Haunted Hearts Read online

  “This way first,” she said, directing Samir. Together, they entered first one child’s bedroom then the other. Nothing appeared out of place or special. Pink and yellow bedspreads, bookshelves, toy box. Disney-themed poster in one room, pink bean bag and desk in another.

  They placed their equipment then moved into the master bedroom, where again Ari stopped. This time, a thin line appeared on her forehead, then disappeared. Either she didn’t know she was responding to something or was trying to hide it. He had no way of knowing.

  At last, they reassembled downstairs. Ari thanked Tom and Lindy. “I’ll be in touch about talking to the girls. Meanwhile, I do think staying in a hotel for a few days would be a good idea.” Seeing the stricken look on the young parents’ faces, she switched her tone to mild. “It’s important the girls feel safe and that you all get some rest. No matter what’s going on, that’s the most important thing.”

  “So, you think Father Joe was right? We’re being haunted?” Tom asked.

  “Is Rosie in danger?” Lindy’s voice rose an octave.

  Ari placed a calming hand on Lindy’s arm. “No, Rosie isn’t in danger. But I need more information to make a clear determination. We’ll get this figured out, I promise.”

  Chapter Four

  As she stood next to her car with Samir, a frisson of warmth in her solar plexus told Ari Nick’s eyes were on her.

  Samir was speaking, but she barely heard him. “I could stay at the house tonight, you know,” he said. “Do some live monitoring. It’s not often we get solid reports like this, so we should take advantage— Well, hello again,” he said, looking past her, over her shoulder, his tone shifting flirtatiously.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Nick approach. His energy, that blue aura, shimmered in the air as he moved closer. Before she could give Samir a warning glance, Nick was standing next to her. The scent of musk and spearmint drifted from him.

  “Can I have a word with you?” Nick’s voice was a low rumble.

  Samir winked. “Sure. Want to get a drink or something?”

  To his credit, Nick chuckled. “Maybe another time. I meant the good doctor here.” He focused on her. “I have some questions and, actually, a drink doesn’t sound bad.”

  The flicker of excitement blooming under her automatic denial surprised Ari. “I don’t think so. It’s getting late—”

  Samir glanced at the lengthening shadows of the trees. “It’s not that late.” He patted her on the shoulder. “I’ll talk to you later. You kids go ahead.” He winked again and was gone.

  Ari sighed and turned to Nick. He held up his hand before she could speak. “Just a few questions. To make sure the story is what you want it to be. You are in charge, after all.” He offered her a dazzling grin.

  It had been a long time since anyone had smiled at her like that, somehow both provocative and genuinely friendly at the same time. Maybe it would be all right. She would keep it short.

  Ten minutes later, they were sitting at a small table in a dim corner of Rudy’s, an Italian restaurant that had been around for ages. The battered table wobbled as the waitress set two generous glasses of red wine in front of them. A tiny candle flickered.

  Ari drew breath and forced herself to make eye contact with Nick, who was sitting back, staring at her, mouth tipped into a tiny smile.

  She half-grimaced. “What?”

  He shifted in his seat. “I’m wondering how you got into this field. It doesn’t seem like the kind of thing an intellectual woman would go for.”

  She raised a brow. “I think you just insulted me in at least a couple of ways.” She took a generous sip of wine and warm relief slid down her throat.

  “Not at all. It’s clear you’re a very accomplished, intelligent woman. And what are you doing? Hunting ghosts?”

  This burned. “That’s not what I do.” It was hard not to yell. She leaned forward, voice hard. “I’m not hunting ghosts. I don’t even believe in ghosts. What I’m looking for is psychological phenomena that allow people to develop those kinds of beliefs.”

  Nick cocked his head. “Now that’s news to me. If you don’t believe in ghosts, what’s all the equipment for?”

  She was so tired of explaining this, even to someone with magnetic green eyes. “To officially rule out paranormal activity, of course.”

  “Ah.” He nodded. “And that’s what happens all the time? You rule it out?”

  “Yes.” Mostly. If there were times when she sensed or saw things, things the sensors never picked up, it was not worth mentioning.

  “Ah. And you’ve published hundreds of papers on this…this ‘no ghosts’ thing?”

  She drank more wine, enjoying the glow. “I’m famous for it.”

  He folded his arms and sat back, lips pursed. “Interesting. And I’m glad you don’t believe in ghosts, because…” He leaned in a little, voice lowered. “I might think you were nuts.”

  She didn’t respond.

  He watched her for a moment, silent. “So you never pick up anything on those cameras or recorders?”

  “Nothing paranormal, no.”

  “Ah-ha.” He grinned, an Indiana Jones-Cheshire Cat smirk. “So you do pick up things, at least sometimes.”

  She sighed. “The family pet. A shadow. A trick of the light. Believe me, it’s always explainable.”

  “Hmm. So not ghosts?”

  “No.” This was tiresome. If she weren’t so relaxed from the wine and if she weren’t kind of enjoying looking at his face and the way his folded arm muscles bulged in the faded blue T-shirt, she would leave. Her face tingled and she blinked half-heartedly to refocus.

  “You sound very sure of yourself. Are you a physicist as well as a psychologist?”

  “As a matter of fact, I am. Sort of. In college I double-majored in physics.”

  He nodded. “I’m impressed. And even more confused.”

  She arched an eyebrow.

  Nick leaned in, his clear green gaze direct. “So, if all that’s true, Dr. Ari Fairchild, explain to me what was happening with you back there at the Garcias’.”

  She stilled and a spike of anxiety ran down her back. “Nothing was happening with me. I was doing my job.”

  He tapped a finger on the table. “I don’t think so. I was watching you. You looked like a human Geiger counter, scanning for signals. And, I dare say, you were picking up something.”

  Anxiety shifted to fear. What had she shown? She’d tried so hard, since she was a kid, to keep it well hidden. She set her jaw and pushed the question to the back of her mind. “You’re imagining things.”

  He drank some wine. “Like the Garcia girls. Is that what you were told? That you were imagining things?”

  Shock coursed through her. For a moment, her breath disappeared and she had to wrestle her panicked thoughts into submission.

  Calm down. He can’t possibly know anything. She swallowed more wine and exhaled. “Mr. Devlin, this is not about me. If you have questions about this investigation, things that relate to your story, then ask them. Otherwise, I’ll be going.” She picked up her purse.

  He held up a hand. “My mistake. I was razzing you. Stay.” He gestured to the waitress for two more glasses of wine and smiled with that Indiana charm. “You have to call me Nick. I don’t go in for formality, as you might have guessed.”

  What is going on here? Ari’s sense of disorientation grew. This guy seemed to be looking straight into her, but not in a jerk-like way. More…sensitive, which was at odds with his rugged, brash demeanor. She recalled how he’d been so sympathetic with Lindy and Tom and tried to put that together with the guy who’d just implied she was crazy to be doing what she did for a living. It was baffling.

  So what if he’d noticed her responding to things at the Garcias’? She could easily sit here with him and not go there. Of course she could.

  She adjusted her glasses. “What about you? Who are you?” she found herself asking him. The wine must have been loosening her inhibitio
ns.

  He waved dismissively. “A journalist is all, stuck in this city for now, planning to head back to the networks. As soon as I possibly can.” He accepted a fresh glass of wine from the waitress and nodded his thanks. “Not much else going on.”

  “Ah.” She sipped. “That’s it? ‘Not much else going on’?”

  “Pretty much.”

  A lame answer if there ever was one. “What do you do when you’re not working?”

  “Watch old movies. Work out. Practice my Arabic.”

  Okay, this was more interesting. “You speak Arabic?”

  “Don’t be too impressed. It comes with the territory. I spent a lot of time in the Middle East.”

  “Sounds like a marketable skill.” She ran her finger around the rim of the wine glass. “What kind of old movies?

  He smiled. “Most anything made before 1960. Film noir. French New Wave. Anything by John Huston, Hitchcock. That kind of thing.”

  Ari considered. This was not what she’d expected to hear. Nick Devlin was more intriguing by the minute. “You said you’re ‘stuck in this city’? What does that mean?”

  There was a long pause. His eyes dimmed and the energy shifted. A wave of sadness passed by her as he decided how to respond to her.

  He studied the wall behind her, then refocused. “I moved here to take care of my mother when she was dying,” he said. “My father was already gone and I was all she had. The network gave me time off, but…it was a lengthy process. By the time I was free to go back, my position had been filled. It wasn’t their fault. I took the job here so I could stay to deal with the estate, which also took a while. That’s settled, but it’s hard to get back in the game when you’ve been gone for so long.” He gave her a matter-of-fact look, clearly putting emotion away for the moment. “And that’s it.”

  Ari’s heart contracted. “I’m sorry for your loss.” Inadequate, but there was nothing else to say.

  He nodded and changed the subject. “So, you’re going to interview the Garcia girls tomorrow. How do you do that?”

  Unexpected. Ari reminded herself she could manage this and forcefully relaxed her shoulders. “I try not to work directly with children, but when I have to, I keep it simple. A short list of questions usually reveals if there’s something bigger going on, in which case I refer to a specialist for formal psychological evaluation.”

  “Why don’t you deal with children?” He sounded genuinely curious.

  “I just don’t. Never have.”

  Nick nodded, apparently accepting this. “Okay, so you conduct a simple interview, refer out if necessary. Then what?”

  She shrugged. “That’s usually it. The sensors won’t show anything. The evaluation of the children will likely show some level of distress—school concerns, separation anxiety, sometimes abuse or neglect, though that’s not likely the case here.”

  He inclined his head. “So, what you really investigate is situations where people are under stress or in pain and it shows up as perception of paranormal activity. And you help them get help.”

  Warmth suffused her. “That’s a good way to put it.” The rare sensation of being understood, especially by a man, caused her whole body to relax. And she wasn’t surprised when he leaned across the table, stroked the back of her hand with the tip of his finger and said, “How about we get out of here?”

  * * * *

  He followed her to her place. As he drove, Nick tried to quell the jitters in his limbs. He’d been more open and genuine with this woman in the last hour than he could remember being, ever. That made him vulnerable. While it felt good—well, good-ish—he couldn’t help but hear his father’s voice in his head. ‘A woman wants a strong man. Don’t forget that, son. Feelings are for girls. That’s their job. Our job is to be strong and dispassionate.’

  Though he knew it was bullshit and sexist, it had been part of his upbringing. Both his parents had reinforced that women didn’t like it when men showed feelings. The one time he’d seen his father get emotional—when he’d lost his job and was afraid he wouldn’t be able to support the family—his mother had nearly had a nervous breakdown.

  “Fucking retro attitudes,” he mumbled, following Ari’s Mini Cooper and pulling up in front of a neat cottage. Ari glanced over with a touch of uncertainty as she led him up the steps and unlocked the glass-paned door. They stepped inside a small foyer.

  “This is my little haven.” She raised her eyes to his, dim light from the porch gleaming on ebony hair. Was her expression an invitation?

  All his inhibitions fell away. Maybe it was the wine, or the way the waxing moon hung in the sky. He didn’t care. Before she could switch on lights, he placed his hands on either side of her face, lifted her glasses off and placed them on the hall table. She stiffened slightly but didn’t move away. Taking this as a positive sign, he stroked her face, down her neck to her shoulder. Gently, he leaned in and placed closed lips on her forehead, moving from temple to temple, breathing in her scent, caressing her with his mouth.

  The light scent of her skin and hair, vanilla-tinged and clean, had him moving closer to her, body to body. His chest pressed against the softness of her breasts. He pulled her braid around and removed the scrunchy. Exquisitely soft hair rippled between his fingers as he spread it over her shoulders. He continued to nuzzle her—her cheeks, her eyelids, her neck.

  She softened against him, breasts and hips discernable against his. Her invitation was unquestionable now. Her heat seeped into him and his arousal spiked. When she brought her arms up around his neck, something in him released. A tension he hadn’t known he was holding melted away. They swayed together in unspoken agreement to hold off on the moment of the first kiss. He found it wildly erotic.

  Her breathing became deeper as she raised her face to his, nuzzling him back, like a beautiful wild animal getting to know a new creature. He stroked her face again, reveling in the shape, the smoothness of her skin, the delicacy of her ears, the nape of her neck. She ran her hands down to his haunches and he almost lost it.

  But not quite.

  Thoughts intruded. This was no Reporter Barbie. Ari was The Real Deal, whatever that meant. And there was something else. He sensed something about her, the way she’d responded as she went through the Garcias’ house, as if she were…what? He didn’t know.

  She pulled away, her eyes on his. Grasping his hand in hers, she led him to the couch. They fell to it, her body leaning into his She raised a finger to his mouth and she outlined his lips, her own parted as she felt his contours. He touched his forehead to hers and breathed her in. After a moment inhaling her essence, he placed his mouth on hers, tentatively, curiously.

  Ari’s eyes closed and she opened under him like a flower. As his own eyes closed, Nick’s only coherent thought was This changes everything.

  Electric current ran through his veins as his tongue touched hers, first softly, then more insistently. She relaxed into him and drew him closer. His hair twisted in her fingers and she groaned into his kiss. Arousal sliced through him, sharp and sweet.

  Her breasts, those lovely, full breasts he’d noticed the first time he’d laid eyes on her, rose and fell as she gasped in his arms. His kisses fell lower, to the place where her blouse met smooth, creamy skin. The impulse to tear the shirt from her body and devour her was almost too much to resist. But even as his entire being was screaming for release with this woman, he held back.

  They’d just met. And he’d plied her with wine, even if only a glass and a half.

  He paused, swallowing his desire. “Ari, are you okay? Do you want to slow down?”

  Her brown eyes sparkled in the near dark and her voice, when she spoke, was full of wonder. “I didn’t know it could feel like this.” She reached for him, bringing his mouth to hers.

  He kissed her lightly but withdrew again, confused. “Didn’t know what could feel like this?”

  She hesitated. “I’ve never done this before.”

  “You’ve never…”
r />   “Never done this. With a man, I mean.”

  Realization dawned. Excitement warred with trepidation, a maelstrom in his chest. “So you… You’re—”

  “I’ve never been with a man. I can’t say what that means about me or who I am, because I don’t know.”

  This was unexpected news, to say the least. His arousal morphed into something he’d never experienced and wasn’t prepared for. A wild curiosity, intrigue, a new kind of turn-on, along with caution and protectiveness toward this woman he hardly knew. He ran a hand over his eyes and rose, struggling to sort out the whirl of thoughts and emotions coursing through him.

  Ari sat up next to him, a small smile tipping her luscious mouth. “It’s not a problem.” She leaned in and took his lower lip between her teeth.

  God help me. Nick’s mind went blank for a long moment as the kiss deepened, became more erotic. The sensation of melding, losing himself however briefly, was something he’d never experienced before. Euphoria sparred with fear, leavened by primal desire.

  But he couldn’t do this. He didn’t want to hurt her or take advantage of her.

  He stroked her face. “Ari,” he murmured, “let’s take a breath here.” He struggled for words. “I need to know you’ll be all right.” With a pang, he realized he’d never said those words to a woman before. Though he was usually the one being pursued, not the pursuer, a gray haze of shame blew through him.

  Ari ran her tongue over her bottom lip and studied him. “Okay, Devlin, here it is. I’ve never been with a man. Not because I’m not attracted to men—because I am—which is pretty obvious in this moment. More so than I realized. But… Well, I’m not sure why. In any case, I’m not a complete stranger to physical intimacy.” Her expression was rueful. “Honestly, it’s never been very interesting or even satisfying to me. I kind of lost interest in it.”

  He considered this as he wound a strand of silken black hair between his fingers. “So what are we doing here?”

  Her mouth quirked. “Hell if I know. But, given that we’re both investigators, why don’t we find out?” She leaned in again, placed her mouth on his and stole his breath.