Mystic Hearts Page 3

  The merry-go-round ride started again.

  She wobbled. Her legs felt like wet noodles. Colors and lights pirouetted. “Oh, jeez.”

  A cat screeched.

  The ride she didn’t ask to be on intensified. She stumbled and fell to the ground.

  Flat on her back, she stared at the sky. A witch rode a broomstick in front of the moon.

  This can’t be happening.

  A light weight with numerous paws scurried over her stomach. She turned her head. Every inch she moved, the act freeze-framed in time. A disjointed cat ran toward two enormous monsters. She closed her lids on the tears welling. “Someone help me.”

  “Are you okay?” A masculine, sexy voice asked.

  No. She wasn’t. She was tripping, a sensation she’d never experienced. “Make it stop.” Squinting, she looked toward the person belonging to the voice. The edges of her sight darkened. At the end of the tunnel, fireworks exploded. “I can’t see you.”

  A breeze caressed her face. The outline of a man materialized.

  She drew in air, the frostiness of it stinging her lungs. “Where did you come from?”

  “I’ve been here.”

  She opened her mouth…closed it.

  Casper the Friendly Ghost.

  Nothing she did or saw made sense. “Are you a ghost?”

  He chuckled. “In the flesh.”

  Darkness stole her vision.

  ****

  A puff of air caressed Charlene’s cheek and earlobe, emitting pleasant tingles across her skin. She opened her lids in hopes to see a man and not a ghost, to see Larry.

  No one was there.

  Alarm shot through her, tensing her muscles. The enjoyable thrill that woke her vanished. No longer outside watching witches on broomsticks, she lay on a soft surface with an ice pack against her head in an unfamiliar room. Her vision warped. The same effect she had looking out fatal-vision goggles, like the ones her mother forced her to wear at a sheriff’s carnival to scare her from ever drinking and driving.

  If her eyes didn’t lie, a built-in bookshelf lined the front wall, boxes filling its shelves. Windows on either side of the room let the moonlight in.

  The closed area brought forth the similarities from the kidnapping. Locked in a cabin, the unknown frightening her, she’d prayed to be rescued. The thought sizzled through her mind like a stick of dynamite, bringing an explosive feeling of doom.

  Unlike last time, FBI agents wouldn’t search for someone they didn’t know was missing. This time, despair fell short when the scent of chicken soup filled her nostrils. She rose, scooted her legs around until her feet touched the floor, and searched the room.

  In the corner, a pot sat on a woodstove. Her throat tightened. A wooden spoon moved in a circular motion…on its own.

  Recalling Larry’s voice, she pressed her palms into her eyes and latched onto the strength he’d imparted that day on the mountain. She’d heard him outside, arguing with someone, then inquiring if she was okay. He had to be here. Or had she wished and hoped for him so much that she dreamed it?

  Anticipating and wishing the world righted and Larry stood before her, she dropped her hands and opened her eyes.

  The spoon continued to stir the contents in the pot. “I’m hallucinating,” she mumbled.

  “You might be.”

  She jerked. Her hand smacked her chest. A voice without a body. If she ever got out of this mess, she’d have to check into a mental institution.

  As if the universe knew she couldn’t take another setback, a man materialized. “No-o,” she whispered. Her vision once again turned fuzzy. She focused on a man’s back as he stirred the soup.

  He twisted. A flannel shirt covered his shoulders. With the patches of skin alternating with the flannel, she believed it was unbuttoned. His hair hung over his forehead into his eyes.

  “Hi, Charlene.” Her name escaped his lips as if he knew her.

  She jumped to her feet and lost her balance, falling backwards.

  Strong hands touched her back and lifted her until she steadied. The simple contact soothed her nervous body and his lightning-quick-speed delighted her delicate core. “Ben?” The name slipped out without thought. Where had she heard it?

  His body went rigid.

  The fatal-vision hadn’t left. She couldn’t make out his features. From the angle of his head, she could tell he was studying her.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  Easing away, her legs shook. She wanted to know who he was. With her eyes playing tricks, seeing things that weren’t there, she had to go on instinct. “You’re not real.”

  The air shimmered. The man stroked a finger down her cheek. “I assure you, I’m very much alive.”

  She stepped backwards and hit the wall. “W-why couldn’t I see you moments ago?”

  “I don’t know.” He chuckled.

  His breath drifted across her face, stirring a desire she’d only felt once before. Impossible, as Larry had been the only man who’d stimulated outrageous cravings. A hallucination can’t do that. Can it?

  He slid another finger down her cheek. She quivered. The electricity produced a throbbing in her body and prevented her from grasping onto any one emotion. One second, she was delusional, the next, she melted. “How can I feel you?”

  “You’re not asking the right question.” His voice filled with mischief.

  The one she asked seemed important. “What is the right one?”

  His hands slapped the wall on each side of her head, trapping her. Anticipating an imprisoned impression, she tensed.

  It didn’t occur. “What is the right—” Her whisper broke off when he moved closer, aligning his over six-foot stature perfectly to her five-foot-five frame.

  “Why do I allow you?” he asked, his voice teasing.

  Good question, yet why did he joke? Was this a game to him? “Why?”

  A mere fraction stood between their bodies, and she wanted to taste him, have his lips move across hers.

  “I’ve wanted you since the day I saw you,” he whispered.

  Her vision cleared. She bit her lip and gazed into his eyes, watching as the gold flecks sparkled. “Larry?” she asked, her voice a little louder than a whisper.

  His dark, intense brows that made guys look extremely sexy, lifted. “Were you expecting someone else?”

  She shook her head and let her eyes drift down the open shirt. Broad shoulders, flat abs framed by a narrowed waist. He had that sleek, muscled look that said he had kicked ass.

  He lifted her chin with his finger, bringing her gaze back to his. “A woman’s wet lips captivate a man.” His eyes shifted to her mouth.

  She fought the urge to squirm. The man was potent.

  “When moisture forms on them,” his voice dropped an octave, “it lets him know if he’s worthy to touch her.”

  The seduction warmed her already overheated body. “Are you…worthy?”

  “Your lips say so.”

  The air crackled between them.

  Her pulse raced, throwing her back onto the merry-go-round ride. This time, her vision wasn’t distorted, her heart was.

  “I’ve dreamed of doing this.”

  If she was hallucinating, she didn’t want the delirium to end.

  He leaned toward her, his mouth coming in for the capture. She couldn’t wait. Her lips parted.

  His soft lips glided over hers. The kiss so delicate, so gentle, she felt like the treasure at the end of a rainbow. A gem someone looked long and hard to find. The hallucinations had played tricks on her all night.

  Is this another trick?

  She had to touch him to find out if she lived a dream or not. She placed her hands on his hardened pecs. Every nerve ending in her palms shot a jolt of awareness between her legs. If this was an illusion, she wanted more. Lots more.

  A low growl escaped him, vibrating through her body. He nipped her bottom lip before taking the kiss deeper. His tongue tangled with hers, urging a response and threateni
ng to pull well-hidden passion out of the secure hiding place she’d created two years ago.

  She eased back, breaking the spell, and shook her head.

  Chapter Three

  Ice-cold water to Larry’s crotch couldn’t have felt worse than Charlene shaking her head, saying a silent ‘no more’.

  Her movements might say no, but her heavy eyes and fast breathing told him she’d enjoyed their strong connection as much as he had, giving him hope they might continue.

  Mind-blowing was the only way to describe the way Charlene kissed him. The power of the touch shocked him. Larry wanted to take the electricity between them even further, so damn much. His response alarmed him.

  The same reaction must have caused her to stop their embrace. He should take this time to ask questions. After witnessing the questionable lights Paul spoke of, he had to agree that unexplained activity, possibly criminal, occurred on the property.

  Charlene looked at him from under her lashes, her eyes longing for more. He couldn’t concentrate on the case with her looking so un-believe-ably adorable.

  When she showed up at the manor, he felt what he imagined a child would at Christmastime. Receiving the present on Christmas morning they’d wanted so much they’d begged their parents for it every day, a thrill he never had the pleasure of experiencing…until now.

  The taste of her was beyond his expectations…delicious…incredible. Her heated body beckoned his closer. He inched forward.

  “Larry.” She touched a hand to his chest, keeping him at a distance.

  He gazed at her wet lips, the result of their connection. “Yes.”

  “This is fast.”

  Again, the water drenched his overactive erection. “Agreed.”

  He mulled over his growing list of questions to keep his mind off wanting to touch her. Why was she at the manor alone? Did she know Allen Mathews? Why’d she call him Ben, a name he hated, when she first saw him?

  He pulled his lips inward, tasting her sweetness and the wine she’d consumed on the steps of Greenwood Manor.

  Engrossed in dealing with Mathews, he hadn’t heard her approach until he heard the thump followed by a grunt when she hit the ground on the other side of the schoolhouse.

  At first, he thought someone working with Mathews showed up and harmed Charlene. He stayed on high alert while he checked her vitals, and did a quick examination to see if any bones had broken. Other than a knot on the back of her head, she’d weathered the fall unscathed.

  Charlene’s breath on his skin brought him back to the present. She leaned closer, staring at his neck, and running a finger over the little bit of chest hair. With each stroke, her caressing fingers came dangerously close to urging him to pull her against him so they could pick up where they’d left off.

  He tipped her head up with a finger until she met his gaze. “Charlene, are you okay?”

  “No,” she sighed. “I can’t believe anything I see. I don’t know if you’re real or not. I’ve seen things tonight that I can’t explain. I think my vision is getting better one minute, and in the next, I’m hallucinating. I don’t know if you’re really here. You told me who you are, but how do I know you’re actually saying this and I’m not dreaming it up in my head… How do I know who I’m kissing?” She stared at him. Tears welled in her eyes. “Does any of this make sense?”

  The size of her pupils and her off-kilter behavior alluded to drugs. Was she tripping?

  Had the kidnapping messed with her so much, she started using?

  Pamela Gibson, Charlene’s boss, and Pamela’s husband Jake, Larry’s best friend, knew his fondness for this single mom and her child. Since the ordeal in the mountains, they’d kept a close eye on her. If she showed any outlandish behavior, Jake would have mentioned it. He hadn’t, which made her current spiel alarming. Had someone slipped her something?

  The only thing he could say was, “Charlene, do you want to kiss me?”

  “Oh my God! You don’t have any other questions? I just ranted like a lunatic. Where’s your investigative mind?”

  “I have plenty of questions, but not right now. You’re charming when you rant. And to answer the last question, my investigative mind has left the building. I have other matters I can’t ignore.”

  Her eyes shifted between his and she pulled her lips inward.

  The stress Charlene endured, mixed with the longing in her eyes, suggested he should click off the lust running through him, and snap back into agent mode. After another taste of her sweet lips, he would propose they move to opposite corners of the room so they’d be able to talk. Sitting next to one another wouldn’t work. He’d never keep his hands off her.

  He lowered his head, stopping a fraction from her lips, and waited to see how she’d respond. If she moved away, he wouldn’t try to kiss her again…at least not tonight.

  She rose on her toes and slid her tongue over his chin. A low, soft moan escaped her precious lips.

  He went rock hard from want, not lust, for the third time within minutes. The reason he’d kept his distance from Charlene: he couldn’t allow emotions to mix with the idea of sex.

  But now, he tumbled into a dilemma he couldn’t reverse. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he knew he was damaged goods and wouldn’t be able to give Charlene what she wanted or needed.

  Still, not able to stop from kissing the woman he’d dreamed of, he shifted. Their lips touched. Just like minutes ago, the earth stood still.

  She kissed with such intensity he wished he could stay there forever.

  He wrapped his hands around the curve of her waist, the spot he’d wanted to touch since she parked in the Manor’s driveway earlier, and pulled her closer. Her breasts flattened against him.

  Since his father’s death, he kept his carnal thoughts concealed on the do-not-think list, the place where he buried his grief.

  Tonight, he’d break the self-imposed rules and risk destroying the wall he erected. In the past, changing his ways hadn’t been a concern. No woman had tempted him, not until Charlene.

  She eased away. Her brown eyes searched his face. “How can you be tangible?”

  He rested his forehead against hers, debating if he should commence the questioning.

  “The strobe light is on,” Charlene said, her voice raising decibels, as she lifted her head away from his.

  Her comments and actions reflected someone taking illegal substances. He could no longer put off asking. “Besides wine.” Stroking her arms, he watched her face, monitoring her reaction to his next words. “Charlene, have you taken something?”

  “What? I’d never.” She braced her hands on his chest and pushed. “How could you ask?”

  The world shifted. Their powerful, delicious moment had been squelched by his investigative brain, kicking in. “I have to ask.”

  “Why?” She folded her arms across her chest, the sign no matter what he said, it wouldn’t compute in her raging mind.

  “There’s no strobe light,” he said as delicately as he could.

  “Yes, there is.” She turned toward the darkened wall and grimaced. “I saw it.”

  He grasped her elbows, tugged her to him, but she stood firm. Either she drank too much, which he didn’t believe, or his earlier thought resurfaced. She’d ingested a narcotic, somehow. His mind churned with possibilities. Had Mathews laced the wine? Is that why he watched her?

  “Please talk to me.” Her voice shook. Her sweet face, glowing moments ago from their kisses, turned white. “The look on your face is scaring me.”

  He touched her back and nudged her toward him.

  She tightened her grip around his waist.

  “I don’t mean to.” Inhaling her peach scent, he rested his chin on top of her of head and inched closer. No doubt she was aware of how much he wanted her.

  “Ben!” Charlene shouted, pointing at the window behind him. “They’re coming.”

  Larry crossed the room and gazed out. The neighbor’s outside lights glowed, casting a ligh
t on their yard and part of Charlene’s. No one was there. He faced her.

  Slowly, she shook her head. “No one is there…?”

  He pressed his lips together. How could he tell her someone drugged her, that everything she saw tonight wasn’t real, except for him?

  Her face turned whiter. Her eyes rolled back in her head moments before her body went slack. Larry rushed over, caught her by the waist before her head hit the coffee table, and laid her on the couch in the same spot he’d placed her earlier.

  On the edge of the couch, he studied her angelic features. A slight smile covered her face as short breaths escaped on a soft snore. Whatever she dreamed, it was good.

  He slipped a blanket over her, and kissed her head before heading to the kitchen to search for noodles to finish the soup.

  ****

  Charlene gazed at Larry, not believing he stood before her.

  “You have to know. I assume the human form once a year on this night,” he said.

  She searched his eyes. The honey color she’d glimpsed earlier had changed, and they’d darkened. “I don’t understand.”

  “Tonight, I’ll break my tradition and risk losing the next five years for the brief mortality I have on All-Hallow’s Eve by being with you.” He kissed her below the ear. “No woman has ever tempted me to cave in and give up the one night that keeps my hope alive.”

  She tingled, yet she didn’t fully comprehend what he was saying. She blinked, saw fireworks, and blinked again. The colorful sparkles remained.

  He leaned his forehead against hers. “I’m not in the mortal form, at least not all the time.”

  The strobe twirled, light bounced off the walls.

  He stepped away and raked his hand through his hair.

  “It’s an alarm, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. They’ve arrived. I’d hope they’d abandon the idea and let me have one mortal night of peace.”

  What was he talking about?

  “You need to leave before the battle commences.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “What? No. I’m not leaving.”