Mystic Hearts (4 page)

Is Larry there?
Did he leave?

Mindful
of not losing her balance, she moved at a snail’s pace toward a concrete slab
in front of the building, side-stepping a tree and its wayward branches. A
rosebush with petite, deep red blooms grazed her arm.

The
merry-go-round ride started again.

She
wobbled. Her legs felt like wet noodles. Colors and lights pirouetted. “Oh,
jeez.”

A
cat screeched.

The
ride she didn’t ask to be on intensified. She stumbled and fell to the ground.

Flat
on her back, she stared at the sky. A witch rode a broomstick in front of the
moon.

This can’t be
happening.

A
light weight with numerous paws scurried over her stomach. She turned her head.
Every inch she moved, the act freeze-framed in time. A disjointed cat ran
toward two enormous monsters. She closed her lids on the tears welling.
“Someone help me.”

“Are
you okay?” A masculine, sexy voice asked.

No.
She wasn’t. She was tripping, a sensation she’d never experienced. “Make it
stop.” Squinting, she looked toward the person belonging to the voice. The
edges of her sight darkened. At the end of the tunnel, fireworks exploded. “I
can’t see you.”

A
breeze caressed her face. The outline of a man materialized.

She
drew in air, the frostiness of it stinging her lungs. “Where did you come
from?”

“I’ve
been here.”

She
opened her mouth…closed it.

Casper the
Friendly Ghost.

Nothing
she did or saw made sense. “Are you a ghost?”

He
chuckled. “In the flesh.”

Darkness
stole her vision.

****

A
puff of air caressed Charlene’s cheek and earlobe, emitting pleasant tingles
across her skin. She opened her lids in hopes to see a man and not a ghost, to
see Larry.

No
one was there.

Alarm
shot through her, tensing her muscles. The enjoyable thrill that woke her
vanished. No longer outside watching witches on broomsticks, she lay on a soft
surface with an ice pack against her head in an unfamiliar room. Her vision
warped. The same effect she had looking out fatal-vision goggles, like the ones
her mother forced her to wear at a sheriff’s carnival to scare her from ever
drinking and driving.

If
her eyes didn’t lie, a built-in bookshelf lined the front wall, boxes filling
its shelves. Windows on either side of the room let the moonlight in.

The
closed area brought forth the similarities from the kidnapping. Locked in a
cabin, the unknown frightening her, she’d prayed to be rescued. The thought
sizzled through her mind like a stick of dynamite, bringing an explosive
feeling of doom.

Unlike
last time, FBI agents wouldn’t search for someone they didn’t know was missing.
This time, despair fell short when the scent of chicken soup filled her
nostrils. She rose, scooted her legs around until her feet touched the floor,
and searched the room.

In
the corner, a pot sat on a woodstove. Her throat tightened. A wooden spoon
moved in a circular motion…on its own.

Recalling
Larry’s voice, she pressed her palms into her eyes and latched onto the
strength he’d imparted that day on the mountain. She’d heard him outside,
arguing with someone, then inquiring if she was okay. He had to be here. Or had
she wished and hoped for him so much that she dreamed it?

Anticipating
and wishing the world righted and Larry stood before her, she dropped her hands
and opened her eyes.

The
spoon continued to stir the contents in the pot. “I’m hallucinating,” she
mumbled.

“You
might be.”

She
jerked. Her hand smacked her chest.
A
voice without a body
. If she ever got out of this mess, she’d have to check
into a mental institution.

As
if the universe knew she couldn’t take another setback, a man materialized.
“No-o,” she whispered. Her vision once again turned fuzzy. She focused on a
man’s back as he stirred the soup.

He
twisted. A flannel shirt covered his shoulders. With the patches of skin
alternating with the flannel, she believed it was unbuttoned. His hair hung
over his forehead into his eyes.

“Hi,
Charlene.” Her name escaped his lips as if he knew her.

She
jumped to her feet and lost her balance, falling backwards.

Strong
hands touched her back and lifted her until she steadied. The simple contact
soothed her nervous body and his lightning-quick-speed delighted her delicate
core. “Ben?” The name slipped out without thought.
Where had she heard it?

His
body went rigid.

The
fatal-vision hadn’t left. She couldn’t make out his features. From the angle of
his head, she could tell he was studying her.

“You
okay?” he asked.

Easing
away, her legs shook. She wanted to know who he was. With her eyes playing
tricks, seeing things that weren’t there, she had to go on instinct. “You’re
not real.”

The
air shimmered. The man stroked a finger down her cheek. “I assure you, I’m very
much alive.”

She
stepped backwards and hit the wall. “W-why couldn’t I see you moments ago?”

“I
don’t know.” He chuckled.

His
breath drifted across her face, stirring a desire she’d only felt once before.
Impossible, as Larry had been the only man who’d stimulated outrageous
cravings.
A hallucination can’t do that.
Can it?

He
slid another finger down her cheek. She quivered. The electricity produced a
throbbing in her body and prevented her from grasping onto any one emotion. One
second, she was delusional, the next, she melted. “How can I feel you?”

“You’re
not asking the right question.” His voice filled with mischief.

The
one she asked seemed important. “What is the right one?”

His
hands slapped the wall on each side of her head, trapping her. Anticipating an
imprisoned impression, she tensed.

It
didn’t occur. “What is the right—” Her whisper broke off when he moved closer,
aligning his over six-foot stature perfectly to her five-foot-five frame.

“Why
do I allow you?” he asked, his voice teasing.

Good
question, yet why did he joke? Was this a game to him? “Why?”

A
mere fraction stood between their bodies, and she wanted to taste him, have his
lips move across hers.

“I’ve
wanted you since the day I saw you,” he whispered.

Her
vision cleared. She bit her lip and gazed into his eyes, watching as the gold
flecks sparkled. “Larry?” she asked, her voice a little louder than a whisper.

His
dark, intense brows that made guys look extremely sexy, lifted. “Were you expecting
someone else?”

She
shook her head and let her eyes drift down the open shirt. Broad shoulders,
flat abs framed by a narrowed waist. He had that sleek, muscled look that said
he had kicked ass.

He
lifted her chin with his finger, bringing her gaze back to his. “A woman’s wet
lips captivate a man.” His eyes shifted to her mouth.

She
fought the urge to squirm. The man was potent.

“When
moisture forms on them,” his voice dropped an octave, “it lets him know if he’s
worthy to touch her.”

The
seduction warmed her already overheated body. “Are you…worthy?”

“Your
lips say so.”

The
air crackled between them.

Her
pulse raced, throwing her back onto the merry-go-round ride. This time, her
vision wasn’t distorted, her heart was.

“I’ve
dreamed of doing this.”

If
she was hallucinating, she didn’t want the delirium to end.

He
leaned toward her, his mouth coming in for the capture. She couldn’t wait. Her
lips parted.

His
soft lips glided over hers. The kiss so delicate, so gentle, she felt like the
treasure at the end of a rainbow. A gem someone looked long and hard to find.
The hallucinations had played tricks on her all night.

Is this another
trick?

She
had to touch him to find out if she lived a dream or not. She placed her hands
on his hardened pecs. Every nerve ending in her palms shot a jolt of awareness
between her legs. If this was an illusion, she wanted more. Lots more.

A
low growl escaped him, vibrating through her body. He nipped her bottom lip
before taking the kiss deeper. His tongue tangled with hers, urging a response
and threatening to pull well-hidden passion out of the secure hiding place
she’d created two years ago.

She
eased back, breaking the spell, and shook her head.

Chapter Three

Ice-cold
water to Larry’s crotch couldn’t have felt worse than Charlene shaking her
head, saying a silent ‘
no more
’.

Her
movements might say no, but her heavy eyes and fast breathing told him she’d
enjoyed their strong connection as much as he had, giving him hope they might
continue.

Mind-blowing
was the only way to describe the way Charlene kissed him. The power of the touch
shocked him. Larry wanted to take the electricity between them even further, so
damn much. His response alarmed him.

The
same reaction must have caused her to stop their embrace. He should take this
time to ask questions. After witnessing the questionable lights Paul spoke of,
he had to agree that unexplained activity, possibly criminal, occurred on the
property.

Charlene
looked at him from under her lashes, her eyes longing for more. He couldn’t
concentrate on the case with her looking so un-believe-ably adorable.

When
she showed up at the manor, he felt what he imagined a child would at
Christmastime. Receiving the present on Christmas morning they’d wanted so much
they’d begged their parents for it every day, a thrill he never had the
pleasure of experiencing…until now.

The
taste of her was beyond his expectations…delicious…incredible. Her heated body
beckoned his closer. He inched forward.

“Larry.”
She touched a hand to his chest, keeping him at a distance.

He
gazed at her wet lips, the result of their connection. “Yes.”

“This
is fast.”

Again,
the water drenched his overactive erection. “Agreed.”

He
mulled over his growing list of questions to keep his mind off wanting to touch
her. Why was she at the manor alone? Did she know Allen Mathews? Why’d she call
him Ben, a name he hated, when she first saw him?

He
pulled his lips inward, tasting her sweetness and the wine she’d consumed on
the steps of Greenwood Manor.

Engrossed
in dealing with Mathews, he hadn’t heard her approach until he heard the
thump
followed by a grunt when she hit
the ground on the other side of the schoolhouse.

At
first, he thought someone working with Mathews showed up and harmed Charlene.
He stayed on high alert while he checked her vitals, and did a quick
examination to see if any bones had broken. Other than a knot on the back of
her head, she’d weathered the fall unscathed.

Charlene’s
breath on his skin brought him back to the present. She leaned closer, staring
at his neck, and running a finger over the little bit of chest hair. With each
stroke, her caressing fingers came dangerously close to urging him to pull her
against him so they could pick up where they’d left off.

He
tipped her head up with a finger until she met his gaze. “Charlene, are you
okay?”

“No,”
she sighed. “I can’t believe anything I see. I don’t know if you’re real or
not. I’ve seen things tonight that I can’t explain. I think my vision is
getting better one minute, and in the next, I’m hallucinating. I don’t know if
you’re really here. You told me who you are, but how do I know you’re actually
saying this and I’m not dreaming it up in my head… How do I know who I’m
kissing?” She stared at him. Tears welled in her eyes. “Does any of this make
sense?”

The
size of her pupils and her off-kilter behavior alluded to drugs. Was she
tripping?

Had
the kidnapping messed with her so much, she started using?

Pamela
Gibson, Charlene’s boss, and Pamela’s husband Jake, Larry’s best friend, knew
his fondness for this single mom and her child. Since the ordeal in the
mountains, they’d kept a close eye on her. If she showed any outlandish
behavior, Jake would have mentioned it. He hadn’t, which made her current spiel
alarming. Had someone slipped her something?

The
only thing he could say was, “Charlene, do you want to kiss me?”

“Oh
my God! You don’t have any other questions? I just ranted like a lunatic.
Where’s your investigative mind?”