Double Dating with the Dead (14 page)

“H
ey, Barb, The Man wants to see ya,” one of the high school students who worked part time at the paper said as he sauntered past her cubicle.

Barbara looked up from her computer screen and gave the kid the once-over. He was kind of cute if a little nerdy. She'd give him a treat.

She dropped her pencil on the floor, then bent over to retrieve it, making sure she moved in a way that her shirt gaped open, then stayed in that position a second longer than necessary.

When she straightened, her gaze went to the kid. Her knowing smile didn't stay in place long. The boy was actually ogling some pimply-faced girl at the water fountain rather than her perfect breasts. She'd given him a free look, and he hadn't taken it. She'd always known there was something strange about him.

She stood and sashayed to the editor's office. After her piece in the paper about Selena using company time to have a sordid affair, he was probably going to give her a bigger column. Maybe he'd even fire Selena. The little bitch had it coming.

She tapped on his office door, then went inside. “You wanted to see me?”

“Have a seat.” He motioned for her to take the chair across from his desk.

She'd been inside his office only a few times. She glanced around. Family photos. God, his wife could really use a makeover, and his kids were such dorks.

“About your article in this morning's paper.”

She slowly crossed her legs. She'd practiced this move ever since she'd watched the uncut version of that Sharon Stone movie, and she'd gotten damn good at it.

Mr. Radar's face turned red. He looked down at the paper. Oh, yes, he'd definitely noticed her move. She smelled success. And when he fired Selena, she wanted the bitch's cubicle. It was bigger and a lot nicer than hers.

She leaned back in the chair. “It's the best article I've ever written.”

His steely-eyed gaze raised, giving her a moment of trepidation. “Your article is a piece of trash.”

She sat straight up in the chair. “Wh…what?”

“I said it's a vindictive piece of trash.”

Her chin jutted forward. “It's the truth!”

He threw the paper toward the trash can. It landed inside with a bang.

“I knew from the start you hated Selena. I thought you could both iron out your differences and get along, but you couldn't do that.”

His gaze slid over her, and when it returned to her face, his expression was full of disgust.

“You've never understood this is a family paper. My grandfather started it, and we still go by his values. At least, we did until today.”

“But…” This was all wrong. He should be grateful she had enough genuineness to speak the truth—no matter who it hurt.

“At this paper, we work together as a team. We do not stab each other in the back. Clean out your desk, you're fired.”

“That's fine by me! I hate it here.”

She jumped to her feet and stormed out of his office. She didn't need this job. She'd find one where her talents were appreciated.

“Ma'am, do you need some help?” the kid asked as she plopped down at her desk and jerked open a drawer. “The Man said you might need a couple of boxes for your things.”

“No, I don't need your damn help.” When he started to turn away, she grabbed one of the boxes. “Wait, I need that. And don't call me ma'am. I'm not that much older than you.”

“Really?” His eyes widened. “I thought you were close to my mom's age….”

She froze anything else he would've said with one look.

“I guess I'd better get back to work,” he mumbled and quickly left.

His mother's age! Not even close. She wasn't a day over…

Damn, she was getting old. She sucked up a broken sob and crammed her things in the box, then left the building. After putting everything in the trunk, she looked one last time at the old brick building.

“Someday you're going to regret firing me.”

Somehow, her words lacked conviction. Maybe because deep down she knew they were just that—only words.

Life really sucked.

“A
truce,” Selena mumbled as she went inside her bedroom. “Like I need one more complication in my life.”

It was bad enough that she dreamed about Trent, and, by the way, she planned on asking Dixie if she or Wesley had anything to do with the content of her dreams.

Heat flashed through her. She took a deep breath and fanned her hand in front of her face. Man, they were good dreams.

Clear mind! Don't go there!

She drew in a deep breath. Thinking about her dreams in the daytime would only cause her more grief.

Hmm, why had she never had dreams like this before now? Yeah, the more she thought about it, the more convinced she was that one or both ghosts were somehow involved.

She closed her door and went to the dresser to get her clothes, but her hand stilled on the knob when she heard the faint crying of a woman.

Dixie?

She cocked her head to the side and listened. There it was again. So soft she could barely hear it, but it was definitely a woman crying. Heart-wrenching sobs that tore at her heart. It could only be one person—unless there were more spirits haunting the hotel. No, she was sure it was Dixie.

“Dixie? Is something wrong?”

A pale green light slowly darkened before Dixie materialized sitting on the side of the bed. Her hands covered her face as she wept.

“Dixie, what's the matter?” She hurried forward, sitting beside her on the bed. What could've happened? She wasn't a bit good at handling someone else's pain. She was way too sensitive for that.

Dixie lowered her hands. “I'm so tired of living like this. Haunting this stupid hotel.” She drew in a shaky breath as a tear slid down her face.

Poor Dixie. Afraid to go, but not wanting to stay. Caught between this world and the next. It didn't matter if Trent never saw a ghost; she couldn't bear to see her suffering like this. She had to help Dixie and Wesley cross over so they didn't endure heartache for one more minute.

Reaching her hand out, she patted Dixie's, but her hand went through Dixie and landed on the bed with a plop. She quickly regained her balance. Darn, she'd forgotten Dixie didn't have any substance. Sometimes ghosts seemed so real.

“Just walk toward the light,” she spoke softly. “It'll be okay. I promise.”

Dixie shook her head. “No, I can't.”

“Is it something to do with Wesley?”

“He's stuck here, too.”

“What can I do?” Her heart almost broke as she took in Dixie's abject misery. The woman's deep pain washed over her. She just had to help them.

“We have to be laid to rest or our spirits will haunt the hotel for all eternity.”

Doomed to haunt the hotel for all eternity? Were they cursed? Oh, it was worse than she'd thought.

Wait a minute. She'd never heard of anything like this except in books. Not that she was saying it couldn't happen. The spirit world was often unpredictable.

She drew in a deep breath. “Okay, we'll have a funeral.” When Dixie frowned, she hurried on. “You know, a memorial service. I'll even do headstones and…”

Dixie was shaking her head.

“What?” Selena didn't know what else to do.

“You have to find our bones.”

Ewww.

“Then bury them.”

Yuck.

Selena swallowed past the lump in her throat. It was one thing to talk to dead people, but searching for their decaying bones was an entirely different matter and one she didn't relish.

“I knew it was too much to ask.” Dixie sniffled. “It's okay. We understand.”

“Now, wait a minute. I didn't exactly say no.”

“Then you'll do it?” Dixie brightened.

She nodded. “I'll help if I can.”

What the hell, she didn't have anything better to do while she was here, and they might be so grateful they would show themselves to Trent before they walked toward the light.

“Do you know where your…uh…bones are so that I can bury them?” Would that be legal?

Dixie shook her head. “Somewhere in the hotel. Try the attic.”

At least searching for their remains would give her a chance to explore the hotel a little more. If she found anything, maybe she could talk Trent into burying them.

She changed into a pair of cutoffs and, after putting on a bra, pulled a T-shirt over her head and slipped her feet into a pair of sandals.

Heaven forbid she would run into Trent without her puppies being leashed. He could be such an ass, but she knew he'd only been goading her. Guilt filled her. Just like she'd goaded him about not shaving. Maybe they were more alike than she thought.

Not!

The attic. Get your act together.

She went out her door and looked down the hall. There was a door at the end that she'd thought was a linen closet. Maybe not. It could lead to the attic.

There was only one way to find out. She went to it and turned the knob. Nothing. The door wasn't budging. Apparently, no one had tried opening it in a very long time.

Her heart raced. Maybe it did lead to an attic. If no one had been up there in a long time, there could be all kinds of treasures.

Or bones.

Ewww.

Bracing her foot against the wall, she pulled on the knob while pushing with her foot. Just as it started to give away, strong arms grabbed her, keeping her from falling on her butt.

The air whooshed from her lungs. For a couple of seconds she lay in Trent's arms. The unmistakable scent of Gio whispered over her.

This was nice. His hands were warm on her body. She could rest in his arms like this for a very long time.

So not good.

She tilted her head back and looked into Trent's face. “Thanks,” she murmured, and wiggled out of his embrace as she came to her feet.

“What exactly are you doing?” he asked.

“Looking for bones.”

One eyebrow quirked upward. Damn, he looked sexy when he quirked.

“Bones?”

She nodded.

“Anyone in particular or are you planning on killing me and using mine for some satanic ritual?”

She crossed her arms and raised her chin. “Don't tempt me.”

He didn't look as if he was going to budge until she told him the whole story. She might as well. Besides, if she did find their bones, then Trent needed to be nearby before Dixie and Wesley went toward the light.

“Dixie and Wesley are doomed to haunt the hotel until someone finds their bones and gives them a proper burial.” It sounded even worse when she said it out loud. Like some bad plot from a B movie.

“Did you have too much caffeine this morning?” he asked.

That was exactly the reaction she'd expected. Sure, make fun of her. She didn't care.

Ignoring him, she turned and tugged on the door again. She'd apparently loosened it enough that it opened this time, and she found herself looking up a narrow, dark staircase.

The stairway to the attic. She felt as if she'd just hit the lottery.

Except it was dark.

Really dark.

She hated dark places.

“Tell me again you talk to dead people, then explain why you get nervous over a dark stairway.”

Apparently, her fear showed. She glared at him. “It was never my choice to talk to dead people. Believe me, at career day I was not standing in the line that claimed talking to dead people was going to be all the rage. I wanted to be a teacher.”

When she tentatively placed her foot on the first step, he moved her out of the way. Heat waves erupted inside her. One touch and she was practically melting at the guy's feet. She was so pathetic.

“I'll go first,” he said, letting go of her arm.

His touch had been nice while it lasted.

Selena reined in her thoughts and glanced up the stairs. She was such a coward. She didn't even care that he knew it, either.

When he started up the stairs, she followed. Being behind Trent really wasn't all that bad. He'd dressed in jeans, and the way they hugged his backside with each step made her think all kinds of impure thoughts. If she were Catholic, she'd be spending the next two weeks in confession.

There was another door at the top. This one opened a little easier. Trent stepped inside first; she joined him seconds later.

She barely breathed as her gaze swept the room.

Bingo.

The room was huge and filled with odds and ends: furniture, trunks, a standing mirror…the attic was a veritable trove of treasures.

“Look at all this stuff,” she breathed, turning this way and that as she tried to take everything in at once. Not easy since the light was dim from the one window. “We've hit the jackpot.”

Trent was quiet. He probably thought she was getting excited for nothing. Damn it, this was good stuff. Surely he could see that.

Not knowing what he thought was driving her batty. She couldn't stand his silence for another second. “What?”

He looked at her. “This time you might be right. Some of this stuff is pretty old.” He ran his hand over the dust-covered cheval mirror.

She smiled. She wasn't exactly sure why his words pleased her. They just did. But when he let his gaze linger on her, the attic was forgotten as her body went from cool to very warm. The way he stared at her was almost as if he knew what she looked like without her clothes on.

She came within an inch of blurting out that she had worn a bra. Instead, she cleared her throat and refocused her attention.

Bones. She was here to find Dixie and Wesley's remains. Sex should be the farthest thing from her mind.

Too bad it wasn't.

She started to open a trunk near her, but kicked it first. A person couldn't be too careful. When she didn't hear anything scurrying about, she opened it. No bones, but lots of lace and ruffles.

“Clothes.” She pulled out a dress of red silk and shook it out. “Isn't it beautiful?” She held it against her.

“Very.”

When she looked up, she met Trent's gaze and saw he wasn't looking at the dress. Warmth swirled around her, settling in the pit of her stomach. Suddenly, she remembered what it was like to feel his hands pulling her close, his lips lowering to hers.

She drew in a sharp breath and turned away, laying the dress across the trunk, and reached inside for something else. A box. And inside, a hat. Laughter bubbled out of her. A cowboy hat. She tossed it toward him. He deftly caught it.

“Try it on.”

She didn't think he would, but he surprised her and placed it on his head. He took her breath away. Who'd have thought he'd look as though he'd just climbed down off a horse. It was bad enough he wore Gio. She also had a weakness for sexy cowboys.

“Now you.” He nodded toward the trunk.

Their differences suddenly seemed to disappear. It was almost as if they were…friends. It was an odd feeling. One she didn't mind at all.

She reached inside the trunk again, digging around until she came up with another box. Inside was a little black hat adorned with black beads, purple feathers and black netting. It was exquisite, and other than being a little crushed, it looked fine.

She placed it on her head. “How do I look?”

He laughed. Her bottom lip puckered. She hadn't laughed at him.

“It doesn't quite go with your attire.”

She glanced down, then looked in the mirror. He was right, she looked comical, but she'd show him. She reached into the trunk again and pulled out a black dress with a scooped neckline. If her judgment was right, it should fit.

“Turn around.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“I'm not going to try it on with you watching.” Duh.

“I wouldn't mind.” He crossed his arms in front of him.

Desire flared inside her at the thought of stripping in front of him.
Get a hold of yourself
. It wouldn't happen.

She wanted to try on the dress, though. She had a passion for vintage clothes, and the dress she held was a wonderful find.

“We both know you're dying to try it on, but you owe me for this. I was only going to help you find bones. Not play dress up.”

When he turned around, she grinned. Such a pushover. She removed the hat and quickly stripped, hesitating for just a second before losing her bra. White straps wouldn't look good with the dress. She pulled it over her head, not really caring there was a faint odor of mothballs.

The dress fell down to her feet in soft folds of black silk. Buttoning it wasn't easy, but she finally managed a few, then placed the hat on her head again. When she faced the mirror, it was like looking into the past.

For a moment she couldn't move. She could only stare at her reflection. Something told her this had once belonged to Dixie. How had it survived all these years?

She smoothed her hands over the soft fabric and closed her eyes, catching a new scent. Lilac. She could feel all Dixie's hopes and dreams. Her love for Wesley. Her anger when he flirted with other women.

Ah, Dixie. It was only to make you jealous.

I know
, came the whispered response.
Too late, but yes, I know.

“Are you decent?” Trent asked, drawing her from her thoughts, her feelings.

“You can turn around.”

He did, but didn't speak, only stared.

“Do I look okay?” She twirled around, laughing when she faced him once again.

“You look beautiful. Like you just stepped out of the pages of history.”

“Why, sir, are you waxing poetic? I swear, it's enough to turn a girl's head.”

He only smiled. Her face grew warm. Trent was the only man who'd ever made her feel this flustered. She turned away from him. She felt as if she was on the brink of something that might get her into trouble.

Think about something else
.

“Isn't this stuff wonderful?” She moved farther into the attic, pulling off a dusty sheet and uncovering another treasure. “Look. A Victrola. I wonder if it works.”