“Neither do many psychic investigators. As a whole, we tend to be a very skeptical lot.”
“You seem anything but skeptical.”
He grinned at her, and Rachel felt her heart lurch. She reminded herself that this was exactly why she’d been avoiding him. He made her body react entirely against the better judgment of her mind.
“I’m one in a million,” he declared happily.
That was for sure, Rachel mused, watching him as he leaned toward her. She thought he was going to kiss her again, and her lips buzzed with the memory of the kisses they had shared. But he touched the tip of his nose to hers instead, and smiled the most devastatingly sexy smile. Heat washed through her, and she unconsciously wet her lips with the tip of her tongue.
“Did you have sweet dreams the other night, angel?” he asked in a voice so soft it was like a caress.
Rachel’s cheeks bloomed red.
It made no sense. But then, little that had gone on in the past few days had made any sense. It was this blasted old house, she decided irrationally. The sooner she was out of it, the better for all concerned. Her life was pointed down a very narrow road. There was no room for a dreamer to tag along.
Bryan drew back, a gleam of satisfaction in his eye. She had dreamed about him. That bit of news was certainly a balm to his bruised male ego. He decided not to gloat; it wasn’t his style. Instead, he produced three small red foam balls from nowhere and began to juggle.
Rachel stared at him, bewildered. That was all right, he decided. It would do her some good to be thrown off balance on a regular basis. It was too easy to picture her letting her life settle into a rut of dreary, dutiful routine. If she didn’t learn to look around for magic and rainbows now, she certainly wasn’t going to start in a year or two. The struggle to cope with Addie’s illness would have worn her down and extinguished all belief in dreams and happiness. He just couldn’t let that happen.
“Did you have a question?” he asked.
“What?”
“When you came in here, did you have a question, or dare I hope you came seeking out my pleasant company?”
Rachel gave herself a mental shake and gathered her wits. She straightened away from the desk, looking suddenly very purposeful. She was wearing a soft blue prairie-style dress with a simple shirtwaist and gathered skirt. A big turquoise pin was fastened at the throat of the stand-up collar. Her hair, which had flowed like fine champagne down her back the night they’d kissed, was up now, secured in a sensible knot at the back of her head. Wild tendrils curled around her face.
Bryan thought she looked like a schoolmarm-a very pretty, vulnerable schoolmarm.
“Perhaps you’ve come to discuss our relationship,” he suggested.
Rachel nearly bolted. “We-we don’t have a relationship,” she said, sounding more rattled than resolute.
“I beg to differ,” Bryan argued with a charming smile. He caught the red foam balls and clutched them to his chest, his expression turning melodramatic. “Or were you just leading me on when you kissed my socks off?”
“I was not leading you on!” Rachel protested. He made the whole incident sound as if she had planned it.
“Well, then…” He shrugged innocently, implying that if she hadn’t been leading him on, then she had been seducing him with a purpose.
Rachel ground her teeth and refused to rise to the bait. She wasn’t getting involved with him. She wasn’t even going to argue about getting involved with him.
“I was wondering if you knew where my mother keeps the books for her antiques business. I’ve been looking all over for them. I have to get started on them so I can find out exactly where we stand financially.”
“Did you ask Addie?” He settled back down on the desk chair.
“Do you honestly believe she’d tell me?” she questioned, unable to keep all the bitterness out of her voice. She and Addie seemed no closer to a reconciliation than they had five years before. It didn’t help that Rachel had been to see her mother’s lawyer to find out where they stood legally and financially. Talking about power of attorney and conservatorships did not make for ice breaking.
“Have you spoken with her about selling the house?” Bryan asked.
“No.”
“She isn’t going to like it.”
“Then I’ll have to deal with her anger, because there isn’t any other way,” Rachel said stubbornly. The frustration of the past few days boiled up anew inside her. “I have a good job waiting for me in the city. We need the money.”
“There’s always another way, Rachel,” Bryan said, his disapproval of her plan subtle but clear.
“Oh, really?” Rachel arched a brow as her temper flared up. She crossed her arms in an effort to keep from trying to strangle him. “What is this wonderful alternative? Maybe you could enlighten me. So far I’ve discovered that this house is probably worth less than Mother owes the bank because it’s falling down around our ears. The electric company is threatening to discontinue service because she hasn’t paid the bill in months. The doctor bills we’re going to incur will wipe out my own bank account all on their own.”
“You need to have a little patience,” Bryan insisted. “Something will turn up.”
Rachel felt as if a switch had been flipped inside her, letting anger pour forth unchecked. Something will turn up. That had always been Terence’s line. He’d forever been telling her to lighten up, loosen up, that the future would take care of itself. She’d seen firsthand that wasn’t the case. Nothing ever just “turned up.” She had learned the hard way that the world had two kinds of people: People like Terence who believed in rainbows, and people like her who accepted responsibility.
It made her angry to think that Bryan belonged to the first group, the group she knew better than to get tangled up with. And deeper down it made her angry that she had to belong to the second group. Her life would have been a whole lot brighter with a rainbow in it, but she couldn’t have one, and she didn’t have time to go chasing it, at any rate. She had responsibilities.
She was angry with him. Bryan could feel the heat of it, he could see it burning in her eyes. He had stepped on a nerve. He opened his mouth to smooth things over, but Rachel didn’t give him the chance.
“It must be nice to be able to coast through life believing everything takes care of itself,” she said bitterly. “But I wouldn’t know, because I’ve always been one of those people destined to pick up after dreamers and shoulder the realities they can never seem to face.”
Bryan shot up out of his chair and grabbed her by the wrist as she turned to storm out. “Rachel, wait-”
“I can’t wait, Mr. Hennessy,” she snapped, glaring at him. “I’ve got work to do.” She jerked her arm from his grasp and rubbed at it as if to erase the memory of his touch. “I’ll let you get back to your juggling,” she said with a sneer.
Bryan closed his eyes and heaved a long sigh. Each click of her heels on the wooden floor made him wince until the sound faded away. He turned to stare up at the portrait that hung on the paneled wall.
“Got any bright suggestions?” he asked.
The pleasantly pudgy man in the painting was Arthur Drake III, the last Drake to own the house. He merely went on staring straight ahead, a secretive smile on his small mouth, one hand raised, palm up, as if gesturing to the viewer to behold the room around them. A badly tarnished brass plaque fastened to the bottom molding of the frame was engraved with a quote by Seneca: Gold is tried by fire, brave men by adversity.
“I guess this is adversity,” Bryan muttered. “Well see how acceptable I am.”
He sank slowly into the chair and swiveled around, letting his gaze take in the gracious room: the cherry paneling, the built-in bookshelves crowded with musty old leatherbound volumes, the fireplace, which had apparently been renovated at some point because the brick was newer than any other in the house.
What was he going to do about Rachel?
“Right,” he murmured wryly in answer to his inner voice. “I’ll do it again next time she lets me get within a hundred yards of her.”Rachel finally found the books for her mother’s antiques business squirreled away inside an oak icebox in what was supposed to be Addie’s office. It was a sunny room at the front of the house, cluttered with
