Inevitable (7 page)

“As long as we're clear on that.”

“Totally clear.”

There was never any question about helping the ghost out. Emma
was
a romantic. She'd seen that pained look in Lorraine's eyes. The woman missed her husband desperately. Even though the guy was self-loathing, secretive and a pain in the butt.

He was like Ryan. Her former partner might deny the self-loathing, but she'd seen it in his expression at the party. There was a part of him that hated what he'd done. She knew that he missed his life as a PARA agent. If he regretted his past actions, maybe that would make a difference. Maybe he'd finally own up to it. And maybe then she could finally forgive him.

Emma reminded herself that she shouldn't care one way or the other, but she did. She couldn't deny it. She cared about Ryan and she didn't want him to be unhappy.

Everyone made their own choices in life. Some were big ones, and others were small. The problem was, at the time you made a choice, you were never sure which category it fell into. A small choice might lead to large consequences that would haunt you for the rest of your life.

Literal hauntings were a lot easier to deal with. Even when they involved potentially dangerous ghosts.

Emma shifted her purse to her other shoulder and eyed the hotel which stood about two blocks away from the restaurant. She didn't have to look to see that Ryan
had moved closer to her side again. Her heart pounded faster when he pressed his hand against her back.

“What are you doing?” she asked, a breathy quality to her voice.

“I'm sorry.”

“What for?”

Ryan's expression had become strained. “I said I'd keep ten feet between us, but it's more difficult than I thought. I'm finding it nearly impossible not to touch you.”

“A promise is a promise.”

“Look at me, Em.”

She didn't want to, but she moved as if her body had a mind of its own.

“What?” she asked.

“Are you going to see Leo again after tonight?” He appeared very serious all of a sudden.

She couldn't help it, she had to laugh at that. “Why are you asking?”

“I don't like him. You can do better.”

“He's fairly perfect.”

“That's probably what I don't like about him. If you're going to date someone, then he should be a bit rough around the edges. He shouldn't be perfect. Perfect is boring.”

“I'll definitely take your suggestion under advisement.” He was still touching her, and his touch burned into her skin through the thin material of her teal blouse. Desire twisted inside her and it was impossible to ignore. He had her encircled in his arms, his hands low on her back. She felt the urge to lean against him and feel his body press against hers again. He watched every move she made as if memorizing her actions for later reference. His gaze moved to her lips.

“Do you have any idea how much I want to kiss you right now?” he asked. “And how crazy it made me to see
him
kiss you?”

“Ryan…”

“This potion will wear off soon, I promise. Until then…”

She struggled to breathe. She could feel his warm breath against her face, his lips only an inch from hers. “Until then what?”

His hands slid lower, his fingers digging into the soft curve of her buttocks through her skirt. She felt herself grow damp between her legs and her body ached for him to touch her much more intimately.

His mouth brushed against hers. Not a kiss, exactly. Just a touch. “Until then you're going to have to be strong for both of us. I talk a good game, but I know you'd regret it. I don't want you to hate me any more than you already do.”

When he let go of her, she realized that she'd been gripping his sides. Her face felt flushed and there was an emptiness inside her that felt cold. She'd wanted him so much, she'd nearly forgotten herself. Again.

This didn't feel like just lust, this pull Ryan had on her. It felt much bigger and deeper and much more apt to tear her life completely apart if she gave into this growing need she had for the man who'd broken her heart six months ago.

Now
that
was a scary thought.

“Let's go,” Ryan said, putting a little distance between them. “We need to have a chat with a ghost.”

I
N ITS TIME
,
Maison Duchamp had been a very popular hotel in Mystic Ridge. Emma racked her mind trying to remember everything she'd read about the place. It had been closed for as long as she'd lived here—and that was going on five years now. That had been the last time it had been fully investigated. Without owners to request—and pay for—PARA's services, the property remained untouched, its file put into the cold case pile.

Still, Patrick would definitely appreciate a quick result. And if Emma could deliver that when so many others had failed, then she knew it would mean good things for her future.

She sensed it without much concentration. Lorraine might be nice and friendly, but her husband wasn't the type who looked forward to entertaining guests. That light flickering on the fourth floor was not the most welcome sight Emma had ever seen.

“I don't have any exorcism paraphernalia,” she whispered.

Ryan glanced at her. “I didn't know that was a possibility.”

“I'd prefer not to have to go to those extremes, but if he's too much to handle…”

“If he's too much to handle, we'll just leave. All we're doing is checking this out and letting Lorraine know what we find. She's looking for peace of mind before she'll move on. Her peace of mind seems to be entirely centered around this husband of hers.”

He looked at the front door after following her up the five steps leading up to it. True to his word earlier, he was attempting to keep some space between them. He knew that if he got too close, she'd have a hard time keeping her mind on business. And with a case like this, she didn't need any distractions.

She turned the knob but failed. “It's locked.”

“Got a couple bobby pins?”

She raised an eyebrow. “You're kidding.”

“Not at the moment.”

Emma pulled the pins out of her hair that were keeping her long bangs back from her face. She'd spent an hour getting ready for her date tonight, but her hair hadn't been co-operating. She handed the pins to Ryan and watched him skeptically as he stretched them out, then inserted them into the lock and began wiggling them around.

“Picking locks,” she observed dryly. “What a huge surprise.”

“I'm a man of many hidden skills.”

“I have no doubt about that.”

He looked at her as if realizing he'd admitted to something illegal. “This might not work. I haven't done it in a long time.”

“I don't even want to know where you picked it up.”

“I locked myself out of my house once upon a time.”

“Sure.”

He grinned. “I know you think I'm a master criminal,
but I haven't hotwired a car since I was a teenager. This is as bad as it gets.”

She was about to say something when she heard a click. Ryan turned the knob and the door swung inward.

He waved a hand at the dark interior of the hotel. “After you, madam.”

She ventured past him slowly, ignoring the momentary swell of lust she felt when she got too close to him. After all, she'd almost lost what few inhibitions she still had left just outside the restaurant only minutes ago. She couldn't deal with that again now.

She'd swept her gaze around the hotel lobby. It was dark, but she could see outlines of furniture under plastic wrap. There was a check-in desk with mail slots behind it. A staircase rose up at the far end of the lobby leading to the second floor. It smelled musty, but not as much as she might have thought.

No security system. She'd half expected a siren to blare, but there was only silence.

No, not complete silence. She could hear something very faintly.

“Do you hear that?” she whispered.

“Do I—?” Ryan cocked his head. “Yeah, music. Upstairs. It sounds like something from the thirties or forties.”

“Harold's listening to some old tunes.” She looked at the staircase in front of them. “Let's go.”

Ryan frowned. “You're sure you want to confront him? Why not just give a report to PARA tomorrow? You said you didn't have any exorcism stuff on you.”

Even as a child Emma would seek spirits out, as if drawn to haunted locations like a magnet. Sometimes they were tricky to talk to, but it was always because they had some struggle, some issue they still were dealing
with. It was a vicious cycle for them until somebody—like Emma—was able to knock them out of their repeating pattern.

It had worked before. It would work again. She was sure of it.

Ryan was concerned for her safety, which was why he had caught her arm just as she'd placed her stiletto-clad foot on the first step. She appreciated that concern more than he knew, but it didn't change anything. The Desidero potion's effects continued to swirl around her, making it very hard to keep her head clear enough to do her job.

“It's their anniversary tonight,” she explained. “Lorraine said he'll be in hiding any other time. This is it if we want to help them.”

Ryan studied her face, his mouth curving. “There's that stubborn streak I remember.”

“I'm not stubborn.”

“Hey, it was a compliment, not an insult. Maybe you should have brought Leo along. How many times have you been out with that guy, anyway? Is he your boyfriend?”

She glanced down at where Ryan had his hand curled over her forearm. The contact was so pleasant it made her struggle against the need to get closer to him. “You seem very interested in him. I'll have to ask if he's interested in seeing
you
again. Maybe you can be a couple.”

“So funny I forgot to laugh. You're avoiding the question. Are you into that guy or what?”

“It was our first date,” Emma admitted, not sure why she was even answering him.

“Has there been anyone else since I left?”

“Why do you care?” She twisted a finger through her hair.

His smile widened. “Isn't it obvious? I'm insanely jealous.”

She placed her hand on top of his and removed it from her arm so she could focus on the task facing her. “It wasn't as if we were involved when you were here, Ryan. You were dating Charlotte. You were my business partner, that's all.”

“Seems like a million years ago.” He scanned the empty lobby, before his gaze moved up the stairway they had yet to climb. “How is Charlotte, anyway?”

Strange that he hadn't asked about her until now. “Never better.”

“She moved on, I assume.”

“From you?”

“Yeah. She didn't seem the type to pine away.”

Emma nodded. “She's seeing someone else.”

“Do I know him?”

“Actually, yes. It's Stephen.”

His eyes widened. “Stephen
Robbins?
”

“The one and only.”

He laughed under his breath. “That son of a bitch moved in on Charlotte the moment I was out of the picture, didn't he?”

Stephen and Ryan had been friends while Ryan worked for the agency. Stephen had been shocked as hell to find out that Ryan was a thief, possibly even more than Emma herself had been. She and Stephen hadn't been close so they couldn't commiserate, but he and Charlotte had started seeing each other soon afterward. And they seemed to be very serious about each other now.

“I guess you two haven't stayed in touch,” she said.

“No, strangely enough, nobody wanted anything to do with me after I left. I'm like a leper. Charlotte didn't
even say goodbye. At least you said a few parting words to me.”

“I believe I told you to go to hell.”

He smiled. “At least it was an acknowledgment that I was leaving.”

Emma searched his face. “Do you feel bad about what happened?”

His expression shadowed and his smile faded. “You have no idea how bad I feel about it.”

There was pain in his eyes, but it quickly disappeared. It was something, though. Something she could hold on to. She felt like a bit of a masochist for wanting him to feel bad, but it was better than if he'd been completely blasé about it. Ryan definitely wasn't blasé.

“You know,” she said, thinking things through. “If you were to recover the stolen merchandise and return it, it's possible things might be different.”

He snorted, but it was a humorless sound. “You think?”

“I do.”

“If I knew where everything was, then that might be possible. But I don't.”

“You could go back to the people you sold the items to and—”

He cut her off. “You just don't get it, do you, Em?”

“Get what?”

He stared at her for a long, drawn-out moment. She could sense the tension building between them wasn't merely sexual anymore. “I didn't steal anything.”

She frowned. “But—”

“No, Em, it wasn't me. I was set up to take the fall.” He looked frustrated.

Her jaw tightened and disappointment flooded through her. “I see.”

His brows drew together. “A part of you has to see that I'm innocent. I'd never do something like that.”

“Let's just forget I said anything.”

She tried to ignore the lump that quickly formed in her throat. Even
now
he was denying it. But she remembered it so clearly, it was as if it had been only yesterday, watching him around the corner of the building as he left the office with a duffle bag in hand. He'd looked suspicious and checked his surroundings, then unloaded the bag into the trunk of a car. He got on his cell phone and spoke to somebody on the other end.

“I have the items,” he said. “Nobody even saw me. Meet me at the rendezvous point in ten minutes for the handoff.”

That didn't sound like an innocent phone call to Emma.

She'd wondered why Ryan hadn't sensed any suspicion from her the next day. He was an empath, after all, although it took a lot of concentration for him to get a good read on anyone. Looked like he hadn't wanted to expend any extra energy on Emma.

The vault might have been easy to break into, but it had been equipped with a security camera. It had captured a glimpse of the perpetrator. It had been enough to turn attention toward Ryan.

Patrick knew about Ryan's history as a car thief—a story told one night over drinks at the pub down the street. That hadn't helped his case, especially not when a witness confirmed that it had definitely been Ryan on the security tape.

In confidence, Emma had told Patrick what she'd seen. In return, he'd kept her name out of matters. Patrick, as agency manager, had had no choice but to fire Ryan. He'd done it privately, but word spread like wildfire.

Ryan had no idea that it was Emma who'd been the nail in his coffin. But her disappointment with him had been so vast, her trust in a partner that she'd had extremely warm feelings for so shattered, that she couldn't help herself. It had felt like her father's betrayal all over again. Perhaps he'd only taken the job at PARA so he could steal from the vault on a regular basis.

Then, instead of just admitting it and doing what he could to fix the situation, Ryan continued to claim his innocence.

And despite this, she still wanted him. Forget the lust potion that made it impossible for her to deny her attraction to him, she still desired him even without it—desired a man who'd lied to her and betrayed her. Even now she wanted to forget about the past and give him a chance to make it up to her.

But she'd be setting herself up for more disappointment. She knew it. It had been proven one too many times before.

Her feelings were definitely complicated, especially now. She hated what he'd done, but she wanted him anyway.

And she knew that was not the least bit healthy.

“Come on,” she said, starting up the stairs. “Let's get this over with.”

He stood at the base of the stairway with his hands on his hips. “So, what? You're just going to confront Harold?”

“Yeah, that's pretty much it.” After this was over, she wanted to go home. Alone. Then she'd try her very best to put Ryan out of her head and wait for the lust potion's affects to fade away. She'd researched the potion earlier that day at the office. The effects would wane if given enough time. A week, maybe. Giving in to their desires would
allegedly help speed the process along, but…that wasn't a good idea. It would cause too many complications.

Writing about him in her erotic novel had been cathartic, but ultimately unhelpful. She knew that now. It just kept him vividly in her mind as an object of desire. A scene she'd written when her characters had made love in a bedroom filled with candles and red roses flickered in her mind. It was the scene when her heroine realized that the hero wasn't only interested in sex. He'd fallen in love with her.

It was only a fantasy. And that was how it would stay, no matter how much her body ached to feel Ryan's against hers. This lust potion was only a temporary problem. Ryan's presence in her life again was only a temporary problem. She just had to be strong for a little while longer.

So instead, she thought about the job in front of her. She'd dealt with a lot of ghosts in her life. And nine times out of ten, they were reasonable sorts, if a bit confused about what had happened to them.

Emma and Ryan finally reached the fourth floor which had a banister along one side of the hallway, showing a open view down to the lobby. All the lights on this floor were flickering, even the ones set into the ceiling.

“I'd be surprised if they'd even paid the electricity bill recently,” Ryan said. “After all, nobody's running this place anymore.”

“This is all because of Harold,” Emma agreed. “It shows that he's aggravated and highly emotional. It's enough to affect the power levels around him and in this particular case, it's electricity.”

“Great.”

Normally she'd hang back a little and get her bearings, trying to sense the ghost and predict what he might do.
But she was on edge and she wanted this over with. With Ryan a bit too close for comfort, she began to open doors into the rooms that looked as if they'd been frozen in time. Each one was identical with a double bed, a wooden desk, a chair, and a window with green curtains.