He lifted his beer to hide his grin. At this rate, he was going to have her exactly where he wanted in five minutes.
Then his mouth dropped open. She banked the ball against the side and sent it at a clean angle into the corner pocket. She didn't so much as smile, never glanced up, but went directly back to work.
A few customers roused themselves to wander over to watch, and to kibitz. They might have been as invisible as her ghosts.
She played systematically, pausing only briefly between shots, with her brows knit and her eyes unfocused, as she circled the table. He forgot the beer that was dangling from his fingers, suffered the elbow nudges and comments from onlookers as she quickly, quietly, and without a hitch, cleaned house.
To add insult to injury, she used one of his own balls, the one he could—and should—have sent home when he was feeling sorry for her, to knock the eight ball into the pocket and trounce him at his own game.
Lips pursed, she straightened, scanned the table. 'Is that it?'
There were hoots of laugher. Several men patted her shoulder and offered to buy her a beer. Shane merely propped his cue on the table.
'Is this how you worked your way through college? Hustling pool?'
Flushed with success now that the work was done, she beamed at him. 'No, I had numerous scholarships, and a generous college fund. I've never played pool before in my life.'
'I'll be damned.' He dipped his hands in his pockets, studying her. 'You ran the table. That wasn't luck, beginner's or otherwise.'
'No, it wasn't. It was science. The game is based on angles and velocity, isn't it?' Delighted with the fresh knowledge, she ran a hand through her hair. 'Want to play again? I could spot you two balls this time.'
He started to swear, but couldn't resist the laugh. 'What the hell! We'll go for two out of three.'
Chapter Seven
So we played pool.' Rebecca was busily adjusting one of her cameras in Shane's kitchen while Regan looked on. 'He's really very good. We ended up closing the place down.'
Regan waited a moment, tugged her ear as if to clear it. 'You played pool—at Duff's.'
'Uh-huh. We were just going to play one game, then it was two out of three, and three out of five, and so forth. It's great fun. But I couldn't let all those men buy me beers. I'd have been flat on my face.'
'Men were buying you beer.'
'Well, they wanted to, but I'm not much of a drinker.' Lips pursed, Rebecca stepped back to check the positioning. 'Shane was awfully good-natured about it all. A lot of people get annoyed when you beat them at their own game.'
'Excuse me.' Regan held up a hand. 'You
'Seven out of ten—I think. Do you know how to work this coffee maker?'
Leave the woman alone for a few days and look what she gets into, Regan thought. 'She can't make coffee, but she can beat Shane at pool. The only person I've ever known to beat Shane is Rafe—and nobody beats Rafe.'
'Bet I could.' Smug, Rebecca flashed a grin. 'I'm a natural. Charlie Dodd said so.'
'Charlie Dodd?' Measuring out coffee, Regan laughed. 'You hung out with Charlie Dodd and the boys at Duff's, playing pool? What in the world were you doing there?'
'Celebrating Miranda's birth. Anyway, since I won the bet, Shane has to help me with my project. He's not terribly happy about it. He has a definite block about anything supernatural.'
Curiouser and curiouser, Regan mused. 'One minor detail.'
'Hmm?'
'What if you'd lost the bet?'
'I'd have necked with him in his truck.'
Regan splashed the water she'd been pouring into the coffee maker all over the counter. 'Good Lord, Rebecca, what has happened to you?'
A smile ghosting around her mouth, Rebecca looked dreamily out the window. 'I might have enjoyed it.'
'I've no doubt you would have.' After blowing out a breath, Regan mopped up the spill and started again. 'Honey, I don't want to interfere in your life, but Shane... He's very smooth with women—and he doesn't tend to take relationships seriously.'
Rebecca caught herself dreaming, and stopped. 'I know. Don't worry about me. I've been sheltered and secluded, but I'm not stupid.' She leaned over to coo at the baby napping in his carrier. 'I think I'm handling Shane very well, all in all. I may have an affair with him.'
'You may have an affair with him,' Regan repeated slowly. 'Am I having some sort of out-of-body experience?''
'I hope you'll give me all the details, if you are.'
Regan rubbed a hand over her face, told herself to be rational. But it was Rebecca, she thought, who was always rational. 'You may have an affair, with Shane. That's Shane MacKade. My brother-in-law.'
'Um-hmm...' Unable to resist, Rebecca skimmed a fingertip over Jason's soft, round cheek. 'I'm still considering it. But he's very attractive, and, I'm sure, very skilled.' The fingertip wasn't enough, so she bent to touch her lips lightly to the same lovely spot. 'If I'm going to have an affair, it should be with someone I like, respect and have some affection for, don't you agree?'
'Well, yes, in the general scheme of things, but...'
Rebecca straightened and grinned. 'And if he's gorgeous and clever in bed, so much the better. A terrific face and body aren't everything, of course, but they are a nice bonus. I'd theorize that the stronger the physical attraction, the better the sex.'
The coffeepot was gurgling away before Regan found the words. 'Rebecca, making love with a man isn't an experiment, or a science project.'
'In a way it is.' Then she laughed and crossed over to take Regan by the shoulders. There seemed to be no way to explain, even to Regan, what it was like to feel this way. Free and able and attractive. 'Stop worrying about me, Mama. I'm all grown up now.'
'Yes, obviously.'
'I want to explore possibilities, Regan. I've done what I was told, what was expected of me, for so long. Forever. I need to do what I want.' With a little sigh, she took a turn around the kitchen. 'That's what this is all about. Why do you think I chose the paranormal as a hobby? A first-year psych student could figure it out. All of my life has been so abnormal, and at the same time so tediously normal. / was abnormal.'
'That's not true.' Regan's voice was sharp and annoyed, and made Rebecca smile.
'You always did stand up for me, even against myself. But it is true. It's not normal for a seven-year-old to do calculus, Regan, or to be able to discuss the political ramifications of the Crimean War with historians, in French. I'm not even sure what normal behavior is for a seven-year-old, except in theory, because I never was one.'
Before Regan could speak, she shook her head and hurried on. 'I was pushed into everything so young. You can't know what it's like to go to school year-round, year after year. Even when I was at home, there were tutors and projects, assignments, and before I knew it my whole life was study, work, lecture.' She lifted her hands, let them fall. 'Earn a degree, earn another, then go home alone.'
'I didn't know you were so unhappy,' Regan murmured.
'I've been miserable all my life.' Rebecca closed her eyes. 'Oh, that sounds so pathetic. It's not fair, I suppose. I've had tremendous advantages. Education, money, respect, opportunities. But advantages can trap you, Regan. Just as disadvantages can. It seems petty to complain about them, but I am. Now I'm doing something about it, finally.' With a kind of triumph, she drew in a deep, greedy breath. 'I'm doing something no one expects from me, something to give my stuffy, straight-arrow colleagues a marvelous chance to gossip. And something that fascinates me.'
'I'm all for it.' But Regan was worried as she opened cupboards for mugs. 'I think it's wonderful that you've taken time for yourself, that you have an interest in something most people consider out of the ordinary.'
Rebecca accepted the mug of coffee. 'But?'
'But Shane doesn't come under the heading of Hobby. He's the sweetest man I know, but he could hurt
