After bumping over the dirt road they pulled up in front of the cabin. For some reason it looked really spooky in the light of the moon.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Brian asked.
“Don’t tell me you’re scared, little brother.”
“Damned right I am.”
Cal chuckled, then got out of the pickup. The others followed. Once beside him, Nikki made sure she held tight to his hand.
“Do you have the flashlight?” she asked, just to be on the safe side.
He flipped it on and put it under his face. “I want to drink your blood.”
She bopped him on the arm. “That was so not funny,” she said as they trooped inside the house.
“Okay, where are we doing this?” Brian asked.
“The kitchen, so we can all sit at the table.” Celeste raised her chin and marched right in without looking back to see if they followed.
Nikki had to give Celeste credit for determination. Nikki just wanted to get this over with and get the hell out of here.
They sat at the table.
“Now what?” Brian asked.
“I think we’re supposed to call her forth. Then we’ll tell her she’s dead and needs to go toward the light. I’ve never done a seance, but how hard could it be?” Celeste looked at each one of them, her gaze stopping on Cal. “No laughing. A young woman is depending on us.”
“No laughing, I swear.” Cal crossed his heart.
“Hold hands.” Celeste reached hers toward Cal’s and Brian’s.
They all clasped hands. Cal rubbed his thumb along the back of Nikki’s. She dug her fingernail into his and he backed off. The man was incorrigible.
“Aggie Watson, we know you’re here,” Celeste said. “We know why you’re here. That you were murdered long ago and we want to set your spirit free. Go, go toward the light.”
A blue mist began to form. Nikki held her breath, squeezing Cal’s hand. He grinned and glanced over his shoulder. When he looked back at her, his grin was gone.
“What the hell is that,” he whispered.
“The ghost,” Nikki said.
“It’s okay, Aggie. Go toward the light,” Celeste intoned.
The mist became a young woman. She was covering her face with her hands, weeping softly. Pity washed over Nikki. Slowly, the ghost lowered her hands. She was the most beautiful thing Nikki had ever seen.
“She’s so pretty,” Brian said.
The ghost looked at him. Her face changed from beautiful to grotesque. Her mouth opened and the scream that came from the spirit curled Nikki’s hair.
As one they jumped up, chairs tipping over, and ran from the cabin.
“Cock-a-doodle-do!” the rooster yodeled as they ran outside.
Nikki stopped just off the porch and turned to look toward the barn. There was Romeo on the top fence rail with his chest puffed out as he pranced back and forth without a wobble, his adoring hens on the ground looking up at him so they could admire his fine form.
Okay, so maybe he didn’t quite have his timing down right since technically it was the middle of the night, but she didn’t think the hens cared.
“Look, the rooster is all better.”
Cal turned and grabbed her hand. “Ghost, remember the ghost.” He tugged her forward as they ran toward the pickup and all piled in. Brian was already taking off before they could get the doors slammed shut. They hung on to the seats rather than risk their lives reaching for the doors.
“No more seances,” Brian said as they raced toward the ranch.
“Never again,” Celeste said, shaking her head.
“I think we’re all in agreement about that,” Nikki said. “I was so scared I almost wet my pants.”
“Me, too.” Celeste’s laugh was shaky.
Cal and Brian didn’t say a word.
Be sure to catch WATCH OVER ME by Lucy Monroe, available now from Brava…
“Dr. Ericson”
Lana adjusted the angle on the microscope. Yes. Right there. Perfect. “Amazing.”
“Lana.”
She reached out blindly for the stylus to her handheld.
Lana jumped, bumping her cheekbone on the microscope’s eyepiece before falling backward, hitting a wall that hadn’t been there when she’d come into work that morning.
Strong hands set her firmly on her feet as she realized the wall was warm and made of flesh and muscle. Lots and lots of muscle.
Stumbling back a step, she looked up and then up some more. The dark-haired hottie in front of her was as tall as her colleague, Beau Ruston. Or close to it anyway. She fumbled with her glasses, sliding them on her nose. They didn’t help. Reading glasses for the computer, they only served to make her feel more disoriented.
She squinted, then remembered and pulled the glasses off again, letting them dangle by their chain around her neck. “Um, hello? Did I know you were visiting my lab?”
She was fairly certain she hadn’t. She forgot appointments sometimes. Okay, often, but she always remembered eventually. And this man hadn’t made an appointment with her. She was sure of it. He didn’t look like a scientist either.
Not that all scientists were as unremarkable as she was in the looks department, but this man was another species entirely.
He looked dangerous and sexy. Enough so that he would definitely replace chemical formulas in her dreams at night. His black hair was a little too long and looked like he’d run his fingers through it, not a comb. That was just so bad boy. She had a secret weakness for bad boys.
Even bigger than the secret weakness she’d harbored for Beau Ruston before he’d met Elle.
She had posters of James Dean and Matt Dillon on the wall of her bedroom and had seen
Unlike James Dean, this yummy bad boy even had pierced ears. Only instead of sedate studs or small hoops, he had tiny black plugs. Only a bit bigger than a pair of studs, the plugs were recessed in his lobes. They had the Chinese Kanji for strength etched on them in silver. Or pewter maybe. It wasn’t shiny.
The earrings were hot. Just like him.
He looked like the kind of man who had a tattoo. Nothing colorful. Something black and meaningful. She wanted to see it. Too bad she couldn’t just ask.
Interpersonal interaction had so many taboos. It wasn’t like science where you dug for answers without apology.
“Lana?”
The stranger had a strong jaw too, squared and accented by a close-cropped beard that went under, not across his chin. No mustache. His lips were set in a straight line, but they still looked like they’d be Heaven to kiss.
Not that she’d kissed a lot of lips, but she was twenty-nine. Even a geeky scientist didn’t make it to the shy side of thirty without a few kisses along the way. And other stuff. Not that the other stuff was all that spectacular. She’d always wondered if that was her fault or the men she’d chosen to partner.
It didn’t take a shrink to identify the fact that Lana had trust issues. With her background, who wouldn’t?
Still, people had been known to betray family, love and country for sex. She wouldn’t cross a busy street to get some. Or maybe she would, if this stranger was waiting on the other side.
The fact that she could measure the time since she’d last had sex in years rather than months, weeks or
