Chapter 9
CHAPTER 9
Colt didn’t run as he made his way toward the Miller house, but he did step a bit quicker than was necessary. Nicole, the woman she’d been and her confused and angry ghost, stayed on his mind. The idea of Anna out alone on a night when there was a cold-blooded murderer on the loose was more than he could stand.
He should’ve ignored her text or turned down her offer of company. There were plenty of reasons to steer clear of her, and they’d been in his every thought the past few days, especially this afternoon after she’d kissed him. He’d done his best to not kiss her back, but for one really great moment he’d failed. Anna was not for him. He knew that.
She didn’t know Jack was dead, and he couldn’t tell her.
She didn’t know he saw ghosts, and he couldn’t tell her.
That meant he couldn’t – wouldn’t – share the news that he’d be steering clear of Treasures Past as long as Nicole’s ghost was hanging around, taking off her blouse and tossing it at him again and again while she complained about the unfairness of being murdered. He’d take another route when he walked to work. Maybe he’d drive his truck more often and take the long way around. The secret of the inquiry into the duck picture would remain with him, shared with no one unless he could find a logical way to bring it up.
Secrets were the death of a relationship, no matter the reason for the lies.
So why hadn’t he ignored Anna’s message? Tomorrow he could’ve told her he’d been sound asleep and hadn’t heard the text come in. He’d wanted to see her, needed it the way he hadn’t needed anything or anyone for a long time. But still… all those secrets…
He was overthinking this. There didn’t have to be an actual relationship. One night, maybe two. If things went well they might even be together for a week or so, or as long as Anna stayed in Seawolf Beach. When she was gone she’d be gone for good, with no reason to return. He needed to stop thinking about old relationships that had fallen apart when he’d shared too much and focus on the here and now.
How many years had it been since he’d been foolish enough to share his secrets? Five years, maybe seven. He couldn’t remember, not precisely. He did remember how fucking painful it had been.
Anna was temporary. He didn’t have to tell her everything. Hell, he didn’t have to share anything . That didn’t mean they couldn’t enjoy one another’s company for a while.
She sat casually on the porch steps of the Miller house, the house she’d lived in for her entire childhood, relaxed on an evening that had been anything but relaxing. About the same time he saw her, she noticed him and stood. By the light of the moon, the porch lamp, and a streetlight a couple of houses down, she was beautiful. A grown woman, not the girl he so often remembered. A living, breathing woman he wanted so badly it hurt.
If she took off her clothes and threw them at him…
He ignored Jack, who stood on the porch just a couple of feet from the steps where Anna had been waiting. The ghost glared, but did not shout. There were no orders tonight, no anger. Well, a trace of anger remained, but Colt was pretty sure it wasn’t directed at him.
Pretty sure.
“Nice night,” Anna said as she walked down the sidewalk to meet him.
“It is.”
“I couldn’t sleep,” she said in a lowered voice, as if someone might be around to hear. “After hearing about Nicole…”
“Same here,” Colt said. He did his best to keep the image of Nicole, living or dead, out of his head.
“Should we go for a walk?” she asked, turning her gaze toward downtown.
He didn’t want to go there, not again, not tonight. The living would be gone; the dead would remain.
Colt took Anna’s face in his hands, in much the same way she’d done to him earlier in the day. He kissed her, and after a moment of surprise she kissed him back. She tasted good; her lips were soft, yielding. Her tongue explored, and in an instant he fell in, he lost himself in her until there was nothing else. Walk? He’d take her right here if he had less self-control.
The kiss ended; he turned Anna away from downtown and took her hand. “The only place I want to walk is to my house. I have a new bed.”
“Sounds interesting.”
“I haven’t even slept in it yet, so it definitely needs to be broken in.”
“Is it a hard mattress or a soft one?” she asked. “Will it bounce?”
The image of a naked Anna bouncing around on the bed sealed the deal. As if he needed more encouragement.
“Let’s find out.”
Anna was so focused on Colt she didn’t make note of much of the house until they were in the bedroom. She’d instinctively dropped her purse onto a couch soon after they’d walked in the front door, but that was it. Just as well. This was all she cared about, at the moment. Colt. The power of being held and kissed. The need that came over her like an out-of-control freight train.
They could just get naked and fall into the bed, but they didn’t. She and Colt could have this night, maybe they’d have a couple of weeks or even a month. But if all they had was one time she didn’t want it to be too quick. She wanted to savor, to remember this feeling when everything else was going to pot. She wanted taste, smell, touch… everything. She’d carry spectacular mental pictures with her when she returned to Nashville, her boring but stable job, and that lonely apartment.
Having Colt’s arms around her, kissing him again, made her sad for all the lonely nights she’d had, and for all those still to come. She didn’t like being alone; never had. She wanted more of this, more Colt. Savor? Slow? That was a nice idea, but who was she kidding?
She didn’t want to ruin what hadn’t yet begun because she was already mourning its loss. Live in the moment was not her style, but tonight… tonight it needed to be.
No more thinking about what was to come. There was just this, just now .
Colt took the hem of her sundress in his hands and pulled it over her head. The flowery material was tossed aside. She kicked off her flip flops. One went under the bed. In seconds he had her bra and panties off, so she stood before him bare, wanting, and unafraid.
“Your turn,” she whispered, unsnapping his jeans while he pulled off his faded Metallica t-shirt.
Soon they were in one another’s arms on the new bed, on crisp, new sheets. She bounced, a little.
Colt was long and hard, lean and muscled, and oh, so warm. She loved his warmth, the way his skin felt against hers. Every cell in her body shimmered, shivered, ached. They kissed; they explored. For a moment she was angry for all the nights they hadn’t been together, and then she barely thought at all. She simply felt. Only this mattered, only today. Only tonight.
He spread her thighs and touched her, stroked until she was beyond ready. He rolled her onto her back, coming with her, hovering above, then paused.
“Birth control?” he asked simply.
“Yes.” Why, so many years after the divorce?
Optimism, she supposed. Pure, simple optimism mixed with a fear of failure that always stopped her from taking chances. But not tonight.
Gently, he pushed inside her and it was… right; a relief and also a promise of more. This was where he was meant to be, for now. He moved slowly, deeply. They found a rhythm that was theirs alone, and the rest of the world faded away. The feel of his body and hers moving together was more pleasurable than she’d dreamed it could be. And man, had she dreamed…
The end teased her, right there so soon and undeniable. She wanted to let go, to let release and pleasure come now . He’d think she was easy… she didn’t care…
She shattered; he came with her.
So much for savoring…
He drifted down to cover her, and she laughed.
Colt lifted his head to look down at her. “Laughter already. That can’t be good.”
She was breathless but managed to say, “I was determined to savor this night, but I swear, I couldn’t make myself slow down.” The image of a freight train wasn’t at all sexy, but there it was again. And it was appropriate.
He kissed her. This was a different kind of kiss. Not quick, not one of them surprising the other out of the blue. This was a planned kiss. It was slow, and deep, and wonderful. She could swear she tasted Colt’s satisfaction.
When the kiss ended he said, “The night’s not over yet.”
Sleeping with Anna wasn’t the biggest mistake he’d ever made, but it was up there. Not because the night hadn’t been great. Not because there was any reason for either of them not to. Not because she was Jack’s little sister.
Being on his own — a life with just him and the dead — was going to be so much harder when she was gone.
He’d miss more than the sex. He was going to miss lying in bed with her warm body next to his. Laughing in the middle of the night, naked, under the covers. For a while he’d managed to forget that he kept big secrets from her. They’d come together, found one another in a world full of people who weren’t right, and that was enough. It was more than enough.
The sex had been great, but this was more. Anna was more.
And he couldn’t keep her.
Sirens wailed in the distance, interrupting the quiet, peaceful night. Fire truck . He didn’t think much of the sound until it grew closer. Could be a kitchen fire at one of the restaurants. The sirens were too close to be at the depot. Weren’t they? He guessed that the sound came from either the south end of downtown or a neighborhood. Worst case was a home with someone in it, which would likely mean yet another ghost in Seawolf Beach.
Anna didn’t stir, not at the distant sirens, not when he left the bed and dressed in the clothes that had been dropped on the floor last night. She slept on, naked, satisfied, beautiful. He was tempted to lean over and kiss her cheek, but that wasn’t the kind of relationship they had. This was temporary. Casual. It wasn’t supposed to mean anything.
It wouldn’t hurt to step outside and try to determine where the wail of sirens were coming from. Before he reached the door, the alarming sound went silent. If the fire truck was close enough he’d see the red lights. At four in the morning it should be clear where the excitement was located. If there was any excitement at all.
Colt opened the front door and immediately caught a whiff of smoke. That was a bad sign, very bad. He stepped onto the porch just as Mac pulled his car to the curb. The chief stepped out. Mac looked as if he hadn’t slept at all. Between Nicole’s murder and whatever had called the fire truck out, he probably hadn’t.
“What the hell are you doing out of bed?” Mac snapped. “I figured I’d have to bang on the door to get you up.”
“Sirens woke me,” Colt said, taking the stairs down to the walkway on bare feet. “What are you doing here?” A sudden and horrifying thought stopped him in his tracks. The depot. His business, his home for a long time… home to a number of ghosts who came and went and waited until it was time for them to move on. He’d been so sure the sirens were too close for that, but he could’ve been wrong.
Mac was annoyed; there was a trace of condemnation in his tired eyes. “The Miller house is on fire, and a distraught Mrs. Miller can’t seem to find her daughter. I thought of you.”