“Want to take a looktogether?”
Leslie nodded. “I’m not really afraid of ghosts. I don’t think. I just—it was such a shock. And then it came at me. As long as it doesn’t hurt anyone…” She shrugged again, but her eyes were still a little wide. “Do you mind waiting while I put some clothes on? Have a mini quiche. Make another cup of coffee, if you like. I’ll be rightback.”
“What’re you drinking? It smellsgood.”
“It’s chai tea with milk and a little maple syrup for sweetener. There are cups for that too, for the little coffee maker. Helpyourself.”
Declan did as she suggested, wandering around the kitchen with his milky chai tea (not bad at all). Nice tile work on the backsplash. Some of the accent tiles looked like they were custom made, too, and they didn’t look toomodern.
An interesting array of cookbooks—French, vegetarian, wild game, Thai, vegan baking (how was that even possible? didn’t vegans forgo eggs?) and more. There were glass-fronted cabinets with mix-and-match blue and white dishes, and a real fireplace on one wall. He noticed a calendar depicting neat Japanese gardens hanging next to the landline on a small built-in desk with a Mac desktop. He paused when he saw that October 15, next Wednesday, was marked by a small red heart with an “E” written insideit.
Declan suddenly felt grumbly and annoyed. Who the hell was E? What was up with theheart?
“All right.” Leslie swept through the door off the kitchen, and Declan caught a glimpse inside the office beyond. “Allready.”
She had brushed her hair (it was smooth and shiny now) and the scent of minty toothpaste wafted from her. Leslie was now wearing jeans that did great things for her ass, and a light blue “Smitten with the Mitten” t-shirt that displayed the outline of Michigan on it, as well as the shape of her curves beneathit.
Almost as good as a towel, he decided as he followed her down the hall from the kitchen to thefoyer.
Then he redirected his thoughts and imagined how she would have crept along the same route last night. How many people—men or women—would have investigated something like that while alone in the house, rather than turning tail and bolting? And how many people would have spent the rest of the night in the house after being confronted by what Leslie had seen—or thought she’dseen?
His estimation of her clicked up another few notches…then clunked back down when he remembered the E-filled heart on hercalendar.
Leslie walked boldly into the foyer, turning on the lamps to give as much illumination as possible—which was to say, not as much as there would be once she finished with the new lighting she’d told him aboutyesterday.
Declan looked around and didn’t see anything obviously amiss. The patch of drywall he’d set back in place to close off the stairway to the speakeasy was still intact, and nothing else seemed to be disturbed. The tarp on which they’d piled some of the debris from the dismantled stair railing was still lying on the floor, shuffled up into a pile in the corner. The broom and dustpan remained from last night aswell.
Leslie seemed to agree with his assessment that nothing had been moved, for she made no comment after walking a circle around the entrance hall. She started up the stairway, shining a flashlight on the steps. The beam skimmed back and forth over each stair as she made her way to thetop.
“The—uh—ghost was about here,” she said when she got to the far end of the sweep of stairs, on the opposite side of the high-ceilinged room. “I don’t see anything…” She crouched to look more closely as Declan came up to joinher.
He wasn’t certain what to look for, and this was the first time he’d been upstairs. The balcony was like one side of an H, bisected by a single hallway that ended in a T-intersection at the back end of the house. He saw several doors that surely led to what would become guest rooms, and one door at the end of the corridor. The floor was hardwood, probably oak, that desperately needed to be sanded, buffed, and stained. In general, the upstairs smelled like fresh plaster and paint instead of oldhouse.
As if reading his mind, Leslie looked up with a wry smile. “Things are moving along slowly but surely up here. I’ll have eight guest rooms in all, five with private baths and two other bathrooms for use. I’ve had all the wiring updated and windows replaced, and the drywall crew is coming tomorrow to finish patching before the paint crew comes on Monday…and that’s just the beginning.” She shook her head, then flapped a hand. “I don’t see anything out of place up here. There’s no dust because so many of us have been in and out, so it’s hard to tell whether what was here was something corporeal or not.” She turned off her flashlight. “Eventually, these floors will be redone…but for now, I’m concentrating on the guestrooms.”
He automatically offered her a hand and helped lever her to her feet. “Considering what you’ve done in the kitchen, I have no doubt it’s all going to look great. And I can’t believe you’ve got a crew coming on a Saturday. What did you have to do to get them to agree tothat?”
She laughed. “It wasn’t that difficult—it’s a big job here, and the contractor is all about keeping mehappy.”
So whatdoesit take to keep you happy?Declan was becoming more and more interested in giving it a shot. “Should we check in each of the rooms—just incase?”
“Good idea. Though I’m not sure what I’m lookingfor.”
“Me either. But we should bethorough.”
It took less than ten minutes to check each of the future guest rooms and bathrooms, and once again, Leslie seemed satisfied that nothing was out ofplace.
“So…” she said as they descended to the main floor. “If there was anyone here pulling a trick on me, there’s no sign of it. I really think it was a ghost,Declan.”
He looked at her as she paused on the last step. This put her just slightly below his eye level, with those brown irises close enough for him to see the flecks of black in them. She was looking at him intently—almost as if she wanted him to believe her—but his thoughts scattered when he realized how close she was standing, how good she smelled—all minty and lush and female—and that it had been quite a long time since he’d kissed a woman. And then there was the memory of that ass in thosejeans…
“I…” he began, forcing himself to step back both literally and figuratively. His fingers had gone a little shaky, dammit. “A ghost,” he reminded himself as he moved away from the stairs, ostensibly to check the stability of what was left of the railing. “Well…” He collected his thoughts rapidly. “I guess you’ll have to wait and see if it comes back tonight.” He glanced over as she stepped onto thefloor.
It was on the tip of his tongue to suggest that he could come by later tonight and hang around to see if the specter showed up again, but the daddy gene he hadn’t realized he owned until a few months ago shut that idea down immediately. He wasn’t comfortable leaving Stephanie home alone overnight. And even if he did, he wasn’t certain how he’d explain that he was going to spend the night at her boss’shouse.
Teens could definitely be acomplication.
“Right.” Leslie seemed pragmatic as she set the flashlight down on a small table in the foyer. “And if she doesn’t reappear…well, maybe I could chalk it up to a—No, it wasn’t a dream. I don’t care how crazy it sounds; it was not a dream. I was wide awake. I was freezing and I heard the music, and I felt the hardwood floor under my feet.” Then her eyes narrowed as she glared at him. “I’ve never sleep-walked in my life, so don’t even think aboutthat.”
