CHAPTER SIX
Silt and sewage from the Chicago River coated the inside of Beth’s mouth. She forced down the urge to gag—or worse—and cleared her throat.
Where the hell am I?
She half-opened one eye. Sunlight slammed into her pupil and arrowed straight to a nuclear headache. She closed it again fast.
Think, Dearborn.
My God. Had she fallen off the wagon? The way her head pounded and belly churned were agonizingly familiar. But, no…Her mouth would definitely have tasted more like puke than pollution if that horrible nightmare had come to pass.
The storm. Lightning. Thunder. Wind. Terror.
A shudder rippled through her, and cold sweat coated her body. Gingerly, she touched her forehead. The golf ball-sized knot she found there explained the headache. Okay, but how the hell had—
The foyer.
She opened both eyes and stared at the ceiling fan rotating slowly overhead. The Malone house.
Don’t hit me.
Bile scalded Beth’s throat as the memory pierced through her headache with scalpel-like precision. Again, a presence had confronted her at the Malones’ front door. And again, she’d experienced pain. Fear. Now there was no doubt. No more denial.
Shit.
Her so-called “gift” was staging a comeback. Bigtime.
Panic launched her heart into hyperspeed, but she willed herself to remain still. To remember more. Whoever the spirit was, it seemed confined to the foyer. The voice had belonged to a woman. Beth seemed safe from her memory here, in this part of the house. But why hadn’t she returned to the Brubaker Arms last night? She closed her eyes again, drew deep breaths through her nose, releasing them slowly through her mouth. In. Out. In. Out.
Her bedroom door clicked open, but she deliberately kept her eyes closed. She had no idea where her backpack was, exactly where in the Malone house she was now, or how vulnerable she could still be to the presence inhabiting the foyer. Her old precinct captain would have said she was playing possum. Whatever worked, was Beth’s philosophy—then and now.
“Do you think she’s dead?” someone whispered. Loudly.
“Nah. She ain’t dead. She just looks dead.”
“Don’t say ain’t, or Pearl will wash your mouth out with soap again.”
Kids. Damn. Beth opened her eyes to narrow slits and tried to focus on the human forms near the door.
I’ve landed in Oz and these are the Bumpkin Munchkins. Of course, if that were true, then she was the wicked witch, and Dorothy had dropped a house on her head.
“Pearl ain’t here.”
“I’m gonna tell.”
“You’re such a baby.”
They sure as hell weren’t whispering now. Beth opened her eyes all the way and checked out the intruders while they bickered back and forth. The smaller of the pair was a brown-eyed blonde who looked like a younger version of Sarah. The boy looked like a miniature of Ty.
“I am not a baby.”
“Are so.”
“Am not.”
“Are so.”
“Hey, hey, hey.” Beth struggled to a sitting position. “Keep it down to a dull roar, will you?”
“See? Told ya she ain’t dead,” the miniature Ty said.
Man, kid, you’re lucky you’re cute, or somebody would’ve done more than wash your mouth out with soap by now.
Beth sighed and then glanced down. “What the…?” Someone had taken her clothes and dressed her in…ruffles. The neckline plunged halfway to China, she could see actual body parts through the filmy fabric, and—worst of all—the thing was pink. ”Whoa! Somebody snuck in here and dressed me like a freaking Barbie doll.”
The little girl giggled. “That’s just a nightgown.” She came closer to the bed. “What’s your name?”
“Apparently, Barbie. Er, Beth. I think.” She grimaced and rearranged some of the silly ruffles and lace so at least her nipples were no longer visible. The boy was old enough to at least be curious. “What’s yours?”
“I’m Grace, and I’m nine.”
“A baby,” the boy said.
“Nine is not a baby,” Beth interrupted before they could start the yo-yo bickering again. Her headache couldn’t take it. “And what’s your name, smart man?”
His face and ears turned the shade of a ripe tomato, and his blue-green eyes flashed fire. “I’m Mark, and I’m twelve today.”
“Happy birthday, Mark.” Beth studied the kids for a few seconds. They seemed healthy and well cared for. With Pearl around, how could they be anything less? Of course, she’d seen Ty’s apparent dedication as well. “So…do you always spy on guests, or only on your birthday?”
“Sorry.” Mark lifted a shoulder. “Didn’t mean no harm.”
“Any harm,” Grace corrected. “And I’m sorry, too.”
Beth rolled her eyes. “You’re forgiven, then.”
“You, uh, won’t tell our dad.” Mark glanced over his shoulder at the half-open door. “Will you?”
“Why shouldn’t I?”
“Because he’ll be mad at us.” Grace’s eyes grew round and her lower lip quivered.
“Because it’s my birthday?” Mark ventured, a dimple appearing in his cheek.
Definitely a lady-killer. Beth cleared her throat and managed not to grin. After all, they had invaded her privacy, and even if she wasn’t exactly the maternal type, she knew kids shouldn’t be rewarded for that. “Okay, I won’t tell your dad if…”
“Ah, man.” Mark snorted in disgust. “I knew there’d be a condition. Grown-ups always got ‘em.”
Grace blinked and wisely waited in silence.
“You promise never to spy on anyone again. Deal?”
The kids’ eyes lit up like downtown Chicago on Christmas Eve. “Sure!” they said in unison.
“And…”
“I knew it was too good to be true,” Mark muttered.
Beth’s lips twitched. She could get to like this kid. “You tell me what I’m doing here and how I ended up dressed in”—she plucked at the pink froth just above her breast—”this…this thing.”
Grace giggled again. “Haven’t you ever worn a nightgown before?”
Beth probably shouldn’t tell innocent children she preferred to sleep in the buff. “Maybe when I was too young to decide for myself.”
“It is kinda silly lookin’,” Mark said, though his gaze kept dropping to where Beth had strategically arranged the ruffles to cover her chest.
“Is not,” Grace shot back.
“Is too.”
“Is not.”
“Is too.”
“Is—”
“Do you suppose you can stop arguing long enough to tell me why I’m here instead of at my hotel in town?” Beth interrupted. It seemed a little less controversial than gagging both children with bedsheets.
“Sorry.” Grace inched closer to the bed. “Daddy said you’re going to stay with us until they fix the bridge.”
Bridge…Last night’s events roared through Beth’s aching gray matter in a maddening, horrifying flash. Oh, my God. Was she really stranded here with the Malones and the foyer’s invisible Welcome Wagon?
She swallowed hard. Her stomach twisted into knots.
“You look kinda green,” Mark said from right beside her. “You gonna barf or somethin’?”
“Or something.” Beth shoved back the quilt and swung her legs to the floor, drawing long, slow breaths. “Wonder how long it’ll take to fix that bridge.”
“I dunno, but I wish school was on the other side instead of this side.” Mark sighed and looked as though he’d just been dosed with castor oil.
“I like school,” Grace said.
“That’s ‘cuz you’re teacher’s pet,” Mark chided.
“Just because I’m smart doesn’t make me teacher’s pet.”
“That’s why Andy never wants to sit beside you on the bus.”
Grace lifted her chin, thrust out her lower lip. Her eyes glistened, and Beth thought for sure she was about to have a bawling kid in her room, when Grace redeemed herself by doubling up her fist and punching her brother right in the nose. Whoever the unknown Andy was, the kid had definitely motivated Grace to action.
Mark howled as blood spurted from his nose. Beth lunged across the room and grabbed a hand towel from the dressing table, sat Mark down on her bed, and scrambled through her pitiful memory for basic first-aid training from the academy. Tilt his head back or down? Ah, hell. She settled on back and hoped for the best.
“What in blazes is going on in—” Ty stared at Beth, his mouth open in stunned silence.
“I didn’t hit him, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“Hit who?” Ty’s Adam’s apple traveled the length of his throat, his gaze riveted on her.
Ty had stumbled into the Twilight Zone. Either that or he’d followed a white rabbit down a hole. This gorgeous, soft, feminine creature couldn’t be the hard-as-nails insurance investigator who’d driven him to distraction all day yesterday, and invaded his dreams.
“Take a picture, Malone. It lasts longer.”
Then again…“I thought I’d join the party.” He looked at his son, then at his daughter, before bringing his gaze back to Beth. “Did you forget to invite me?”
She snorted. Yep, definitely the same Beth. He grinned.
“What are you laughing at? This nightgown wasn’t my idea. And where’s my backpack?”
“Hold on there.” He removed the towel quickly and checked his son’s nose. “Grace do that?”
Mark nodded.
“You deserve it?”
Another nod.
“Doesn’t look broken to me. Go tell Pearl you need some ice before your party guests get here.”
Towel clutched to his face, Mark darted from the room. Ty could have sworn he heard Beth mutter “Coward” after his son’s retreat. Smart was more like it. “I think he’ll be all right by party time.”
“Birthday party?” Beth asked.
“Yep.” Ty knelt in front of Grace. “Haven’t we talked about punching your brother’s lights out before, honey?”
Grace bobbed her blonde head and shuffled her feet.
“I know Mark’s rotten more often than not, but try a little harder to resist the urge to belt him next time. Okay?”
She heaved a long-suffering, Southern-belle sigh that would have made her momma proud. “Okay, Daddy.”
“Now go tell your brother you’re sorry for breaking his nose.”
Grace’s eyes widened and her mouth formed a perfect circle. “Really?”
“Well, almost.” He gave her a quick hug. “No need to look so proud of yourself for it either.”
“Sorry, Daddy.” Grace dropped her gaze, but her lips twitched as if struggling not to smile.
“Go tell Mark that. Not me.”
“Okay.”
Beth applauded as Grace scurried from the room. “You’re good, Malone. Damn good.”
“It’s Ty. Remember?” He straightened to his full height, his gaze raking her. The nightgown must have belonged to Lorilee, though he couldn’t remember his wife wearing that specific one. Thank God. Still, it was just the sort of thing she always wore—soft and feminine. “You look nice.”
“Heh.” Beth folded her arms and tilted her head to one side. “That’s a matter of opinion.”
She arched an eyebrow and walked toward the window, where sunlight streamed through the lace curtains and flowed around her. The woman clearly had no idea what she was doing. She might as well have been standing in front of a spotlight wearing nothing at all.
Ty’s mouth went dry and his blood supply took the direct route straight to his cock. After a few moments, she turned to face him again, hands on her hips.
“So where’s my backpack?”
Flustered, he shook his head and dragged in a shaky breath. “It must still be in your car.” He wanted to cross the room to get a closer look at, and his hands on, her. But he didn’t. He reminded himself who she was and why she was here, and managed to stay put. Barely…
“Okay.”
She turned sideways, her profile toward the window, outlining her firm breasts for his simultaneous pleasure and torture. Damn.
“Your son reminded me what you said last night about a bridge being washed out between here and town.” She shook her head. “I didn’t dream that. Did I?”
“Nope. It’s all true.” Sweat trickled down Ty’s neck and into his collar. He swallowed hard and raked his fingers through his hair. It was next to impossible to carry on a conversation with a practically naked woman while sporting an erection hard enough to spade through drought-baked summer soil.
She spun around to face him again and he managed a nod. “Figures,” she muttered. “Just my rotten luck. Which bridge was it? The one between your farm and Heppel’s place?”
Ty clenched his teeth. Why was she so damned interested in Heppel? What was it about that man? First Lorilee, and now…
Knock it off, Malone.
“Earth to Ty Malone.” Beth waved her hands in the air. “Earth to Ty Malone. Come in, Malone.”
“Ha. Ha.” He drew a steadying breath. “No, not that bridge. The big one across the river right outside of town.”
Her expression grew sober. “You were lucky. You could have been killed, Ty.” She licked her lips, her hazel eyes soft for once.
He didn’t say a word—he didn’t dare. All he could do was stare and concentrate on his breathing. She looked so kissable right now it was all he could do not to cross the room and do just that. Just grab her and do the deed.
Shit.
She met his gaze and arched an eyebrow. One corner of her mouth twitched. “You staring at my breasts again, Malone?”
His breath rushed from his lungs, the spell shattered. Thank God. “Damn straight.”
She laughed—actually laughed—out loud. “At least you’re honest about it. I’ve been doing my share of staring at your, uh, package myself.” She winked and walked back to the bed and sat on the edge.
“My…package?” Ty’s voice broke.
“Well, hell, Malone.” She glanced pointedly below his waist. “You didn’t expect me not to notice that. Did you?”
“If that don’t beat all.”
“What? It’s okay for men to ogle women, but not okay for women to ogle men?” She laughed again. “I’ve got a news flash for you, Ty. Women ogle all the time. Most of us just won’t admit it.” She bit her lower lip and gave him a sexy smile. “I’m admitting it.”
“Shit.” He was in bigger trouble than he’d imagined.
“Don’t you want to know if I like what I—”
“Stop right there.” He held his hand up, palm toward her. “My male ego can’t take another word.”
She leaned back on her arms, her breasts nicely displayed against the filmy fabric. “Okay, back to business, then. I’m stuck here while the rest of my clothes are at the Brubaker Arms.”
I’ll say. “Pearl will find you some things.”
Beth plucked at the pink froth in her lap. “More like this? I think not.” She aimed a thumb at his jeans. “What size are your jeans?”
He lifted one corner of his mouth, and his gaze dipped to her slender hips. “They’d fall off of you.”
“I’d rather take my chances with your jeans than Barbie-doll hand-me-downs, if you don’t mind.” She grimaced and crossed her legs. “Now…about my backpack.”
“I’m sure it’s still in your car. I’ll get it.” Hell-bent on escape, he crossed the room, pausing with his hand on the knob to look back over his shoulder. “You’re welcome to continue your investigation fulltime, since you’re here, of course.”
“Thanks.” She grinned. “I fully intend to.”
Chuckling, he left the room and closed the door behind him. He glanced down the hall to ensure he was alone, then tugged on his belt to ease the pressure on his “package.”
Having Beth Dearborn in such close proximity was going to wreak havoc with his libido. Hell, he’d probably walk around like a sixteen-year-old with a never-ending hard-on.
But he couldn’t do that. He drew three deep breaths, reminding himself with each one why Beth was here: to learn the truth about Lorilee at long last—not to fulfill his sexual fantasies.
Sexual fantasies, my ass. Ty Malone wasn’t a man who indulged in that crap. Self-disgust slithered through him.
For seven years he’d mourned his wife, raised his kids, and dealt with a town full of gossipmongers. One long-legged insurance investigator wasn’t going to change his life, even if she did like his “package.”
He paused on the landing and stared out the window at the bright morning. The rain had washed the air and left everything dazzling. Clouds skated along the mountain ridge to the east, but the rest of the sky was clear and bright.
No, Beth Dearborn wasn’t going to change his life.
That was what he wanted. Wasn’t it? Truth.
No matter what it is, she’d said.
But were they ready to hear it?
Beth waited until the door clicked shut, then flopped back on the mattress with a groan. “Beth, you slut.” Why hadn’t she just grabbed the man and torn off his clothes when she had the chance?
She had enough to deal with already, without the ramifications of seducing a client. Or was he the subject of an investigation? Lord, she hoped not. Whatever. It all amounted to mixing business with pleasure, any way she looked at it. And that was wrong with a capital W.
But—whew!—the way he’d looked at her. Liquid heat swept through her, pooling low in her belly. When she’d walked over to the window, she hadn’t thought about the consequences of the sun spilling around her in the flimsy Barbie getup. Until she’d turned around and noticed the look in Ty’s eyes and the condition of his anatomy…
When she’d realized he could see right through the pink froth, she should have moved away from the window like a good girl. Or draped a sheet around her shoulders to cover herself. Like a lady…Yeah, right.
She pushed herself up onto her elbows and glanced down at her dark nipples, clearly visible through the tissue-thin material. “You hussy, you.”
No, she hadn’t moved away from the light or made any effort to cover herself. Instead, she’d flaunted her attributes right in front of Ty. Advertising.
Beth Dearborn smorgasbord—take what you want and leave what you don’t.
Oh, and he’d clearly wanted. A smile curved her lips as she recalled the blatant bulge in his jeans, the dangerous glitter in his eyes. This lusting problem was definitely not one-sided.
So just what the hell were they going to do about it?
She pushed to her feet, her headache and dizziness nothing but a memory, and returned to the window. Ty had the driver’s door to her car open and leaned across the front seat to grab her backpack. She always left it in the passenger seat when she drove, so she knew that was where he’d find it.
His jeans stretched nicely across his butt as he leaned into the car. A girl could do worse than a wild fling with a sexy farmer built like Ty Malone.
Resisting temptation, with temptation in her face day in and day out, would be damned near impossible. For both of them.
So maybe they shouldn’t resist. Get it over with and move on with the investigation. Was that the answer? Slake their lust and get it out of their systems?
“What the hell are you thinking, Dearborn?”
Of course, she knew damned well what she was thinking. The same thing she’d been thinking ever since he’d stopped to change her tire.
She wanted to have mind-numbing sex with that man. Tyrone Malone. Rhyming name or not. Damn.
She had an itch that demanded to be scratched, and she knew he had the same problem. They were both consenting adults, and—at least for now—they were stuck together under the same roof. Of course, there were the rug rats to consider, but they weren’t always underfoot.
Were they? Perish the thought.
Beth chewed the fingernail on her index finger as Ty straightened and slammed her car door. She was so confused—an unusual state for her, which pissed her off even more. Would sex with Ty really be as irresponsible as it sounded?
Probably. With a sigh, she returned to the bed and wrapped a sheet around her to wait for Ty and her backpack. She’d call her cousin Sam in Chicago on her cell phone. He was the only family she had left, and if ever she needed advice, it was today.
Not only was Sam Dearborn the only person close enough to her to confide in about Ty, but he was also the only human on the planet who understood her family gift and why she had worked so hard to suppress it.
Furthermore, he was the only person on the planet she could tell about the spirit in the Malone entryway.