Spirited 1 (13 page)

Her hope was short-lived. It vanished the moment the ghost-girl’s head tilted back and her mouth dropped open. Like before, no words came out. Only the sound of dozens and dozens of fingernails raking a chalkboard screeched as the ghost wailed.

Jules wanted to dig her fingers into her ears but knew the move would be pointless. The ear-piercing scream rang inside her head.

“All right! Stop! I’ll help you.” Jules shouted her thoughts to the spirit, unsure whether the specter would be able to hear them since she’d barely learned she had a new skill.

The noises stopped with alacrity and the ghost smiled.

She freaking smiled as if she’d won some sort of game.

Jules wanted to slap her. Not that she would have, even if the specter had still been corporeal. Her southern manners were too deeply imbedded to ignore, but that didn’t stop her from fantasizing. “Don’t do that again.”

The specter nodded and her smile faded. Again she glanced around the store as if confused. She reminded Jules of a lost child.
“Do you know what’s going on?”

“Not really.” Jules pressed her lips together. She shouldn’t be talking to the ghost, certainly not in the store where anyone could come in, but the girl seemed so sad. “We haven’t formally been introduced. I’m Juliana Scott, but my friends call me Jules. What’s your name?”

“Hi, Jules. My name is . . . I don’t know. I can’t remember my name.”
The ghostly words whispered through Jules’s mind, immediately followed by a prevailing sense of fear and pain.
“Why can’t I remember my name?”

The pain tugged at Jules, making her want to comfort the spirit despite the fact that moments before she wanted to commit violence against her. “Don’t worry,” Jules projected. “It’ll be okay. It happens sometimes, but your memory will come back. At least, I think it will.”

“Oh, when?”
The ghost appeared neither pleased nor comforted by her words.

Good question. Jules had no idea. Most ghosts that spoke to her already remembered everything. They just didn’t like to share that information with Jules. But there was one other time a ghost had been like this one. Afraid, lost, and confused. When that ghost’s memory came back, Jules paid the price for it.

Shoving away thoughts of a past she couldn’t change, she projected her answer. “I’m not sure, but I think we need to talk later. I really need to get back to work right now.”

The ghost-girl nodded. Silver tears glistened on her translucent cheeks.
“I don’t want to be dead.”

“I know.” A small lump formed in Jules’s throat. “I’m sorry, but I can’t help you right now. The store’s already open. Someone could come in at any moment. Do you think you can find me later? Somewhere a little more private?”

“But I need you now!”
the ghost snapped. Her words sliced through Jules with razor-sharp clarity.

“Take it easy!” Jules projected, silencing the ghost.

Was it possible to start bleeding from the ears because of voices only you can hear?

But the ghost-girl was getting better at direct communication. When she had asked a question, Jules felt no pain. It was only after the specter became upset again and lost control that Jules experienced that searing ache in her head and ears.

With her head still throbbing from the earlier screeching, Jules made a mental note to keep the ghost as calm as possible.

The bells on the front door tinkled gently just before Diana opened the door with a flourish. Dressed in a pink pleated, ankle-length skirt and a button-down white blouse, she hugged an army green duffel bag to her chest and hurried inside.

In her standard combat boots, Diana clomped right through the ghost. The apparition blew apart like smoke on a windy day, only to form again where she’d been before Diana stepped through her.

With a shudder, Diana hurried over to the counter and said, “Let me change into my real clothes and I’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” Jules replied automatically, and turned to watch the girl rush to the back.

“Hey, Jules!” Diana called out. “Can you turn up the heat? You don’t want customers to FTAO.”

The door to the bathroom closed with a snap, negating any need to respond.

“What is FTAO?” said a husky male voice.

Jules yelped in surprise and turned to find Seth standing on the other side of the counter. She hadn’t heard him come in. She frantically glanced around the shop. The ghost was gone.

Where’d she go?

“Jules?” Seth repeated his question, “What is FTAO?”

She met his gaze and grinned. “Freeze their a— er, butts off.”

His lips twitched. “She’s got a point. It’s a bit drafty by the door, but it’s not so bad once you come inside.” He paused, then winked at her. “It’s nice to see you again. Feeling better today?”

Heat crawled up her cheeks.

“I’m sorry about yesterday.” She took in his light green shirt, black slacks, and shiny black shoes. While she was sure the slacks looked better on him from behind—or rather, his behind probably looked excellent in them—he made for a maddeningly distracting male specimen in her shop.

What do I do with the first sex-god-warrior I meet? My impression of the Exorcist.

She repressed a shudder of embarrassment and said, “I’ll pay to replace your shoes and slacks.”

He laughed, a hearty, rich sound that filled her with warmth. “No need to go that far. Just have lunch with me today and we’ll call it even.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” He nodded. “While we’re eating, we can talk about what happened at the Dumpster and I can get your statement. I really should have done it yesterday but you looked too ill to be interviewed.”

For one brief, incredibly stupid moment, she thought he was asking her out. She’d actually forgotten he was a cop. But of course, a man as hot as Seth wouldn’t ask out a freckle-faced florist shop manager.

“So lunch is at the station, I take it.” A shiver crawled down her spine at the thought of going near a police station.

He shrugged and offered her another warm smile. “I was thinking we could grab a bite to eat at one of the local restaurants. What do you say?”

Surprised by his offer, she replied, “Sounds wonderful. Do you like Greek?”

Was it her imagination or did he flinch?

“Got a place in mind for lunch?” When she didn’t answer him immediately, he prompted, “Anything you like.”

“Well, Philomena’s has the best Greek food in town. I used to eat there all the time when I was in high school. I haven’t been back in years but heard the food is better than ever. You ever been?”

“To Philomena’s?” An inscrutable expression crossed his face and for a moment she thought he’d balk at her suggestion. Seth leaned on the counter. Suddenly the space between them seemed infinitely smaller. Intimate. And when she inhaled, sandalwood invaded her senses. “Yes, I’ve been there. It’s always been my favorite place.”

“Really?”

“Definitely.” He nodded then grinned at her. “Ready to go?”

“Yes,” she said, happy that for the moment she could pretend she didn’t see ghosts, he wasn’t a cop, and she hadn’t yakked all over him twenty-four hours ago.

“Great!” He smacked his hands against the counter. “Are you ready for the best Greek of your life?”

If you’re on the menu.

CHAPTER 7

S
ETH SHOULD HAVE
been driving her to the station for questioning. Instead, he was escorting her to his mother’s restaurant for lunch. Hell, he’d waited, again, to talk to her when it was convenient. For her.

If he wasn’t careful, he’d end up blowing his case. But he couldn’t quite believe Jules had anything to do with the murder.

Even though she’d discovered the body, and her phone had been found with the victim, and the victim was a dead ringer for what Jules had looked like the night he’d met her, Seth was positive she was an innocent bystander. In his gut, he knew she was guiltless. Crazy as it seemed, his gut had never been wrong before, so he trusted it.

He just needed to figure out how she’d managed to get mixed up in his case. Then get her out of it.

Jules shifted on the seat next to him. Tearing his gaze from the road, he caught a flash of purple in the neckline of her polo shirt. Her bra was purple today. He suddenly wished someone would jaywalk in front of him so he could slam on the brakes and get a better look at her bra. Great! Like an untried adolescent, he was getting turned on by glimpses of her underwear.

Or maybe I’m just thinking with the head that sits south of my waist?

That had to be it.

Why else would he have offered to let her pick the restaurant and not argued when she’d chosen his mother’s establishment? Grimacing to himself, he slowed down and turned left onto Arctic Avenue. When she had requested Philomena’s, he should have just urged her to choose someplace else or admitted it was his mother’s restaurant. So why hadn’t he?

Easy. He was going insane.

Taking Jules to Philomena’s could only spell trouble for him. His family would flock around him the moment he stepped inside. Unless . . .

He might be okay if he managed to find a booth near the back. With a little luck, he might even nab a non–family member as his waitress. Simple. All he had to do was put the word out through the server that he wasn’t to be disturbed. He could conduct his interview at the restaurant and still maintain his privacy.

Coils of tension started to loosen in his shoulders at the thought of getting through lunch without his family descending upon him. They had been known to leave him alone from time to time if he made it clear that he didn’t want them interfering.

Who am I kidding? I’m just going insane from the lack of blood to the head on my shoulders.

His mother’s restaurant was only three blocks away. If he hit the lights just right he could be there in three minutes. If not, it could take fifteen and he could possibly conduct the majority of the interview in the car. Then they could just enjoy lunch.

The first light turned red.

“What’s with the lambs?” Jules asked, jerking his attention from his thoughts to her face.

She blushed clear down to the swell of her breasts that peeked from beneath the polo top.

He wondered if she blushed all over. He bet she tasted like strawberries. Shaking his head to dispel his wanton thoughts, he tried to focus. What had she asked, something about . . .
lambs
?

“What are you talking about?”

She gestured to the tie dangling from his rearview mirror.

Seth surprised himself by answering, “My mother, despite her devoutly attending church on Sundays, is heavily into horoscopes.”

“Ah,” Jules replied, nodding her head, but her eyebrows lifted in obvious confusion.

“I’m an Aries,” he clarified, but when she didn’t do more than widen her eyes, he asked, “You have heard of horoscopes, haven’t you?”

“Of course, I have. I’m a Cancer, but what does that have to do with the lambs?”

Seth stole another glance at her as he stopped for the second red light. He needed to question her, not discuss his mother’s penchant for giving him presents covered in barnyard animals.

Anytime anyone asked him about his rams, he closed up and wanted to pound something. But with Jules, he could see the humor in it.

Her lips twitched. She wanted to laugh. He knew it. Hell,
he
laughed whenever his mother gifted him with a new ram.

Suddenly, seeing Jules laugh became a high priority. So instead of questioning her, he answered her. “Aries are smart, stubborn, strong, and”—he inhaled before finishing in a high-pitched, thickly accented imitation of his Greek mother—“‘as an Aries, my son,
you
are destined for greatness.’”

Laughter burst from her, rich and infectious. Her eyes sparkled and her entire face glowed with warmth, making her more beautiful than she already was. Damn, he liked that.

He liked her.

He shook his head and added in his own voice, “What I’m destined for is a lifetime supply of all things ram.”

“Why not just tell your mom you don’t like lambs?” Jules asked in a breathless, sexy tone that sent his pulse hammering.

“They’re rams.” He snapped the tie free and jerked it over his head before noticing it clashed hideously with his green shirt. Ripping it off again, he added with a grunt, “It would kill her if she thought I didn’t like her gift.”

“So you wear it.”

“Yeah,” he admitted with a half-smile and dropped it on the console between them. “But what can I do?”

“You wear an ugly tie just because your mother gave it to you?” Her features softened and she added, “That has to be the sweetest thing I’ve heard in a long time.”

“Thanks.” He shifted in his seat, as he slowed the car at the second stoplight. “Jules, I wanted to ask you—”

But he didn’t finish his question because she said at the same time, “So you must be—”

He cleared his throat. “Must be what?”

The light turned green and he pressed his foot to the gas pedal again before chancing another glance at her. She grinned at him in such a devious manner, he wondered if he’d made a mistake asking. But, at the same time, he couldn’t resist finding out. “I must be
what
?”