Ghost of a Promise (15 page)

He swallowed past the unexpected emotion.
“
No.
”

…

“
So, how
’
s it going? You never call. You never write.
”

Ava smiled and eyed Casey over the rim of her teacup as she sipped. Her friend had come over shortly after Ava awoke early from yet another late night. More than unsaid words hung between them and the kitchen table. She didn’
t know why, but she didn
’
t want to discuss the investigation or anything else with Casey. It was odd, because they
’
d been best friends since grammar school, sharing everything from new shoes to boy bands.

“
Fine. How have you been?
”

Casey set her cup down with a who-are-you-fooling glare.
“
Your mom called me. She wanted me to check on you. Said you haven
’
t called or come by in a week.
”

The pain of that knifed her stomach. If her mom was so worried she could
’
ve just walked the few blocks over here and rung the bell. Then again, Ava might die from shock. It hurt, not having someone want to visit, to support her goals and share her interests. Especially when that someone was her family.

Instead of voicing that pathetic, depressing thought, Ava shrugged.
“
You can tell her I
’
m fine. I
’
ve only been possessed twice and no one
’
s had to bury a member of the
Phantoms
’
crew. Yet.
”

Casey rolled her eyes at Ava
’
s sarcasm.
“
When is their flight?
”

“
Tonight.”

The three weeks since their arrival had breezed by. In a few hours they were all flying back to their families for Thanksgiving. All except Jackson, but she kept that juicy tidbit to herself. Her friend would eat that up without a moment
’
s hesitation, probably biting Ava
’
s hand in the process. When the crew returned, they
’
d only have a week left together.

“
Screw this.
”
Casey leaned forward.
“
I want to know how it
’
s going with Captain Sexypants. Does he use that accent in bed? Inquiring minds want to know.
”

Despite her exhaustion and Casey
’
s blunt question, she laughed.
“
I wouldn
’
t know.
”

Casey
’
s mouth twisted into a frown.
“
And why the hell not?
”

“
Why not what?
”
Jackson asked, stepping into the kitchen.

He walked to the counter and poured himself a cup of coffee before leaning his tall, muscled frame against the island. He crossed one foot over the other, all relaxed and sexy and filling the entire room with his masculine presence.

“
Morning, ladies,
”
he said in that low, hoarse tone that never ceased to skirt goose bumps over her skin. His gaze traveled to hers and held before one corner of his mouth quirked up in a half-smile.

Gah.
She jerked her gaze to her tea, willing the flush from her cheeks as heat tinged.

She’
d just taken a sip when Casey mumbled,
“
Crème. Brûlée.
”

She coughed and sputtered, choking on her tea.

He stood over her in a heartbeat, his large warm hand smacking her back.
“
Have a bit of a drinking problem, do you?
”
The humor in his voice only made her cheeks burn hotter.

She waved him off, not daring to look in his direction.
“
I
’
m fine, thank you.
”
Mortified, but fine.

He returned to his post at the island, coffee in hand. “
What
’
s this about crème brûlée? That
’
s my favorite dessert.
”

Casey laughed so hard she could
’
ve shattered the windows.
“
I
’
ll just bet it is.
”

“
Are you baking it now?
”
He sniffed the air and groaned in appreciation.

She tried really,
really
hard to ignore how that groan made her girlie parts melt. She clutched her thighs together. “
No. That
’
s apple-glazed coffee cake you smell.
”

“
Shame. You shouldn
’
t tease a guy like that.
”

“
I
’
m not
—”
She sucked in a breath and glared at Casey, who was still laughing, this time into her hand. She gave up and rubbed her forehead.

Her friend stood.
“
Fun as this was, I have to go. My eldest beast needs to get to karate class.
”

“
It was a pleasure seeing you again, dear Casey.
”
Jackson
’
s voice had slipped into that innate charm again, causing Ava to squirm in her chair.
“
Problem, Ava?
”
he asked.

Casey pressed her lips together as if that hid her smile.
“
Oh, the pleasure was all mine.
”
She turned to Ava.
“
Call your mom.
”

After Casey left, a silence filled the room until she nearly choked on it. He hadn
’
t moved a muscle, as if leaning against the island while drinking coffee and staring at her was all he had on his agenda. Her cheeks heated again under his gaze, igniting her nerves.

Finally, he pushed away from the island and set his cup in the sink.
“
It
’
s nice that your friend comes over for a chat. She doesn
’
t seem frightened of your big, spooky mansion.
”

His hidden meaning rang loud and clear.
At least you have one soul willing to visit
.

“
She never goes upstairs and refuses to come after sundown.
”

She had no idea why she admitted that, but he made a noncommittal sound she couldn
’
t decipher and stared at the doorway. He was wearing those worn jeans again that made her mouth dry and his white button-down shirt was rolled to the elbows, showing off the strong, coiled muscles of his forearms. He was sporting a shadow of day-old growth across his jaw and she wondered how the dark stubble would feel under her palm.

His gaze darted to the tile floor, examining the pattern as if it held the universe
’
s mystery.
“
I was sent by the others to fetch you. They want to go over the digitals from last night and get a quick investigation in before they head out.
”

It wasn
’
t until he said so that she noticed the voices coming from the dining room. She rose and set her cup in the sink.
“
I
’
ll just take this coffee cake out of the oven. I
’
ll be there in a minute.
”

He came up behind her, his breathing deep and even. Silent, he moved to her side and lifted one finger to the soft, sensitive skin of her inner elbow. His gaze followed the movement, his throat working a swallow as his finger drifted down her arm, causing of shiver of need to tear through her body before his finger stopped at her wrist. A small, barely perceivable wrinkle formed between his brows while he studied the end of his path.

When his hand fell away she realized she
’
d been holding her breath. Not just because she liked his touch, but because it was a familiar one. Just like that first time he
’
d kissed her in the yard, a spark of recognition flared in a dark corner of her mind.

Jackson turned on his heel and walked out.

Ava stood, gripping the sink, until she was sure her legs would hold her upright. One touch. Just one finger. That
’
s all it took. There was something so utterly romantic and sweet in his gesture, in the determined way he looked while doing it, that another tremor quaked before she forced her spine to straighten.

After removing the cake from the oven and setting it aside to cool, she strode into the dining room to see every head turn in her direction.
“
What
’
s wrong?
”

“
We got something.
”
Sammy pulled out a chair and directing her to sit. She turned the laptop around for her to see.
“
This is from last night out by the cliff.
”

Sammy cued the feed as Ava sat in the offered chair. Two lines appeared on the screen, one on top in red, the other below in blue. On the recording, Ava said,
“
Do you know me?
”
The top line waved a pattern like a heartbeat. A second later, a female voice answered her, causing the blue line to ripple. The voice was soft and sounded to her like it was spoken through water.

You are…Ava.

Chills crawled up her spine and back down. She pressed her fingers to her mouth. “
Holy cow.
”

Sammy nodded.
“
I know! Awesome! The blue line shows inhuman frequency. That was an EVP.
”
Her fingers tapped over the keys.
“
Now listen to this.
”

“
Tell me who you are,
”
Ava’s voice rang out on the feed.

A second passed before the blue line rippled.
I am…Sarah…Kerrick.

Chapter Fourteen

When Paul emerged from the library, the team looked up at him in unison. Their BLTs forgotten, they expectantly waited.

“
So,
”
Paul said, sitting in a dining room chair near Ava and scooting closer. He handed her a piece of paper.
“
This is Peter Trumble. His wife had the likeness painted shortly before their first son was born. It took a lot of digging to find it. I had to go to Ancestry-dot-com. One of your distant relatives had this posted.
”

Her eyes bugged.
“
No way.
”

The team rose and formed a circle around her, where Jackson got a good look. Peter Trumble had a long, straight nose, square jaw, and formidable mouth, which was unsmiling in the likeness. His hair, a dark brown and curled slightly at the ends, was long enough to brush the top of his ears and collar. Under two bushy eyebrows, eyes the same shape and color of Ava
’
s stared back at them.

He smiled at her, at the wonder and awe on her face while glimpsing her ancestor for the first time. A smile traced the corners of her mouth and he had to tramp down the urge to kiss her. Her minor victories felt like his too.

“
Where
’
s the original?
”
Ava asked.

Paul shrugged.
“
Don
’
t know. One of your relatives had taken this picture of the painting back in the 70s.
”

“
I thought I had all the copies of family photos. I wonder where it is.
”

Kerry pointed to the upper right corner of Paul
’
s printout.
“
This is a picture taken of the painting. You can see part of a piece of furniture up against the wall where the painting hung at the time the photo was snapped.
”

Ava squinted.
“
That looks like
…”
She abruptly stood and walked out of the dining room. The team followed her down the hall and into the parlor where she held up the printout.
“
See? Look. The picture was taken in this room. That
’
s the corner of the bureau right there.
”

“
Wow,
”
Kerry said.
“
So at one time the painting was displayed in here. Wonder where it is now.
”

“
Me too,
”
she mumbled, staring at the page in her hand.
“
I
’
d love to get it back and have it displayed again.
”
She whirled on Paul.
“
Anything on Sarah or John Kerrick?
”

Paul rubbed the back of his neck.
“
I
’
m on to some leads. I may have more by the time we return from break.
”

They reconvened in the dining room and finished lunch. The meal was quiet, giving Jackson too much time to think. Their time at Trumble mansion was dwindling. They
’
d compiled quite a bit of paranormal incidences, but none of them very helpful to Ava.
“
Ava, could the painting still be here in the house? In the attic, perhaps?
”

Her pretty pink mouth twisted in thought.
“
I don
’
t know. The attic
’
s been sealed off since before I was born.”

“
Can we get to it?
”

“
Yes, from the ceiling in my suite on the third floor. I suppose I
’
d need to open it eventually anyway when the sprinkler system gets installed.
”

He nodded.
“
We can make that our project while the others are away.
”
Sometimes when renovations started, or in this case, opening a sealed room, paranormal activity could increase. He glanced over at Sammy and they exchanged a look. She was thinking the same thing. He could read her too well, because her expression warned,
be careful
.

“
I
’
m going to leave up the stationary cameras while we
’
re gone,
”
Terrance said.
“
I can check the feed on Monday.
”

When the crew had dispersed, she rose and collected the plates. Jackson helped but stopped short when she reached across the table for a glass. That pale patch of skin from her elbow to her wrist pricked a memory of sorts. Earlier in the kitchen, he
’
d traced his finger over the smooth, soft skin and was surprised not to have encountered a scar. He couldn
’
t fathom how, but he knew she had one.

In the next second that passed, his hand was around her wrist, his gaze examining. No scar. He grabbed her other wrist, pushing back the sleeve.
“
I thought
…”
He shook his head.

She ducked and tilted her head, forcing his gaze to hers.
“
You thought what?
”

“
I was looking for a scar.
”
The words sounded daft, even to his own ears.

“
I don
’
t have one, not there anyway. What made you think I did?
”

Hell if he knew.
“Never mind. Let me help you here.” He hefted a stack of plates to the kitchen.

Where the back door was wide open and the smell of lavender was fading.

…

A few hours later, after dropping the crew off at the airport, Jackson stepped inside the mansion and went in search of Ava. And there was that sense of home again, filling his chest and wrapping around him. He shook his head as her voice drifted from the living room. He pivoted and headed in that direction.

She was curled up on the white leather couch with a phone to her ear, wearing those jeans that fit her rear so nicely and a black sweater which hit mid-thigh. She’
d started a fire in the corner hearth and the warmth lit her face with a soft glow. He crossed his arms and leaned a shoulder on the doorway, but she didn
’
t seem to notice he
’
d returned. She smiled at whatever the caller said and his breath hitched. That mouth of hers could argue him into a corner, make him lose all focus, and drive him clear out of his ever-loving mind.

And he enjoyed it. Too much.

He wondered why Ava. After the countless beautiful and willing females he
’
d been with, why did this one make his knees weak? Have him all but begging? Make him wish he could be more? Half the time she acted like his mere presence annoyed her to tears. But then she
’
d soften, and he was her willing slave. The way she
’
d mold her body to his when they kissed
…
gripping his shirt as if unable to decide whether to push him away or drag him closer.

Yeah. Fat lot of good this was doing. He
’
d promised to steer clear.

She laughed into the phone again and he tried to force the sweet, pleasant sound from memory.

“
I
’
ll extend the invitation to Jackson
…
Yes, I promise
…
I know, pumpkin pie.
”
She hung up and stared at the receiver.

He cleared his throat, making her jump.
“
Pumpkin pie and invitations? Sounds
…
indecently fun.
”

Yet her smile remained as her brows rose.
“
My mother cordially invites you to Thanksgiving dinner at their place tomorrow. I
’
m to
bring
pumpkin pie.”

With great pain, he skilled his expression neutral, all the while his pulse stroked out.

Dinner. With her family. It sounded intimate and cozy and
…
homey. He didn
’
t do homey. Sure, he had family, but they didn
’
t celebrate holidays together due to him either being on the road or their outright avoidance. Hell, his parents lived an ocean apart. His mum still couldn
’
t hear his father
’
s voice without going into a week-long depression. He spent most holidays alone with a pint of microbrew and Discovery Channel.

So why then did this invitation sound so appealing? They were supposed to be ignoring this combustible sexual magnetism, avoiding one another for the greater good of saving her heart from him and her home from strangers
’
hands. Cozying up to the family meant getting personal. Personal meant relationships. Relationships meant commitment he couldn
’
t possibly trust himself to keep.

“
Sure.
”
Hell
.

Her grin widened and he suppressed a groan. “
Good. I need to go into town for the ingredients.
”

The way she was smiling at him made it damn hard to think.
“
Ingredients?
”

“
For pie.
”

“
Yes, pie,
”
he repeated absently.
“
Always loved pie.
”

“
Jackson?
”

His gaze snapped to hers.

“
Would you like to join me? We can get dinner or pick up takeout on the way back.
”

“
I
’
ll get my coat.
”
He turned.

“
You
’
re wearing your coat.
”

Right. He
’
d walked in here with the intention of getting her out of the house for a bite to eat and fresh air. Instead, she
’
d scrambled his circuits.
“
Shall we go?
”

They decided on Crabby
’
s, the little seafood restaurant by the bluff they
’
d gone to their first night in town. Once they were seated and their order placed, Jackson picked at the label on his beer bottle while Ava fiddled with the stem of her wine glass.

“
Why were you going to Sammy
’
s for Thanksgiving instead of spending it with your own family?
”

So they were going to get personal. Not knowing just how he felt about that, he answered her anyway.
“
Dad lives in London, as you know. After the divorce, Mum had a hard go of it. She shipped me off to him for holidays, taking a cruise or whatnot.
”
He shrugged.
“
She still vacations away even though I
’
m grown.
”

“
Even on Halloween?
”

He looked at her, surprised by the question. Score one for the redhead. Most women would do the girly thing and
ooh
and
ah
over poor Jackson. Not Ava. Instead of delving deep and locking herself into an emotional attachment, she played it straight and cool. He didn’
t know whether to be impressed or disappointed.

“
Er, no. Seems Halloween doesn
’
t strike a bad note for Mum.
”

“
I
’
d hope not. It
’
s the best holiday. Candy. The smell of burning leaves. Candy. Scary movies. Candy. Dressing up as someone else. Then there
’
s
—”

“
Candy?
”
She was so bloody endearing.

“
Yes.
”
She visibly relaxed, her shoulders sagging.
“
I find you more enjoyable like this.
”
At his questioning glare, she elaborated.
“
You
’
re not trying to charm your way into my pants.
”

“
Maybe I am. Maybe it
’
s a new, clever tactic.
”

She shook her head.
“
That
’
s the first genuine smile I
’
ve seen on you since we met. No flirting or hidden motive.
”

“
I
’
m with good company.
”
And since they were getting so personal, he asked her the question that had bothered him from day one.
“
What happens if we don
’
t solve this thing, Ava? What will you do if you can
’
t keep the mansion?
”

Her smile fell. A quick flutter of anxiety hit her face before she swallowed and it disappeared.
“
I
’
m trying not to think about it.
”

“
I can
’
t stop thinking about it.
”

She studied him and he kept his gaze level, letting her know this was no game. Finally, she looked down and fidgeted with the silverware.

“
It would break my heart.
”
She said it with such conviction and honesty that it blew Jackson
’
s mind.
“
I
…
I guess I
’
d get an apartment in town. Maybe buy a house. I have enough business on the side that I
’
d float by financially.
”
She shrugged.
“
There would be a bright side, I suppose. I mean, I would get to have a family of my own.
”

He paused, crossed his arms, then leaned back in his chair. No matter how many times he rolled that answer around in his head, he still couldn
’
t connect the dots.
“
I
’
m not following, Ava. What does one have to do with the other?
”

“
You wouldn
’
t understand.
”

“
Try me.
”

Back to twirling the stem of her wineglass, she was silent long enough for him to say her name again. She relented.