The Bride's Curse (17 page)

What was happening? Was Noelia facing an armed robber? Fear for her assistant made her stomach clench. She couldn’t actually imagine what a robber would want from her store unless he’d been inflamed with lust at the sexy display of wedding lingerie she’d placed artistically in the store window. Or perhaps it was someone desperate to get one of those delightful stocking topper garters that looked so cute in the display …

They arrived to find all the store lights blazing through the window and the glass panel of the door. Brett and Kelly stood transfixed on the sidewalk as they watched boxes, gloves, hats, veils, and all kinds of bridal paraphernalia whirl around the room. A richly brocaded gown with a long train danced amid the confusion, all by itself with its empty sleeves swaying madly.

Seeing Noelia stagger past the window with a cream lace teddy wrapped around her head shook them both from their shocked paralysis into action.

The store door was locked. Kelly fumbled with the key, wasting precious seconds until Brett took the key from her trembling hand, unlocked the door, and, sheltering her behind him, strode into the store.

It was like walking into a tornado. A tornado made up of lace and pearls and silky wedding stuff. Kelly broke away from Brett’s protective arm and immediately ducked as six copies of Mimi L’Amour’s sexy new romance novel flew at her head. She ran to Noelia and put her arms around the frightened woman, all the while yelling at the entity she was sure was causing this turmoil to stop at once.

Apparently Noelia thought Kelly was talking to her and shrugged her boss off. Her hair stood out around her head in sweaty gray blonde tufts and her face was crimson with panic as she struggled to maintain her footing in the whirlwind of bridal stock. Standing with her hands on her hips she glared at Kelly and yelled, “What do you think I’m doing? It’s not me! It’s that curse!”

And at that moment a bridal purse hit her in the face and Noelia went down as if cold cocked.

Kelly gritted her teeth. “Look, old man, I know what this is about. It’s about Mary Atwell, isn’t it? It’s that cursed wedding dress that brought you to my door. Whatever you want, I’ll try and help, but you have to stop this now.”

Kelly stood her ground and slowly the whirlwind of circling bridal goods slowed. Items began to drop to the floor as if released from a centrifugal force. All except one, a box with the numbers nine-nine in large letters on all sides, which hovered in front of Brett before losing impetus and falling down among all the other items.

Brett was on his knees beside Noelia helping her to stand when the sudden stillness fell over the store. “We should call the police,” he said, standing and taking in the carnage of bridal items strewn everywhere.

“No, whatever you do, do
not
the call the police. That would make us look like fools. Can you imagine?
‘Officer, I know who the perpetrator is—he’s a restless spirit trying to get a message across.’
Oh, yeah, I’m sure that would go down real well with Marina Grove’s finest.”

Noelia snorted. “I suppose this was one of your spirit friends having a tantrum, eh?” She scowled at Kelly as she brushed dust and lint off her clothes and untangled a pair of white stockings from around her neck. “If this is going to become a regular occurrence, I’m afraid you’ll have to count me out. You couldn’t pay me enough to deal with this sort of thing. And why can’t he just tell you what he wants? Why does he need the dramatics?”

Kelly had a fair idea why the dead guy was angry. She’d robbed him of contact with Mary when she’d broken their connection by running out of the Atwell mansion. There had to be something more, though. The old man had seemed fairly sane and definitely not dangerous until tonight.

“I guess I’ll have to ask him what’s going on next time he chooses to appear.”

“Well, please let me know when that is. I want to be miles away when it happens.” Sniffing to hide the tears that had gathered in her eyes, Noelia stalked from the shop. She slammed the door closed behind her with such force that the silver bells that hung over it jangled and danced madly.

“And she didn’t even offer to help me clean this up.” Kelly looked sadly around the room at the devastation and her heart sank. “We could be here all night.”

“We?” Brett asked, one eyebrow raised. “You’re counting me in on this, Red?”

Oh, yes.
She was beginning to count Brett Atwell in for a lot of things in her life. Right now, she had a great idea for a joint activity that didn’t involve rearranging bridal paraphernalia. “The stuff can wait until morning. I’ll get here early and get it sorted out. Meanwhile, unless you have somewhere you want to be in a hurry, then I have a suggestion … ”

She was pretty sure Brett blushed, just a little, when she stood on tiptoe to whisper in his ear. Then he wrapped her in his arms and delivered another of those killer kisses.

“I don’t think we should do this in front of Wedding Bliss’s window for all the town to see,” Kelly said, unable to keep the smile off her face. “I thought we’d perhaps go back to my cottage?”

She was dismayed when Brett hesitated, frowning. Had he changed his mind about her in the last few minutes
?
Had she misread the electricity that had been sizzling between them since the moment they met? Disappointment and embarrassment zinged all the way down to her toes.

“It’s okay. I’m a big girl. I can take it if you’re not interested … ” Kelly knew her expression was anything but that of a big girl; she felt like an idiot and knew that must be reflected in her face.

However she looked, the expression made Brett smile. “It’s not that I don’t want you. Hell, I’ve wanted you since the moment I first saw you. It’s just that, well, you’ll think this is odd for someone who’s only just coming to terms with the idea that there might, just might, be such a thing as a haunting … ”

Kelly placed her hand against his stubbly cheek. “Hello, you’re talking to a woman who sees dead people. Can’t get much odder than that.”

“Frankly, I can’t wait to get you into bed. I’d rather go to my place and—well, I mean, even if it’s only an invitation for coffee—I’m not being presumptuous or anything.” He looked sheepish and Kelly wanted to laugh and scream and yell
Please! Please be presumptuous!
but she just treated him to a smile that would have done the Mona Lisa proud.

“Won’t your aunt, your sister, and the housekeeper be there?”

Brett gave her an uncomfortable little shrug. “I have a small apartment of my own, over the coach house. It’s private and, well, I’d rather not have a ghost popping up while we’re … er … ”

She squeezed his hand. “It’s okay, Big Strong Guy. I don’t even mind you being presumptuous. But I thought you didn’t believe in ghosts … ?”

“After the display we’ve just seen, I guess there’s not much option than to believe in
something
. And you saw this
apparition
outside your cottage the other night. I guess I’d rather not be around where he might just wander by. Getting caught in the throes of passion by a nosy restless spirit could cause a man serious dysfunction.”

Kelly laughed out loud, she couldn’t help it. “Well, we certainly wouldn’t want that, would we?”

• • •

As it happened, there was definitely no dysfunction for either of them that night.

Kelly was shy at first. It had been some time since she’d slept with a man, and that man had rejected her with a curt note almost on the eve of their wedding day. Then there was the little matter of a few scars that showed in white raised lines on her body—scattershot shrapnel wounds, a parting gift from the Taliban.

She need not have worried. From the very beginning, Brett was patient and loving. And very, very sexy. He made it clear with his actions, his tender touches, his kisses, and his murmured words that he found her beautiful in every way. Kelly grew in confidence as he loved her and she loved him back as he brought her to a climax so intensely shattering she thought she’d fly apart.

And then he gently put her back together again and finally entered her willing body, sliding smoothly inside her until he was fully sheathed. When he paused above her, resting on his elbows and looking deep into her eyes, Kelly was breathless at the wonder of it all.

• • •

Her lazy tangle of red hair spread across his pillow was every bit as erotic as his imagination had suggested
. She
was every bit as erotic as his imagination had suggested. He had to school himself to take it slow, to enjoy every creamy curve, every tiny cry, every sigh, and every touch.

The scars that stood out whitely on her skin were beautiful to him. They spoke of her courage, her strength, her compassion in trying to save the life of another soldier at the risk of her own. He marveled at the idea of such fragile femininity harboring such courage, and he wanted to give her everything.

He captured her lips with his own as she pressed against him, then he worked his way down again to her breasts, sucking on one, then other. His fingers found her hidden center, caressing until he felt the pulsing there and she threw back her head and moaned in pleasure.

Then he covered her with his body and hotly entered her welcoming flesh, stroking her body and thrusting into her with the combination of strength and tenderness that she evoked in him until he felt her pleasure build again and finally anticipating the approach of their summit of sensuality, he joined his release with hers.

Later, much later, they fell asleep in each other’s arms, naked and sated.

• • •

Dawn was slowly seeping in through the bamboo blinds on Brett’s bedroom window when Kelly suddenly sat bolt upright in bed—or as upright as she could with Brett’s arm still resting possessively over her belly.

“It wasn’t Mary he was reaching for!” She blurted out the words aloud without thinking, and Brett groaned as her voice dragged him from a deep, satisfied sleep.

“What are you talking about, Red? In fact, why talk at all? Just come here and … ”

“No, there’s no time! Don’t you see? He wasn’t reaching for Mary at all. It was the photograph on the table by her chair.”

“And why would he do that?”

“Because he’s her long-lost lover? He’s the ghost of Troy Matthews.”

Brett sat up now too. “Okay, I’m wide awake now. What’s on your mind?”

“First off, don’t call me Red or something nasty might happen to you. You were warned.” She tried to frown at his grin but was too happy. “Don’t you see? He’s trying to make amends for the hurt he caused her. He wants her to forgive him before he passes over to whatever comes next.”

Brett snorted. “Then he might as well just toddle off to his own little spot in Hell. I don’t see Mary forgiving him anytime soon, not if she hasn’t got around to that way of thinking in the past forty years or more.”

Kelly shrugged that off. “I ran from your Aunt’s house because I could see the Old Man on the Bench. The dead guy. I told you I thought he was reaching out toward Mary, and I thought … well, I thought he was trying to embrace her and … ”

Brett scowled. “You thought that the dead guy was amorous and trying to take Aunt Mary with him into wherever it is he’s doing time?”

Kelly swallowed hard. “That’s what I thought last night. I thought the ghost is somehow attached to me, so if I left, he’d have to leave, too.”

“You’re one brave lady, Kelly Andrews.” He kissed her long and hot, and then released her. “So, what does all this mean?”

Kelly chewed on her top lip. “I have to go back to Mary’s and take a closer look at that photograph. It might help the pieces come together.”

Even though it was still early, and even though Kelly had intended to get into Wedding Bliss to clear up the mess that the ghost’s temper tantrum had left behind, she knew she had to do this first. Brett’s apartment was over what used to be a carriage house for the old Atwell mansion, so it was really just a matter of walking a few steps to the house and ringing the doorbell. Before she could put her finger on the buzzer, Brett caught her hand in his. Kissing her on the nose, he held up a key.

“The bell sounds like the trump of doom. There’s really no need to wake up the entire household. It’s still really early. In fact, it’s far too early to be out of that warm bed.” He inserted the key in the lock and then paused to kiss her thoroughly again before turning the handle and pushing the door open.

Kelly took a deep breath while the kiss sizzled through her and ordered herself to focus on the job at hand rather than the delightful idea of taking Brett up on his suggestion that they simply go back to his tousled bed.

She thought her sanity might be in danger if she didn’t solve this mystery and send that old dead guy on his way to whatever comes next. She said as much to Brett, who raised one eyebrow in that sexy way of his with the unspoken message:
How sane is focusing on a years-old curse and a restless spirit?

Once inside, Kelly led the way through the big square hallway and into the small parlor where she had met Mary Atwell the previous evening. Brett followed, keeping an eye out for anything of the other-worldly variety. Kelly caught his eye and teased, “So now who’s a believer?”

“After last night’s little display in Wedding Bliss? I was convinced by those dancing lacy panties … ”

Kelly punched his arm. “Typical male reaction.”

She picked up the photograph in its heavy silver frame and studied the four people there. It was easy to spot Mary Atwell; despite the passing of years, she looked very much the same.

“Probably because she hasn’t changed her hairstyle in all this time and her clothes still have an early sixties look,” Brett said when she commented.

She perched on the arm of the chair that Mary had occupied the previous night. Now that she was back in the room she was even more convinced that the ghost had been trying to call attention to this photograph rather than drag poor Mary off to the Other Side.

The reason had to be because the ghost was in this picture and he wanted her to recognize that. She ran her index finger over the handsome, fine-boned face of the man sitting next to Mary in the photo. There was no doubt in her mind that this was the Old Man on the Bench, despite the years that had passed. Everything began to fall into place. The dress, that cursed wedding dress, had led this miserable apparition to her door, or rather, to her street bench, because
he
was the cause of the curse. He was the missing groom, the one who’d stood a fragile young Mary Atwell up at the altar.