Inevitable (6 page)

“Well, right now she thinks she hates me, but she doesn't. I've come back to town to see if I can prove that. She doesn't think she wants me here, but she really does. She just has to realize that.”

“I see,” Leo said. “Pardon me for saying this, but that sounds like something a stalker would say. Someone who refuses to take no for an answer.”

There wasn't even a fraction of friendliness in his tone. Ryan gave him a stunned look.

“A stalker?” There was now an edge of anger to Ryan's voice. “You obviously don't know me because I'd never harm a hair on Emma's head.”

“Then prove that and leave. You're clearly not wanted here.”

Ryan stood up and glared at him. “You think so, huh?”

“Yeah, I do.”

Emma sighed. “Ryan, seriously. You need to go now.”

He looked at her and frowned. Disappointment slid behind his gaze. “Fine. If that's what you want. But I will see you later.”

There was a woman standing right behind him. He turned to leave and Emma gasped as he slammed right into her.

But, wait. He didn't slam into her. He walked right through her as if he hadn't even seen her. As if she wasn't even there.

Ryan turned at the sound of Emma's gasp. “What's wrong?”

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I think she wants to tell us something.”

“Who?”

“The ghost,” she said. “You're standing right next to her.”

T
HE GHOST, A PRETTY BLONDE
woman who wore a blue dress with thick straps and a full skirt, her hair in a tight chignon, turned to Emma. “You can see me?”

She nodded. “I can.”

The woman's gaze moved toward Leo and Ryan. “And these men are arguing over you?”

Emma grimaced. “Seem to be.”

Ryan broke away from Leo and glared at him, before turning to Emma. “There's a ghost here?”

Leo looked around. “What are you talking about?”

“I know the hotel close by is allegedly haunted, but I didn't know about this location.” She looked at the woman. “Considering how many clairvoyants this town has in it, that surprises me.”

“This restaurant only opened a few weeks ago,” the woman explained, patting her hair absently as if to keep it perfectly in place. “Before that, it was my home, unoccupied for years and years.”

The woman looked upset. Her eyes were shiny with silvery tears, and her voice cracked on her words.

“Are you all right?” Emma asked. It seemed a strange question to ask a dead person, but from her experience,
they liked to be treated just like everybody else whenever possible.

The woman nodded. “It's my anniversary. I miss my husband so much that I wanted to try to see him, but I can't. I never can. I'm stuck here just as I always have been.”

Emma glanced around at the dining room. Everyone had stopped eating and were staring at her with varying degrees of disbelief and shock on their faces. Just because the town boasted a paranormal investigation agency in a shiny glass building downtown, didn't mean that everyone believed in ghosts. Most of them would simply see a woman talking to herself.

She knew Ryan had drawn closer because a shiver of desire slid through her that only increased when he pressed his hand to the small of her back.

“Maybe we should take this discussion somewhere a bit more private,” he suggested.

“Good idea,” she agreed.

“Excuse me?” Leo said. “I believe we were in the middle of our date before we were rudely interrupted.”

“You're right. I'm so sorry.” She approached him and looked up at his incredulous expression. He wasn't a bad guy. He didn't deserve any of this. She wondered if the date would have gone better if Ryan hadn't been a problem at the moment for her. She'd have to bet on…
maybe
.

Just maybe.

“Maybe we can try again another night,” she said. “Is that possible?”

He frowned before his expression relaxed a little. He flicked an unfriendly look at Ryan and then back at her. “I think that's possible.”

“Thank you.” She went to give him a quick kiss on
his cheek, but he turned his mouth to hers and kissed her fully on her lips. He tasted minty, as if he'd just brushed his teeth during his trip to the restroom. She had no doubt that was exactly what he'd done. He deepened the kiss, pulling her against him like some hero in a romance novel and she braced her hands against his chest. Finally she broke away and drew in a shaky breath.

Then Leo looked directly at Ryan and smirked, which totally ruined it for her. The kiss had only been to show up the man Leo perceived as competition.

Not sexy.

Ryan just watched them, his arms crossed in front of him. “Fantastic,” he said dryly. “I'll give it a ten out of ten. Done now?”

“For now,” Leo replied.

“We have ghost business and you're just a civilian. So, buh-bye.”

Leo looked at her. “I can wait and drive you home.”

Emma shook her head. “It's all right. I'll be fine.”

“I'll call you.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

Leo threw some money on the table and with a last glare sent in Ryan's direction, he walked out of the restaurant.

The ghost had watched this exchange with growing interest. “You seem to be very popular.”

Emma looked at her. “I peaked late.”

The ghost pursed her lips. “The man who just left seems to be the better choice for you. This one,” she eyed Ryan, “looks like trouble.”

“Tell me about it.”

“And yet you desire him more.”

Emma cringed. “Is it that obvious?”

“To me it is.”

Ghosts were typically extremely intuitive. Something about being dead gave them special insight into the hearts of humans.

Leaving the dining room and the curious onlookers hanging on every word they spoke—apart from the ghost that none of them could see or hear except for Emma—they walked out toward the front doors. Emma tried desperately to focus on business rather than the close proximity of Ryan's warm body to hers.

“Can you leave this building?” Emma asked.

“I can go outside, but I can only stray ten feet from the property. That's it.”

The home the restaurant was housed in had been around for more than a hundred years. The dress the ghost was wearing, though, placed her in the forties. That would have been when she'd died.

Ryan opened the front door for Emma to exit through. During their few months as partners, he knew what to do when they were on a case involving ghosts. He'd stand back, keep watch, make sure nothing went wrong as Emma communicated with the spirit. A lot of ghosts weren't all that open to conversations, but if they were, a lot of information could be gathered. Usually the point was to convince the spirit that they were dead, that it was time for them to move on. And that bright light they sometimes saw out of their peripheral vision was something they wanted to head toward in order to move on to the next plane of existence.

It wasn't a difficult process, but sometimes it got a bit tricky.

Like when the ghost refused to leave. Sometimes the ghost decided to be a nuisance at best and a danger at worst to the living people inhabiting the haunted location. That was usually when an exorcism needed to be done.

“You said it's your anniversary,” Emma said.

“Yes.”

“What's your name?”

The ghost hesitated. “Lorraine.”

“Lorraine…last name?”

“Duchamp.”

The name seemed familiar to Emma. “Do you know what year this is?”

“Yes, of course. I know I've been dead a very long time and I know that I'm a ghost.”

“Good to hear. So what's the problem?”

“The problem?” She sighed and it sounded weary. “The problem is that my husband is a fool.”

“How so?”

“Do you see that building over there…” She gazed off into the darkness and Emma followed her line of sight toward a five-storey hotel which was dark excerpt for a noticeable light flickering through the windows on the fourth floor.

“Maison Duchamp,” Emma said and her eyes widened. She braced her hand against one of the posts flanking the stairs leading off the porch. “That's you,
Duchamp
. Did you used to own that?”

“With my husband, yes.”

It was the cold case Emma had glanced at only that morning. The hotel with the ghost who couldn't be exorcised, couldn't be found at all. So many agents had investigated the location, but found no evidence of a haunting. However, anyone who'd bought the property insisted that it was haunted. Supposedly, the ghost was very unfriendly, driving away business so they couldn't make enough money to stay open.

“Is your husband the ghost that haunts Maison Duchamp?” Emma asked.

“He is.” Lorraine nodded.

“No one's ever established that he's really there. No one can locate him to even talk to him.”

“Harold always enjoyed playing hide and seek.”

“Why is he there and you're here?”

“I don't know. But I can feel him. I know he's there and I know he's very unhappy. I can't leave here or I'd go to him. It's frustrating.” She looked beseechingly at Emma. “Can you help me?”

“Of course we can,” Ryan said.

Emma turned to him with a look of surprise. “What did you say?”

“I said of course we can help her.”

“How can you see or hear her? You're not clairvoyant.” She looked at Lorraine.

The ghost shrugged. “I can show myself to whomever I please, whether or not they have the sight. People like you are the ones who can see me no matter what, that's all. Those who have come here before haven't been as nice as you, so I've avoided them.”

Emma blinked. “You think I can help you because I'm
nice
.”

“I was talking about him, actually.”

Emma glanced at Ryan, then back at the ghost. “I thought you said he was trouble.”

Lorraine smiled. “Doesn't mean I don't like him.”

“See, Em?” Ryan grinned. “My charm transcends death. Why can't you admit it yourself?”

“It's incredible, actually,” Lorraine said. “I can feel such electricity between you. It's so strong, it's like a thread binding you together.”

Emma felt it, but she wasn't acknowledging it.

Ryan crossed his arms over his chest. “It's the lust potion. It must be noticeable on a celestial level.”

Lorraine raised her eyebrows. “No wonder the other man was so jealous. Reminds me of my Harold.”

“Leo reminds you of Harold?” Emma shifted her purse higher up on her shoulder.

“No, this one does.” She nodded at Ryan.

“Charming, funny and lovable?” he offered.

“Self-loathing, secretive and a pain in the butt,” she said, but then smiled. “And worth every moment of the trouble.”

“I am a pain in the butt,” Ryan agreed. “But I'm not self-loathing.”

“If you say so.”

“I love myself. Actually, I've been doing that a bit too often lately. I seriously need to date more.”

Emma repressed a smile. “Listen, Lorraine, I do want to help, but I'm not sure if I can. People from our agency have been trying to talk to your husband for years, but couldn't find him. That means he's strong enough to stay hidden.”

She shook her head. “They haven't ever visited him on our anniversary.”

“Which means?”

“He'll talk. If you mention me, he'll talk.” Her smile faded. “Just be careful. His temper…it can get a little much. I was able to calm him, but I haven't seen him for so long that he might be dangerous.” Lorraine's eyes again shone with tears. “Tell Harold that I'm still waiting. That I'll keep waiting, forever, if that's what it takes. And…that I forgive him for what he did and I still love him, even after all this time.”

Without another word, she faded away.

Ryan looked at her. “So do you really want to do this?”

“Ghost hunting without the hunting?”

He smiled and it was enough to weaken her knees. “Just like old times.”

“Are you saying you want to come with me?”

“Absolutely. If there's a dangerous ghost then you'll need a bodyguard. And you know I'm more than willing to guard your body.”

He moved closer to her and she backed up until she was pressed against a pillar. “Ryan…”

“Yes, Emma?” He was so close that the heat from his body sank deeply into hers.

She couldn't concentrate. The effects of the Desidero potion swirled between them. It took everything in her not to reach for him, pull him against her, and crush her mouth against his.

It was a losing battle, because she'd already touched him, her hand pressed against his chest. His heartbeat felt fast beneath her touch.

“Being close to each other—” she said in a husky voice.

“Won't be a problem. I swear to stay at least ten feet away from you at all times so you aren't…distracted.”

“I'm distracted right now.”

“Yeah?” He leaned over a little so their gazes were on the same level.

“Why did you come here, Ryan?”

“To this restaurant or to Mystic Ridge?”

“Both.”

His warm breath touched her cheek as he leaned closer to whisper in her ear. “Because the memory of your mouth on me drives me so crazy that I can't stop thinking about you.”

She knew she should pull away from him, but she couldn't. She felt the hard ridge of his erection against her hip as he pressed her back against the pillar.

She wanted him. Damn it, she wanted him more than anything. It was almost enough to make her push all of her convictions aside.

Almost.

If they hadn't been interrupted by the knock at Xavier's library door the other night, then there was no doubt in her mind she would have done more than just had oral sex with Ryan right then and there.

Her desire for Ryan had needed release when they'd been partners—so she'd written it all down in her book. She'd thought that had been it, that she'd gotten it out forever so it wouldn't stay with her. She'd decided one book was all it would take. But lately she'd been itching to write more. Her fantasies seemed to multiply the more she tried to hold them back.

And they were all about Ryan. Even before she'd seen him again. Even before the potion had taken its hold on her.

But the writing didn't pay the bills. That was her real job, PARA. And she knew screwing things up with the potion bottle would be a negative mark on her career.

She could make up for it, though. Tonight.

Cracking a cold case would definitely earn her extra points when it came time for her review. She might even be promoted within the company and her future as an agent would be solidified.

Emma did want to help Lorraine if she could. She liked using her ability to help spirits trapped on earth, especially those dealing with broken hearts. She was a sucker for a love story.

“I'll go. But this changes nothing between us,” she managed to say calmly. It took every ounce of strength inside her to push away from him. Her face felt hot
and her body ached. Just a taste had only increased her appetite for Ryan.

He nodded. “I get it. You still hate me. You don't trust me. Et cetera.”