Haunted Hearts Page 6

  A laugh escaped her. “Men! Not that I would know.”

  He bit her earlobe. “Oh, come on. It’s not just men. Women too, right?”

  She smiled. “To tell you the truth, I haven’t had enough experience to know that, either.”

  His mouth moved to her neck, kissing as he went. “There’s only one way to remedy a lack of experience.”

  “Yeah, well. I’m very distracted right now.”

  He smiled against her neck. “By me?”

  “No. By the investigation.” She wriggled against his chest. “Well, maybe a little by you. But…” She pulled back to make eye contact. “I’m not getting fooled into another situation where you deny me what I want.”

  Nick felt his blood surge. His voice was serious as he leaned in to whisper against her lips. “Believe me, woman. Next time, there will be no want left unsatisfied. For either of us.”

  Her brown eyes sparkled and he grinned. “Now,” he said, “I’m going to make you an offer you can’t refuse.”

  She ran her tongue over her lips. “You sound very sure of yourself.”

  “Oh, I am.” His body sang with desire, but it could wait. “I happen to have connections at the courthouse. Being an important television journalist and all.”

  That got her attention. “Oh, yes? And?”

  “Well,” he drawled, “I could get us into the courthouse records tonight. We could do our research, get back here at a reasonable time, sleep late in the morning then…” He winked. “You can collect on the balance of the debt I owe you.”

  He watched her, truly uncertain how she might react. Would she be insulted? Her brown eyes were unreadable, and a tense moment ticked by.

  Then she raised a finger to trace his lips. “Deal.”

  Chapter Seven

  The courthouse was dark and eerily quiet. Only the security lights around doors and elevators illuminated the halls. The elderly security guard who let them in seemed to know Nick and was excited to help with an upcoming story. “You folks let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you, now,” he said, his gnarled hand on his walkie-talkie.

  “Thanks, Bernie.” Nick clapped the man on the shoulder. “I’ll make sure to mention that you were a critical part of this investigation.”

  The old man guffawed. “You do that! Call me an unnamed source!”

  Ari hoisted her computer bag higher on her shoulder as they walked to the elevator. “Nice guy.”

  Nick pressed the button for the elevator and put his hand on her back. “Bernie’s been around forever.” They stepped in and the elevator rose. “It’s good to know people in high places, like nighttime security guards.”

  She laughed, leaning into his broad, strong chest and inhaled his masculine scent. Musk. Skin. A faded whiff of cologne. It went straight to her belly.

  Suddenly Nick hit the Stop button and the elevator ground to a halt, mid-floor. He grinned at her mischievously. “I’ve always wanted to do this.” He grabbed her by the waist and pressed her against the back wall of the elevator. Her breath left her as his mouth covered hers hungrily. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him in, feeling like a teenager.

  Though I never did this as a teenager, she realized. I never even dreamed of it. She’d been too busy studying, trying to fit in and not be singled out as a freak. Too exhausted from fighting her inner battles. Feeling the heat of Nick’s arms around her waist, the way he held her like he’d never let her go, she buzzed with the sense of being wanted, needed. Known. She kissed him back, her tongue entwined with his, her hands in his hair. The wicked hard length of his arousal pressed against her pelvis, tangible evidence of his desire for her.

  It was too much. The wanting had begun, an exquisite, insistent throb at the apex of her thighs, in her breasts, which longed to be touched, in her skin, which ached to be stroked.

  Nick Devlin, why did it take so long for you to show up in my life? Why have I never felt this human before? His muscled torso was solid, his scent magnetic. More importantly, why on earth were they in this courthouse when they could be at home in her bed?

  At last, Nick pulled away, his breath hard against her cheek. “If we don’t stop right now, I’ll take your honor right here in this elevator.”

  She stared at him, speechless for the moment. He hit the button to restart the elevator and she dug her fingernails into her palms, clearing her mind and forcing herself to focus on the work in front of her.

  Five minutes later her heartbeat had returned to normal and they were in the county vital records office. “I can’t believe Bernie gave you that master key,” she said as Nick flipped on lights. They made their way past desks and computers to the back of the room where old paper records were kept. A row of dusty black filing cabinets lined a forgotten alcove, and walking into the space felt like traveling back in time.

  Nick shrugged. “We reporters have our ways. Bernie can be bribed. Last time I did this, I brought him a box of Cuban cigars.”

  “That sounds sketchy!” Ari feigned horror. “Are we going to get arrested?”

  He laughed. “Nah. It’s on the up and up. Bernie knows me. He knows my station manager. He does this all the time for the police department, attorneys, you name it.”

  “Hm.” Ari scanned the dusty file room they’d entered. “I’ll make sure to tell that to the judge when I’m up for bail.” She pulled open a drawer marked Birth Certificates, January 1920—December 1925.

  “What’s your plan?” Nick asked, coming up behind her, lifting the computer bag from her shoulder and kissing her neck.

  “I couldn’t tell from the register of deeds how old Earnest Jenkins was when he died three years ago, but I’m hoping he was old. For all we know, he was Mabel and Armistead’s grandson. We’ll start here and work our way forward so we don’t miss him.”

  They flipped through the drawer and found the Js, which were substantial. Birth certificates were filed alphabetically by first initial, then chronologically by year, then alphabetically again. It was lunacy. Each month’s records were in a different folder, multiple folders for each month, depending on the number of live births recorded. Half an hour later they shut the bottom drawer.

  “Next up, the nineteen-thirties,” Ari murmured, reaching for the next filing cabinet. Nick stood behind her, his arms around her waist, looking over her shoulder. This drawer was jammed full and she had to alternately push and pull the folders to make enough room to read the documents. Time dragged as she went methodically through each folder.

  “Want me to take a drawer? I feel superfluous.” Nick brushed a stray hair from her face.

  She shook her head. “I want your eyes on these with me, to make sure I don’t miss anything.” Besides, it felt glorious, if unfamiliar, to have his body pressed to her back. His heat and avid attention were something she’d never even fantasized.

  He’s a nice man. I like him. The tiny voice popped out of nowhere, surprising her. She almost looked around, then realized the voice was inside her. The familiar one, the innocent one.

  The one she never let out.

  She swallowed and blinked but couldn’t get rid of the strong sense of presence of that part of her. However, the usual panic didn’t rise. Somehow, here with Nick, it—or rather, she—felt less threatening. But still, it wouldn’t be safe to fling open the doors. There was no telling what might happen.

  Nick sensed her drifting. “What’s up?”

  “Nothing. Spacing out, I guess.” She snapped back into focus, closed the folder and went on to the next. Frustration rose.

  There was something here. She could feel it. A heaviness in the room told her to keep going, tired as she was.

  “May, 1932…” She cursed under her breath. “Why on earth haven’t these been scanned and digitized?” It was a struggle to go through the old folders and the fragile, faded documents inside. The last thing she wanted to do was damage anything.

  “No funds to digitize, or for anything else. Have you seen the ba
throoms in this place?” Nick breathed against her ear. “Last time I searched for something in here, they’d scanned their way back to around 1960.”

  “Oh, that’s great.” Ari squinted at the faded folder in her hand. August, 1933. She flipped through to the Js. “James, Janson… Ah! Jenkins.” She pulled the folder up for a better look. “This is it.” The whole folder came out and she set it on a table next to her computer bag.

  Her skin hummed with the shimmering aura of Nick’s body next to her as they read together. “Earnest Jenkins. Mother, Mabel Carter Jenkins. Father, Armistead Jenkins.” She scanned the document, attention snagged on a vital detail. “Check this.” She pointed. “Twin number one.” She looked at Nick. “Earnest had a twin.”

  Nick made a sound in his throat. “Which means?”

  She bit her lip thoughtfully. “I wasn’t expecting this. I don’t know what to think.” Excitement and dread shot through her as she read the document tucked behind the one they were reading.

  “Martha Jenkins, Mother Mabel, Father Armistead, twin number two.” She tapped the table. “This has to be related to whatever’s happening in the house.”

  “What tells you that? All this means is the old man had a twin sister.” He was genuinely curious.

  Ari shook her head. “It’s a sense I get…” She stopped herself, the familiar warning bell in her chest ringing faintly. Then, unbidden, a blurry image of a boy curled up and crying blew into her mind. For a moment, she felt like she was dreaming. Then the image vanished, as suddenly as it had appeared. She cleared her throat and glanced at Nick, trying to sound light. “Just another avenue to investigate.”

  Nick was watching her. It felt like he could see inside her, her struggle with herself, which only increased the clang of the alarm. She didn’t want to be seen right now, at least not that part of her.

  The part of her that was getting louder and more insistent every day.

  She drew breath and sat down at the table. “We need to see what we can find out about Martha.” She opened her laptop and tried to get online, but the courthouse had a firm computer security system.

  Nick leaned over her. “I know the password.” He tapped the keys and she was online.

  “Show-off,” she murmured, typing quickly.

  He sat on the table next to the computer. “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet, woman.”

  Ari tried several variations of Martha’s name in the search engine but came up with nothing. “No mention of her, like Earnest. It’s strange.” She clucked her tongue. “Maybe…” She typed in Starling Pond and hit the Enter key. “A million results that mean absolutely nothing.” Her mind whirled with possible ways to find out more about the Jenkins family, Earnest and Martha.

  Nick interrupted her thoughts. “Starling Pond Lane is right on the line where the older section of the city meets the newer suburbs, the ranch houses built in the fifties and sixties.” He was clearly thinking as he spoke, voice rising with energy as he pulled a chair around to sit next to her. “Let’s try Starling Pond again, filtered for dates between 1935 and 1965.”

  “Okay, but that seems like a stretch.” He was a reporter, so maybe she should humor him. She pressed Enter and they both stared at the list of results.

  He saw it before she did.

  “Here.” He pointed to a result from the city newspaper, dated 1948. Ari clicked on the link and a scan of grainy newsprint appeared on the screen. They read together.

  City To Drain And Fill In Starling Pond, the title read, and underneath—The picturesque pond has long been considered a highlight of this lovely town. It has been a destination for swimming, boating and even ice skating as long as anyone can remember. In recent years, however, three children have drowned in the pond and it has become a source of controversy. As our town grows, city fathers are searching for space to develop the modern neighborhoods citizens want…

  Ari faced Nick, who was somber. “Martha drowned,” they said in unison.

  * * * *

  The spark of enthusiasm in Ari’s eyes said she was excited about the information they’d uncovered, though underneath the excitement was something else, something she wasn’t sharing with him. He’d have to accept it, because pushing—or getting emotional with her—wasn’t going to fly. He suspected she wouldn’t open up, and he wasn’t going to look weak by telling her he was worried about her. She needed him to be strong and he knew how to do that.

  It was too late to continue their research. They’d have to search for Martha’s death certificate tomorrow. They left the courthouse, promising Bernie a bottle of bourbon in the near future, and drove back to Ari’s house.

  He turned to her in the chilly dark of the Jeep. “Maybe it’s better if I don’t come in. You need to rest.” Saying the words made his gut clench. He was so ready to lie next to her, to feel her skin next to his, it was hard to think clearly.

  She gazed at him, brown eyes shining, and shook her head. He could smell her hair, feel her breath as she leaned into him and placed her mouth on his.

  “I’ll rest well with you next to me,” she murmured, raising her hand to his face. She deepened the kiss and when her tongue touched his, he told himself to stay in control.

  They made their way into the house and he managed to not rip her clothes off while she fed the cats. She pointed him in the direction of the bedroom at the back of the little house. “Make yourself comfortable. There’s a bathroom with anything you might need. I’ll be there in a sec.”

  Five minutes later he was perusing her bookshelf when she came in, carrying a bottle of wine and two glasses. He flipped a book closed and replaced it. She poured the wine and handed him a glass. “See anything you’re interested in?”

  “Other than you?” He sipped the wine and allowed his gaze to travel over her, head to toe and back again. She’d taken the scrunchy out of her hair so it fell softly over her shoulders and down her back, a silken black curtain. As he savored the sight, she took her glasses off and placed them on the dresser, next to a small arrangement of dried flowers, photos and candles.

  She sipped and approached him, leaned in and touched her lips softly to his. “Drawn to books on paranormal activity and psychiatric disorders, are you?”

  He chuckled. “You do seem to have a lot of them, among other things.” His attention went back to the books, stacked on shelves and teetering in piles under the window and next to the bed. “Who knew there were so many books on witchcraft and clairvoyance?” Out of the corner of his eye she flinched, so slightly it was almost imperceptible.

  Her wine glass clinked on the bedside table. “Collecting books is sort of a compulsive thing for me. I can’t go into a bookstore, especially an antiquarian one, without buying.” She didn’t address his comment directly but he didn’t question it.

  Ari kicked off her shoes and lit the candles on the dresser. She stared into the flames for a long moment before flipping the overhead light off and turning back to him. He approached her and placed his wineglass next to the candles, where the light played through the dark liquid. Shadows danced on the walls.

  Nick framed her face with his hands and brushed gentle kisses over her forehead and cheeks. She lifted her face to his. He moved his hands through her hair, down her back, to the hem of her shirt and lifted it over her head. Her scent wafted over him as he dropped the shirt to the floor. After unbuttoning his own shirt and throwing it aside, he wrapped her in his arms and pulled her close. The swell of her breasts in the black satin bra pressed into his pecs and he reminded himself again that the ravenous beast inside him had to wait.

  She was watching him, pupils dilated in the shimmering light. He leaned in to place his mouth on hers, hungry for the taste of her. The only sound was their breathing, the only light the wavering yellow candle flames at the corner of his vision.

  Ari reached down to unsnap his jeans, then undid her own. He hooked his thumbs into her waistband and pushed her pants down, and she stepped out of them, leaving only lacy black pan
ties. He kicked his jeans off and stood in his boxers. His throat went dry when he watched her unhook her bra, freeing her breasts. As he ran his hands over her body, she reached up to kiss him again and they fell into each other, tongues roving, breath quickening.

  At last, Nick broke contact, bent and swept Ari up in his arms. She gasped as he lifted her into the air, winding her arms around his neck, and he stepped to the bed. Laying her down, he moved on top of her to cover her with his weight.

  His mouth went to her neck, licking and biting, and she gyrated in slow motion beneath him. God help him, he could come from this alone. He steeled himself, trying desperately to stay present while not giving in to his basest impulses.

  Ari twisted her hands in his hair, pulling him closer, pushing him down to her breasts. “Take me,” she breathed. She wrapped her legs around him. “I want you tonight.”

  Nick’s blood roared and he fell on her like a man starved, hands kneading, mouth sucking, fingers pinching nipples, tongue licking. Ari arched under him.

  Her hand moved between his legs, where his erection was powerfully obvious. She closed her fingers around him through the fabric of his boxers and gasped. After a momentary pause, she commenced rubbing and squeezing him, making him lose all sense of reality. A tightening at the base of his spine signaled his urgency. She was going to end this party before it began.

  He pulled away from her and rolled to her side. “You seriously can’t touch me like that if you want this to happen,” he muttered, pushing her hand away and hanging on to it.

  Her mouth dropped open and her eyes widened. “You promised—”

  He pressed a finger to her lips, leaned over and pressed his mouth to hers. He raised her captured hand to his mouth, kissed the fingertips and replaced it against his abdomen. The tug of fear he’d felt since the night before washed over him. “Ari, are you sure?”

  “Yes! Stop patronizing—”

  He shook his head and stroked her cheek, gazing into those sparkling eyes. “Baby, it’s going to hurt. There’s no way around it. I want to make sure—”