Possess Me (22 page)

Leaning back against the headrest, Bethany studied her friend. “This place looks good on you.” And it did. Michelle had changed so much. Gone from curvaceous to finely honed. Her arms were lean and defined—strong. Her hair was left down to fall in wild spirals to her shoulders, where she used to keep it straight or slicked back. Her face was free of makeup, yet still glowing. She looked healthy. Happy. In love.

“Yeah? Well, it isn’t the big city, but we certainly have our fair share of excitement.” Michelle smiled sardonically. “And I’m not talking about Mardi Gras.”

Before Beth could prod her for details, they turned into a circular driveway and she felt her jaw drop. “Beautiful.”

It was a gorgeous example of antebellum architecture, with white columns reminiscent of the Greek revivalists and wrought-iron weaving around the upper balcony like thriving metal vines. It was a grand old place. Stunning really. Imposing. She wanted to run inside and run away at the same time.

The old live oaks haven’t always been in the yard
.

At the absent thought, her heart started to pound so hard against her breastbone she thought it might be trying to escape. How did she know that? She must have come across a photograph of this mansion in one of her books on New Orleans architecture. Surely she’d seen it before.

“I knew you’d love it. I tease Ben about owning such a huge white elephant, and Mama says she can’t think with so much space, but I told him I was bringing home the one person who would truly appreciate it.”

The door opened as Michelle was speaking, and Bethany found herself distracted by the South’s answer for Adonis striding toward the car with a wide easy smile. “Good grief.”

Michelle chuckled low, turning off the engine. “Honey, you have no idea.”

Bethany watched the golden god yank open Michelle’s door and pull her into his arms, kissing her passionately.

“Can we all say ‘awkward?’” she mumbled as she tried to unbuckle herself with suddenly sweaty palms. When she was finally free, she fumbled for her door.

It opened before she could wrap her fingers around the handle. “You must be Ms. Bethany Sorelle. Michelle has nothing but good to say about you.”

Her eyes widened as they followed the outstretched hand up a long, lean arm to yet another vision of divine masculinity.
Help!
She’d fallen into a porn movie and she couldn’t get up.

Bethany felt her face heating, and even though it was the end of October, she blamed it on the weather. She just wasn’t used to the humidity. It couldn’t have anything to do with the man currently curling his massive hand around hers to help her out of Michelle’s tiny deathtrap of a car.

If Benjamin Adair was Adonis, this man was a fallen angel. A beautiful golden angel with a heart-stopping body, full lips, and long, flowing dreadlocks. And tattoos. She couldn’t forget the tattoos. But his hazel eyes were kind. And his smile told her she had nothing to fear from him.

Fallen angels were tricky that way.

“Bethany. I feel like I know you already. I’m so happy you’ve come!” A slender woman with strawberry blonde hair, freckles, and sparkling blue eyes wrapped her up in a surprisingly strong embrace as soon as her feet touched the ground.

Allegra Jarrod. It had to be. Michelle’s college friend and, up until the last few months, her roommate. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Ms. Jarrod.”

“Oh, call me Allegra, please. Besides,” she pulled back and smiled lovingly at the man beside them. “It will be Mrs. Rousseau in a few more days.”

Ah, so this was Celestin Rousseau. Michelle had told her the two were engaged. A few more days? “You’re getting married on Halloween?”

“All Saints’.” The gorgeous Ben had stopped ravaging Michelle and come to join them, Bethany’s small red suitcase in his hand. “The first day of November, when we honor those who have crossed over.”

Creepy. “That’s, um, wonderful.”

Michelle’s laugh was loud, making Bethany smile. “Don’t go getting shy on me now, Miss Sass. It doesn’t suit you. It is an unusual date, but Allegra is a true romantic. She wants to pay homage to the . . .
man
that brought them together.”

Beth eyed her curiously at the obvious significance of this mysterious
man
but Michelle didn’t elaborate.

“Let’s get her inside before we scare her back to New York,
bebe
.” The fallen angel slid his arm around Allegra, leading her back into the house while Ben followed close behind.

As she ambled along with Michelle, Beth took in the spectacular surroundings. The lawn was immaculately groomed and a large oak tree in the front yard dripped with Spanish moss. The aroma of gardenias and damp earth embraced her, and she suddenly wanted nothing more than to sit beneath the tree and soak it all in. She was here.

At last.

Bethany allowed Michelle to lead her to the kitchen, where Rousseau was putting the finishing touches on something that smelled delicious.

It was a warm kitchen, lovingly restored, though much to Bethany’s dismay, someone had added modern appliances along the way. And a marble countertop. She understood why—she’d just expected to see something different. A large hearth kitchen and the bustling of cooks and servants perhaps.

She’d been reading too many historicals.

Beth suddenly felt self-conscious. The others were gathering bowls and silverware, or dipping their finger into Rousseau’s pot, all of them gazing at her with different levels of curiosity and apprehension. Maybe they were responding to her own rising nerves. She wasn’t comfortable around people. Never had been.

She pulled her waist-long braid, her only nod to vanity, over her shoulder and fiddled with it, searching for something to say. “So, um, Allegra, Michelle tells me you’re writing a book about voodoo spirits. I always enjoyed your magazine articles. You have a way of making people feel like they’re on the adventure with you. I look forward to reading the book. I’ve always found that particular subject fascinating.”

Allegra grinned gratefully, her arms coming up as she placed her hair in a sloppy knot on top of her head. The movement showed off the scars running down both arms. That was the only visible sign that the lively woman had been in that horrible accident a few years before.

“I’m glad someone read them,” she said. “This story is a little different. A lot different. I’m not sure it would be up your alley.”

Bethany felt her shoulders relax at the mention of her favorite topic. “All books are up my alley. Didn’t Michelle tell you? Other people fill their apartments with furniture. I fill mine with books. Old, new, on any topic, and in several different languages. What’s the title? Is it fiction or non?”

Ben grinned as a blush darkened Allegra’s freckles. “It’s called
Bone Daddy
,” he answered for her. “And according to my Mimi, it’s a rather
educational
read. Legs and Rousseau have been researching for months now.”

The man at the large stove sent a mock glare in his friend’s direction. “That’s quite enough, Adair. I’m sure Bethany will find out about that subject soon enough. Your guest looks hungry, and the jambalaya is ready.”

They all took their bowls out to the main dining room and sat down, and Bethany marveled at how casual they were in such a grand place. This room was meant for linen and lace, for silver tureens and folded hands. But Ben had grabbed the ornate wooden chair Michelle was sitting on and dragged it closer, until she was nearly sitting on his lap, and Allegra and Rousseau were leaning against each other as they ate.

She was happy for her friend, though she had to admit, she was also jealous. Reason number one hundred and twenty-two why books were better than people: Happy endings were basically guaranteed, but in the end you knew it was fiction, so you felt better going to bed alone. Michelle’s happy ending—and Allegra’s—was real. They’d each found their Mr. Right. And Bethany was the fifth wheel.

But to be honest, it wasn’t like she was actively looking. She was thirty-seven, a creature of habit, and far too set in her ways to change now. Some people were just destined to be alone. It was better than loving someone who would never love you in return. And it was better than settling for anything less than what these two couples clearly had.

She was just scooping another delicious bite of Rousseau’s rich, spicy concoction into her mouth when she felt a cool breeze shimmy up her spine. Something tugged on her braid and she turned, her brow furrowing when she couldn’t find the source of the tug. “Do you have cats?”

Michelle’s bright green gaze focused on the space behind her. “No, we don’t have any cats. Bethany, you believe in ghosts, right?”

“We’ve had this conversation before, only a few dozen times. You know I do. ‘There are more things in heaven and earth’ et cetera. Especially in this city. It’s hard to believe New Orleans isn’t full of spirits.” She realized everyone was staring at her and lowered her voice. “Maybe I’ve read too much paranormal fiction. I believe in fairies, too, but don’t let that get around. The people I work for wouldn’t understand. They’re stuffy that way.”

The men chuckled at her humorous tone, but Michelle just smiled. “You and your fairies.”

“What? I’m telling you, those pesky buggers steal my reading glasses all the time.”

Michelle laughed, falling into their old comfortable banter as though no time had passed. “And then conveniently set them on your head when you aren’t paying attention?”

Bethany made a face and everyone laughed again. She couldn’t believe it, but she was actually having fun. Maybe her anti-anxiety medication was still working. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d bantered with someone who wasn’t on the phone or the occasional taxi driver. And living, breathing, gorgeous men usually turned her into a mute with an eye tic.

When Bethany felt another tug on her braid she pulled it over her shoulder protectively, looking around once more in confusion. “You don’t have cats. Is it ferrets? Gnomes? Something keeps tugging on my hair.”

Michelle raised one brow tellingly.

No way. “Michelle, are you saying . . . ?”

She nodded. “He kind of came with the house. Although he’s not stuck here—he can go where he wants. But Ben and I have known him since we were young.”

“There’s a ghost behind my chair? He’s a little short, isn’t he?”

The cool air on Bethany’s back grew stronger, and Michelle laughed.

“He’s a bit sensitive about his height. Especially since we’ve gotten so much bigger. Bethany, meet Emmanuel. Our resident ghost.”

“Oh, hell.”

BETHANY BRUSHED HER HAIR ABSENTLY IN FRONT OF THE
antique bathroom vanity, thinking about the day’s revelations. Her inner agoraphobic was screaming at the top of her lungs that she should pack up her suitcase and grab the nearest plane home. Only there could she be safely surrounded by her books and four plain white walls. No ghost whisperers, no telepaths, and no one who claimed to have been possessed by a voodoo spirit for the last seven years. She liked to read about all those things; she wasn’t too sure she enjoyed being
in
the story.

Forget porn movie, she’d landed in an episode of
The Outer Limits
.

The strangest part of the evening? She’d believed every word they said. Especially after Ben held her hand and told her a few things about herself that no one else could know. Not even Michelle. And by the somber looks he threw her way the rest of the evening, she knew he’d seen more than he’d shared. She was thankful that he’d kept it to himself.

After a few glasses of wine, Allegra had opened up about the story she was writing. And the fact that though the masses would believe they were reading erotic fiction they would be wrong.

Bethany was fascinated. This Bone Daddy really existed? A spirit who fed off climax, who knew more about sex than she knew about anything—knew how to bring you to the brink with a touch or a word? Who wouldn’t be tempted by someone—or something—like that? Although she couldn’t imagine having to give herself over long enough for a voodoo ritual, let alone the years Rousseau had been ridden by the Loa.

The bond between Allegra and Rousseau was clear, made even more so by the knowledge that it was she who’d helped the handsome café owner get control over his life once again.

Over the course of the evening, Michelle had told Beth about her abilities, her childhood adventures with Ben and the ghost Emmanuel, and what he’d told them of his sister Isabel’s treasure. Ben admitted he’d bought the mansion while Michelle was in New York, because it reminded him of her.

Bethany smiled at herself in the mirror. He was a charming scoundrel. She couldn’t help but like him. They were all very nice, for beautiful people.

She stuck out her tongue at her own average visage. No freckled fairy like Allegra, no exotic siren like Michelle . . . just plain Bethany. Her eyes were blue, but not ice blue or indigo, just blue. Her lips were uneven, the top one fuller than the bottom. She touched her cheek; her skin was smooth, but pale. No distinctive mark or feature that made her stand out in a crowd. Even her body was average. Not too plump, certainly not skinny, but it still did what she asked it to, so she couldn’t complain.