in half. Then he calmly lowered a window and tossed it out.

“You’re going to pay for that, Caroline. You just earned yourself a little more pain than was really going to be necessary.”

There was no emotion in his eyes when he said it. They were like stones, cold and lifeless and deadly serious.

Jim heard her cry for help and then a man’s voice calling her “bitch.” That was all. His entire body went icy cold, and he pressed down harder on the accelerator, even as he hit the buttons to call her brother.

Peter answered, and it didn’t even sound as if Jim had interrupted his sleep. “What is it, Jimmy?”

Hell, Jim thought, it sounded as if he’d been expecting the call. And his tone was tense. “Caroline’s been abducted. I don’t know what happened. She left the house while I was sleeping, and I was driving out to look for her. Just now, I tried her cell, and she picked it up just long enough to say she’d been kidnapped. A man swore at her, and then the call cut off.”

“I knew damn well something was wrong. Woke up a half-hour ago with my goddamn heart in my throat. Have you called the police?”

“No. I called you first.”

“I’ll call them. Head over to that bastard Brian’s. He’s probably not there, but—”

“I’m already on my way. And if he’s not there, I fully intend to sack the place for a clue to where he’s heading. I don’t give a shit if it’s legal or not.”

“I’ll meet you there.”

“No, let’s not double up. We can cover more ground separately.” He was pulling up outside Brian’s apartment building as he spoke. “Besides, by the time you can get here, I’ll be done. Get a photo of her for the cops to circulate.”

“Right. They’ll want to know what she was wearing.”

He closed his eyes, remembering the sexy little bit of nothing and the satiny robe she’d worn over it. “The black one,” he said.

“The black what?”

“Ask your wife. She’ll know.” He hung up the phone, pocketed it, and slammed out of the car and into the apartment building. No buzzer to open the main door. Nothing that fancy. He knew the apartment number because he’d been with Caroline when she’d given Brian’s address to the police after he’d assaulted her. 2-C. So he stomped up to the second floor, getting angrier and more afraid for her with every step. He didn’t knock on the door of 2-C. He pounded on it.

Nothing. He pounded again.

“Jesus, hold on a second,” a groggy voice from the other side muttered.

Nice acting, he thought. He took a step back and kicked the door so hard it sprang open, and the wood splintered. It hit the wall and bounced back, but Jim slammed a palm against it, so it hit the wall again.

Brian stood there with his mouth and eyes wide, spluttering, “What the—how the—who the—” He was unshaven and wearing a dingy white T-shirt and a pair of plaid boxers.

Jimmy strode up to him, gripped him by the shirt, and said, “Where is she?”

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about! Let go of me, you little—”

Jim decked him, uppercut to the chin, so his head snapped back. “I don’t want to hear anything from you except an answer. Where is she? What the hell have you done to her?”

Brian jerked free of his grasp and rubbed his chin. “You talking about Caroline? She’s missing?”

Jim drew back a fist to hit the bastard again, but Brian held up his hands and backed out of reach. “Look, I don’t know where she is. I haven’t seen her. Shit, I’ve been out of town since that night in the backyard. Dodging cops, thanks to you two. I only came home tonight for some clean clothes and something to eat.”

“I don’t believe you.”

He shrugged, palms up. “Search the place.”

He was doing just that even as Brian spoke, moving fast from room to room, checking the closets, under the bed, the fire escape. “My truck’s out back. Search that, too. I’m telling you, I haven’t seen Caroline.”

There was nothing in the apartment, no sign of her. He left the asshole to his own devices and ran back down the stairs, outside, and around to the parking lot in back. The truck was there, but again, no sign of her. And the engine was stone cold. If Brian didn’t have her, then who the hell did?

 

Exit seven loomed ahead. She was deliberately driving slowly, hoping to postpone what she hoped to God wasn’t inevitable. She hadn’t managed to work up the nerve to crash the car just yet. She’d been thinking her chances might be better at the lake house. After all, she knew the place, and there would be room to maneuver, and woods nearby in which she might manage to lose him. She knew her ex-husband well enough to know he didn’t have a gun. Shawn had never owned a gun. Probably wouldn’t know what to do with one. So it was just the knife. A lesser weapon.

But a considerably tougher way to die.

She thinned her lips and told herself to stop imagining that blade, which was big and very sharp, plunging into her chest over and over. Or would he just slide it cleanly across her throat and stand over her while she choked on her own blood?

A shudder worked through her, and she changed her mind, tested her seatbelt, took the exit, and picked up speed on the ramp.

“You remember the way, don’t you?”

“I sure as hell do.” She also remembered the giant maple tree, right on the shore beside the house, just beyond that final hairpin curve in the road. He’d never see it coming. Probably wouldn’t believe she had the nerve to do it. Unfortunately for her ex, she’d become a lot tougher since the divorce. Tougher than even she had realized.

She drove a little faster, turning right off the ramp and then left onto the side road that led to the lake. It wasn’t more than another ten minutes, and she drove it in silent tension, using the visuals of that blade to keep her nerve.

He wasn’t directly behind her now but sitting in the middle of the backseat, leaning forward, the knife in one hand only inches from her neck. She hoped the impact wouldn’t end up making her impale herself on the damn thing.

Okay, there was the hairpin curve. She stomped the pedal.

“Slow down. Don’t forget that last bend in the—slow down, Caroline!”

“Fuck you, Shawn.”

She wrenched the wheel, taking the car halfway around the curve, then straightened it, cutting directly across the lake house’s lawn, bounding up over a tiny knoll with a towering tree waiting on the other side.

There were two things she hadn’t counted on.

First, that the tiny knoll would act like a ramp, so that the car shot off it like a rocket. They were airborne.

And second, that the giant maple tree would be missing. Someone had cut it down.

She had enough time for those two thoughts and only one more. We’re going into the lake!

J immy was heading back to his Jeep when his cell phone rang. He snapped it up fast, nearly dropping it in his haste. “Caroline?”

“It’s Pete, pal. Something just came in over the scanner. A car veered out of control and took a nosedive into the lake.”

His brain scrambled to make the connection even as he dove into the Jeep and started the engine. “You think it was Caroline?”

“The location is right on top of the lake house she and Shawn bought when they were still married. The one he screwed her out of in the divorce.”

“Shawn. Jesus, Shawn’s the one who has her?” Jim shifted gears, heading toward the lake. “Address?”

“Twenty-two Lakeshore Road. Take—”

“I know where it is. Meet you there.” He shifted again, dropped the phone to the seat of the car, and pressed the accelerator to the floor. But the entire time, he was swamped with nightmare images of Caroline, trapped in her car as it sank slowly to the bottom of Camry Lake. And the only thing that chased those images away was the sudden, blinding realization that this was his fault. He was the one who’d kept the truth from Caroline, made her mistrust him enough to run away when she found out. He was the one who’d blackmailed Shawn into paying Caroline what he owed her. He was the one who’d backed the bastard into a corner, even knowing a cornered animal will usually attack. He’d expected Shawn to come after him, not Caroline. Damn, if she didn’t survive this—

No. She would. She had to.

 

Caroline had been wearing her seat belt. Shawn hadn’t. Which probably explained why, after the powerful impact with the surface of the lake, as the car began filling with water and sinking, Shawn was leaning forward, his head on the dashboard. She thought there was blood on his face, but it was too dark to be sure. She hoped so. It would serve the bastard right for cutting her. There were probably bloodstains on her brand-new teddy. And he’d trashed her phone, too. And maybe she’d better quit with the damage inventory and start thinking about how the hell she was going to get out of this alive.

She reached for the power button to lower her window, but the water had already shorted it out. It wouldn’t budge. She tried pushing the door open, but it wouldn’t move at all. There was too much water already pressing against it from the outside. She couldn’t get out, wouldn’t be able to until the car filled with water, which would probably mean sitting there and battling panic while it sank all the way to the bottom. Nothing to it, she thought. I can do this. And I’m only shaking because I’m cold. What kind of a moron takes off in the middle of the night wearing a getup like this, anyway?

She tried to remember how deep the lake was in this spot, but she wasn’t sure she’d ever known that.

Water rose up the side windows, lapped against the windshield. Her heart pounded as she waited. It was coming inside now, leaking from God knew where, chilling her feet and ankles. Damn, it was cold. She released her seatbelt, checked to make sure the door was unlocked. It was.

She glanced at Shawn, but he hadn’t moved. She could probably pull him out with her, once the car filled up. He wouldn’t be heavy in the water. She couldn’t just let him die. Could she?

Maybe he was already dead. Maybe he’d hit his head hard enough…

She listened, heard him breathing. He wasn’t dead. Bastard. Caroline wondered just how wrong it was to feel disappointed instead of relieved. He’d dropped his knife. It actually crossed her mind to find the thing and drive it into his heart.

Turning away from him, she saw nothing but murky water beyond her window now. The hue was slightly lighter above, darker than pitch below. And she couldn’t see very far at all. Just inky black out there.

The water in the car rose higher, creeping up her calves, covering her knees, then her thighs and hips. She was breathing faster than before, trying not to, but this was way scarier than she’d ever imagined when watching those “what to do in an emergency” shows. They made it look so simple. If your car goes in the water, you wait until it fills, open the door and swim merrily to the surface. Of course, those demonstrations were always done in clear blue swimming pools, no more than ten feet deep, with a former Navy SEAL at the helm.

She gasped as the water came in faster, rising up her waist, chilling her right to the bones. When it got to her breasts, she tried opening the car door again. No good. Iciness crept higher, to her collarbone, her neck, her chin. She tipped her head up automatically and, again, tried to push against the door. She thought it gave a little, but it was still so freaking heavy. She pushed, she shoved. The water inched up her face. It covered her mouth now, and she was breathing through her nose, which was pressed up against the ceiling. Even then, the door wouldn’t move.

One last breath, a deep one, and no more. She was submerged, and freezing, and wondering just how long she could hold her breath. She twisted in her seat and pressed her feet against the door, bracing her back against her unconscious ex-husband.

The door opened as if in slow motion. Thank God. She reached behind her to grip him by the front of his shirt and tugged.

He snapped a hand around her wrist and yanked her toward him. She didn’t know what the hell he was doing, trying to keep her there to drown with him or just panicking. She struggled to get free, twisting and pulling, but he wouldn’t let go, not until she drove her foot into his belly with everything in her. And it wasn’t easy to strike with much force in the water. But it was enough. He released her.

She surged out of the car and headed upward, leaving her ungrateful, murderous ex to fend for himself as she should have done in the first place. How far away was the surface? God, how far? Her lungs were screaming, her head pounding, every cell in her body begging for a breath. Just one little breath. She kicked her feet, stroked with her arms, pulled herself upward, higher, and still there was only water. Was it slightly lighter now? Hard to tell with the spots clouding her vision. Dizzy. God, she was going to pass out. Kick faster. Pull harder.

It wasn’t going to work. She wasn’t going to make it. She…

Broke the surface all at once and sucked in huge, greedy gulps of air, damn near hyperventilating on the stuff. She floated there for just a moment, straining her eyes to get her bearings, and then spotted the shore, closer than she had imagined, and began swimming slowly toward it.

Almost there. Her muscles ached with the cold and the struggle. She was freezing and exhausted, but she kept going. And then she heard splashing behind her and turned to look back.

Shawn had made it to the surface and was swimming after her, his pace a whole lot faster than hers. Fear snaked through her body like an electric current, and she swam faster, stroked harder. She didn’t look back again, not until he grabbed her ankle just as she reached shallow water. She kicked free and lunged forward, falling face-first into the water and struggling to her feet again, sloshing through the heavy waves, until she finally left them behind and broke into a dead run on the dry ground. She didn’t have a clue where to go. Not to the house—it would be locked, and there were never working phones there. Her cell was long gone. He’d destroyed it and hurled it from the car. And Shawn was running, too, now. Chasing her. Why wouldn’t he just quit?

She headed for the road, barefoot, nearly numb with cold, and raced down it, debating whether to dodge into the woods and try to hide or keep going, hoping for help to arrive, a car to pass, a house with people inside to come into view.

But she wasn’t fast enough. Shawn caught up, tackling her from behind and bringing her down hard. Her chin hit the pavement, her knees scraped its surface, and he was on her, flipping her onto her back, closing his hands around her throat, and squeezing while his wet hair dripped on her face. And she was right back where she’d been moments earlier, struggling for air and not finding any.

She pounded on him, clawed at his hands on her neck, but it did no good. Blackness began to descend. She thought she saw lights, once, bright through her closed eyelids. She thought she heard tires squealing.

Suddenly, the pressure was gone. She couldn’t move, just lay there, breathing, waiting for her senses to return. She wasn’t even cold anymore.

“Caroline. Caroline, talk to me. Come on. It’s Peter. Talk to me.” Hands on her face, patting her cheeks, shaking her shoulders. “Come on, Caroline.”

She blinked her eyes open. Her brother leaned over her.

“You okay?”

“I don’t know.” It hurt to talk and sounded as if her voice box had been rubbed with sandpaper.

Peter looked up, then jumped to his feet, and Caroline followed him with her eyes as he lunged a few yards away. Jimmy had Shawn on the ground and was pounding the hell out of him.

“Jim, enough!” Peter gripped his shoulders, but Jim kept on punching. “Jesus, you’re gonna kill him. Let up.”

“Damn right I’m gonna kill him. This lowlife son of a—”

“Caroline needs you, Jimmy.”

He paused with his fist drawn back, turned to look toward where she lay, and dropped Shawn, who landed in a heap on the pavement. Then he was on his feet, rushing toward her. He fell to his knees beside her and gathered her up into his arms, holding her close, warming her right through the chill. She heard sirens then but ignored them. She didn’t want to know anything except this, the bliss of being in his arms. She didn’t care about his secrets, or his past, or his lies. Not now. Right now, there was only this, and God, she needed it.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered as he held her. “This is all my fault. All of it.”

“No—”

“Yeah, it is. I pushed Shawn over the edge. I didn’t mean to. I got some dirt on him and used it to force him to pay what he owed you.”

“That wasn’t a bad thing.”

“More than that, I lied to you. Made you afraid of me, or you never would have run off by yourself tonight.”

“I should have trusted you.”

“You can barely talk.” He ran his fingertips over her neck, gently, soothing. “Here are the paramedics. We’re gonna get you to a hospital, okay? Get you checked out. Make sure you’re okay. And then I’m gonna explain everything and beg you to give me another chance.”

She tried to smile. “You don’t have to beg. I barely gave you a chance to begin with. You saved my life tonight, Jimmy.”

“I damn near cost you your life tonight.” He lowered his head, and then the medics were easing him away from her, and the police were taking him aside and talking to him. Men in white covered her in blankets, checked her vitals, and bundled her into a waiting ambulance. She wondered if it was okay to sleep on the way, and then she gave up fighting it.

S he opened her eyes to seek out the source of the warmth surrounding her hand and found it came from another hand, holding hers. Jimmy’s hand. Her gaze slid higher, until she met his eyes, to find them moist and staring into hers.

“The doctors say you’re going to be okay. Thank God.”

She smiled, tried to speak, but it hurt her throat.

“Here, try some water.” He held a glass with a straw to her lips, and she sipped, but it hurt to swallow even more than it hurt to speak. When he took the glass away, he said, “Don’t try to talk, okay? Just listen. I’ve got a lot to say to you.”

She met his eyes again as he set the water aside, and she nodded once.

“I blame myself for all of this. If I’d been honest with you from the beginning, none of it would have happened. But I think I was fighting the truth, all along. Hoping that what I suspected couldn’t be.”

Frowning, she tipped her head to one side.

“I think it was my father, Caroline. I think my father killed that girl in Maine, but he died before I ever worked up the nerve to ask him. I didn’t know, not then. I didn’t even start to suspect until Natalie disappeared, too, and even then, I was so young. It’s been haunting me, though. She’s been haunting me, begging me to tell the police what I thought, so that they could find her, lay her to rest. But I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. That’s why I wanted the house so bad. So I could find out for myself if it was really true.”

She gripped his hand in both of hers, forced words, though they came out hoarse and raspy. “How do you know it is? And how could owning the house prove anything?”

He lowered his head. “We were having a pool built when the first girl went missing, back in Maine. There was just a hole in the ground, no concrete yet. The police checked it and found nothing. I can only assume he hid the body somewhere else until he’d been cleared, then buried her there before the concrete was poured. We moved just a few months later.”

She frowned, still not understanding.

“The pool at my house—your house—it was put in right after Natalie disappeared. It’s just…it can’t be a coincidence. I remember, Mom didn’t even want it, but Dad insisted.” He lowered his head, closed his eyes. “It was right after that, when she started showing up, wet and dripping, trying to tell me where to find her, I think.”

“God,” she whispered. The torment on his face told her just how much he’d agonized over all of this, and for how long. There was no feeling now that he was keeping anything from her. She saw nothing but honesty and pain in his eyes. “But you still don’t know, not for sure.”

He nodded. “I will. And soon. I told the police what I suspected. They’re going to have to rip up the pool, Caroline. In fact, they’re doing it now, and the police in Maine are doing the same. I’ll pay for having a new one put in.”

“I’m not sure I want a new one.” She cleared her throat gently. “It’s a lot, a huge burden you’ve been carrying around with you all this time. I guess I…I guess I understand why you pretended to be interested in me. It must have seemed worth the effort to get to the answers you’ve been seeking for so long.”

His head came up slowly, and he met her eyes. “Baby, I never pretended anything with you. Not with you. I’ll understand if you don’t want anything more to do with me after this. The lies, the deception, the fact that I damn near got you killed. But even if you don’t, I need you to know this was real. Everything we had together, it was real to me. I’m in love with you, Caroline.”

Her heart seemed to melt in her chest, and tears sprang into her eyes. “I’m in love with you, too, Jimmy. No matter what the police find, it won’t change that. I didn’t think I’d ever find a man like you. I’ve been waiting so long. I was afraid to believe you could be for real. But I do, now.”

A sigh rushed from his lips as he gathered her up from her pillows, into his arms, and held her. “You mean that?”

“I do. I really do.”

“I’m gonna make you happy, baby. I swear, I am.”

“You already have,” she whispered, turning her face up and accepting the kiss her heart had been craving, for what felt like forever.

 

They stood hand in hand at the cemetery, a good distance from the spot where the service was taking place. Jim didn’t want Natalie’s family to be further traumatized by seeing the son of her killer at the funeral. His father was long dead. There would be no trial, no punishment, though Caroline liked to think the bastard was getting his just deserts in some other realm. Not only for murdering two innocent young girls but for what he’d put his son through. All these years. It had to have been pure torture. When she thought about the pain in the heart of the little boy who’d drawn those pictures, the nightmares, the haunting, the police suspecting him—it was almost too much to bear.

He had a lot of pain in his past. So did she. But Caroline had the feeling they were healing each other, and they were both going to be okay.

They waited until the service had ended, and all the mourners had gone away, to approach the still-open grave. Jimmy dropped the flowers he’d brought, and they landed atop the casket, which had been lowered into the ground.

They stood there for a moment, silent. And then he whispered, “I’m sorry it took me so long.”

Caroline touched his arm. “Jimmy, look.”

He lifted his head and looked where she pointed. There in the distance, she knew he saw what she did: a young woman, drifting away among the headstones, translucent, filmy, but there. It was Natalie, no longer wet and haunted but beautiful and smiling. As they stared, stunned, she turned to look directly at them and lifted a ghostly hand to wave. And then, in a shimmer, she was gone.

Jimmy turned to meet Caroline’s eyes. No words were needed. They both knew she was at peace, at long last.

And so, Caroline thought, was she.